He was somewhat surprised when he went into the dining room to see Caitlyn sitting at the table. She had a book propped up against the fruit bowl in front of her and was reading it avidly, smiling from time to time. He had a chance to look at her for a whole minute, and he looked his fill, for he enjoyed gazing at her.
As she ordered her breakfast, Caitlyn smiled at the serving maids and wished them a good morning, but all she got in return was “Morning, Mistress.” There was no asking how she was, asking how she had slept, or even commenting on the weather. Perhaps that was her own fault, she thought, for she had always talked to her servants, and encouraged them to talk to her. Consequently, she was on very good terms with them, and knew about their lives, their family affairs, their hopes, their dreams, and even the names of all their children.
These people were subdued and sometimes even seemed afraid, although if she listened at the entrance to the kitchen she could hear them bantering with each other and occasionally roaring with laughter. They were like different people when they were downstairs. Upstairs, something—or someone—kept them subdued, and Caitlyn had a feeling it was Alastair.
Suddenly she felt someone’s eyes on her, and looked up.
Alastair almost felt as if someone had struck him in the stomach as her eyes, wide with surprise, met his. He could become lost in those eyes. He could love them and he could love her if he let himself, but he would not. The revelation stunned him.
He bowed to her politely, then a silence settled on them as a servant put his ale on the table. Determined not to be chased away, Caitlyn ate her meal in the heavy silence without rushing. She could not think of any possible reason why she should suffer indigestion because of him, but she was afraid to sit too long, because her rage was at boiling point.
She had forgiven him twice already, and a third time was simply asking too much. If he said anything to her, her willpower would have to come to her aid; the viper in her tongue would have to be silenced somehow.
She dropped her gaze from his as she closed the book, and finally cleared her plate. He was looking at her surreptitiously, but she was not stupid; she could see him trying to hide his gaze. She stood up to leave, but he stood with her.
“I need to speak to you, Mistress,” he said heavily. She sighed and stilled the viper in her tongue, then sat down again.
5
Ava’s Story
Alastair took a sip of ale to fortify himself before he began.
“It seems that I am always apologizing to you,” he told her in a regretful tone, “and now I must do it again. I have some very important papers in that room. They pertain to my family and my family business and some of them are hundreds of years old. Some of those documents date back to before the Millenium, which is why I told you not to interfere with our family business. However, it was a rude and ill-advised comment and I am sorry.
“The room is private, but you were not to know that. I have been under a little strain lately and I have been snapping at everyone. I hope that makes you feel a little better—rest assured it will not happen again. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” Caitlyn inclined her head graciously. “I accept your apology, M’Laird, again, but be warned:”—her eyes glinted like polished steel—“I will not accept another one. My mother is on the mend, and although you thought she was malingering at the beginning, I assure you she was not. My family has a long, distinguished history untainted by scandal or malfeasance, M’Laird. I am proud of that.” She paused for a moment as she felt her anger rising again. “I was deeply hurt by the accusation that we had come here to steal, and worm our way into your affections, even though you apologized.
“My mother is the gentlest and most honorable of ladies. She is a friend to everyone, and would be one to you too if you would but let her. Go to see her, M’Laird, for she wants to thank you. We will be gone in a few days and will probably never meet again, even though we live only a short distance away from each other.” She took a deep breath, then looked into his eyes again. “I respect your right to keep that room private, by the way, but I do not believe you about the documents. You could keep those anywhere in the castle where it is safer than here.”
A flash of anger crossed his face then left as quickly as it had come. “The basements are damp, Mistress, and the extreme right and left wings of the castle are all but in ruins. That room is very securely locked, and had you tried to open that door you would have found it impossible.” He held her gaze for a moment and then looked away.
Caitlyn shook her head. “That is not the truth, M’Laird. Why do you have to visit that room at night?” Then she shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. “Forgive me. It is none of my business, and I have no more time to waste on this matter. I must go and see my mother.” Her voice was firm, and she stood up to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Wait,” he said resignedly. “You are right. That is not the truth; the truth is far more distressing.” He sighed, stood up, and went to the window as he spoke. “I have a sister, Ava, who has confined herself to that room because it is the only place she feels safe. I go to see her at night because she refuses to come out.” He had turned away from Caitlyn so that she could not see the pain on his face, but she heard it in his voice.
“I love my sister more than anyone else in the world,” he said fondly. “While we were growing up, I was all she had and she was all I had. We were brought up by nannies, for although my father was alive we hardly ever saw him. We had little love from him, so we loved each other. If anyone tried to harm her I was always there to protect her, and I was big and strong, so no one ever did.” He smiled, then his face grew grim. “One day a while ago she went out on her favorite horse, a gentle roan mare she called Pinky, and was attacked by bandits. They stole a valuable family heirloom from her—a gold locket that had our mother’s picture inside it—and her beloved horse Pinky.
“When I heard that she had gone out on her own I followed her, because there had been rumors of bandits about. I told her not to go riding but she left while I was out. I followed her since I knew all her favorite riding routes, then I heard her screaming.
“I followed the noise, and the swines were still bending over her, but my guard and I killed two and the rest got away. I think those”—he uttered a foul word, but made no apology—“would have raped her, all four of them. They had taken Pinky so she could not ride, and we came back on my horse.”
He turned around and looked at her again. “And since then, my beloved sister has been confined to that room. I have made it beautiful for her, but I have to take all her meals in to her, and I cannot persuade her to come out. She has been there for three months without seeing the sun.”
“I have heard of this,” Caitlyn said softly. “It’s called shock. It wears off gradually, though.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he sighed. “I have been so worried about her.”
At that moment Caitlyn had a sudden realization. This apparently awkward man, so hostile and cold to strangers, was simply unable to release his feelings, and had been bottling them up, perhaps for years, yet there was something about her that had allowed him to express them. She felt desperately sorry for him, and as she looked at his classical profile and thick, glossy dark hair, she felt the first stirrings of attraction.
What would it be like to be held in his arms against that hard, solid body, and be kissed by those full lips?
“May I meet her?” Caitlyn asked softly.
He sighed. “I do not think that would be a good idea,” he replied. “It might scare her. She sees no one but me.”
“Perhaps that is part of the problem,” Caitlyn replied. “She sees no one but you.”
