Hamish staggered sideways as if he had been struck. Isabella drew in a sharp breath of realization.
Gaunt still holds Hamish’s sister captive.
Isabella immediately unfastened her emerald necklace and held it toward Gaunt with trembling hands. “Take this. Take every jewel I have. But please release the young woman you have taken prisoner.”
Gaunt eyed the necklace speculatively. Tristan looked about to intervene, but it was Hamish who spoke first.
“Ye dinna need to do that, Isabella.”
“They are only jewels.” She twisted the rings from her fingers and held them out as well. “What do they count against a human life?”
Gaunt smiled. If anything, it made his expression of cruelty even more pronounced.
“Lady Isabella, you have given me the beginnings of an idea.”
“Take the jewels,” she said through gritted teeth. She wanted this conversation over with, and this abhorrent man gone from her life. “There are more that I will send on to you. I give you my word.”
“’Tis an interesting proposition.” Gaunt stroked his beard. “But there is one person whose opinion we have not taken into account.” He beckoned the same servant who had brought him the chair, and his next words made dread pool inside Isabella’s stomach. “Fetch Elena McIvor from the dungeon.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hamish felt asthough he could hardly breathe.What was Gaunt planning?
And what sickening role had he devised for Elena in all this?
Whatever the answer, at least Hamish would set eyes on his beloved sister soon. If only he had his sword at his hip, then he could rescue Elena and flee from the place. If Gaunt fell victim to the swing of his broadsword, then that would be his own foolish fault.
He gazed into the fire and wrestled for control of his spiraling thoughts. He must be realistic. Not only was he unarmed, but Tristan de Neville stood but feet away. However much the man seemed to dislike Lord Gaunt, Hamish had an idea he would not welcome bloodshed by his fireside.
And what about Isabella?
He could not walk away from her.
His rational mind protested at that, pointing out that Isabella had the protection of the Earl of Wolvesley, and not one, but two brothers.
Hamish found he did not care. There had always been something in Isabella’s clear blue eyes that called to him, like a torch on a dark night guiding him home. That feeling had strengthened since their ride across the moors, when he saved her from Alaric and she, in turn, saved him from bleeding out on the rocks. They were bound to one another; with bonds he had no wish to break. Even now, he was conscious of the wayshe stood and the way she breathed. In different circumstances he would go to her and take her hand, to offer what comfort he could, for although Isabella did notneedto lean on any man, he fancied she might like to, just for a moment.
He lifted his gaze and met hers. Aye, he was right about it all.
He could never leave her.
And she longed for him, just as he longed for her. He could read it all in her expression. But of all the men present by the fireplace, he was least able to go to her side.
Do not give up hope.
Was that Brianne’s voice whispering in his ear? Perchance ’twas just the memory of her. The sentiment was true either way. Like a warrior outnumbered on the battlefield, Hamish must carry on with his fight.
He steeled himself as the steady tramp of footsteps announced the arrival of the guard. He could not see Elena behind the tall, muscular bodies of the liveried soldiers who marched in a straight line toward them. It took all his restraint to stand still and wait for her arrival.
She had better be fed and healthy, he thought, or God help him, he would strangle Gaunt with his own bare hands.
“Elena McIvor,” the first guard announced.
Lady Elena McIvor, Hamish corrected him silently, grinding his teeth in anger.
The guards melted away, and there stood his sister.
Elena had always been a slight young woman. Where Hamish and Brianne were sturdy and strong, Elena was as slender as a willow branch. But she was the daughter—and the sister—of a laird, and she stood tall and proud, even though strands of hay clung to her long auburn hair and smudges of dirt marred the pale perfection of her cheeks. Her wary gaze found Hamish and for a long moment they looked at one another across thegrandeur of the English castle which such strange twists of fate had brought them both to.
