Gaunt held his gaze, a mocking smile playing about his mouth. “A fine age for a bride.”
Tristan cleared his throat. “You are saying, Gaunt, that you will release Isabella from her betrothal contract. And return Greenock to the previous laird. But in return, you claim the hand of Lady Elena?”
“I claim the hand of Lady Elena along with the jewels which Lady Isabella freely offered.” He put his head to one side, thinking. “And I will retain Lady Isabella’s dower, which is only fair. I doubt the Greenock coffers will offer much coin for the last remaining daughter of the McIvor line.”
“Preposterous,” exploded the younger de Neville brother.
Tristan turned to him. “Jonah, shall I fetch you a chair. Does your leg pain you?”
Only then did Hamish note that the young man’s left leg was narrow and twisted.
Jonah shook his head impatiently. “I am quite well, thank you.” But he heeded his brother’s inferred reprimand and pressed his pale lips together, saying nothing more.
“You cannot expect that we will agree to these terms,” Isabella said calmly. She looked down at the jewels in her hand, as if weighing their value. But from the casual way she had offered them earlier, Hamish guessed that Isabella’s real concern was for Elena.
With every fiber of his being, he hoped that were true. For he would rather be consigned to hell than see his sweet sister marry Lord Gaunt.
If only I had my sword.
He was castrated and powerless without it.
“Ye canna marry Elena,” he said flatly.
“She is my prisoner under the terms of war. I can do with her whatever I like. Just as Lady Isabella is contracted to be my betrothed.” Gaunt smiled at the assembled company. “My terms are generous, under the circumstances.”
Isabella pressed her hands together as if praying for aid. She turned sideways to look at Elena and seemed to reach a decision.
“Very well, Lord Gaunt. You leave me no choice. I will honor our betrothal contract on the understanding that Greenock Castle is returned to Hamish McIvor, along with the freedom of his sister.” Her voice trembled only slightly.
Hamish felt as if his heart was beating out of his chest. Iron bars clamped around his ribs and squeezed tightly.
“Isabella, think carefully upon this,” her father warned.
“There is naught to think about.” She stepped out from behind the chair and dropped into a perfunctory curtsy. “I beg leave to rest, these proceedings have quite exhausted me.”
“Give us until the morn for our answer,” Tristan spoke up. “That is little enough to ask, Lord Gaunt. You may remain here, as our guest. And Lady Elena can also be shown to a guest chamber.”
Gaunt shook his head. “Elena will return to the dungeon with my own men guarding her.”
“Your men can stand guard outside a bedchamber as easily as the dungeon.” Jonah’s voice was cold. “I will take her myself to a chamber in the western tower, with a door which bolts from the outside and a window far too high and narrow for anyone to jump from. Will that meet your requirements?” He looked down at Lord Gaunt as if he would like to strike him.
“It will do very well.” The earl concluded in a tone that brooked no argument. “Come the morn, I will write to the King myself.”
Hamish found he could breathe a little easier at the prospect of Elena leaving the dungeon. He looked for Isabella, but all he saw was the swish of cream silk as she passed out of the arched double doorway leading from the hall.
He reached out for the support of the plastered wall as his heart began to slow.
They had until the morn.
Chapter Twenty
Isabella ran throughthe marbled entrance hall and hurried down the wide stone steps to the fountain, only pausing when she reached the bottom and the pervasive chill of the November wind could no longer be ignored.
I should have brought a cloak.
But the cold was invigorating, and she relished the distraction from the claustrophobic circling of her thoughts. So instead of returning to the keep, she pressed on, her long skirts trailing through the damp grass of the rose garden. The wind whistled through the spiky branches of the beech tree, so that it seemed to wave a warning to her. But it was too late for warnings.
The damage was done.
