“’T’would be better tae kill me than send me back there!” She hissed, angry tears beginning to pour from her eyes and down her cheeks. Seeing her so broken and afraid was torture for Liam, but he concealed what he considered to be his weakness.
“I’m sorry, but we have nay choice,” he told her.
“At least ye dinnae havetae stay in the dungeons,” Knox put in, an edge of sympathy to his voice. “We’ll find ye a nice comfy chamber tae stay in while ye’re here. Liam can keep an eye on ye until the arrangements are made. Ye can have anythin’ ye need while ye’re here.” He looked over at Liam, who nodded briefly.
As he escorted Ivy to the door, Knox said in a low voice to Liam, “Get her settled and then come back here tae help me draft this letter tae her braither.”
“Aye, I will,” Liam agreed as Knox opened the door and summoned a servant, instructing them to show Ivy and Liam up to a guest room, where she was to be locked in. He took her arm, and they followed the servant back to the vestibule and up the staircase, to a second-floor guest chamber.
It was unaired and chilly in the room. He locked the door from the inside and pocketed the key before going to the mantel for the tinder box and lighting some candles. When he turned to look at Ivy, she was standing in the middle of the room in a pool of flickering light. She had stopped crying, but she was still sniveling into his kerchief, her face red from anger, tear-stained, as she looked around her, a small figure of utter hopelessness.
“I’ll make a fire, warm it up in here,” he told her before going to the hearth and kneeling down, set on building a blaze. She deserves tae be warm at least after her ordeal in the dungeons, he thought, bitterly regretting the fact he could do little else to soothe her despair.
She dragged herself over to the four-poster bed and sat on the edge, putting her head in her hands and letting out a great, mournful sigh. Her misery was almost tangible.
“I’m really sorry we havetae dae this tae ye, Ivy,” he said, meaning every word as he worked, breaking the kindling and laying it in the grate. “I wish there was another way.”
She did not respond to his words, so he decided to leave her to her sorrow for the moment. Soon, he had a fire blazing in the grate, and warmth began to seep into the room.
“Surely, it will nae be too bad goin’ back tae yer braither? Now he kens how little ye wantae wed this Gael Hamilton, mayhap he’ll change his mind.”
The sound she made then expressed her disdain for his suggestion. She lifted her head from her hands and looked at him. “Ye’ve nae the first idea of what’s gonnae happen tae me when ye give me back. He’ll likely kill me fer makin’ him a laughingstock by runnin’ from the weddin’ he so kindly arranged fer me. Or they’ll just drag me down that aisle kickin’ and screamin’ tae get want they want. I’d be better off dead.”
“I cannae believe a man would dae that tae his own sister, even if she wasnae willin’.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Then she shook her head and looked away. “Then I suppose ye’re lucky because yer family must be very different tae mine.”
“What about yer parents? D’ye have other siblings who could help persuade him tae let ye be?”
“Our parents were killed in a raid a long time ago, when I was ten. Carson is eight years older than me. He’s been laird since he was eighteen. Of our branch of the family, there’s just me and him left.”
“I see,” he said gravely, quite shocked by her tragic tale. If it was true. He decided not to tell her his own parents had been murdered during a robbery when he and Tadgh were young. The potential shared misfortune was making him feel sorry for her. He caught himself wishing he could change things for her and let her go. But he had his duty to Knox, so he brushed the urge aside. “I take it ye’re nae close then.”
She snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year. I told ye before, all he cares about is power. If it werenae for this treaty with Gael, he wouldnae care if I was found dead in a ditch.”
He did not quite believe it, but the thought of this man she was supposed to marry was nagging at him. “Tell me about his Gael. What’s he like?”
She visibly shuddered and hugged herself. “Vile. ‘Tis nay wonder him and Carson are friends. Both have souls as black as pitch. I wouldnae be surprised if they were in league with the devil. Carson betrothed me tae Gael when I was but a young lassie.”
“He’s much older than me, and he’s a hard drinker, a show-off with the lassies, an argumentative loud mouth, always boastin’ about his supposed exploits on the battlefield or in the bedchamber. He’s cruel tae his animals and tae his people, preferrin’ tae spend the wealth his clan makes fer him by the sweat of their brows on himself.” Her tone made it obvious she despised the man.
“He sounds like the perfect husband.”
“Och, aye, he’s the answer tae every lassie’s dream. But ye need nae worry, because ’tis nae ye who’ll be forced tae wed him and share his bed,” she replied with a bitter little smile.
The thought of her in bed next to this Gael made his stomach turn over. “I’m truly sorry, Ivy.”
“If ye’re truly sorry, then let me go!” She shouted the last four words, her lovely eyes flashing with a defiance he was starting to almost enjoy.
“I admire ye fer nae givin’ up tryin’, but ye ken I cannae dae that. I dinnae like tae keep repeatin’ mesel’, so please, dinnae ask me that again.”
The look she shot him was full of venom. “Ye think ye’re a good man, Liam MacTavish,” she hissed softly, like a snake about to strike. “I can see that as clear as day. Ye’re well pleased with tonight’s work, eh? The big man thinks he’s caught himsel’ a spy, and a lassie at that. And now he thinks he’s the hero of the hour.”
She paused to look down her fine, straight nose at him. “But as far as I’m concerned, I’ve just swapped one jailor fer another. Ye men are all the same. Bastards!”
For some bizarre reason, her words stung Liam. It was a novel experience for a woman to call him a bastard, and he found he did not like being compared to her monstrous brother or his lackey. Is that really how she sees me? And since when dae I care what she thinks of me?
He gave her a thin smile. “’Tis a shame tae see one so young so cynical,” he replied. “Have ye forgotten that we have nae proof what ye say about yer braither nae carin’ about ye is true? This chance fer Knox tae win peace from Carson and the Hamiltons has tae come first, fer it would save many lives, in his clan and yers” he explained, knowing his words sounded hollow.
As though giving up, she huffed angrily, threw herself backwards on to the bed, and put her arm over her eyes, refusing to say any more when he spoke to her.
“I must go now,” he said at last, hating to leave her in such a state. He was scared what she might do to herself when he left her alone. People with no hope sometimes tried to hurt themselves or worse. Sometimes, they succeeded.
“Aye, go, hurry. I ken ye’re gonnae help yer friend write tae me damned braither about me,” she said bitterly, not looking at him.
“I’ll come back later tae check on ye.”
“Dinnae bother.”
“I’ll bring some dinner up fer ye when I come back.” He went out quietly and locked the door behind him, wishing he could let her escape.
As he headed for Knox’s study, he wondered if there was any alternative they could use to win peace from MacAlister instead of sending Ivy back to what she claimed would be a fate worse than death. If anything bad happened to her, he did not think he would be able to forgive himself. Unfortunately, he could not think of a better way to win the peace Knox so badly needed.