Chapter Seven

“Damn bastard,” Ella whispered as she recalled Cain’s confused expression. Of course he didn’t remember her.

He had no idea what his sneer had cost her in childish tears and sleepless nights, nor would he care if he did. It had been a young girl’s infatuation, but his look had stuck inside her heart, bolstered by the disappointed sneers from her own father. She shook her head. Why was she even worrying over it? She should be much more concerned about Cain trying to take her clan and castle.

Boo rubbed against her skirt, purring, as Ella sopped up the cat urine and shite left in the room. Cats lived only outdoors, and she would take the kitten there, but the Sinclair chief’s wake was still going on below despite darkness falling. She could hear the music and male laughter when she opened the door to toss out the fouled rags.

“We will leave tonight,” she whispered, scratching the purring kitten. “If they ever fall asleep.” Hopefully, the Sinclairs were drinking lots of whisky, although she had smelled only a hint of it on Cain earlier. Would he post a guard right outside her door? If he did, escape tonight might be impossible. But she must go tonight or tomorrow at the latest if she wanted to use the hidden stairway in the chief’s room, because Cain would be moving in there soon.

Rap. Rap. The knock was soft on her door. Ella slid her hand over the blade that she’d strapped to her leg, the other one secured up her sleeve, the point wedged into the seam of her cuff to keep it from falling out.

“Who is it?”

“Hannah Sinclair. I have some drink for ye to go with the tarts. Cain said ye might be thirsty.”

Ella opened the door to the young blond woman. Slight in frame, she was tall like a fragile sapling in the forest and wore a flowing gown that added to her angelic look. She held a tray and had green fabric draped over her arm. “Thank you,” Ella said, taking the tray, and Hannah followed her inside. Cain’s sister gave a little gasp as she bent to scoop up Boo, nuzzling the kitten against her cheek while Ella set the tray down and washed her hands.

She met Ella’s gaze when she came out from the privacy screen. “So…Cain hurt your feelings years ago at the Beltane fair.”

Did the Sinclair siblings tell each other everything? Ella shrugged. “It was long ago.”

“Unresolved hurt never heals properly. Like stitched flesh that does not take. It can break open again and feel like a fresh wound.” She set the squirming kitten down and shook out the fabric in her hands. It was another gown, this one in green, and a smock. “I found another set for ye.”

“That is…very generous, considering I am a prisoner.”

Hannah kept her expression neutral and serious. “Ella, please know that the look my brother gave ye back then was not meant for ye, but for your father. When my aunt, Merida, was divorced by Alec Sutherland and sent back to Girnigoe in shame, she was quite open about the brutality she endured at Dunrobin under her husband when she could not produce a living child. He wanted nothing more than a male heir.”

A bigger truth could not be said. Ella had lived with the stigma of being a female her entire life. Her father would rail against her simply for being a daughter and not a son. She’d spent her early life hiding behind her mother, but when Mary Sutherland died in childbirth when Ella was fourteen years old, Ella had learned to become nearly invisible at Dunrobin to avoid Alec Sutherland.

Hannah squeezed her hand. “That day, my father reminded Cain that ye were the daughter of the devil who beat his horses and his women.”

Ella swallowed past the stricture in her throat, her voice coming softly. “Alec Sutherland never beat a horse.” The connection between their gazes said the rest.

Hannah breathed in fully. “I cannot imagine the horror of living like that.” She glanced away, moving to the window to run a finger down the fresh nails biting into the frame. “My father may have bellowed, but his only crime against me was…” She turned to Ella with a sad smile. “He never looked at me.”

“Looked at you?”

“Or said my name, or talked directly to me, as if I was not there. I was treated well, like one of his horses, but when I was born a girl and not the fourth horseman like he’d planned, he basically decided I did not exist. To this day, people are shocked to learn George Sinclair had five children instead of only four boys. As if my presence might make his claim about his sons being the biblical horsemen less believed.”

“I do not believe his claim.”

Hannah smiled. “Cain says he didn’t see any of his brothers coming down from a cloud fully formed, either. But the legend Da spurred makes our enemies quake and gives my brothers a way to organize themselves.”

“The legend does not make me quake, either.”

“Of course not,” Hannah said without hesitation. “Ye are the bravest woman I have ever met. Climbing out the tower window, ordering a battalion of men, standing before Cain without trembling.” She shook her head. “And requesting to be executed instead of wedding.” She lowered her voice as if someone might hear. “So, the wedding night, ye prefer death to the breeding act?”

“No,” Ella said slowly. “I prefer death over surrendering my clan.”

The wedding night? What would a wedding night with Cain Sinclair be like? His kiss had nearly wiped all plans of escape from Ella’s mind when they’d balanced together in the tree. Her pounding heart had turned from desperation to something else, something like her foolish response when he’d smiled at her years ago.

Hannah’s brows lowered. “I do not know how to help ye. Cain was raised to take all he can for our clan. It is his main responsibility.” She stepped out into the dark hall and gave her a gentle smile. “Oh, and Cain said that ye must come below in the morn to eat instead of food being carried up here. And I will see if I can find more smocks for ye. Sleep well.”

At this rate, Ella would have more clothes at Girnigoe than Dunrobin. “My trousers and tunic?” she asked quickly before Hannah could shut the door.

“Are wonderful,” Hannah said, her smiling face popping back in. “I tried them on,” she whispered. “I have asked the tanner to make me a pair. I will send yours up to ye right now and a new tunic, because the other one is still being repaired.”

Ella watched her slip out, the door clicking into place. She picked up Boo, touching her tiny nose to her own. “I would guess that she knows all the ways in and out of Girnigoe.” If only Hannah could be turned away from her brother to help her escape. “No matter,” she whispered to the kitten. “I will get us out myself.”

…

“Ye think Ella will come this way?” Gideon asked Cain as they stood in the darkness, listening to the sea waves rolling the pebbles upon the shoreline. The sliver of moon hid behind the sparse clouds, giving only a dim glow to the ocean stretching out before them.

Cain looked behind him at the door that was nearly obscured by the tenacious trees, their roots clutching to the rocks at the base of Girnigoe. “I told Thomas to sit at the bottom of the steps. She likely heard me mention the key, and she is still angry as hell. Aye, I think she will.”

“And ye are just going to wait here?” his brother asked.

“She knows I will be moving into Da’s room very soon and that many of the guards have been drinking spirits all day. If she comes this way, it will likely be tonight,” Cain said, tossing a rock into the gentle waves coming with the tide. “I have a guard set at her horse and the night watch keeping an eye out for her if she gets past Thomas on the steps.” He looked up at the sky and the position of the moon. “But my guess is that she will be along soon.”

“What are ye going to do with her once ye catch her out here?”

“First, probably stop her from trying to kill me.” Cain felt a grin tug at his mouth. Ella Sutherland definitely had claws. How would they feel scratching down his bare back? “After that I hope she will take a ride with me to Loch Hempriggs,” Cain continued.

Gideon chuckled. “Ye are trying to woo her with kittens and stars?”

Cain frowned. He’d never had to worry about garnering the interest of a lass before. They’d been attracted to his build, strength, and position in the clan as soon as he’d started training with real swords. “Do ye have a better strategy for getting a woman who hates ye to agree to wed with ye?”

“Gowns, gold, horses?” Gideon asked.

But what did he know? He’d never wooed a woman, either.

“Passion?” Gideon added.

Now that idea had merit. However, trying to get close to Ella Sutherland again likely meant he would feel a blade between his ribs, one of his father’s blades that were no longer stashed under his pillows. Cain turned toward the closed door that he’d left locked, so she wouldn’t guess that he knew she was coming until she was already outside.

“Ye could force her,” Gideon suggested. “Tell her that ye will wipe out her entire clan and burn Dunrobin to the ground if she does not wed and bed ye.”

“Ye say that with all seriousness?” Cain asked, his words heavy with disappointment in the lack of his brother’s intelligence. “Passion or kill her entire clan?”

Gideon threw his hands up. “Terrible suggestions.”

“And ones that would end any potential of me siring offspring.”

“Ye do not need a wife to sire offspring,” Gideon said.

The four brothers had been schooled by their father to be very careful not to spread their seed around. He’d warned them any time they paid attention to a lass to spill their seed outside of her body. Claims to the chiefdom through blood relation to the laird was nearly binding in the eyes of King James. No bastards would come from the sons of George Sinclair. And no sons had come from Alec Sutherland, so wedding Ella should not raise the king’s ire.

Ella. He glanced up to the slight glow of firelight in the small unnailed windows cut into the peak of her tower room. She was likely plotting his murder right now. Despite her tenuous position, she hadn’t cowered or begged for release. Nay, she’d demanded it. Aye, she had claws and acted like no other woman he’d ever met.

He looked to Gideon. “If I were to sire a child outside my marriage bed, I am fairly certain that my throat would be slit within it if I were wed to Ella Sutherland.”

Gideon laughed, the sound of the sea muting most of it. “Da would come back from the grave to kill ye again for dying while on your back, in a bed, without a sword in your bloody hand. Nay, ye are right. Woo away, brother, and may Holy Mother Mary sway the lass’s heart.” He slapped Cain on the back warmly. “I will check within the stables and head to my bed.”

Cain watched Gideon walk along the rocks that lined the coast until he reached the path that would take him to the bailey and stables. He glanced up the length of stone to the tower again. The window had gone dark. She might be going to sleep, or she might be sneaking out of her room to find the key and travel down the steep steps of the secret escape. When his mother was still alive, his father had kept a boat tied here for her and his sons to escape if the walls of Girnigoe were ever breached.

Cain slid through the shadows up against the wall, breathing slowly, listening to the rush and retreat of the ocean. The sound of a key clicking in the iron lock made him grin. He’d been right. He was always right when it came to strategy and winning.

The door swung outward, and Ella stepped out wearing a white tunic and the leather trousers that hugged the curves of her arse, hips, and shapely legs. The kitten was a black blur trotting next to her. Cain lunged toward Ella, knocking the blade from her hand and catching her up in his arms.

“Fok. Dammit, Sinclair!”

“Such foul curses from such a bonny mouth,” he said, holding her against his frame, his solid chest to her soft one.

She struggled, her legs sliding against him. “I want to see my horse.”

“She is well cared for,” he said, her knee grazing close to his jack.

“I would see for myself. Put me down.”

He slowly let her slide down his length until her boots found solid footing on the wobbly rocks. She narrowed her eyes and glared up at him. “Does the god of conquest like scaring and grabbing helpless lasses in the dark?” she asked, disgust in her voice.

“First off,” he said, his voice rough as he realized how much he wanted to pull her back into his arms, “ye are anything but helpless. Second, we are not gods, we are messengers sent from God.”

She snorted softly, which almost sounded like a laugh, and turned to walk along the shoreline where the kitten stumbled, clinging to a large rock. He came up even with her as she rescued Boudica from falling in the water. “We are all sent from God,” she said, continuing on under the drawbridge.

“Ye know ye cannot escape,” he said, walking behind her.

“That is still to be seen, but my intent is to check on my horse and to let Boo out, so she won’t foul my room tonight.”

The lass had braided her hair so that it ran down her straight back all the way to the gentle slope at the base of her spine. His hand would fit nicely there. Bloody hell, she was enticing with her snapping comments, clever mind, and soft curves. She was unpredictable in a world where most people were as easily maneuvered as pieces on a chessboard.

“The moon is not too bright, and I wish to show ye something. It will require a ride.” Although, with her rubbing against him in a saddle, it would prove hard to convince her that he was planning only to show her his favorite constellations.

She glanced at him. “If I can ride Gilla, then I am willing.” Problem solved.

He frowned over his reaction to her. His legendary discipline was affected by her nearness. Perhaps he should have Merida give her foul-smelling soap to use.

“This way,” he said, reaching under her arm to help her up the slippery rocks while she held the kitten.

She tried to yank away until he saved her from slipping. “Blasted seaweed,” she murmured, clutching the kitten close.

He released her arm as they emerged up the slope by the drawbridge. “Your horse is housed with our personal horses within Girnigoe’s walls. The rest of our horses reside in stables beyond.”

“You separate them by color.”

“A strategy set up by my father.” Their boots crunched as they walked across the hard-packed ground toward the white-painted building.

Ella lowered the kitten to the ground. “Now that he is gone, will you continue to separate them? It seems unfair to your last brother, since there are not too many green horses in the world.” Her words held a hint of ridicule.

“There are no green horses in the world,” Cain said. “Bàs takes the gray horses and some white horses. Our father had a green paint made from grasses and leaves, with which Bàs’s herd is wiped down before battles.”

Ella stopped to look at him. “He paints his horses green?”

“Presentation of the legend around the four Sinclair brothers makes our opponents panic enough to flee or, at the very least, undermines their confidence. Victory is often won by those who believe they will win.”

“And you always think you will win,” she said, looking straight ahead.

“Aye, of course.”

“Self-conceit,” she murmured.

“Self-confidence,” he countered, feeling a smile tug at his mouth.

Cain jogged over to the guard’s post where several stood watch, nodding to them as he took up one of their lanterns. Ella crouched at the stable door where she let Boudica run off. Lantern held high, Cain pushed the door to slide along well-oiled rollers. As the light filled the dark stable, Ella ran directly toward her mare, who resided comfortably in the first stall. She unlatched the door and slid inside to wrap her arms around the horse’s neck, pressing her face into her. “Gilla, sweet Gilla.”

Cain watched Ella stroke the horse lovingly. Not since he was a lad, wishing to gallop away like an untrained stallion to escape his father’s wild nature, had he wished to be a horse.

She turned her face to him, and the happiness there caught his breath. “Thank you,” she said. “For not killing her. She has no choice in this war of ours.”

High cheekbones accented the lines of her face, and there was a slight shine to her eyes. “No animal has a choice,” he said. “Most people do not, either. They fight for whom they are told to fight unless they find themselves in charge.”

The mare rested her chin on Ella’s shoulder. He wished he could suck the words back into his mouth, because they caused the smile to fade from her face. “You think I am choosing to keep this war going between our clans,” she said. It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed. “You know nothing about me, Sinclair. Not about my family or the oaths I have made to protect it.”

“Tell me, then,” he said. What promises did her sarding father wring from her before he died? “Some oaths are not worth keeping.”

“The ones I have made are.”

Damn. He wished he could see into her mind to know what was driving her. Her fears and wants for the future. If he knew those, he could strategize on how to…make her happy, make her smile like she did when she saw her horse was safe. Happiness was a prize he had never sought to bring about in another.

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the stables. “Cain?” Gideon’s face appeared in the open doorway. “’Tis Ginny. She is foaling, and…’tis difficult.”

Mo chreach.

“I have experience with problem foaling,” Ella said, sliding out of the stall and hurrying with them from the barn.

The three jogged in a small cluster through the night where the clouds raced off to reveal a slender moon, through the bailey and over the last drawbridge. “Up ahead,” Cain said, and they rounded a copse of trees that helped shade the long stable that housed at least twenty-five of his horses. “She is in the birthing paddock at the end.”

“Cain!” Bàs yelled, running toward them up the aisle as they entered. “Ginny needs help. Now.”