Darragh turned away then, walking over to the window overlooking a courtyard. As he watched the men below, he said, “She doesnae trust the question.”
“And what about ye?” his man-at-arms pressed. “Do ye trust that yer plans will be able to reach her?”
“Nay,” Darragh answered quietly, the admission almost paining him.
Ewan exhaled through his nose, the sound amused enough to be mistaken for a laugh. He turned, walking toward the door as he said, “This will nae be solved with strategy alone, Me Laird.”
Darragh didn’t reply, his mind already creating contingencies. If speaking with Flora didn’t work, perhaps Jinny would be able to get Amelia to open up with some guidance. The maid was incredibly persistent, and he’d yet to see her look deflated at Amelia’s withdrawn nature. Or perhaps he could begin a survey of each laird in the surrounding areas. Surely someone would have noticed Amelia was missing.
That might take time, but at least it would give me somethin’ to focus on. I cannae wait for her to tell me who she’s hidin’ from. That could give them time to come for her.
With a final sweeping gaze, Darragh turned and left the same way Ewan did. His plans continued coalescing in his mind, but he couldn’t get either of them to account for the way that Amelia unsettled his certainty. And that, more than politics, was what truly concerned him.
Chapter Thirteen
Amelia was sitting at the window seat in her chambers when Darragh entered. Jinny had reported that despite having the freedom to explore the keep, she’d spent most of her days here, alone. Even now, her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.
She looks like she’s tryin’ to hold herself together.
Afternoon light spilled through the window, turning dust motes into drifting gold and painting her in a heavenly glow. For a long moment, he admired the soft line of her profile. Then, realizing that his gaze was lingering, he cleared his throat and broke the moment. She turned toward him slowly without answering. Her grey-green eyes were dull, exhausted, when her gaze found him.
“Flora Morgan arrives within the week,” he said, his tone still clipped and formal, an attempt to maintain the professional distance he was trying to place between the two of them.
It was more difficult to do now that she was in front of him once again. Despite how tired she looked, she was gorgeous in this lighting. He remembered the feeling of her body against his and the short seconds that she’d returned the kiss he shouldn’t have initiated.
“Who?” Amelia asked, furrowing her brow.
“She is a lass that survived just like ye,” he explained, taking a slow step toward the center of her room. “I think that she may help ye.”
“Nay.”
The word came out fast, sharp enough to cut. She stood then, a wild look settling on her features. Her entire body was poised to run, and her hands shook at her sides.
“Ye cannae bring strangers to stare at me like I’m some broken thing,” she argued, accusatory and desperate. “Ye cannae.”
Darragh slid back, keeping his body language deliberately neutral and non-threatening. Calmly, he said, “She willnae judge ye, Amelia. She is like ye. She was part of the hunt just as ye were.”
Amelia’s breathing went ragged. He saw the way her expression shifted, anger warring with panic. It was something he was utterly ill-equipped to handle.
“I thought that I could stay until I was strong,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Ye can,” Darragh assured. “I meant everythin’ I’ve said to ye.”
She didn’t look as if she heard him. Her shoulders slumped as she made herself smaller. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, poised to run at any second.
“But ye want her to… toreachme,” she said, the words sticking in her throat. “Ye just want me to tell ye where I came from so ye can send me back.”
“Amelia—”
“Nay,” she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “Ye keep pressin’ and pressin’ for me secrets. Ye say ye’re nae goin’ to make me leave, but why else would ye be so intent on gettin’ me to open up? Is that why ye’ve given me me freedom?”
“I gave ye yer freedom because ye’re nae me prisoner,” he said, speaking to her as if she were a spooked horse. “And I’ve invited Flora to make ye more comfortable here. Ye’re allowed to stay.”
“Then stop tryin’ to send me back! Stop confusin’ me!” Amelia cried, the fear finally seeming to gain control of her mind. Her voice cracked as she continued, “Ye say this place isnae a prison, but ye confined me to me chambers. Ye dinnae even come to inform me ye were leavin’ and that me leash had been extended.Where I was before was a cage, too! This one is just prettier than the tower they threw me into.”
Darragh stepped closer slowly, carefully. She was wounded, and that could be dangerous for both of them. He couldn’t bear to maintain the distance, though. Not when she looked as though she were seconds from shattering.
“Nae one is sendin’ ye back anywhere,” he said, stopping himself before he invaded her space. “Flora is simply comin’ to visit to speak with ye.”
