“And dae ye wish tae escape?” Her heart thumped as she waited for his answer.
His arms tightened around her. “Nay lass. I dinnae wish tae escape.”
His words were greeted with another wild flash of lightning. The ponies whinnied, doused by the torrent of rain. The thunderclap that followed was almost deafening. The storm was right overhead now.
Annora clung to Edmund, her face buried in his shoulder, drawing courage and strength from the powerful arms holding her.
All at once she had a vision of the night she had made her escape from the slaver’s ship and how she’d felt his powerful arms around her then, hauling her to safety.
Shuddering at the memory, she clutched Edmund’s hand.
“What is it lass? What is it that affrights ye so?”
“I was recalling the night I met ye.”
He took his mind back to her struggle as the black waters closed over her. He rescued her twice that night. Once from the sea and once from the slavers who pursued her.
“I never fully understood how it was that ye were on that ship that night.”
She huffed. “I explained it tae ye. I was escaping from the birlinn belonging tae Baron Sir Bertram Radcliffe.”
“I recall ye telling me that, yet I didnae understand how ye came tae be alone, wi’ nay one looking out fer ye and why ye chose the slavers over yer betrothed.”
She put her head in her hands for a moment as the horrible memories washed over her. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears.
“Me faither sold me tae the Englishman. It was much the same as the slavers selling me tae their Sultan. Each of them caring naught fer me or me wishes. I was of nay consequence tae me faither, nor tae Radcliffe, nor tae the Sultan. When I dived overboard, I was ready tae die in me bid fer freedom.”
“And that would have been yer fate had I nae happened tae catch sight of ye?” He adjusted his arm to bring her closer, his mind reeling. It was only now he fully understood what she’d endured, unloved, uncared for, a hapless captive.
“Aye. Yet, I am still a prisoner.” She touched his face gently with her finger. “Although ye’re a kinder jailer than I’ve kent before.”
He groaned. “I’m nae yer jailer Annora. I’ve nay wish tae keep ye ensnared against yer will. Whenever ye wish it, I’ll take ye wherever ye want. Whether it be tae France, or Russia or even… tae Africa.”
She plucked at his arm, her stomach in knots. “There’s something I’ve nae had time tae tell ye.”
“What, pray, is that?” Alarm caused his heart to stutter.
“An incident that took place when ye were settling the dispute. It has given me pause, and I have come tae believe there is danger fer me lurking at the castle.”
She told him the story of the stone that had bounced from above as she had walked in the herb garden, and of her narrow escape.
He clutched her hand tight, his eyes clouding with fear.
“I didnae tell ye until I’d heard back from the seneschal and kent fer sure it was nay accident.”
He squeezed her hands as his mind scuttered over this shocking new information. Someone at Scorrybreac wished harm to Annora. The knowledge sat hard on his shoulders.
“I’ll dae all I can tae keep ye safe, Annora. But I willnae be able tae keep watch over ye at all times.”
“And I dinnae wish tae be under surveillance at all times. I will be careful of where I tread. I can keep meself safe.”
He drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly.
“I’ll take ye away as soon as I can. I dinnae wish ye tae be in danger because of me.”
She shook her head. “Ye have important business tae conclude here, I dinnae wish ye tae leave it on me account.”
He pressed his lips to her finger tips. “I thank ye,” he said softly.
