Chapter Seventeen
Spending a couple of hours outside in the courtyard and in the gatehouse with Reid and Norval, Cyrus forced Elspeth from his mind. He had to focus on the business at hand—the safety of Elspeth and everyone in this manor house. If Fraser, Irving, and MacNeil were successful in reaching Rebbinglen, they would arrive back here the next evening at the earliest. What if Henry attacked before then? He had to find a safe place for Elspeth and her servants to hide.
He entered the hall, seeing her seated near the hearth while talking to her steward.
As Cyrus approached, their conversation ceased, and she watched him warily.
Although he disliked the hint of anger still glinting in her eyes, he couldn't deal with it now. He quickly got to the point. "I need to look at your cellar."
Her brows quirked and she appeared confused by his odd request. "Are you in need of more whisky?"
"Nay. I'm looking for a more secure place to protect you and your servants."
"Oh."
"If for some reason Fraser, Irving, and MacNeil don't return before that knave attacks, we need a plan."
"I'll show you." Her demeanor chilly, she took a candle from the mantle and led the way down the narrow turnpike stairs.
He lifted his gaze to her coppery hair, refusing to allow himself to be distracted by the sensual movement of her hips. Being in her presence and pretending he felt naught was like trying to put out a fire with whisky.
Once they reached the cellar, he glanced around the stone walls of the much cooler room. The first vaulted chamber was large and contained food supplies, such as sacks of grain, root vegetables, and salted meat. A door led to the outside. Two narrow windows on each side allowed in slivers of light.
The door was already barred, but to prevent anyone from forcing their way in, Cyrus rolled three heavy barrels filled with supplies in front of it. "That will reinforce the door should they try to break it down."
Turning, he scrutinized her face. With hellish voracity, he wanted to stare at her for hours. But of course, that would be the most insane thing ever. Pulling his attention away, he noticed an interior door. "What's in there?"
"Barrels of wine, ale, and whisky."
They would need to keep any fighting and potential fire away from the whisky. "What about the other room?" He glanced at a small door at the end of the narrow corridor.
"'Tis where the cheese is stored."
That appeared promising. "I need to have a look."
She carried the candle and he followed her into a room as cool as her mood. He didn't like this rift between them. His gut told him 'twas not right at all. Most likely, he should apologize. But what would he say to her? He rarely apologized for anything. Planning things out in advance prevented the need. But any plans he'd made were like ripped up sheet music cast into the fire. He was now playing by ear, but he was no musician. All was jarring and dissonant.
He well knew how to negotiate with men… or conquer them. But women were completely different creatures.
He'd thought he was doing the right thing by taking financial responsibility should a bairn result from their untamed and hedonistic bedsport. But, nay, his offer had insulted her, though he had no inkling why.
"What do you think?" Her voice broke into his musings.
His attention shifted to her. He hadn't even realized he was staring at the wheels of cheese on the shelves. He glanced around the room, finding a table in the center.
"Given how we'll be outnumbered, this will be the best place to fight Dalacroy. Since he wants this manor house, he won't burn it. And he'll likely order his men not to damage it."
Her face blanched and her eyes widened.
Cyrus wanted to tell her all would be well, but he couldn't make empty promises. He wished he knew the outcome, but he didn't.
"Tell all your staff that if 'tis announced that the enemy is outside, they're to take cover in this room." He moved into the corridor again. "Since only three of us will be fighting, we'll have an easier time protecting all of you down here within this narrow passage. We'll only have to contend with a couple of their men at one time, and we'll have a far better chance of defeating them."
Turning to her, he saw that Elspeth appeared tense, her breathing shallow. He knew her fear was real and that made his gut ache. "I'll do my best to keep all of you safe." Was he willing to give up his life defending her? Aye, he suspected he was, especially when she looked at him with such trust.
Now was not the time to figure out why she was vexed with him, but he had to clear the air. "I'm sorry I angered you before. 'Twas not my intention."
She avoided his gaze. "Do not concern yourself with it."
