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Her arms were wrapped around herself before her eyebrows shot up and she unla
ced her hands to rummage in her coat. She pulled out a cloth and unfolded the squares to reveal a bun. “Here, um, I saw what they gave you to eat and I don’t think it can be…um, sorry, here.”
Reaching out to take it, Caelan bit into it and the flavor of honey burst over his tongue. The honey cake was delightful, but he did not eat all of it, instead, he wrapped the rest and said, “It is lovely, thank ye.”
She wrapped her arms around herself once more. “My brother, Peter, before he…passed, how was he? Besides the pain?”
The Scotsman lips pressed tightly before he sighed, “Calm; if ye ask me then, I’d say he had accepted his fate.”
Adelaine’s face went grim, “I find that rather hard to believe, Peter was mild-mannered but he always had this will to live, to fight whatever was thrown his way. It’s hard to think that he just gave up.”
“I wish I could agree with ye,” Caelan said as his mind ran over the last words Peter had said. “But it is what it is, Me Lady.”
Her eyes were dim, “I…I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”
She was about to leave when he said, “Before he passed, he mentioned ye. Well, he said his sister and I hadn’t ken I’d ever see ye. Then, I wasnae sure when to tell ye but this would be time, aye? His words were a bit cryptic, he said, ‘We shall still play b’neath ye old oak tree.’ Dae ye ken what it means?”
“When he and I were young we’d both play beneath an old oak tree,” she said hollowly. “It was cut down a few years ago when it began to rot from the inside out. But now that he’s…gone, I do not suppose that can ever be,” Adelaine ended sadly.
Caelan felt a colder than usual breeze move through the window and he looked up to see the snippet of the dark sky though it. “Me Lady, I ken ye should go back to yer home, it is getting dark and I ken the whole manor would be looking for ye.”
She nodded, “That’s true. I should go.”
He smiled, “Thank ye, again, for the bun.”
Adelaine smiled tightly and then flicked her hood up and left the dungeon. Caelan heard the upper door scrape closed and when the full darkness of night fell, he pulled out the rest of the bun. He was a bit conflicted. Where had this kindness come from between her slapping him and saying he was a barbarian and then asking him about details about her brother.
Briefly, he wondered if she had managed to add some poison into it but he knew in his heart she had not done anything like that. She might be angry but he had no belief that the Sassenach had a malicious bone in her body.
Spinning the bun, he bit into it again and savored every bite. It was the sole comfort he had in this painful, bitter situation, and for the next eight bites, it had become the sweetest.
Chapter 5
He’s a Laird. Laird of the McLagen Clan. No wonder he had looked so noble when my father had contested him. He had lifted his head and looked at him like a King.
Adelaine was softly brushing her hair out with slow motions and steady rhythm. It was night and the air was getting cooler as was fitting for that time of the year but not so cold that she could not bear it. Her eyes lit on the large black mass that was the keep and she wondered how Caelan was faring. The flickering tongues of fire in her grate were more ceremonial than anything and the thought of the thin blanket McLagen always clutched around his shoulders made her frown.
He must be huddled with it now. The dungeons can be very cold.
“My Lady?” Martha said while coming in. “Oh, you’ve begun. Do you wish for the nightcap?”
“No,” Adelaine said. “It’s a bit too hot. I’ll just sleep with my hair plaited.”
“Very well,” Martha said and took the brush. “Did you get to speak with the Scotsman?”
“I did,” Adelaine replied, sighing softly as her maid stroked through her hair. “And I used what you told me to use to see if he was lying.”
“Was he?” Martha dropped the brush and began to gather Adelaine’s hair into a braid.
“Not as far as I could tell,” she replied. “And I don’t get the impression that he is a liar or makes a habit of lying either.”
Her hair was in one thick braid and she fingered her velvet caul before standing to go the window. Her eyes ran over the dark grass and the cobblestone walkways and then to the cold, dark stone structure.
“He doesn’t strike me as a deceiver. This does not make sense…” she paused.
“My Lady,” Martha said cautiously. “Not to disregard your intuition, I don’t think asking him one time will be good enough. I think you should find a way to weave the questions in over the next few days or as long as His Lordship will have him here.”
Adelaine nodded, “That is sensible. I’ll begin doing that…Father told me he has it on good word that McLagen killed my brother. That only means he was told so. That is the truth he believes. Could it be that both of them are speaking their parts of the truth but there is another version with the whole story?” Adelaine mused out loud. “Martha, have we still had no word of my father?”
