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“Ye can tell me, lass,” he cajoled. “Don’t be scared.”
“Yes, that was it,” she finally said timidly. “He sent me a letter saying he would have you killed for killing Peter.”
Resting his back on the bars, Caelan looked at the stone wall, that was dark and dour, a visual representation of the sinking feeling his stomach and said, “It is his right to enact vengeance, an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.”
He was not expecting her to reach through the vertical bars and wrap her arms around his waist. Her cheek rested on a section of the back of his shoulder. “You don’t deserve it.”
Resting a hand over hers, Caelan took in the difference of their skin. His was still somewhat tan and rugged, his arms and lightly dusted with hair while her arms were smooth cream. His finger trailed over the back of her hand. “Nay, I dinnae but I’m in nay position to change me fate.”
“But what if someone changed it for you?” Adelaine whispered. “Surely someone can. Mayhap one of your Clan members.”
“Wouldnae do any good,” Caelan said. He hated how he was speaking like one already heading to the noose but he was not one to live in dremas while cold hard reality was staring him in the face. “The King is the only one who could free me and he’s dead. No one else can do so.”
“But…what if you escaped?” Adelaine said while retracting her arms. “What if you ran?”
The Scotsman pivoted to look at her, “I’d be lying lass if I havenae kent of that but it is impossible. I cannot break these bars and ye have no key to the locks. Moreover, if ye tried to free me, and yer father got wind o’ it, he’d never let ye leave the manor again.”
She was puzzled, “You…are you saying that you would stay in captivity for…me? And not take a chance to find freedom?”
“Lass,” Caelan’s tone was flat. “Look around. This dungeon is closed fast as the buttons on yer Old King’s gherkin. I cannae leave unless God himself broke the bars apart. And if I did run back home, that would cause another war between yer people and mine. More blood will be shed and I cannae have more death on me hands.”
“You really do not like death, do you?” Adelaine said quietly.
He just shook his head. Adelaine’s smile was faint. “But think of your Clan. Wouldn’t you want to be with them?”
“Again, nae if the cost is other’s bloodshed,” he replied.
Adelaine stood and righted her coat, “Just think of it…for me?”
“I promise,” he nodded and took his fill of the sight of her as she went to the doorway.
There she paused and looked over her shoulder, her cheeks were pink. “I like how you say my name…Caelan.”
Before he could utter a word, she was gone. Sitting back, he reflected on what she had to say about him escaping and going back home to his family. As much as he hated to think of it, Adelaine had made a persuasive argument. If he did get home, the Earl would be coming for his head.
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But it was an idea he liked to toy around with. If he did escape, the only thing he could do was to become a nomad and live a life without any connections. Another idea that was a bit provocative was thinking that if he did manage to escape, Adelaine might come with him.
His head knocked on the wall behind a few times. Stop being a fool, Caelan. What reason have ye given the lovely lass to forsake her home and kin to follow ye into a life of exile?
“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I’m working off nothing but a lustful attraction and a craving for human interaction. She’s better off her with her family where she can find a good husband. Taking off with me would only put her in danger…” he looked toward the dark door, “…but it is lovely to ken about.”
The idea of escaping had felt preposterous to him when the lass has suggested it but now, as he kept musing over it, did not ring with the same insanity as before. He wanted to get out of this dark, cold, stone prison. The more that he thought about it, his very bones began to ache with the prospect of freedom. The notion was great but how could it be executed right under the Earl’s nose?
Why would the lass bring this up when her father is surely watching?
But wait, didn’t the lass say her father sent her a letter? The only conclusion was that the man was away. This could be the only opportunity to make his escape. He paced the floor to get his body’s heat up while thinking of how to approach the situation.
The scrape of the door above had him pausing to listen. He cocked his head to the side, trying to discern who was coming. Soft footsteps and the almost silent whisper of clothing had him smiling. Facing the doorway, he waited until she came in, and, one-handed, tugged the hood from her head. With her other hand, she was holding a pewter cup.
Nearing, her eyebrows inched up. “You’re flushed.”
“I’ve been pacing to keep my heat in,” Caelan replied as his eye darted to the cup. “Is that for me? I’ve already had my first meal. If it’s more milk I am beginnin’ to ken yer spoilin’ me.”
“It’s not milk,” she said. “Something stronger—cider.”
“Lass, are ye trying to get me drunk?” he teased.
