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And it truly was not lost but it could be better if Adelaine came to see him. He had to see her and ask if his men had contacted her. If they had, what was she going to do about it? If they were set on rescuing him, they had taken a risk in contacting her because it could spin anyway. She could help them just as she could turn on them.
If they had sent for her when she was pleasanter to him, they could have had a shot. Now that she was angry with him, what would stop her from telling her father about it? If she did tell him, Caelan would be resting his head the chopping block in the next hour. Only the mercy of God could stop her from doing it.
He paced and prayed, prayed and paced. What more could he do while trapped in this tiny space? Again, he wondered what she would do if he did send for her under the pretense of confessing more of his supposed c
rime.
As time slipped away, he could not think of any other way. It was another gamble. Word might reach her father instead. Still, he had to see her. He didn’t know if the sound travelled upwards the same way as it did coming from the top floor to dungeon, but he tried anyway. He called loudly until his voice got hoarse.
He had almost given up when he heard the door scrape and he sighed in relief. Rough fingers massaged his throat while he heard the echo of boots coming toward him. It was that irritant, Tybalt, he knew it, but his zeal for seeing him punished would get the message to Adelaine faster than anyone else.
He paced more and he only stopped when Tybalt came in and scowled. “What do you want, dog?”
One day I will teach you some manners, boy.
“I need to speak with Lady Adelaine,” he said grimacing at the rough rasp in his voice.
“I don’t think she wants to speak with you,” Tybalt sneered.
Caelan eye him. “Ye want to see me head roll, don’t ye?” His question did not need an answer. “Then go tell her I have more to say.”
Tybalt’s face went like flint. “You can say it to me.”
Snorting, Caelan turned away. “Yer nae worthy, and when I dae speak with Lady Adelaine, ye will nae be here.”
His words and dismissive gesture should have been enough to spur the boy into action. Paying him no attention, Caelan began to pace again and took care to not look at the boy. Eventually, Tybalt huffed and spun, stomping his way upwards. Caelan kept pacing, pausing habitually to look out the tiny window and he saw a little drift of snow.
Would she still come?
He kept pacing until he heard the scrape of the door and then the echo of boots coming down. Sadly, it was just the echo of boots. His eyes clenched tightly—she was not there.
“Bad news Scot, she says she is not interested in anything you have to say and that if you truly want to say something, you can write it down and give it to Leicester,” Tybalt grinned. “That is, if you can write.”
Ignoring him, Caelan began pacing again. He’d be damned if he wrote anything condemning down. Hours passed and the day moved to dusk. Leicester was soon to come with his tasteless meat and water. The darkness was growing and the expected scrape of the gate came. By that time, he was in the corner spot with his head in the crook where the walls met.
He expected to hear stomps but heard the echo of slippers in the air. Could it be? He sat up and trained his eyes on the doorway, with his heartbeat increasing in time with his quickened breaths. When Adeline came in, his breath stopped. Not moving from his spot, he waited until she came closer.
“I kent ye’d never want to see me again,” he said quietly.
“I had decided the same, but I wanted to say my goodbyes,” Adelaine replied. “After this, you won’t see me again.”
“Why?” he asked bitterly. “Is it because of yer new suitor?”
“Even if it was, that is no business of yours,” Adelaine’s voice was guarded. “And how do you even know about that?”
“People talk, My Lady,” Caelan replied. “Mrs. Hertha was singing the young man’s praises not too long ago when she came with my mornin’ meal. I can only assume he’s some cocky dandy with a title and a rich faither.”
“As a matter of fact, he is,” Adelaine replied defensively. “If that is what you called me here for then this was a waste of my time.”
“It wasnae,” Caelan replied. “I just got carried away.”
Adelaine had turned toward the stair but stopped and over her shoulder asked, “What is it then?”
“I dinnae kill yer brother, lass,” Caelan said softly. “I can only hope ye’ll believe me.”
She turned fully and came to the iron bars, “I did…once.”
With hope ripe in his chest, Caelan stood and reached through the bars, praying she would take his hand. It was dim but he still was able to see the indecision in her face. She did not touch him and he let this hand drop.
