damp air, smelling of ale, surrounded her. And she heard the echo of water, deep in a well …
Once safely ten steps beyond the sound, she breathed again. She was to be spared that, at least. For now. With the reprieve, she could think again and realised she had been walking since daybreak.
At the tower’s next level, she paused. ‘I need …’ She faced implacable disgust in his eyes. He would not care that she needed a garderobe and a moment of her own. It was not something she wished to speak of to any man.
Remember who you are, Stella.
She lifted her head and fixed her stare on Black Rob. ‘I need time for women’s things.’
Puzzlement, then understanding unseated the disgust in his eyes. A flush stained his strong cheekbones. Still gripping her arm, he pushed her to the other corner of the floor until they stood before the door of the little room. The man who had been full of bluster shifted from one foot to the other.
A young girl walked out of the hall and he dropped Stella’s arm to grab hers. ‘You. Stand before the door. Call me when she’s done.’
He stepped back. ‘And don’t think about jumping out.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘How daft do I look?’
‘Daft enough to wander alone on the wrong side of the border.’
She closed the door on him and listened to his retreating steps, grateful for a moment alone to gather her strength. She had planned to get close to the tower, close enough to see or hear something about her father that would force her squabbling cousins to act. Instead, she was within the walls and a prisoner.
If she told Rob Brunson who she was, once he knew she was Hobbes Storwick’s daughter, the man would no doubt take her directly to her father and then …
She sighed. No. Her first instinct had been the right one. The less they knew of who she was, the safer she would be.
But since she was inside the tower, she could discover where her father was being held. She would see him soon. It couldn’t be that hard. Search the floors, speak with a servant …
But what if her father was not here. Then what?
Waiting for the women to return, Rob sat in the Hall, looking out over the valley, and argued with himself. He had felt her flinch when he mentioned the cellar, yet a Storwick man deserved no better than the laich level. Nor a Storwick woman, either, but he couldn’t shake that memory of her expression, a strange mix, as if she were frightened, but too proud to admit it.
Never show weakness, son. Especially not to a Storwick.
No doubt this woman’s father had said near the same.
The Tait girl brought Stella into the Hall and he looked at her eyes, deeply, for the first time. Green, they were, and shadowed with strong brows that gave her a slightly disapproving look.
Well, she’d have no reason to disapprove of her treatment by the Brunsons. At least not until she earned worse. She was, after all, a woman and he was not a cruel man, though his enemies had been known to disagree.
‘We’ve an empty room,’ he said, as he led her to the next level. ‘It will be yours for now. But the minute you try to escape, it will be down to the cellar with you.’
He opened the door and she stepped in, turning to survey the room. ‘A bit barren, but it will do.’
‘Barren?’ He was still unused to the luxury of the curtained bed he’d been sleeping in these last months. This room had a broad bed, fireplace, and stool. What more did a body need? ‘It was good enough for my sister. Unless you’d prefer the cellar.’
He thought she flinched again, but just as quickly, her calm returned. ‘No. This will do.’
‘Do?’ The word a judgement. ‘You should be grateful I’m letting you set foot in my sister’s room.’
A pout seemed to threaten her lower lip. ‘It’s just … it’s not what I’m accustomed to.’
‘Are you accustomed to one of your English king’s castles, then?’
Her eyes widened, neither fear nor insult in her gaze. ‘I’m not accustomed to the Scots side of the border at all.’
‘Easy to tell. You don’t even know where it is.’
‘I do now,’ she snapped, taking his eyes square.
Was that warning or temptation in her green gaze? No matter, he met it, refusing to waver. ‘Next time, stay on your own side.’ He turned his back and reached for the door, but she called to him before he could close it.
‘I would. If only the Brunsons would do the same.’
He pulled the door closed. Hard.
Chapter Two
As the door slammed behind him, Stella realised that her heart had somehow galloped up to her throat. Closing her eyes, she put a hand to her chest, trying to slow its beating and move it back to its proper place.
Aye. This man, this savage Brunson, was all they had ever said of the clan. And more.
God saved you, her mother always said. You are special in His eyes and He will let no harm come to you.
She opened her eyes to look around the room again, wondering whether God’s reach extended to this godless side of the border.
Capture had not been her plan when she left home this morning. Truth of it, she had no plan, but she could take no more of the endless bickering between Humphrey and Oswyn. Her father was ill and in Brunson hands. She had to do something.
Beneath her hand, her heart settled into a steadier rhythm.
She’d been spared the cellar, which meant his intention was to ransom her. In the interim, as custom decreed, she would be treated as a guest.
Yet they had asked no ransom for her father, as would have been expected. Did that mean he was already dead?
Something hit her door, too close to the floor for a knock.
She jumped and her heart thumped in answer.
The sound came again, on the floor this time, in an irregular rhythm. She opened the heavy wooden door and looked out.
The blond, round-faced boy she had seen in the courtyard ran up and down the hall, kicking a ball. When he saw her, he let the ball roll away.
‘Gudday,’ she said, noticing no one else was in the hall. No guard, then. Perhaps God’s will did extend so far north.
‘Gudein, lady.’ The boy mangled the words, as well as the time of day.
Still, she smiled. Children always made her smile. ‘What do they call you, lad?’
‘Wat,’ he said, his smile widening to meet
