even in a chamber with a door that might be barred to keep her prisoner. Instead, Bridget discovered herself following two burly Scots through a maze of hallways and staircases. They kept her going in circles until she blew out a frustrated snarl and stopped, refusing to take another step.
“Enough of this game. I am confused. The only way I can think of to make it back into the yard is by slipping out a window. Are you satisfied?” They watched her from brooding expressions that didn’t give her a hint as to their thinking. Bridget shrugged.
“Well then, I have thought that the gossip I have heard concerning just how lazy Scottish men are was false. However, if you have naught better to do than lead me through hallways, I must rethink my opinion on that matter.”
“This way.”
The words were spoken with a great deal of irritation, but at least they led her to a destination instead of another set of hallways. This was an older portion of the castle, and the room she was in did not have doors. Of course, that was most likely the reason she was placed there. Candles burned in the center of the large round room, but the light did not allow her to see what was beyond the arched doorways. It was a solar, simply one floor built across the expanse of the keep. She was in one of the four that she had seen rising up to form Barras Castle. Arches surrounded her, helping to hold up the floor above her. In spite of the bed and furnishings that were present, she doubted that the solar was used very often. If it were, walls would have been built to create hallways, but such was more of a newer construction technique. This keep was just as it had been fifty years ago when it was expected that the surrounding villagers might need to take shelter inside it during a siege.
Having the dark arches ringing her was worse than any door. She felt placed on display. The candles illuminated her while the Scots withdrew behind the arches. She heard them walking sometimes and, as the day wore on, listened to them being relieved and replaced by others. There was no way to tell how many guards she had or where they were.
Nevertheless, that was not what weighed heavily on her mind. She walked over to one of the windows and leaned out. Greeting her were a hint of green on the hills and a little nip of chill blowing down from the north. She was too high to consider leaving the keep by the window, which left her with nothing to do but look down toward England, where Curan was most likely drawing up an offer for another bride.
Her heart ached, and there was no comfort to be found in knowing that she had done as instructed by her parents. A maid brought her food, but Bridget had little appetite. So she left it where the girl placed it. The day grew long with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company. Always there had been work to occupy her hands. She suddenly did not understand how anyone might endure being lazy; it was quite irritating to have nothing to do. Bridget discovered herself pacing simply to have something to occupy herself with. Yet the true torment was the fact that her idle mind had naught to do save think about Curan.
“I thought ye had more spirit, lass. Me men tell me ye’ve been pacing and no eating. Are ye truly broken in so short a time?”
Bridget turned her head to discover Gordon watching her from one of the arched doorways that led into the solar she was occupying. She bit into her lower lip when she realized how happy she was to see him. She didn’t like knowing that one day of solitude had made her so hungry for companionship.
“If you prefer to hear me railing, then you shall have to learn to live with disappointment. The body does not require much nourishment when it is doing little.” She folded her hands neatly and offered him a mild expression. “I have no intention of becoming some type of amusement for your entertainment.”
“Och now, lass, would ye like to get down to that bit of the business right now then? I’ll be quite happy to show you what manner of entertainment I think ye can provide me with.”
Gordon was just as large as Curan, but for some reason he didn’t have the same impact on her. He moved too close, and she did not have any urge to back away from him. Her belly did not tighten, and no excitement rushed along her skin. Instead she simply watched him close the distance, but her boredom ended when he reached out to touch her. She lifted a hand quickly to slap the hand he tried to touch her with. The blow made a loud popping sound that drew a chuckle from her captor.
“You are quite out of line, sir.”
“I’m a Scot, I was never a well-behaved lad. Goes against the entire idea of being Scottish. You wouldn’t want me to be disloyal to me own country, now would ye?”
Moving away from him, Bridget turned to shoot a hard glare at him. “Somehow, I doubt that you are quite the marauder that you are attempting to act. I have never understood that being Scottish means you were raised with a lack of honor.”
He frowned and crossed his arms across his chest. She was beginning to realize that he did that when he was afraid that too much of his true feelings were on display.
“I will wed ye if it comes to that.” Instead of a threat, his words were more of a soothing promise. One that she found distasteful.
“To preserve my honor? Is that it? No, thank you.”
He shrugged and allowed his arms to relax. “I’ll admit that there’s a wee bit of me that would enjoy needling your English chancellor by taking a lass he thinks is his, but aye, I’d wed ye before seeing ye returned to a life of shame since I’m the one who brought ye here.”
“You may dispense with that concern. I shall weather the storm well enough.”
“Nay, lass. I know the world, and it’s a harsh, unforgiving place when it comes to an English lass who has been behind these walls.” He moved closer, and she had to resist the urge to retreat from him. Approval shimmered in his eyes when she stood still.
“If Ryppon does nae come for ye, the man is a fool, and I’ll be happy to take advantage of what he is dim- witted enough to let go unclaimed.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek. It was a simple touch, and she remained still while his fingers made contact with her skin. No rush of sensation resulted from the touch, only a mild enjoyment. Gordon tossed his shoulder-length hair back and laughed.
“I should keep ye anyway, just because that English lord is too fortunate by far to have earned such devotion from ye.”
“I am not devoted to him. My father arranged the match.” She turned in a snap of her skirt and offered him her
