Page 67 of Deception of a Highlander

She strained to listen. No sounds came from the hall. Perhaps she could sneak out of the castle before anyone came looking for her.

A rap at the door set her heart pounding. “Yes?” she called out, suddenly breathless.

A young red-haired woman entered. Mariel had seen her around the castle in the weeks before. The woman gave a genuine smile. “The laird ordered ye a bath if ye like.”

Heat warmed Mariel’s cheeks in recollection of why she had cause to bathe. Those stolen hours of passion had almost been forgotten amid the harsh reality she now faced. “Yes, please. I would like that,” she replied.

The young woman nodded and disappeared.

Doubt flickered through Mariel. Surely, Kieran would not offer a criminal a chance to bathe. Perhaps he did not suspect her after all.

She carefully watched the faces of the servants coming into and out of the room. There was a relaxed ease about them that soothed her ragged nerves. Bucket after bucket of water was sloshed into a massive wooden tub until the bath was filled. The servants all nodded and slipped out the door, leaving her alone.

In an unlocked room.

Paranoia uncurled from her shoulders, and the bath beckoned. Mariel wound her hair atop her head and let her soiled dress crumple at her feet. She sank into the hot, scented water and closed her eyes to relieve the pounding ache in her skull. Immediately, she saw Kieran’s face in her mind’s eye, tender and genuine. He had been gentle with her last night, far more kind than she deserved.

“Be my wife.”

Her choked cry echoed off the cold walls around her. She scrambled from the tub, desperate to be free of the memory and the guilt. Instead of reaching for the drying linen, she stood beside the tub uncovered. The heat of the fire eased the chill from her dripping body while images of Kieran flashed unbidden through her mind.

The door clicked closed behind her, startling her. How had she not heard it open?

She whirled around and found Kieran staring at her with a look of disbelief on his face. “Mariel.” The tone of his voice echoed the horror of his gaze.

Her heart slid like ice down into her belly.

The charade was over.

He knew.

CHAPTER 25

Kieran stared at Mariel’s pallid face. Words failed him. How had she managed to hide such a secret from him for so long? How had he never suspected?

He strode forward, disturbing the humid curl of perfumed steam rising from her bath. Her eyes widened, fear evident in the violet-blue depths.

She was afraid of him.

Something twisted deep within his chest.

He walked around behind her. Perhaps what he had seen from the doorway would not be as bad up close.

No, he thought, studying her mutilated back, it was far worse. Rope-thick scars slashed Mariel’s back, marring her otherwise flawless skin. Only a whip would leave such markings, but never had he seen the weapon cause such brutality. How had she even survived? He stroked the abnormally taut skin, and his hand shook with barely contained rage.

She flinched and curled her body forward, away from his touch.

“What are you doing?” Mariel choked.

The tremor of her body was slight but unmistakable.

“Who did this to ye?” The question came out harsher than intended.

When she did not answer, he came around to face her.

“Wearing my leine last night was no’ because ye were cold, was it? Ye dinna want me to see this.”

Her gaze flicked to the floor, and she shook her head. She looked vulnerable, standing naked before him with her wounded stare turned away from him. She was too fragile. He lifted the thick robe beside the bath and laid it over her shoulders. She remained motionless, leaving the robe gaping open. Kieran wrapped the heavy fabric around her. Slowly, lest he frighten her further, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her against his chest.