Page 47 of When the Laird Conquers

It’s nae as if the villagers will hold their tongues about it if anyone comes askin’.

They loathed him too much to hide the truth, although they had seemed to like Agnes. Maybe for her, they would stay silent and clear away any sign that Englishmen had fallen there.

He was glad when the castle came into view, and gladder still when they rode through the gates, which he ordered to be closed behind them.

In front of the main doors, he got down from the saddle and went to open the carriage door. The moment he saw Agnes sitting in the same position he had left her in, staring at the far wall, her face pale and her eyes unblinking, he knew what needed to be done.

“Iona!” he barked.

“Och, ye daenae have to shout,” the housekeeper replied, appearing at his side.

He had no idea how she did that, but for once, he was glad of it.

“Take the wee bairn. Get her some milk and see to it that she has some rest.”

“What of Miss Agnes?”

Gordon reached for Lizzy and passed her to Iona. “I’ll tend to her.”

“What happened?” The housekeeper frowned, rocking the baby gently.

“What I feared would happen,” Gordon replied in a low voice as he reached back into the carriage and scooped his arms under Agnes, lifting her out.

Agnes didn’t need him to make her feel worse. It was obvious she felt bad enough as it was. As such, he didn’t plan to say anything about the incident, remaining silent as he carried her up the steps and into the castle.

She was surprisingly still in his arms, her cheek resting against his shoulder, her eyes carrying that same glazed look from the carriage.

She saw ye kill three men, Gordon. Of course she’s nae in the mood to talk to ye.

It was the one thing she had asked him not to do, and though he hadn’t killed the Duke—or didn’t think he had—there were still three dead men. And she had witnessed their death.

It was enough to shock anyone who wasn’t used to it.

He carried her all the way up to the warm and welcoming chamber where she had spent her first night at Castle Buchlann. His chambers. Not that he spent much time there. In truth, he probably should have given the room to her for the duration of her stay, but it was too late for that now.

“Ye just lie there and catch yer breath,” he said, laying her down on the bed.

She blinked. “Where are you going?” Fear laced her voice.

“To fetch ye water for a bath,” he replied. “Ye need warmth, and ye need to wash away what ye’ve seen and what ye’ve felt.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but then she sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

With that, he left, wondering if she finally believed that he was the beast he claimed to be. A man unworthy of touching her. A man she would never allow to touch her again.

18

“Lass?”

Agnes’s eyes fluttered open to Gordon standing at the bedside, worry etched on his brow. She hadn’t meant to drift off, but the fire was so warm, and the bed so comfortable that she supposed her body had simply relented. Anything to quieten her mind.

“What is it?” she asked, wincing as she pushed herself up. “Is something wrong?”

She frowned as she looked around the room. She had forgotten where she was and how she had come to be there.

He carried me. But where is…

“Lizzy? Where is she?”