Part 44 (2/2)

His hands cupped her shoulders, turning her to face him. Fayth had been trying to ignore how close he was to her, the feel of his hand, burning through the thin material of her sleeve, but this she couldn't ignore. She purposefully averted her eyes, looking at the wall behind him.

”I don't know where Wolf is. She's just gone. Perhaps she found some prey and is pursuing it. Perhaps not. But I'm taking no chances with you. I have no idea where those tunnels lead and I'll not have you wandering about down there, lost.”

”Do you think it's Ridley?”

”I don't know.”

”Maybe we should look for her. What if she's hurt?”

”She's a braw la.s.sie and can take care of herself. I've had her since she was a pup. Her mother had been killed and she was starving, but full of fight. All her brothers and sisters were dead, but she hung on.” He squeezed her shoulders. ”She reminds me of you, refusing to give in to death, or anything else contrary.”

His hands kneaded her shoulders and Fayth steeled herself. She wanted to melt against him. It suddenly seemed so unfair that he was a Maxwell, and she a Graham; that he was responsible for Jack's death; that Ridley must try and take from him the one thing he would not concede; that Alex was hero to so many, but jailer to her.

She raised her gaze, across broad shoulders and strong neck, a mouth firm and uncompromising, but so soft to kiss. When their gazes locked his hands stopped their kneading, tightening slightly.

”You've rescued everyone it seems... Eliot, Laine... Wolf. Why can't you rescue me?” She hadn't meant to say the words aloud, to concede how much it hurt her. But she couldn't take them back and didn't try.

He searched her face, visibly disconcerted. But he did not speak. She knew the answer, it was clear in his eyes, in his actions. Gealach was all he cared for. He could never care for her in the same way. She knew from experience the importance of land and t.i.tles. It was what drove men, sustained them.

Besides, it was wrong for her to want him. It was a poor way to honor Jack's memory. Wesley would curse her as he had Caroline. Her father would have been shamed.

Fayth grasped the hands gripping her shoulders and pushed them away. He didn't follow her up the steps and her heart hardened. She supposed she couldn't blame him. Given the choice between Gealach and Fayth Graham, well, not many would choose the woman.

But Fayth had wanted him to and she felt such a fool for losing her thoughtless, reckless heart to a man who would not have it.

Alex's a.r.s.e hurt like h.e.l.l. His shoulder ached, his legs cramped, and he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, even sitting on the stone bench. This was the third night he'd sat here, in the corridor outside Fayth's chambers. Why can't you rescue me? He tried not to recall her words, the bleakness of her dark eyes.

But still, it rankled. Why can't you rescue me? As if she'd lost faith in him. As if he'd let her down. But d.a.m.n it all, he hadn't known she'd expected much of anything from him. He was a Maxwell. What could she expect? According to Grahams, naught by thievery, rape, and lies.

And now she'd stopped speaking to him. She wouldn't join him for a meal, or walk with him. Skelley said she showed no more interest in digging through the treasure in the tunnels. Alex still wondered why he'd shown it to her. Had he meant to impress her? Put himself in a worthier light? He wasn't sure. Perhaps he only wanted to share some secret with her. Whatever he'd intended hadn't worked. She was not swayed by his horde nor by his trust.

He longed for her smile, her laughter, for her to acknowledge him, but since he slept half the day, he only saw her in the evenings when she wandered the tower and the grounds, pointedly ignoring him. It was for the best. It would be difficult to send her away, to the arms of another man. No sense making it harder.

Why can't you rescue me?

Alex ground his teeth, determined to put her words, her face, from his mind. It was useless to dwell on it.

Wolf had not returned and Alex feared the worst. No one had been found in the tunnels, and when Alex interrogated Eliot, his story was solid. Alex was beginning to wonder if he'd been wrong about his cousin. Eliot had not attempted to speak with Fayth, or even approach her. And neither had Eliot left. Alex didn't know what Eliot wanted from him or if he simply had no place else to go.

He buried his face in his hands, trying not to groan audibly at his quandary. Both Alex's father and his uncle had trusted him and Rob and Patrick to look after Eliot's welfare. What would Red Rowan do? His father's trust never wavered. And if his trust were broken, then he punished mercilessly. Alex had always thought he was very much like Red Rowan, not just because of his coloring, but his temperament. He was beginning to doubt that a.s.sumption, as he couldn't remember his father ever being so indecisive, about either a woman or a friend.

He s.h.i.+fted on the bench, trying in vain to get comfortable. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned his head against the wall. He had received word from Carlisle today. The laird expressed his willingness to discuss the matter but Alex suspected it was no more than a delay tactic or perhaps a trick. He had not yet responded to it.

Movement near Fayth's door interrupted his thoughts. Whoever it was must think him asleep, by his position. Alex tried to see, but the only candle in the corridor rested on the bench beside him, illuminating him clearly, but hiding the intruder.

Alex waited until he heard the creak of the hinges before springing to his feet. The shadow came to life, fleeing in the opposite direction. There was another staircase, for servant use, though no one used it, as the boards were rotting and dangerous. The figure entered the darkened staircase and disappeared.

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