Chapter 36
Keeping as still as possible, Rosalyn listened intently to the sounds of the dungeon.
As much as she wanted to flip over, even partway with a pretend groan, she did not want to risk Ethan’s interest in her. She also prayed silently that he’d leave Lachlan alone too.
But a groan from her husband’s cell had her heart racing. And the shuffling footsteps made her panic.
“You bastard,” one of the Luttrell brothers uttered in a soft pitch.
Rosalyn held her breath. Were the words weak enough to have been Lachlan’s, or were they were spoken by Ethan so only his brother could hear?
She waited. Her breathing shallow, her heart pounding.
“What did you call me?”
Goosebumps ran up Rosalyn’s arms. Unless Lachlan had a miraculous recovery, it was Ethan who spoke last for the voice was loud and commanding.
“You heard me easily enough, and you know how fond I am of that name for you,” Lachlan replied. Although low in volume, his voice was high in venom.
“Well, call me names all you want, for you know you are dead to me.”
Dead was a word Rosalyn did not want to associate with Lachlan.
“At least I am grateful for that, or else you would have a conscience about what you’ve done to Rosalyn,” Lachlan shot back in a shaky voice. “Leave me here, but release her. She’s done nothing to you.”
Ethan gave a wicked laugh. And now she understood why he hadn’t laughed when he was pretending to be her husband. It was very different from Lachlan’s jovial one. Laughter was hard to fake.
Since the two of them had been talking, even though Lachlan’s voice was weak, they were different and she should have suspected something was wrong. Never should have believed Lachlan could have been so mean to her.
“You do not know what I’ve done to her, do you?” Ethan asked.
“You’ll soon be a dead man,” Lachlan lashed out. “And you are a coward if you do not step inside this cell now.”
Rosalyn weighed her options. If she said something to support Ethan, perhaps she could stop Lachlan’s brother from entering his cell and killing him outright. Her husband had no strength.
The sound of a key turning in the lock made her heart slam against her bodice. Never had she felt so helpless. About to go mad with fear and frustration, Rosalyn could no longer hold her tongue.
“Ethan, if you touch your brother, you shall never touch me again. I swear it,” she said, rising from the cold floor to stand tall in the cell, prepared to fight on behalf of her husband with her wit and her passion.
He spun around at her words. With a long, seductive gaze he ogled her from head to toe. “You threaten me?” he asked, chuckling. “Both of you.” He glanced back and forth between them. “Behind bars, beaten by my hand, yet you both try to intimidate me when I have the upper one?”
“Ethan, I donna threaten you,” Rosalyn said, “I’m merely laying down my rules. Now that I know you are not my husband, you will not have access to my chambers unless I give you permission.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and contemplated what she’d said. Surely, he’d forgotten that she’d only been obeying his wishes because she thought he was Lachlan. Let him believe he might have a chance with her if it would buy both she and her husband the time they needed.
“Rosalyn, I forbid you to give him permission to anything, do you hear me?” No doubt Lachlan was trying to shout, but his words were barely above a whisper. She understood he was trying to protect her, even if it was in a domineering way.
“Lockie,” she said sweetly, “my love, you are on death’s door.” It would break his heart for her to say what was coming next, but she hoped after she said it, he would understand why. “I must think of my future and that of this castle. I donna wish to be a dungeon dweller, but to support the clan leader who will rule this castle for the ages. I—” Her voice cracked. “I love you, but know I must do what is best for me.” She wanted to weep after she said those words, but she forced herself to be strong.
“Well, Lachlan,” Ethan said as he turned the key back the other way, then faced Rosalyn, “it appears I can have all my heart desires, your death, your wife, and your castle. I will let the work be done without me having to force it to a close.”
There was a glazed but predatory look in Ethan’s eyes as he acknowledged her through the cell bars.
Her gut lurched, but because it was empty, she had nothing to fear but the man who ogled her again. She silently thanked the Lord that she was separated from him by iron bars and that they were not secured in a darkened chamber with no one to hear her screams. The thought of any contact with Lachlan’s evil brother made her promise that if he did not die on her husband’s blade, he would die on hers.
So she kept mum, worried her body or her voice or her emotions would betray her now. She even tried not to blink and kept her gaze steady despite her loathing the man whose eyes were locked with hers.
Silence enveloped the dungeon for what seemed to be the length of a midday meal. Lachlan had either passed out or was so angry with her response, he was repulsed. Her mother and sister had remained silent as well, and with Ethan the only one free to leave the place, Rosalyn wondered why he lingered. Perhaps he was still assessing her. Deciding what his next move would be, or even waiting out Lachlan’s death.
Lachlan? Her heart lurched for a moment, but she kept her gaze cool and steady. The longer Ethan stayed in the keep’s lower recesses, the more precious time ticked away.
Finally, she decided to break the silence. “I await your return and to hear the final judgement on the castle.”
Perhaps that was all he’d been waiting for, because he turned on his heel and started back toward the stairs, but he gave her one last glance after he’d taken his first step, as if he’d catch her making a face at him, or her rushing to the bars to fuss over Lachlan.
Fortunately for her, she’d remained steady like a soldier ready for inspection. She may not have even blinked, congratulating herself on her newfound skill.
Apparently satisfied to leave husband and wife in separate cells once more with his malicious plan in place, Ethan snickered before he moved on and finally out of sight.
When she did move toward the dirty dungeon bars, it was to push her face as close to them as she could stand to make sure he was truly leaving, listening for the echo of his steps ascending the stairs. When nothing stirred, she felt safe to move about freely and motioned her mother and sister from the corner.
In a rush against time, the three pressed forward to the cell door. Rosalyn fitted the skeleton key into the lock then released the mechanism that kept them prisoners.
“Quickly now,” she said with an urgency she could taste, “go to Greta and have her send Ursula with a poison antidote for me. Understand?”
Both of them nodded. As malnourished as the two were, Rosalyn wasn’t sure how good they would be at completing the task, but it was her only chance at saving Lachlan.
“Be careful and tell only Greta where you’ve been and what you’ve seen,” she warned. “We cannae trust anyone else.”
Once they left, the door shut behind her and Rosalyn hurried to Lachlan’s cell. After she’d let herself in with the skeleton key, she dropped to her knees beside him. Glancing at the sun shining in from the high loophole window, Rosalyn promised herself to take matters into her own hands if the poison antidote did not arrive by dusk.
Lachlan groaned when she touch his forehead. The fever was still raging, and perspiration covered his pale, handsome face. She’d read about vampires in some of her childhood fables and she imagined they’d look like Lachlan did now.
His crisp widow’s peak defined his brow line and his glossy black hair, growing from its point, swept back into a dramatic crescendo at the nape of his neck. Never had his skin been so vampire white.
Rosalyn sat staring at him for some time, wishing her first days as a married woman would have been spent with him and not his brother. She was relieved and angry at the same time.
Glancing up at the window, she realized that there was only little light left in the sky. Her gaze drifted back to Lachlan and she wiped his brow again with her skirt. He startled her when he grabbed her hand.
“Do you really love me?” Lachlan asked, his eyes fluttering open momentarily and then, as if they were too heavy to hold, they closed again, but a smile flickered across his face.
“What?” Rosalyn asked, dumbfounded that he was speaking and trying to open his eyes.
“You’ve forgotten already that you said you loved me?” he asked in a hurtful tone.
For a moment she banished her worries about his fever, her longing for Fyvie or where they were, and she leaned down and kissed him with all the passion her soul could muster.
Desire swelled in her heart when his arms circled her waist and he crushed her to his chest. Although it must have taken Herculean effort, he began kissing her back.
Instead of the hide and seek he often played with her tongue, this time his lips corralled hers as if she was a wild horse ready to buck him. She was so grateful to be with him again, to have his heart beat with hers. Realizing that just moments ago she was comparing him to a lifeless vampire.
But even if Lachlan was as nocturnal, he needed to maintain what strength he had. It might be hours before Ursula arrived. With only concern for him, Rosalyn loosened her hold and gave Lachlan a few last delicious pecks on his swollen lips.
But he pressed her for more, speaking awkwardly into her mouth. “I’d rather you show me, not tell me, you love me, any day.”