The Sins of the Sire by Emily Royal

Author:Emily Royal [Royal, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
Published: 2019-03-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Leaves floated across Elyssia’s vision, spiralling against each other. Their rhythm pulsed, swirling to and fro, dancing, chanting, low voices whispering, murmuring, moaning. Among the storm of leaves, Richard’s voice told her to be strong, that she was loved. The leaves danced in and out—in and out, the rhythm increasing then slowing, angry red pulsing at the centre of the vortex.

The colours, at first sharp and painful, dulled into a deep ache, its edges blurred until they crumbled into fragments and dispersed in the air.

Another voice joined Richard’s, a man’s voice which had soothed her dreams when she had lain alone at her home, subject to Papa’s derision on her broken engagement to Edward, and Mamma’s harsh words…

…the body of a whore, Agatha. What man would want you now? Your ridiculous sensibilities regarding these Highlander savages will be your downfall. Your sister is fit for naught—our hopes were placed upon you. But look at you! You bear none of the de Montford countenance. You could easily be mistaken for a whore…

“…Whore. He called her whore, my lord.”

A woman’s voice spoke, not the harsh, clipped tones of Lady Sarah de Montford, but the soft lilt of the Highlands.

The man spoke again, but she could not make out the words. The leaves spiralled into a storm, the rushing noise resembling a waterfall, drowning out her senses, the red turning to darkness before silence and blackness gave her relief from pain.

When she opened her eyes again, the red had gone, replaced by green—its intensity burrowing into her mind which responded with a surge of desire before morphing into soul-crushing guilt. It was the green which had haunted her conscience. The girl from the dungeon had returned from the dead to exact judgement.

“Elyssia.”

No, not the girl. Her Highlander.

“Tavish.”

“No, don’t move!” A restraining hand touched her shoulder, and a throb of pain spread across her back. She moved her arm and cried out as a hot shard of agony drove through her right hand.

“The pain…”

“I know.” He caressed her cheek, his hand warm against her skin. “It will fade. I’ll never let them hurt you again.”

Sighing, she sank into the furs, the warmth of his touch seeping into her bones. With her Highlander to watch over her, she would be protected.

* * *

A soft, pink warmth caressed the skin of her face, and she opened her eyes. A beam of sunlight shone across the chamber, picking up motes of dust which danced to a lazy rhythm, amorphous shapes which pulsed as she breathed in and out.

The comforting scent of salve drifted over the air as she moved—woody base notes of herbs combined with another, sweeter scent. For the past sennight she had lain on her stomach on the bed in the chamber she shared with Alice. Her sister slept beside her at night, holding her hand. Isla had tended to her each day, spreading salve across her skin and warning her not to move for the sake of the babe growing inside her.

The babe. The source of her disgrace and ruination.

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