second floor and was up them before the housekeeper found her tongue.
“Where, woman? Ye’ll tell me, make no mistake about it. Because I am nae leaving until I see her with my own eyes.”
“Oh, the girl is in the attic. It were none of my doing. I swear I tried to force the lock when the master didn’t return home last evening. But it held true. I swear it, I tried to open the door.”
Keir turned so quickly the woman ran into him. He set her back a pace, disgust rolling through him so thick it threatened to push him into a rage.
“How many days has she been locked in?”
The woman wrung her apron. “Three, and the master hasn’t come back. He holds the key. I swear on Christ’s sweet mother there is no key here. She’s up there.”
She pointed a shaking hand past his shoulder. Another set of stairs rose into a dark shadow. The sun was gone and there was no friendly glow of even one candle set on the attic floor.
“Get some light up here.”
The housekeeper hurried to comply, but Keir suspected that the woman was simply happy to be given an excuse to run away from him. A flick of his fingers set two of his men on her heels. The woman glanced behind her and began whispering prayers when she realized she had not escaped. Let her ask for divine help, because he had the feeling there was going to be hell to pay when he laid eyes on Helena.
What manner of a man locked a girl up for three days without fresh bread? Even convicts were treated better at the prison.
Even in the dark he made out the heavy iron lock secured to the wide handle that normally would have been used to pull the door open. So close to the roof, the floor was cooler than the rest of the house. Keir didn’t bother to think about what he was doing. He’d worry about the rights and wrongs of the situation later.
“Helena?”
She must be going insane. Helena heard her name as clearly as a church bell. The room was dark and it was pressing in on her after three days. But she welcomed the chill of night. Her mouth was dry as dust. A faint glow appeared under the door. She stared at it, mesmerized by the light. It looked like a beacon. She resisted the urge to look at it like salvation. But her belly burned and grumbled, refusing to listen to anything her mind had to say about remaining strong in the face of Edmund’s demands. While her will was strong, her body was starving.
There was a grinding of metal and a splintering of wood. It seemed so loud after hours upon hours of only her thoughts.
“Helena?”
She shivered, her mind hearing Keir’s voice, which was absurd. She looked around the tiny attic room, her gaze touching on her small bed to force herself to recall where she was. Allowing her thoughts to dwell on Keir McQuade had clearly been a mistake, for now her wits were addled.
The door burst open, allowing the light to flood in. A small cry of happiness passed her lips; she could not hold it back. But she froze when the light also washed over Keir, as large and imposing as she saw him in her mind. She was afraid to move, lest the moment shatter and she be forced to admit it was all nothing but fantasy brought on by lack of food and water.
“Sweet mercy.”
It was her brother’s housekeeper who spoke. The woman looked around Keir and covered her mouth with her hand. Horror reflected in her eyes. Helena felt her mind shift back into working order, but it was not fast enough to keep her hand from rising to cover the worst of the bruising on her face. By daylight she had viewed her brother’s mark quite often. Half of her face was darkened, the spot on her cheek the deepest purple.
Keir was enraged.
She watched the emotion dance in his eyes, practically felt it leap across the space between them, it was so hot. His attention lingered on her face, studying it for a long moment. Her pride rose, refusing to endure being pitied.
“It is nothing.”
“The hell it isna.”
Keir looked around the room. His face reflected his displeasure. Helena raised her chin but knew what he was seeing. The room was tiny and cold now. Her dress was rumpled from days of use without