“Come,” she said, beckoning Ella. “I will see ye to one of the guest chambers.”

“Nay,” Cain said when Ella rose to follow. “Put her in the tower room above Da’s chamber for tonight. I will coordinate the cleaning out of his room in the morning before I move my things in there as chief. Once we wed, she will move below.”

Ella kept her back to him, speaking to Hannah. “Perhaps you should take me down to the dungeon, then.”

“Your rejected suitor is currently stinking up the dungeon,” Joshua said and drank from his tankard of ale. He looked at Cain at the same time Ella turned back to him. “I told ye we should add a second cell. Maybe ye can chain her in the bailey.”

“I am surprised that he still lives,” Ella said, her tone giving nothing away.

Would she have mourned Hew? The thought soured Cain’s stomach, and his eyes narrowed, studying her. “Aye,” he said. “The only reason that he still lives is that the elderly couple whom he attacked before setting fire to a field of oats did not die. Although, he might argue that he’d rather die after being in our dungeon for a fortnight.” He stepped forward, slowly encircling her, his gaze penetrating, as she stood straight. “Perhaps ye wish to be sent to the dungeon to care for him.”

“Enough,” Merida said, coming around the table. “The girl has had to deal with Alec Sutherland for twenty-some-odd years.” She pointed to Ella’s face. “And she certainly hasn’t come away unscathed.” At Merida’s words, Ella tipped her face forward, letting her loosened hair fall over the bright scar of her brand. Did she hide it in shame? The thought lit another fire in Cain’s gut. Had her foking father ordered it? Done it himself? If so, he should live in Hell, eternally full of shame for brutalizing someone weaker than him.

Merida pointed up to the ceiling. “There is a bed in the tower room; and a lock.” She looked directly at Ella. “To keep people out.” The small circular tower room had been created for the chief, above his chambers, to be able to view his kingdom.

Merida curled her finger inward to draw Ella to follow. Cain watched her walk, head held high, with a gentle sway to her hips. Long legs, encased in tight-fitting black trousers, led up over flared hips that curved into a waist perfect for his hands to nestle around. Her braid hung low, a gentle pendulum to swing with her gait, the end swishing against her perfectly shaped—

“Good Lord, that is a lovely arse,” Joshua murmured, making Cain turn a glare his way. “I think we should order all the lasses to wear trousers.”

Cain’s hands balled into fists. “Ye are ogling my future wife, ye bloody blaigeard.”