The beams were high enough that she could not sit upon them, but her legs moved over so her skirt could hang down. “Boudica misses ye and pissed next to your bed,” Cain said. “And Merida brought ye another gown and smock that she found and some tarts. Do ye need assistance flying down?”

“Nay,” Gideon said earnestly. “I want to see her do it. I have never seen a lass fly before.”

“Perhaps I will save you the trouble of ordering Bàs to execute me and dive down headfirst,” she said, but she was already inching on her stomach along the beams toward the bed.

“Ye wouldn’t die with me down here, but ye might hurt yourself terribly, and then what would poor Boudica do without your care,” Cain said.

“Tolla-thon,” she cursed as she reached the bed post where the thick drapery was hung from a loop of iron cemented into the granite blocks overhead. Cain watched in amazement as she swung her legs down, her skirts tied between them, to wrap around the drapery in such a fashion that she was suspended. She let the drapery slip between her booted ankles until she touched the floor.

“Did ye climb up that way?” Gideon asked, obviously impressed.

Even as Ella swatted dust from her borrowed blue gown, her hair curling out from her braid and a fierce frown pinching her features, she was a unique beauty. Having glimpsed her in her wet smock when the blanket dropped, Cain knew she was full of curves. Her fingers were slender, almost fragile. She was also strong, and her cleverness made her the most interesting challenge he’d ever come up against. When she lifted her gaze to his, her gray eyes were full of conviction. Had she always had such long, dark lashes? She blinked, and they seemed to touch her cheeks.

“I can escape any room or dungeon,” she said, her gaze going to Cain. “You might as well let me, Boo, and my horse go now, and save yourself the trouble.”

“I rather like trouble,” Cain said. In fact, the last day, thwarting the lass, was the most entertaining day that he could remember.

She shook her head, eyes tipping upward as if beseeching angelic help. “Trouble is all you are about, is it not, Cain Sinclair?” She locked gazes with him again. “You cannot be satisfied with ruling your own huge territory.” She spread her arms wide, revealing dust all over the front of her gown. “No, you must conquer and take everything from all your neighbors, too, creating civil war, bringing on bloodshed—”

“And the apocalypse?” Gideon finished. He looked at Cain. “Da would be so proud.” His brother was great at debating, poking at his opponent until they exploded and made an error that would tip the argument in Gideon’s favor.