Ella spun on her heel, marching out of the chamber, turning right to climb the stairs to her tower room.

Gideon’s mouth formed a tight circle as he looked back at Cain with raised eyebrows. “Bloody hell, brother, ye have quite a bit of wooing to do if she is going to marry ye in three weeks. Ye may need a wagonload of kittens, perhaps some horses.” He sucked in a large breath and grinned. “Isn’t that mare, Ginny, about to foal?”

Cain stood where she’d left him, feeling…guilty? Of what? Of winning her in a battle and planning to conquer and unite her clan with his? I have seen you look on me with disgust. She was a young lass at the festival, perhaps only fourteen, her face smooth without that foking brand, her hair the same soft waves of dark silk. He’d bumped her. He remembered picking up the odd bouquet of purple thistles she’d dropped when his father came upon them.

Blast it! Cain’s stomach tightened, and he inhaled fully through his nose. His father’s breath had been heavy with whisky, and he’d practically spit his whisper into Cain’s ear. She is a Sutherland, lad. They beat their horses, just like their women.

And the look that had crossed his own face then…was likely disgust.

Gideon’s pinched expression showed he was weighing the odds of Cain’s success.

Cain glanced at the open door and back at Gideon. “Can a person’s view be changed when they’ve grown up believing a misunderstanding?” Cain asked, frowning, his wide hand catching the back of his head. “Hell, a downright bloody lie?”

Gideon shrugged, but the look in his gaze was anything but casual. “Are ye talking about a misunderstanding Ella told herself as a fresh lass or the bloody lie that Da fed us our whole lives?”

Before Cain could even repeat the question in his head, Gideon turned and walked out the chamber door.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“Damn bastard,” Ella whispered as she recalled Cain’s confused expression. Of course he didn’t remember her.

He had no idea what his sneer had cost her in childish tears and sleepless nights, nor would he care if he did. It had been a young girl’s infatuation, but his look had stuck inside her heart, bolstered by the disappointed sneers from her own father. She shook her head. Why was she even worrying over it? She should be much more concerned about Cain trying to take her clan and castle.

Boo rubbed against her skirt, purring, as Ella sopped up the cat urine and shite left in the room. Cats lived only outdoors, and she would take the kitten there, but the Sinclair chief’s wake was still going on below despite darkness falling. She could hear the music and male laughter when she opened the door to toss out the fouled rags.