Silvan's eyes evinced utter fascination. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and peered at her. "Where are you from?" he breathed.
She sighed and averted her gaze, half-afraid the canny man could read the answers in her eyes. She blinked, momentarily distracted by her first real look at the Greathall. When she'd come downstairs, she'd scarce seen past Drustan. The hall was elegant and lovely as her chamber had been, the floor fashioned of spotlessly scrubbed pale gray stones, the walls lined with brilliant tapestries. Two hounds snored softly beneath a large masterpiece of a table. Heavy velvet drapes were pulled back from tall paned windows, and the rosy marble double staircase gleamed in the morning light. A panel of stained glass was inset above the massive door, and silver shields and weapons adorned the walls on either side. "It's a country you've never heard of," she demurred, not about to say the good old U.S. of A. That would start a whole other conversation that could go on indefinitely.
"Tell me, or you'll get no answers from me. Really, where you're from can hardly be too revealing, can it, now?"
She blew out a frustrated breath. "America. Far across the ocean."
Again, he assessed her with his steady stare. "Fifteen eighteen," he agreed. "And I know of the Americas. We doona call it that, but we Scots discovered it centuries ago."
"You did not," she scoffed. "Christopher Columbus—"
"Merely followed the Sinclair's path, after he got his hands on the old maps left to the Templars."
"Oooh. You Scots have got to be the most arrogant—"
"What a conundrum you are proving—"
"Do you always talk over people?"
He snorted with laughter. "You do it rather well yourself," he said, smiling and patting her hand. "I think I'm going to like you quite a lot, lass. So, when do you plan to tell Drustan, so I may hear the whole story?"
"The minute he walks in. And thanks for giving me an easy question."
"That's not fair, that wasn't a—"
"Uh-uh. No way you're reneging now. That was too a question."
"Aye, but not really and you know it," Silvan grumbled. He averted his nose in a snit, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You're a clever lass, aren't you, now? Next?" he said dryly.
"Is Dageus planning to take any trips soon?" .
"What a very odd question," Silvan remarked, stroking his chin. "I must say you've got my curiosity in quite a lather. Aye, he is to go to the Elliott's soon. Did Drustan take your virginity?"
She blew out a breath slowly. "It's a very complicated story," she evaded, "and I must speak to Drustan as soon as possible. Your son is in danger. I believe he trusts you completely; however, he must decide what to tell you. I can't say any more than that until he and I talk. Please respect that," she added softly.
He arched a brow, but nodded.
When he took her hand between his and patted it, she felt funny inside. She couldn't recall her own father ever doing such a thing. He held her hand for a few moments, his eyes narrowed, his expression pensive. She had the distinct, unsettling sensation that he was peering right into her soul. Was that possible? she wondered.
"All right, m'dear," Silvan said. "You win. No more questions until you speak with Drustan. But if I know my son, he'll not cooperate."
"He must, Silvan," Gwen said desperately. "We don't have all that much time."
"Is he truly in danger?"
Gwen closed her eyes and sighed. "You all are."
"Then we will make him listen to you." Gwen opened her eyes and scowled. "And how do you plan to make him do that? Lock him in a room with me?"
Silvan smiled faintly, deepening the lines about his mouth. Elderly though he was, he was a handsome man with no small amount of charisma. She wondered why he'd never married again. Surely not for lack of women being interested.
"Not a bad idea, m'dear. Will you do as I say?"
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.
And he bent his head close to hers and began whispering.
* * *
Chapter 15
Hours later, an anxious Gwen paced before the fire in the Silver Chamber. The day had dragged endlessly on with no sign of Drustan. If he'd only return, she'd clear things up and they could set about figuring out who the enemy was.
After a scrumptious breakfast of poached eggs, potatoes, and dried, salted fish in the hall with Silvan, Nell had given her a brief tour, pointing out garderobes and the like. She'd spent a few hours in the library, then had retired to her chamber to await Drustan.
Dageus had ridden in a few hours ago, without him. He said they'd parted ways at the tavern. Silvan had drawn his younger son—younger by a mere three minutes—into their plan, and Dageus, grinning and casting Gwen steamy glances—did he have to drip as much raw sex appeal as Drustan?—now held the door to the corridor ajar a crack, watching for Drustan's approach. He'd been spotted riding into the stable a quarter hour past.