The Highlander's Forbidden Bride(30)

“I can assure you that I’m not as foolish as my father.”

“And yet here you sit,” he said with a wave of his hand toward her, “captured.”

“We’re both captives,” she corrected.

“Of a storm that continues to brew,” he finished.

She smiled. “Inside as well as outside.”

He leaned toward her. “With nothing but time on our hands, let’s discuss how you acquired the slave I called Hope.”



Warning bells sounded in Carissa’s head. Why did he suddenly wish personal information about Hope? He had asked once or twice about where she had originally come from, but she had managed to redirect the query to him and his family, which, of course, wouldn’t bode well for her now. If he discovered the truth, he would think she had been trying to garner information about the Sinclares.

“Can’t remember?” he asked accusingly when her answer took too long in coming.

“We had many slaves. I’m trying to recall when and where it was we acquired her.” She grinned for fear of being discovered. “But shouldn’t you know that? After all, you two were in love and should know everything about each other.”

“I’m realizing that sometimes we don’t truly know a person as well as we thought.”

His response would have knocked Carissa off her feet if she hadn’t been sitting down. Something obviously had stirred a memory that sent him doubting. Damn her for being such a fool.

“Are you saying that you didn’t truly know Hope?”

“I’m saying that I want to know what you know about Hope.”

“What would I know about slaves?” she said, trying not to sound too defensive. “They were brought to the compound after raids, and my father decided their fate.”

“What fate did he decree for Hope?”

“To serve my needs.”

“So Hope was your slave,” he confirmed.

“All slaves were property of my father.” Carissa bit her tongue, for she knew as Hope she had told him that very same thing.

“But she answered to you.”

“That’s right. Hope did my bidding.”

“And out of the generosity of your heart, you had her tend the captives that were wounded?”

She laughed. “My father cared little for the wounded warriors he captured. They died or he sold them to mercenaries for a sizeable purse. You, however, were special, and I was ordered to see that you survived. So I had my slave tend you.”

“How long had Hope been your slave?”

“If I recall correctly, since she was young,” Carissa said cautiously.

Ronan nodded as if agreeing. “Hope had told me she had been a slave for as long as she could remember.”

“That was probably because there was nothing else for her to remember.”

“She never told me her age,” he said.

“It was never recorded or celebrated,” she said. “I’d say she was around eighteen or nineteen.”

“What did she look like?”

How did she describe herself? No, not Carissa, but Hope. What did Hope look like? She thought a moment then said, “She was gentle, soft-spoken, kind—”

“I mean her features, not her nature.”

“Her nature was her features,” she said, knowing that was all she could say to describe Hope.

His silence and scrunched brow reflected possible confusion or perhaps doubt. And either was better for her, for she imagined he much preferred to believe Hope real rather than think Carissa had played him for a fool.

She rested her head back on the rocker and turned to gaze at the flames, grateful for the continued silence. She didn’t want to talk about Hope any longer. She would much rather be Hope.

When had she begun to hide her true nature? Had she been four? Five? She couldn’t recall for sure. She only knew that her compassion infuriated her father, and so she hid it away and only took it out when he wasn’t around. If she accidentally allowed it to show, others suffered, so she learned to wear a mask at all times.

Her father’s constant lesson had been that hate endures and love doesn’t. Therefore, hate served a better purpose than love. Her father had never once told her that he loved her. The only one who ever showed her any kind of love, which she cherished, had been Dykar.

When she first found herself falling in love with Ronan, she’d been surprised and fearful. Nothing good would come of it, only more sorrow and disappointment for her. But it had been so very easy to fall in love with him. He had been vulnerable and frightened, and yet in spite of it all, he possessed courage. And he was unselfish, a trait she had only seen in a few people. He was not only concerned for his own welfare but asked often about his brother and worried about her.