Leith nods. “Agreed.”
Though it’s imperative I pay close attention to every detail, my primal needs kick in. I’m starving.
I dig into my eggs and sausage with vigor, quickly finishing my food before they take the plate away or remember I’m their prisoner and don’t deserve good vittles like these. The eggs are cooked perfectly, crispy around the edges, creamy in the center, hot and salty. The sausages are plump and fairly burst in my mouth with flavor, but the pastry almost makes me wish I could actually speak. I’d tell them it’s the most delicious pastry I’ve ever put in my mouth.
I never get food like this at home, of course, but I’ve hardly ever had anything like this in my life. Golden brown and rich, the buttery pastry melts in my mouth with the sweet tang of raspberry preserves and icing and thick sugar crystals. It seems almost disrespectful to eat such a thing in silence as I do. No moaning or licking my lips, but I hope whoever made this heavenly concoction can tell how much I loved it by the way I haven’t left a single crumb on my plate.
When I’m done, I finally sit back, surprised to find Leith’s gaze on me.
“That’s a good lass. A very good lass,” he says, looking at my plate with approval. I blink in surprise. What an odd thing for him to say. Did he expect I’d starve myself on his watch?
“Now, then, that you’ve had some food, it’s time you told us a bit more about yourself.”
His father’s watching us with interest. I sit beside him and fidget in my chair. He’s promised to punish me if I don’t answer him, but we’re right here in the kitchen where anyone could hear or see us.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I look up to see one of the brothers from the night before enter, the one they called Mac.
“Morning, all,” he says cheerfully. He snags a pastry off the platter and eats it in two bites before he’s sat beside Leith. “Leith, growing soft in your old age, are you?”
“I’m not,” Leith says coldly. “What makes you say that?”
“Bringing our prisoner to the breakfast table like she’s your date?”
Leith rolls his eyes. “Aye, you know me. Hard up for a date, I’ve resorted to taking women off the street.”
Everyone else laughs but him.
“She was just about to tell us her name,” Leith says. “Weren’t you?”
I shake my head. Nope. Defying him again scares me this time. I swallow my nerves as I watch his reaction.
“Told you what would happen,” he says in a low, warning tone.
“For the love of God,” Islan says, pushing herself to her feet to get everyone’s attention. “Are you all as dumb as bricks or what?”
Leith’s eyes narrow, but she’s got his attention. My belly swoops with anxiety. I know in my heart she’s about to reveal my secret.
“Can the girl speak?” Islan says, shaking her head. “Are you really so dense?”
Leith’s wide eyes swing from hers to mine, and Islan pushes on.
“Has she made a single peep since you got her? Hmm? A single gasp or scream or laugh?”
Leith shakes his head. “No.”
Islan sighs. “Och, aye, y’all are fu—”Her eyes come quickly to her father’s. “Y’all are addled,” she finally says. “Give the girl a piece of damn paper, see if she can communicate.”
Yes.
A moment later, a notebook and a pen are shoved into my hand, and I quickly write as legibly as I can. Silence falls over the room as the pen scratches over paper.
My name is Cairstina.
I am not able to talk. Mute.
I was in an accident several years ago and lost my ability to speak.
I push the pad of paper over to Leith who quickly reads it.
“Cairstina,” he says. It’s the first time he’s said my name out loud, and my heart does a little somersault. Hearing him say my name in that voice of his, the thick brogue of the north with the rolling r’s, all growly and rugged and masculine. I swallow hard, wishing him to say it again, and as if hearing my thoughts, he does.
“Cairstina.” He frowns at me. “It’s a beautiful name.”
Thank you.
He looks down at the page, then nods.
“Last name,” he says.
Reilly.
He reads as I write, then shakes his head. He’s not heard of my family, then. Very few have, so I’m not surprised.
Islan stands, reading over his shoulder and chuckles to herself when she does.
“See? Knew it. You could do all you want to her to make her speak and you’ll get nowhere. Go ahead, Leith. Tie her up. Torture her. See how far you get.”
“That’s enough, Islan,” he says with that quiet authority that I’ve come to expect. She stops.
He turns to Mac. “How do we know if she’s lying?”
Oh no. Does he seriously think I’m making this up? Good God, how will I ever convince the man?