“Thank you, Lloyd. I trust all was well during my absence?” he asked, though his tone was hollow.
“I am happy to report that there were no incidents that require your attention at this late hour, My Lord. If you’d prefer to wait until morning, that is, I will happily—”
“Yes, now that you mention it, I think anything unimportant shall wait a little longer. Thank you, Lloyd,” Callum said, dismissing the butler only to change his mind and call him back. “Tell me, has the prisoner made any statement?”
“I beg your pardon, My Lord? What sort of statement?” Lloyd asked, moving closer to Callum’s chair so that he might not need to speak of it loudly.
“Anything, really. Has she mentioned my missing property? Or the identities of those who might have taken it?”
“No, My Lord. She’s only been here but a few hours. I’m sorry, but she hasn’t spoken to anyone that I know of. I will inquire among the staff downstairs, of course. I’ve taken to having one of the housemaids tend to her for propriety’s sake, but under the guard’s supervision.”
“Good idea,” Callum agreed, still staring at the empty fireplace. “Please let me know at once if she relents and offers her cooperation, no matter what hour it may be.”
Lloyd bowed and left the room, returning to his quarters. Callum chanced a look at his pocket watch where it still lay open on his desk and he grimaced, unaware that he’d kept the butler up so long after midnight.
He tried not to let his mind replay the fight over and over in his mind, but in truth, Callum could think of nothing else. He felt foolish, perhaps, to mourn the loss of an object he’d only possessed a few days, an object he had not even known about a week before. But each time he tried to put it out of his mind, his mother’s face appeared, begging him in her weakened state to keep it safe for a bride of his own.
A fresh wave of misery struck him, and Callum knew it was a resurgence of grief for his mother and not just the loss of a sentimental ornament. Still, all efforts at assuaging his grief only resulted in a new flood of rage. How dare that band of filthy savages lay claim to his property? And that woman, had she no shame, no sense of humility, no feelings of even the most basic human kindness?
“Thief or no, how viciously uncaring does someone have to be in order to steal the very bag from their horse?” he mumbled, flicking his hand idly against the desk. “They knew not what it contained. Why, it could have been life-saving medicine for a village beyond the way!”
Soon enough, Callum struggled to call up the vision of his dear mother’s face as it had been replaced in his anger by the wild animal visage of his prisoner. He struggled to put aside the image of her angry sneer, her unkempt hair, her torn and stained clothes, the very dirt upon her cheek.
Her cheek, her hair… something wasn’t right. Callum’s brow furrowed in confusion as he thought about every moment of their altercation. She’d requested assistance and pointed to a very genuine bruise upon her head, one that his valet claimed had come from beating her back himself. While that could still be true enough, Callum thought to the moments he’d held her captive before the other thieves.
Unaware in the heat of the moment, he was now fully conscious of having her so close to him. There had been no ungodly stench about her, no coarse nature in her words or manners, no instinctive aversion that caused him to recoil from a disease-ridden, skeletal wretch like those who scavenged the backroads and byways. Only now did he realize that the young woman had been clean, cared for, and even well-fed.
His thoughts returned to the way she’d fit in his arms, the curve of her body in the crook of his elbow where he’d held her shoulders to his chest. It would have been unbecoming to think on it at the time when so much danger was about, but now he found his thoughts returning to how much he’d liked having her so close.
Callum’s mind swirled in a firestorm of possibilities.
“What if the poor creature had actually been the victim, kidnapped and abused by those pigs and forced to play the decoy for their crimes? What if they still held the young woman’s sister as hostage, or had threatened the lives of her family?” he questioned, growing more and more alarmed.
For all he knew, she had been treated with more ill will than he had, having lost only a material object and not something far more valuable. Callum checked his watch and cringed at the time but couldn’t bring himself to leave this matter until morning. He may very well be no better than those vile men who’d taken her against her will, locking her in an empty room and leaving her to her fear.
He hurried through the house to the upper kitchen and down the stairs that led below. Upon reaching the lower floor, he moved more carefully, intent on not disturbing anyone. Finally, at the end of the last hallway, he spotted the guard who’d been placed outside the lady’s room, sleeping propped up in a ladder-back chair. Callum tiptoed down the hall, uncertain as to whether the other rooms were occupied. He tapped the man on the shoulder silently, only to jump back when a startled cry of surprise echoed down the length of the hall.
“My Lord! You gave me a fright!” the man said before recovering himself. He jumped to his feet and said, “That is, I meant to say, how can I be of service, My Lord?”
“Remain calm, it’s no important matter,” Callum assured him. “But if the woman is awake, I must speak with her.”
“I doubt that she would be, My Lord. It’s nearly first bell and she accepted the offer of a blanket and a gunnysack of hay for her head several hours ago.”
Callum winced at the description of the woman’s bedding. He shook his head slightly. “You’re most likely right. But it would ease my conscience greatly if I might look in at her.”
The guard stepped back, but his expression was still wary. Callum noticed, and he wondered if the man thought he might cause the woman harm. Instead of staring him down, Callum was grateful for the additional witness.
“Please remain right here,” he said. “I only intend to open the door, and I should think she may be relieved to know that she is not left alone with her captor.”
“Very good, My Lord,” the guard said more amiably.
Callum opened the door only enough to peer inside. The small window set high in the wall allowed the moonlight to brighten the room significantly, and he could see that the woman was prone on the bare floor beneath the thin blanket. She did not stir or make a sound, and Callum soon closed the door.
“If the creature has managed to sleep, I won’t be the one to disturb her. My issue can wait until morning, but I wish to know as soon as she is awake and has had her breakfast,” he said, closing the door softly and turning the key in the lock once again.
“Certainly, My Lord. But will we ride for the constable in the morning?”
“Yes, of course,” Callum reassured him, having forgotten that detail. “But I must speak with her first. I fear that I’m mistaken in my assessment of her situation, and as such I must be certain before turning her over to the authorities.”
