Page 20 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Chapter Twelve

Nessa opened her eyes, her heart racing from a panicked dream she had already forgotten. For a moment, she couldn't understand where she was. She sat up, confused, and then her eyes fell on the painting of the bluebell woods. Breana's painting.

She remembered all at once. The kidnapping.

The long journey with Darren. Reuniting with her sisters.

And… and that strange moment the night before.

She glanced down at the spot on her bed where Darren had sat next to her the night before, and her heart gave a strange little stutter.

He'd been so intense. So close. If she'd have asked him to stay with her, would he have done it?

Nessa didn't know if she even wanted to know the answer.

Disturbed by her thoughts, she slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers that someone had placed next to her.

She moved to the washbasin, which someone had freshly filled overnight, and used the chilly water to quickly wash her face.

After a moment, she slipped out of her borrowed nightdress and washed her body as best she could.

Nessa longed for a soak in a hot bath, but she wasn't sure that was something that would be granted to her—and who would she even ask were she brave enough to do so?

A smile flickered across her face as she pictured the awkwardness of asking Darren.

"Why would ye need a whole fresh bath?" she said out loud in a silly imitation of Darren's voice. "Come tae me rooms, and we can share mine instead."

Nessa giggled at her own joke, but her mind raced ahead with the thought.

She could picture it so clearly in her head.

Darren would take her by the hand and lead her through the castle, teasing her as she would no doubt blush along the way.

They'd enter his rooms and close the door behind them.

The steaming hot bath would be waiting enticingly in the middle of the room, and Darren would turn to her, his hazel eyes burning with the same heat as Nessa had felt the night before.

He'd draw her close, reaching for the ties of her bodice, and…

A loud knock thudded at the door, and Nessa yelped in surprise as she was torn out of her fantasy.

She gasped, glancing down and seeing her own hand splayed on her belly, and she felt her cheeks burning with pure embarrassment.

She sent a thankful prayer to whoever might be listening that the door was locked.

"A moment!" she shouted, trying not to let the panic sound in her voice. She raced to the wardrobe and flung it open, grabbing the first simple dress she saw and throwing it on. It was a little big for her, but she tied the belt as best she could and ran her fingers nervously through her hair.

The knock came again.

Nessa took a moment to collect herself. She glanced down at her feet and realized she was still wearing her slippers.

She hesitated, wondering if she should find shoes or fix her hair before answering, but there was no time.

Swallowing her pride, she made her way toward the door and called through, "Come in. "

A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open.

Nessa prepared herself to see Darren and endure his teasing for her haphazard appearance, but was surprised when instead two female figures stood framed in the doorway.

Her sisters peered into the room, both with matching uncertain expressions on their faces.

Nessa blinked in shock, so surprised she couldn't bring herself to speak.

Breana was the first one to speak. "Can we come in? Is that all right?"

It took a moment to collect herself, but Nessa eventually nodded. "Aye, if ye wish. I'm yer prisoner, after all."

She stepped to the side and waited until Maeve and Breana had entered before she closed the door behind them. Both of Nessa's sisters settled down on the edge of the bed. Hesitating for a second, Nessa moved toward the desk chair instead, turning it around so that she was facing Maeve and Breana.

"Ye're nae our prisoner," Maeve told her after an awkward pause. "I told ye as much last night, and I had expected Darren tae explain more last night."

Nessa bristled. It wasn't that Maeve had said anything particularly wrong, but she'd spent her whole childhood being contradicted by her brave older sister.

She barely had any control of the petty irritation that flooded out of her with her response.

"If I'm nae a prisoner, why am I bein' kept in this room under lock and key? "

Maeve and Breana exchanged glances, and Nessa felt a grim satisfaction in seeing how neither of them had an easy answer.

It had always been those two…and her. Maeve and Breana had always had each other, while Nessa, who their parents had shaped to be perfect, had only ever had herself.

Even when they had tried to reach out to her—especially Breana—Nessa had known in her heart that she'd never be able to be like them.

It looked like nothing had changed.

"For yer safety, Nessa," Breana finally said in her usual soft voice.

"Ye're the last O'Sullivan, and Ansel Ashkirk's betrothed as well.

The rebels are for the most part good people, but we can never be sure how much anger is left over from the pain Edric Ashkirk and even our own father have caused. "

Nessa shivered. The last O'Sullivan. It felt cold and lonely to hear it put to her in that way. Maeve was obviously a McNair now; that much was clear from everything from the way she held herself to the deep purple of her dress. And Breana…

She let out a little sound that wasn't quite a laugh at the conclusion she'd reached. "Ye're still a Darach," she said. "Ye remarried, and ye didnae even need tae change yer name."

Maeve scowled at her, and Nessa flinched as she realized how her observation might have sounded. She hadn't intended to be hurtful and mean. This was always the way when she tried to speak to her sisters, or, really, to anyone.

But Breana simply smiled. "I've been thinkin' about that a lot," she said.

"And Eoin and I have been discussin' it.

Neither one of us wish tae be associated with the Darach name any longer.

Eoin's mother's maiden name was Kerr, and she was the last of her line.

We intend tae go tae Cailean and ask him tae recognize us adoptin' that name as our own. "

Nessa tilted her head in surprise. "Ye… are?

" she asked. The very concept seemed alien to her.

How could Eoin be willing to simply abandon the name of his father, regardless of how awful the man had been?

Nessa had known her whole life that to be an O'Sullivan was everything.

Surely Eoin had been raised the same way.

Breana nodded. "We've tolerated it for a month or so since our marriage, and honestly we'd likely have let it go on longer. But…" She leaned forward.

Maeve shook her head. "Bre, she doesnae need tae ken all of that."

Irritation stabbed at Nessa's skin. "What if I want tae ken?" she demanded.

Breana kept talking serenely, not acknowledging her sisters' building conflict.

She'd always been the peacekeeper. "Ye cannae tell anyone, mind, nae even Eoin until I'm sure.

It'll take a few months before I can be certain.

But… och, Nessa, it's excitin'. The moon's cycle hasnae come tae me this month. "

It took Nessa several moments to understand, and then she stared in shock that Breana would so openly speak of something of the sort. "Ye mean… ye think ye might be…?"

"There's nae way of kennin' until there's a quickenin', and that will take several months," Breana explained eagerly. "But oh! Can ye imagine! A new bairn with a new name, the first generation tae live in a whole new Scotland."

Nessa could not even begin to understand the emotions swelling through her now.

Could her sister truly be carrying a child?

It seemed an impossible thing, an absurd thing.

She imagined Breana holding a little child in her arms, Eoin at her side, and it was a picture so perfect that Nessa almost wanted to cry.

A scene so full of love and adoration… that was nothing like the world as Nessa had been taught it truly was.

"Ye seem so sure of a new Scotland," Nessa said eventually, retreating back into the neutrality which had long since be the only place she could control her emotion. "Perhaps ye should consider what the child's life will be like if Cailean's campaign doesnae succeed."

Maeve scoffed. "Aye. Nae surprise ye'd say a thing like that."

"I'm just tryin' tae be practical!" Nessa retorted. She folded her arms protectively across her chest. "Ye dinnae want Breana talkin' tae me, and ye're nae interested in anythin' I have tae say. Why are ye here?"

Breana looked worriedly between the two of them. "Now, sisters, dinnae?—"

"I'm here because I believe in somethin', which is more than ye've done yer whole life," Maeve replied sharply. "I'm glad ye're safe, I truly am. I fought hard tae get ye back. But I had hoped ye might have changed. I see now that I was mistaken."

Nessa glared at her. "Why am I here, then?" she demanded. "Breana wanted her sister back, but what of ye , Lady McNair? This is yer castle now. Am I yer prisoner? Yer hostage? Is that what this is—am I simply a pawn for ye tae begin negotiations with the king?"

"Ye are our sister," Breana insisted. "Ye're the bairn I held when ye were too small tae even grip on tae a finger. Ye're the wee lassie who used tae listen tae Maeve tellin' stories and hope we didnae see ye. Ye're the young woman who wept when I was bein' taken away tae marry Kyle Darach."

There was no way that Nessa could respond. Her heart was thudding in her ears and she could feel herself shaking. She had no idea that Breana had seen her moment of weakness that day.

"We would never use ye," Breana told her softly. "Never. We willnae even keep yer room locked for more than a week or so, we'll?—"