Free Abducted by a Prince by Olivia Drake Page A

her shoulder, shook her mobcapped head, and clucked her tongue.
    “Now where would ye be goin’, hinny, in yer nightdress an’ bare toes? There be a north wind blowin’, an’ ye’ll catch yer death. Come, let old MacNab brush yer hair.”
    If the woman had screeched or threatened, Ellie would have flung open the door and run for dear life. But that motherly manner made her face the folly of the impromptu plan. Where would she go, anyway? Out into the barren countryside wearing only a thin shift? It was February, and she would freeze to death.
    Mrs. MacNab drew her over to a dressing table. “Sit ye down, lamb. I’ll work out the snarls afore yer bath.”
    Ellie found herself ensconced on a cushioned stool. Gazing into the age-spotted mirror, she gave a start of surprise. No wonder the Demon Prince had so rudely ordered her to comb her hair. Instead of her usual neat topknot, a frightful bird’s nest perched on her head. The damp sea air had created a mass of reddish-brown waves that hung down her neck. She had dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were pale, making the sprinkling of freckles appear more prominent.
    Mrs. MacNab picked up an ivory comb and began to gently separate the tangles. As Ellie used her fingers to work at another section, she felt irked and out of sorts. Never in her life had she met a more boorish rogue than Damien Burke. He might garb himself as a gentleman, but his manner was arrogant and rude. He had even called her—or rather, Beatrice’s companion—a drab nun. To make matters worse, he had surmised her to be a full two decades older than Beatrice, although in reality only nine years separated the cousins in age.
    Stung by his assessment, Ellie scowled at her reflection in the mirror. Did she really look all that unattractive? Apparently to him she did. And maybe she should be glad because it meant that she needn’t worry about him making any unwanted advances.
    There was something else he’d said, too, during the dreamlike state before she’d opened her eyes. She did look much prettier from a distance.
    Ellie tugged hard at a knot in her hair. Stupid, shallow man! Of course, Beatrice was the beauty of the family. That was precisely why he should have believed Ellie’s assertion about her identity. The evidence was right in front of him, yet he’d refused to acknowledge his own blunder in seizing the wrong woman.
    He would be forced to accept the truth when the ransom failed to materialize. But that could be weeks, and Ellie had no desire to wait so long for enlightenment to penetrate his thick skull.
    Finn delivered two more cans of hot water, and after he’d gone, Mrs. MacNab moved the screen by the fireplace so that Ellie could have privacy while she bathed. She sank into the steaming bath and the pleasure of it had a mellowing effect on her mood. Relaxing in spite of herself, she concentrated on scrubbing herself with a hunk of lilac-scented soap, rinsing her hair until it was squeaky clean.
    When she finished, Mrs. MacNab handed her a linen towel and brought forth a gown of ruby silk with a narrow waist and slim long sleeves.
    “That isn’t mine,” Ellie protested.
    “The laird bade me purchase all yer necessities. Ye’ll find plenty more o’er there.” The woman nodded at the oversized wardrobe, where the open door revealed an array of fancy gowns.
    Ellie balked at accepting anything provided by the Demon Prince. It was beyond the pale for a lady to wear clothing given to her by a strange man. But what other choice did she have?
    She accepted Mrs. MacNab’s help in dressing and then sat near the hearth to run a comb through her long, wet curls. When the woman departed to fetch supper, Ellie jumped up from her stool and examined every nook and cranny of her prison cell. There were copies of fashion periodicals, a deck of playing cards, needlework supplies, and several gothic novels of the sort read by ladies. Then she peeked out the door to see a winding stone