She exhaled finally, dragging her now bloody hair covering out of his grasp. “Struan Gowry was not yet my husband, but I’ll be thankin’ you to leave the rest of us alive to bury our dead.”
The warrior closed his eyes and took a deep breath himself, those nostrils flaring yet again. He had the most intriguing nose. It was noticeably long, but apt for his face, and the form of its tip combined with those nostrils resembled the point of an arrow.
Perfection.
He pulled off a glove and reached for her hand, turning it over, searching her wrist, she supposed, for any signs of handfasting. When he saw none, he looked her in the eyes while he slowly slid his fingertips to the end of hers.
“Did ye wish to marry him?” His question was intimate in tone, as if they were all alone in the bedchamber. It was a strange question as well, under the circumstances, but she welcomed anything that might encourage him to speak. Was it his brogue or the timbre of his voice that was so stirring? She wanted to hold her hand against his neck and ask him to speak again.
What was his question? Had I wished to marry Gowry? Absurd.
“Nay. I wished only to spare the Carlisle Clan from his wrath,” she said, dropping her gaze from his throat, thencasually checking one hand for blood. There was none. She tried to examine the other, but he was not finished holding it.
“A noble sacrifice my lady, and now unnecessary.” He was looking at her lips again.
“Thank you for freeing me, then,” she said, a little too breathlessly. If she acted any more the fainting damsel, she’d get sick herself.
His gaze lifted to hers for a moment, then he said, “Ye needn’t thank me, because ye’ve not been freed. Ye’re mine…my charge, for the now.” He held up a hand to stay her protest then added, “Ye’ve been declared a ward of the king. And ‘tis my duty to take ye to my home where King Malcolm will meet us and reveal his plans for ye. We leave now. Ye and yer maid may take one sack. No trunks. Ye can sit a horse?” He dropped her hand.
“Nay!” Kenna reached out and clutched his forearm. He stared at her bold hand, and she immediately snatched it back.
He looked disgusted, but he was back to not speaking.
“Aye, I can sit a horse fair to middlin’. But, nay, she is not my maid. I will come willingly, but ye must let her go.”
“Done.” He gestured toward Kenna while looking at the giant before turning to leave.
“Wait!”
He turned back to her, impatience now plain on his face. He stepped forward though, and took her hand, giving her the strangest impression that he was unable to speak to her directly unless he was touching her in some way. When she had laid her hand on his arm, had it been trembling? It trembled still. Perhaps his arm was just fatigued from the fighting. She had seen horses quivering in a like manner after being ridden for hours.
“Who are you that I should know you?”
“I am the king’s man.”
“And your name?”
“Why?”
“Why do you suppose?” She smiled sweetly. “So I can curse you properly, of course.”
His frown melted into a smile, and he paused for a long moment, leading her to wonder if nowhehad forgotten the question.
“Ye may call me Laird and Master.” He dropped her hand and turned away.
“To the devil with ye then, Laird and Master.”
By the time he had spun back around, she was already in a deep curtsy before him, but she could not resist glaring up at him. She looked again at the sword in his hand and swallowed. Before she could rise, though, he was gone. The rumble of his hearty laughter preceded him down the hallway, and she smiled at the sound before she could help it.
The giant, however, remained. He stepped up to Kenna and held out his arm. With his eyes he told her she could be led from the room or carried.
She didn’t take his offered limb, but hurried toward the door, then paused to look back at her maid. “Be well, Fia. Do not forget your promise.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Tearloch was shaking like a flat leaf in a storm as he made his way back to the horses. He knew Duncan noticed his state, but he knew also the older man would keep it to himself.
“It went that well, did it?”
