“All the comforts of home are right here,” he said, turning his attention away from her to dig his spoon into his porridge when it arrived with hers.
He had stayed and hadn’t gone home for two days.
“Thank ye, Chief,” she allowed herself to say.
The faintest trace of a smile slipped across his features. She was glad he didn’t smile more often. She would lose her senses too much.
“Now I am doubly curious why ye made such a promise to me.” She ate a spoonful of porridge and then ended up scraping the bowl when it was all gone.
Feeling his gaze on her again, she looked up to find him watching. Shamefully, she set the bowl down on the table. “Fergive me, it has been a long—”
“There is nothin’ to fergive,” he said and went back to eating.
That was it? He was not going to scold her for eating so much and so quickly?
When he remained quiet, giving his attention to his bowl, she drank more water and smiled. Just a little.
“Ye were about to tell me what yer motive was fer guarding my door day and night for two days. What is it ye want from me? What do ye expect to gain, Chief?”
His expression darkened, frightening her for a moment. “I want ye to arrive safely at yer destination.”
“What else?”
His brow dipped low over his eyes. His decadent lips arched downward. “Nothin’ else.”
“Am I atonement fer yer sins?” she pressed gently. She didn’t want to push too much, but she wanted to know what he expected so she could refuse now.
Laughter bubbled upward and escaped him in a husky serenade that reverberated through Ismay’s defenses and shook the walls. And while they were battering through, he grew serious again and asked, “From whom are ye runnin’, lass?”
She breathed and set her cup on the table. “My mother and the man she intends fer me to marry.”
“Why do ye run away?” he asked, appearing unfazed by her confession. But—
Did she note a thread of compassion in him? Or was she so desperate to hear it that she imagined it?
“The man I am to marry is a cruel man. Cruel men are capable of many things. I would rather be dead than tied to a heartless husband.”
He said nothing while they sat together in the empty tavern—with the innkeeper, Lewis Cameron wandering about.
“Is he the reason ye hate chiefs?” the chief asked, wiping his mouth with his serviette and leaning back in his chair.
Ismay watched as if the passage of time slowed while the cloth rubbed across his full lips. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She swallowed, filling herself with the sound of her throatconvulsing while she swallowed.
“No, I hated them long before him.”
Again, he said nothing. Being caught staring didn’t seem to bother him. It made Ismay feel awkward and she looked away.
“I dinna wish to speak of it anymore,” she let him know.
“As ye wish,” he answered kindly, quietly. Then, “Would ye like some chicken?”
Her eyes widened on him. Chicken? “Aye! I would love some chicken!”
Well, if he was trying to win her loyalties over to his side, food was the way to do it.
“Ye willna tell the others about me being a lass, will ye??” she breathed, feeling like a young girl sharing secrets with her closest friend. “Can I trust ye no’ to tell them?”
He gave her an impatient look and nodded.
