He scrunched up his face at her. “What secret purpose?”
She shrugged her shoulders and lifted her spoon to her mouth. He watched her for a moment, both in disbelief and in awe that he might forgive anything she thought of him.
“I’m goin’ to find Lachlan,” he muttered. “Drummond—”
“Thank ye fer yer help last eve, Chief, and fer feeding me. We will part—”
“Ye will ride with Fionn.”
“Pardon?” She stared at him as if he had just grown fangs.
“Eat at yer leisure,” he continued, softening his voice some, but keeping his tone commanding, “but dinna make me come and get ye.”
Her lips parted on an angry gasp. Then, “I’m not going to yer castle without ye.”
He didn’t answer her but left the tavern alone.
*
Who did hethink he was?
Ismay knew who he was. The Cameron Clan Chief. His name was well-known even as far as Inverness. There were plenty of Camerons, even Constantine Camerons, but there was only one who was the Lochiel.
And now, he wanted to take her to his castle. Was he truly a criminal as was rumored? If so, what was to stop him from—what? Constantine Cameron was a criminal and he hadn’t touched her. He barely looked at her.
“The Lochiel,” said the one the chief had introduced as Geoffry, “has nae secret purpose in bein’ kind to ye, though I have never seen him practice such hospitality before. Ye insulted him.”
She? What? Ugh! She had been petty. She was sorry she insulted him after he had done much for her. She looked them all over. She should be a bit more afraid alone here with them, but she doubtedthey would risk their chief’s ire if they touched her after he had given his word about them. Finally, she bounced to her feet and stormed out of the inn. Moments after she left, she heard the inn doors open and the chief’s cousins come tumbling out.
She looked around for the chief or his golden-haired cousin Lachlan, but not finding them, she followed her nose and found the stable.
The doors were open, letting in fresh air. Ismay stopped upon seeing the chief reaching up to fit a saddle over a horse. Beside him, Lachlan saddled another horse and chatted on enthusiastically.
Ismay didn’t hear what the younger Cameron was saying, not because he spoke in a low voice, but because her gaze and her thoughts were fixated on the chief. In the golden lantern light, brightened by the sunlight streaming through the open door, he appeared almost other-worldly. He was tall and lithe, and quietly dangerous, like a blade sheathed in silk. She watched his long fingers work the buckles on his saddle. He pulled and yanked on the leather, mesmerizing her until the boisterous ruckus of his men approaching shattered her thoughts of her protector.
He turned toward the sound and saw her standing by the door. Ismay had no idea what to say or do as his men barreled past her and into the barn. She’d come to apologize for being so distrusting of him after he had stayed by her door for two days. But now, she suddenly felt more mortified than anything else. She had confessed to him that she was a woman. Why had she told him so much about Chief MacRae and her mother? She didn’t even know him—
“Lad,” his voice cut through her thoughts, “do ye need help gainin’ yer saddle?”
She blinked out of her reverie, realizing he was speaking to her. “Hmm?”
“Come,” he stretched his hand out to her. “Let us be off.”
To his castle, she reminded herself. He’d promised she would be safe there, but he was a chief, a man of power andauthority. Would he abuse it once they reached his home?
“I already told ye,” she began as he moved toward her. Why did his potent, still gaze make her feel lightheaded? Best to be away from him quickly. She already trusted him a little too much. “I’m not going to yer castle without ye.”
“Fine,” he ground his chiseled jaw. “I’ll remain at Tor fer a few days until ye’re rested, then ye can leave—and so can I.” He jutted his hand out and took hers, then turned and headed back to the horses with her in tow.
She stared at the back of him, his long hair falling between his shoulders. Why did it seem to be that the more she demanded, the more he gave in? Why help her? He never did tell her. Men didn’t just offer their protection for nothing. But as of yet, he hadn’t asked her for a thing in return.
When he brought her to Fionn and his horse, she turned around and went to the horse he’d been saddling. She didn’t say a word about only riding with him, but looking at him as he came near, she felt her heart in her eyes, being poured out to only him. She was afraid. She was afraid of men, afraid of him, despite his protection. She didn’t want the world to know what a coward she truly was, but she told Constantine Cameron, and she hoped he would respond kindly.
He stared at her for an eternal moment, looking hard and angry, breaking her heart and toughening it up at the same time. She was about to snarl at him and then storm out of the stable, when he fit his hands around her waist and hoisted her into his saddle.
“I have to retrieve my bag from the inn,” she told him, about to slip down out of the saddle to go fetch it.
He stopped her by leaping up and landing behind her. “I’ll drop ye off by the door and ye can retrieve it.”
