“I am going to find a convent to join.”
He stared at her for a moment, and then he burst into heartylaughter that drew the attention of the few servers still serving, and of Lewis. They stared with disbelieving eyes and ears, but no one spoke a word.
“What in the world do ye find so humorous about me wanting to live in a convent?”
He raised his cup for more wine, drawing a scowl on her lips.
“Ye will nae doubt hurl the holy sisters over on their arses.”
“Pardon me?” she said with a stunned, insulted look.
“Come now, Miss Drummond, ye know ye are saucy.”
She let out a short snort of disbelief. “I know nae such thing!”
“Now ye do.” He took his freshly filled cup and raised it to his lips. He paused his hand in the air when she slammed her palm on the table.
“Cease drinking!” she commanded with such authority and anger he set the cup back down. “I willna sit here another instant speaking to a man who is too drunk to know what he might do later.”
He dipped his gaze to his cup.
“Set it aside, please, or I will retire to bed.”
“Are ye givin’ the Lochiel orders, lass?” Lewis asked, surprised and offended.
The Lochiel did as she said and stared at Ismay while he spoke. “’Tis all right, Lewis. Go to bed.”
Lewis remained for another moment or two and then stood up and smiled at the back of the Lochiel’s head. “Aye, cousin.”
The Lochiel was silent as Lewis left, his gaze still fixed on her. “I know what I might do later,” he said when they were finally alone, “and it doesna involve ye.”
He tried to make his words sound like an insult but there was a trace of regret lacing his declaration. Did he want his night to include her? Hadn’t they spent the last three nights together—or, at least under the same roof?
She rubbed her eyes. She was weary. That had to be thereason she was entertaining such thoughts about a Highland Chief.
“That is a relief to hear,” she didn’t realize she sounded as regretful as he did until he lifted his gaze to look into her eyes.
“Ye dinna sound relieved,” he remarked with a glint in his eyes, reminding her of her own words.
She cast him a wry look. “Should I feel sad or disappointed that ye dinna wish to spend the night with me?” Her eyes opened wider as what she said dawned on her. She choked out a feigned laugh. “What I mean is that ye dinna want to spend more time with me.”
He raised his eyebrows but did not refute her claim. Instead, he looked around the emptying Hall, and then asked, “What are ye doin’ here so late into the night?”
She blew out a slight sigh, careful not to seem disappointed by his careful evasion. So what if he did not want to spend time with her? She didn’t care about spending time with him either.
Even as she thought the words, she knew she was lying. She enjoyed trying to break through his rigid indifference to spark that glint of curiosity and warmth in his eyes that she’d seen once or twice. A challenging task to remove that heavy mask, but she much preferred a man with self-control than a man without it.
“I was waiting fer my protector, who abandoned me. You can speak as much as ye like on the honor of the men here. Ye are seeing one side of them. Would ye have me ask one of them to escort me to my chamber? Joan is gone, thanks to ye, and the others are all busy with the seamstresses.”
He was quiet for a moment, but his gaze never left hers. She had not broken through his indifference tonight. There was no warmth in his eyes. “Who did ye such harm that ye hate authority and power and dinna trust any man?”
She had opened up to him about her arranged marriage to a beast. At the time of the telling, she believed she simply needed to tell someone and he was available. He hadn’t been shocked or overlyconcerned about any of it and that was strangely comforting. He had listened and then continued eating.
What more should she tell this stranger, and why did she want to tell him everything?
“I was abandoned as a babe and taken in by an important chief. He abused me and when I was eight years old, he tried to force himself on me.” She didn’t tell him the chief’s name or that she had killed him. She left out that Baron John MacPherson had saved her and taken her to her new home where she lived for the next sixteen years until he died.
For the first time, Ismay witnessed emotion darkening the Lochiel’s expression. His jawline, stark and chiseled, trembled as his teeth grinded together. “Who is he? Tell me his name.”
