She didn’t know in which way the chambermaid meant her words, “such a man,” but Ismay thought of them in a good light.
“Thank ye fer the clothes—and my feet especially thank ye fer the shoes.” She offered him a smile. He didn’t return it. “What are ye doinghere, Chief?”
He drew in a deep breath and seemed to compose himself. Had he not been composed before that? And had it been because of her?
“I left the castle to bathe.”
“Aye, ye asked Lachlan to guard my door.”
“Aye.”
Her smile remained despite his best effort to contain his.
“I just returned,” he continued, “and I wanted to make certain ye were well.”
“Would Lachlan no’ have told ye if I wasna well?” she asked gently, enjoying the effect her teasing was having on him.
“He told me,” he confessed. “But I wanted to see fer myself.”
“Why, Lochiel? Do ye fancy me?”
He finally smiled, but it was more like he was mocking her. And then he spoke, and proved that he was. “Nae, lass. I’m nae fool.”
Her heart palpitated. What? “What are ye saying? That ye would be a fool for fancying me?”
“Correct,” he claimed dispassionately. “I want nae part of my heart or any other part of me with another woman. Once was enough.”
“Good.” She sounded convincing, but she didn’t feel it. Did he still love his deceased wife? If he did, why did it make Ismay feel like being sick? “Now that that is settled, let us go eat.”
Instead of pausing to let him offer his arm, she walked past him and into the front sitting room that made up the rest of her chambers.
She slowed her steps only after he rushed in front of her and reached for the front door to open it for her.
“Did ye sleep well?” he asked as she reached him and stepped out.
She cut her glance to him. “Did ye chase away my unpleasant dreams too?”
“What kind of protector would I be,” he answered, “if I didna chase away everything that troubled ye?”
Was that humor she saw in the deep-russet hue of his gaze? She looked away and laughed softly. She felt childishly giddy. She had noidea why, save that for the first time in too long, she was not burdened with thoughts of how to stay safe while traveling alone or what she would eat. It was all because of a man. A chief.
“Why did those men come to the inn and attack?” she asked him to chase the butterflies from her belly.
He sobered quickly enough. Regret passed through Ismay momentarily. But it didn’t remain. She had no desire to discover what made the Lochiel smile. What business was it of hers?
“They were MacKintoshes. We raided their cattle the day you and I met at the tavern.”
“Why do ye do it?” she asked. “Why do ye steal other clans’ cattle? Dinna they need to eat just as the Camerons do?”
“That is no’ my concern, Miss Drummond,” he drawled. “’Tis the concern of their chief. We have a duty to our kin. I will keep mine safe and well fed. Besides I dinna steal from the poor. We have a different reason fer raidin’ the Mackintoshes.”
“Oh,” she lifted her brow at him. “What reason is that?”
“A feud.”
Her belly sank. The same kind of feud his kin the MacDonalds had with the MacPhersons because of her father rescuing the killer of the Clan Chief MacDonald of Glencoe. It was the one feud her father had spoken of. “What kind of feud?”
“Once, long ago,” he told her, “the lands of Lochaber were held by the MacKintoshes. After decades of neglect toward the land, and defeat in their battles against my kinsmen, we took hold of the Lochaber region and never let go, winning even the approval of the king. Still, it wasna enough for the MacKintoshes. They tried many times to take the land back and have kept the old feud alive. Which is fine with the Camerons. We live to battle and raid.”
