She nodded. “I used to bathe in the stream close to my father’s house. There was a waterfall—”
“Alone?” he asked incredulously. Was it so safe in her father’s house that she felt safe bathing in a stream? Or was she just a careless fool?
“My maids were with me.” Immediately seeming to realize what she said, she grew quiet.
“Was yer father a nobleman?” he asked, too curious to remain silent. He suspected she was no servant since she’d been promised to a powerful chief. But for her to have had more than one maid to accompany her while she bathed, suggested her father was a man of title.
“He was…a wealthy landowner.”
“Where?” He knew nothing about her. If she told him, he might figure out who she killed.
“Dalneigh,” she told him after she thought about it for a moment. He guessed she was not telling him the truth. Then, she did not trust him fully. Good. Full trust was not earned by keeping your word once. “Near the River Ness.”
She knew where Dalneigh was though, and that told him that she likely came from somewhere in Inverness. Wealthy landowners were usually prominent men. It would not take Constantine long to find out the wealthiest landowners in Inverness who had died this summer.
“Did ye walk here from Dalneigh then?”
She dipped her gaze. “Aye.”
He shook his head in stunned admiration. He knew she had travelled long, but he was not sure how far. Suddenly a wave of protectiveness washed over him. She had told him her promised groom was cruel, but what had he done to her to make her fear shecould not get far enough away from him? His mouth opened before he could stop it, but he was not certain he would have stopped himself if he had time to think about it.
“Lass, I will keep ye from ever goin’ back.”
She lifted her gaze to his and stared into his eyes.
He should look away. He tried, but his eyes refused to obey.
“Ye have already done so much fer me,” she said meaningfully. “I could never repay ye.”
Images invaded his thoughts. Images of leaning in closer to her and kissing her plump, slightly parted lips.
He blinked, severing their gazes and looked toward the stairs. “I wonder what is fer supper?”
He rubbed his belly and continued on, quickening his pace to move away from her.
As they descended the stairs and neared the Great Hall, the aromas of freshly baked bread, braised duck, and hare stew filled the air. Constantine and his guest inhaled deeply at the same time and then smiled at each other in silent agreement.
Neither of them saw Lachlan and Fionn entering the castle from a set of side doors leading to the stone stairway outside or their stunned expressions at seeing their Lochiel smiling at a lass.
“Chief?” Lachlan called out to him.
When Constantine turned to see him, the lad grinned at him and then at Miss Drummond, and then back at him. “Will ye be eatin’ with us today then?”
With an almost silent sigh of annoyance, Constantine nodded, his smile fading.
“Our practice wasna long enough today,” he murmured low as Lachlan passed him to enter the Great Hall first.
The young lad turned to toss a worried glance over his shoulder. Fionn laughed. Miss Drummond was still smiling when he looked at her again. Seeing her, Constantine stopped caring about what his cousins thought and smiled back at her.
Chapter Eleven
Alistair MacRae, ClanChief of the MacRae’s of Beauly, stepped out of the Dueling Princes Inn in Glenelg, belched, then looked around at the horses tied to the nearby posts.
Lady Marjorie MacPherson had told him her daughter had not taken a horse. Was it possible the lass was on foot? Had she procured a horse somewhere else? He didn’t even know which way she’d gone. North, south, east… He sighed with frustration. Did she run away with the help of a man? Alistair would find out. He thought cutting the wench’s hair off would keep men away from her. But if she was offering herself for aid in escaping, he would kill whoever was helping her. Rage filled him, balling his hands into fists.
Her father, the baron, had been a very wealthy man. At his death, he bequeathed everything he owned to his daughter, unbeknownst to her.
Baron MacPherson’s estranged wife offered her newly wealthy daughter to Alistair as a bride. If he accepted her, he would lay claim to her father’s fortune. He only had to sign a promise that he would give Lady Marjorie half.
