The older woman did not say anything but put her arm around Ismay when Ismay reached her. Bethia led her away and brought her to her chambers, patting her shoulder as if she understood all about it.
Such a man.
Once again, Ismay thought of asking the head chambermaid what she meant by such a comment spoken in a tone that would surely spark Lewis’s ire.
“He canna give ye what ye need, gel.”
Ismay stopped and stared at her. “What is it ye think I need?”
“The same thing we all need,” Bethia answered and opened the door to her chambers. “A tender heart to treat us well.”
“The Lochiel has a tender heart,” Ismay insisted, letting Bethia lead her to her small sitting chamber.
Bethia did not agree or disagree. She sat Ismay down and then took a seat next to her. “If he is called to battle, he will go. He is a staunch supporter of the exiled king.”
“What has that to do with me?” Ismay asked her. “It isna as if he is going to take me as his wife—”
“Och, goodness,” the chambermaid threw her hand to her chest and laughed. “I know that!!” She gave another short laugh as if she had never heard of anything so preposterous.
Ismay bristled. This woman surely knew how to insult a soul. “What do ye find so humorous about that?”
Berthia’s smile faded and she gave Ismay a pitying look. “Child, he was already a husband.”
“Aye, I know.”
“Then ye should also know that he still loves her. Can ye fight a beloved ghost?” She did not wait for Ismay to answer but shook her head and continued. “Ye willna secure his heart. He will never give it up again. Ye may have his favor but unfortunately, ’tis temporary.”
Ismay held her breath hoping there was no more to hear. It was difficult, almost impossible to take in such hopeless words. But—she did not want a man in her life. Did she? “He is changing me.”
She did not realize that she had spoken out loud until Bethia reached over and took her hand. “Do ye want to be changed, Miss Drummond?”
Ismay pondered the question for a moment and then shook her head. “’Tis safer to remain impervious to the Lochiel’s wiles.”
“His wiles?” Ismay heard the chambermaid ask under her breath.
“Aye, he is charming, all right,” Ismay said more to herself than to the older woman, who was still casting her an incredulous look. “He is verra handsome when he smiles. He is handsome when he is scowling too. He is fair and slow to losehis temper.”
“Slow to—”
“He cares fer his kin, and everyone at Tor. Aye, his affections run deep, but they are locked behind a wall of stone.”
“Aye, and that wall was built fer his wife,” Bethia interrupted before Ismay went any further.
“It may have been built fer her and fer the scars of battle. But that wall is doing him harm. He needs to heal.”
Even before he knocked, Ismay felt the chief outside her door. An ache in the air, familiar and unspoken.
When the chambermaid pulled open the door, Ismay was not surprised to see Constantine.
Seeing Bethia first, he scowled, making Ismay wonder what happened between them.
“Chief,” the older woman said in a low voice. “I was just leaving.”
He did not turn to look after her, but kept his gaze on Ismay.
When they were alone, he took a step closer to her.
Ismay wondered if the sitting room was always this small, his shoulders this wide, his legs so long. His presence filled the entire space.
