What if he asked her to stay and then he died in battle?
“Ismay, I—” What? What did he want to say to her? “I want ye to sleep in yer bed tonight. Dinna tend to me. Bethia will do so. Ye need rest.” No. That was not it. He wanted her to rest, but not yet. He couldn’t tell her that now without sounding like an indecisive fool.
She waited a moment, as if she knew there was more he wanted to say and was waiting for it.
When nothing more came, she nodded and left her seat. “Goodnight then, my lord, chief.” She smiled and Constantine thought she moved a hair’s breath closer to him. Did she want him to pull her down for another kiss? Was he trying to convince himself that she wanted the same as he?
She left without kissing him, and he decided that if he were not so sleepy and his heart were his to do and feel as he chose, he might have gotten up out of bed and gone after her.
In fact, when he fell asleep a moment or two later, he dreamed he did just that.
Chapter Thirteen
“Whatever the reason,’tis nice to finally have ye here with us.”
Ismay looked up briefly to smile at Hilary while she pulled her needle with dyed saffron thread through a linen kerchief. She was not sure what Hilary meant, as Ismay had been there twice already. She could not help it if she enjoyed being with the Lochiel more than sewing, or anyone else’s company. Even Hilary’s—and Ismay was quite fond of Geoffry and Fionn’s sister.
Hilary’s disputable wedding was fast approaching and she was full of excitement about the event. She was also worried about what was to come after the celebration and filled with doubt that she was being selfish and may be the cause of another feud. She was happy one moment and a ball of sobbing tears the next.
Ismay helped her as much as she could, which was not much since she had never been in love. She tried to at least be there with Hilary and listen, but she often felt her thoughts drifting to the Cameron chief.
When she left him in the Great Hall this morning, just a sennight after he was stabbed, he seemed stronger and all his color had returned. But she could not forget the blade the castle physician had to pull from his guts. His body was still a wee bit weak.
Did he need her right now and she was off embroidering someuseless thing? Should she excuse herself from her friend and hurry off to find him?
She scoffed out loud, unknowingly drawing Hilary’s attention. She had never chased a man in her life, and she would not begin now.
“What troubles ye, Ismay?” Hilary asked, as Joan stepped into the sewing chamber with refreshments.
“Och, Joan,” Ismay dropped her work in her lap. “Did ye happen to see the Lochiel?”
Joan threw a conspiratory glance to Hilary. “Nae, I didna see him, lady.”
Ismay smiled and shrugged as if it did not matter to her. No one believed it.
“Anyway,” she said pleasantly and picked up her needle and kerchief to continue working, “Hilary, ye know ye are no’ to see yer betrothed the day before the wedding.”
“The whole day is too long!” Hilary lamented, forgetting Ismay’s obvious preoccupation with the chief quickly enough.
Fionn and Geoffry’s sister went on for most of the afternoon, drawing Joan into their mostly one-sided conversation.
Ismay liked Joan. The gel’s fascination with Lachlan was understandable, for the young Cameron, with his golden halo of curls and pleasant, laid-back nature enchanted many. Joan was not oblivious to his roguish ways. She did not care who he spent time with, if he made time for her. It was an arrangement Ismay could never ascribe to. If she were in love with Constantine—She stuck the needle into her index finger and drew back with a cry.
“Ismay, what did ye do?” Hilary went to her and pulled Ismay’s finger out of her mouth.
Joan hurried to get a wet rag.
What had she done? She had been embroidering long enough not to prick her finger.
“This is why ye should come every day to practice,” Hilarylamented.
“I will live through it,” Ismay assured her.
“Aye, ye will,” Hilary agreed. “’Tis the Lochiel I fear ye willna live through.”
Ismay pulled her hand from Hilary’s grasp. “What are ye saying?”
“I know ye care fer him,” her friend clarified. “Ye spend all yer days and many nights at his bedside, nursing him. ’Tis clear yer heart is lost to him.” At her side, Joan nodded in agreement.
