“I dinna know what ye are talking about,” Ismay defended. “And if I did, why would ye say that I will not live through it? What do ye all think is so terrible about him?”
Hilary looked at her as if she had never seen Ismay before. “He is like a dead man. ’Tis frightful. Ye do know that he is a thief, aye? And a cattle raider? He has killed hundreds both in battle and oot of it.”
Aye. Ismay was reminded of him kicking in the door of where the MacKintosh’s son had taken her. She saw Constantine run him through in one fell strike. She knew he was no hero. He was her guardian angel, always keeping her safe. That’s what she knew. And it was enough.
“Aye, his expressions can be subtle,” Ismay told them in a quiet, calm tone. “But I think he is letting himself feel more lately.”
Her two friends blinked at her.
Joan looked to be thinking about it and then nodded. “I have seen him smiling.”
Hilary’s wide blue eyes settled on Ismay. “Is it because of ye?”
Ismay shook her head. “I dinna know. But he is the least frightful man I have ever met.”
Her friends stared at her for a moment and then both of them burst into laughter. Ismay laughed with them since it felt so good.
“Och, tell us everything, Ismay!” Hilary threw down her embroidery and clamped Ismay’s hand.
“Aye, everything!”Joan joined in.
Ismay was not going to at first, but she felt as if she would burst with emotions she had never felt before. She had to tell someone. “Well,” she began, “he slept by my door at the Doomsday Inn and Tavern two nights in a row to keep me safe.”
She enjoyed their breathless sighs at all she told them about the Lochiel saving her from her kidnapper—and a coyote—and mostly, her fears.
“Lachlan didna mention the Lochiel bein’ in love—” Joan told them.
“He is not in love,” Ismay quickly corrected.
“Not yet,” Hilary said excitedly.
“Now, stop it both of ye,” Ismay tried then laughed again with them.
Someone knocked at the door.
Joan leaped up to open it.
When they saw the Lochiel on the other side, they broke into hysterical giggles that held him at the door.
Ismay bounced up from her chair and offered him her most thankful smile. He’d come to her, saving her the mortification of chasing after him.
“What is so amusing about my arrival?” he demanded without any authority.
“Nothing at all,” Ismay assured him and led him back out of the embroidery room and into the hall.
“How are ye feeling? Are ye in pain anywhere? Let me have a look at ye.”
She grabbed hold of him and started feeling his arms first. She quickly realized what she was doing, and how irresistibly hard his arms were, coiled with muscle and sinew. She lifted herself a bit and pressed her cheek to his chest. His heart sounded strong, beating a rapid litany in her ear. She pushed away, staring up at him with repentance in the curve of her lips.
How had this man managed to pull such unabashed, shameless behavior from her? For twenty-four years she had been content without a man in her life. She had firmly believed it would always be so.
“Do ye need me?” she asked like some kind of blithering fool. Of course he didn’t need her. He appeared absolutely, perfectly fine. Perfectly.
He looked as if he wanted to say something other than what came out of his mouth. “Nae. I thought ye might be needin’ me.”
She shook her head, mayhap a bit too vehemently. “Nae, I was embroidering.” She really wanted to tell him that she might need him more than she would admit. Even here, where she was safe sewing flowers in a kerchief.
“Then, I will leave ye to finish,” he said politely and turned to go.
