She took a step to go around him and leave the tavern.
“Aye, I give it,” he allowed.
She stopped and turned back to him. “Thank ye, my lord.”
He wasn’t sure if he’d finally gone mad—his cousins all stared at him as if they believed so.
“Give the lad a room that locks from the inside,” he told Lewis. “Then return and tell me which room—” His words were interrupted by the loud rumble of the lass’s belly. He looked at her and then sighed.
“Come.” He crooked a finger at her. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter Three
Ismay was shownto a table that only moments ago had been occupied by two rough-looking men. They hurried away from the table when the innkeeper told them to move.
The Highlander who gave his word to protect her didn’t sit with her at the table, nor did he allow any other man to sit with her or even approach her while she was served mutton stew that tasted like it came from heaven, and semi-stale black bread, with ale to wash it down.
There were no words to express how happy she was to be eating a warm meal at a table.
She was also thankful that no one approached her or asked to eat with her, not because they all appeared to be miscreants bent on trouble of one kind or another. Nae, she was thankful they didn’t approach her because then they might have asked her why she was weeping into her bowl. It was because, for this brief moment since her father died, she felt safe and cared for. She knew she was a fool. The Highlander didn’t vow his protection and feed her for nothing in return. At the moment, she didn’t care why he did it. She was overcome by the warmth flowing through her thanks to the kindness of one stranger. So she wept, unaware that all the ruffians lounging around the tavern were aware of her tears. A warning look from her benefactor kept them all from speaking a word to her.
She looked over at him, standing off alone, glancing at her every now and then. He wore a braided leather cord strapped across his body and supporting the sheathed sword at his back. A great plaid of red and dark green was draped over one shoulder and belted on his waist, where three more knives were tied. Underneath, he wore an ivory-colored thin, woolen tunic. His wrists were tied in strips of leather almost to his elbows, where more daggers were stored. His legs were bare and crossed at his booted ankles where he stood leaning against the wall.
Beneath his woolen hood his chestnut hair was long, spreading over his shoulders and falling across his deep, burnished brown eyes. He reminded Ismay of a wild stallion, a dangerous and unpredictable beast. But presently, he was all she had. As flimsy a thread it was, she held on.
She smiled at him through her tears.
He looked away, but not immediately.
Three times, one of the other men went to him to speak with him, or laugh with him. She watched his reactions, noting first that he held no drink in his hand, nor did he break out in laughter with them. He was quiet, seemingly preferring to be alone.
Seemingly—because she watched his gaze follow this one or that one as they returned to their seat. She caught the way his gaze softened on them, especially on a cherubic looking young man with a halo of golden curls framing his face, and a quiver full of bows slung across his back.
Her protector cared for the other Highlanders who’d arrived with him. But it was the barest glimpse of another side of him. She doubted anyone would see it if they didn’t look hard enough. Authority and confidence rolled off him in waves, along with a detached to-hell-with-the-world air.
But he had stepped in for her—and seemingly of his own accord—when no one else, save her father, ever had.
In the course of eating and wiping her eyes, she learned the Highlander was Constantine Cameron of the famed Clan Cameron cattle raiders. And these men around him, no doubt, were the raiders.
Finally, when she pushed her bowl away and rubbed her belly in satisfaction, she opened her eyes and found Mr. Cameron standing over her.
She kept herself from trembling or gripping the armrests of her chair. She gave away no sign of the effect the sight of him had on her. He frightened her because he looked fast and fit. If she ran, she wouldn’t get far.
“Would ye like anythin’ else, lady?”
Lady. She hadn’t felt like one in so long. She blinked back a fresh mist assailing her eyes. He knew then, yet he went along with her when she denied being a lass. Aye, his dark eyes shone on her, peering deep within her.
She blinked away, not risking the chance of him seeing her crimes. “I could not eat another thing.”
“Then let me walk ye to yer room.”
She wished she could trust him. She looked at his outstretched hand. “I—”
“Come, then, lad.” His deep voice settled over her like a comforting blanket. She thought his eyes warmed on her the way they warmed on his men, but she was sleepy and wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.
She reached up and accepted his hand.
She tried to pay the innkeeper with her mother’s ring, but her benefactor wouldn’t allow the innkeeper to take it. She would have insisted, not wanting to be in any debt. But she was too exhausted, so she followed them up the stairs in silence.
