Hamish thought for a wild and terrible moment that Alaric would retaliate against his own ally. He exhaled with relief when reason returned to the warrior’s angry face.
“I am charged with the safety of the Lady of Greenock. I believe ye canna be too careful with such a beautiful charge.” Alaric winked.
The older guard smirked as he sprang back into the saddle. “I shall carry word of your dedication back to the Earl of Felsham. I am certain he will be well pleased.”
“I am certain he will not care in the slightest,” the Lady murmured so quietly that only Hamish could hear her.
He hastily disguised his surprise. Victory was within reach and he must say and do nothing that would deter these men from leaving.
“Open the gates,” he ordered his men, waiting until the guards had trotted after them before reaching for the reins of the chestnut destrier. Triumph swelled in his breast as his hands closed around the supple leather.
She is mine now.
The Lady reacted quickly, snatching the reins back and plunging her heels into the horse’s sides so that it reared in retaliation. Hamish ducked away from the animal’s plunging hooves, regretting his impulsive move but unable to help admiring the way she steadied the creature in mere seconds.
“Do not presume to touch anything of mine until I give you permission,” she stated, her voice icy cold. Her horse lowered its head, its sides heaving.
Hamish bowed to hide his scowl of displeasure.
She should not talk to me that way.
But then again, he’d always admired a display of courage in a woman.
“We have much to discuss,milady.” He put mocking emphasis on the word. No Lady could be Lady of Greenock without his say so.
Once again, those vivid blue eyes locked with his. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, which tightened all the more when Alaric shot back the bolts of the gate after the departing riders.
“It seems we do.” She sighed, more with resignation than regret, and gracefully jumped down from her destrier. She was a tall woman, he noted, but much too thin. Her pale riding habit was well cut and trimmed with fur at the neck and the sleeves. She patted her horse’s neck and spoke to it gently, despite her obvious awareness that all was not as it should be. “Perchance we should first introduce ourselves. I am Isabella, dowager Countess of Felsham, recently betrothed to the Laird of Greenock.”
Hamish took a calming breath and put his hands on his hips, meeting the challenge.
“I am Hamish.”
“And do you serve the Laird of Greenock?” The aristocratic edge had returned to her voice. Her eyes showed a glimmer of desperate hope that the answer might be yes.
Hamish smiled grimly. “Nay, milady. Gaunt is my sworn enemy. Iamthe Laird of Greenock.”
Chapter Four
God’s blood, whata predicament.
The red-haired highlander held her gaze, as if daring her to scream or fuss. But Isabella knew better than to risk his ire. She’d calculated the scene as soon as they rode through the gates, realizing that something was amiss the moment she saw the shuttered house. Not so much as a chicken was about, and the only sound was the gusting wind which groaned eerily through the deserted courtyard.
This was not the Ember Hall she knew, busy with family and children and laughter.
And these men did not serve Lord Gaunt.
She had been confused by the livery of the tallest man for a while, as no doubt he intended. But the cloak did not fit him. Moreover, he did not stand like a guard or soldier.
He stood like a leader. Authority shone in the set of his shoulders and the straightness of his back.
Conviction shone in the pale blue eyes which never left her face.
I am in danger.
Yet somehow, she knew that this man would not physically hurt her.
“The Laird of Greenock, you say.” She pretended to frown, shielding her eyes from the low winter sun. “It seems we are at cross purposes. You are not the Laird that I know.”
