The front door slammed and footsteps sounded across the flags in the hall. Isabella stiffened with fear, but the man, when he appeared, had grey hair and a grey beard.
He was not the dark-haired warrior for whom she had such an instinctive aversion.
“I have brought your things,” he said without preamble, sliding a pack across the wooden floor toward Hamish.
“Thank ye, Siegfried.” Hamish glanced toward Isabella. “I’ll join ye outside momentarily.”
“Alaric is impatient to be off,” Siegfried stated calmly. “He is right. We should try to cross the border before night falls.”
Hamish made a dismissive gesture. “We will not travel this day.”
Siegfried raised his bushy eyebrows but only gave a short bow in response. “Very well. I shall await further instruction.”
“Outside,” clarified Hamish.
But Siegfried had already left, his booted footsteps sounding heavily down the hall.
Isabella cleared her throat. “He could have stayed. It’s the other one I don’t want inside.”
Why am I trusting him with this?
Isabella could not explain it. She trusted Hamish as instinctively as she trusted her father and brothers.
Alaric?” Hamish gave her a considering glance. “Siegfried doesn’t like him either.”
The fire had fully taken hold and Isabella longed to hold her chilled hands out to the blaze. “Then why do you travel with him?”
“He is a skilled warrior.” He stood up wearily and indicated that she should also stand. “Here,milady.” His voice was still mocking, but kindlier. “Let me move your chair closer to the fire.”
His chivalry was only partially surprising. The dynamic between them was fluctuating and uncertain, with Hamish sometimes her captor and sometimes her subject. But she could not forget that he had a sword at his hip, whilst all she had was her wits.
Isabella took her seat once again, and her muscles began to unclench in the newfound warmth of the blaze. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
He inclined his head.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, daring to press her temporary advantage.
Hamish gave a tight smile. “I am thinking that, after all, I have a bigger prize than I anticipated.”
“Iam the prize?” Isabella was a little affronted. It was as if the years had melted away and she was once again a bright andsparkling object to be scrutinized and valued by the men bidding for her hand in marriage.
“A rare beauty. And a wise man’s sister.” Hamish rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “The situation requires more thought. ’Tis not as I expected, but perchance it is better.”
All my life I have been a pawn of men, Isabella thought.This is no different.
“I am glad to have the warmth of the fire whilst you do all this thinking,” she replied tartly.
He tugged the cloak from his shoulders, the suddenness of his movements making her rear back in the chair. He glanced down at the length of material for a moment before throwing it on the flames. The acrid smell of burning made Isabella wrinkle her nose.
“Ne’er again will I wear another man’s standard,” Hamish muttered.
He looked better without the cloak, Isabella decided. The defined lines of his muscles were more visible beneath his tunic.
As if her silent observation had drawn his attention to her, Hanish slowly turned around. He put his hands on his hips and gazed down at her with unblinking eyes. “Are ye going to try and run away?”
She shrugged. “Where would I run to?” It was a genuine question, though she did not expect an answer.
He grunted. “Ye ken that ’twould do ye no good to put up a fight?”
