He paused with a spoon midway to his lips. Isabella’s voice betrayed no emotion, but he had already perceived how she was a master at masking her anxieties.
Does the lass think I have killed her brother?
He laid down his spoon. “I dinna ken for certain. But I imagine he is with yer parents at Wolvesley Castle.”
He felt the heat of her gaze upon his face. “How do you know this?”
“I dinna for certain, as I said.” He took another mouthful of broth and swallowed slowly.
Isabella made a strangled sort of sound. “How can I believe you? How can I trust that my brother is not lying somewhere, dead or worse?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What can be worse thandead?”
’Twas a fool’s question and she did not bother to frame an answer.
Hamish sighed and placed his bowl on the floor. There was naught for it but to tell the truth. He templed his fingers beneath his chin and gazed into the glowing fire. “Yer brother left Ember Hall of his own accord. He sent a messenger telling you not to come here, but ye did not receive it.”
He heard her shift beneath her blanket. “Because of you?”
“Aye.”
Why did he feel so ill at ease when he was the one with the power?
’Twas because when Isabella spoke, he did not feel like a man in control of the situation. Her golden hair fanned out over the dark wool of the blanket, and he found himself transfixed by the way that individual strands seemed to glow and dance in the light of the fire.
She leaned forward so her hair rippled over her shoulders. “What did you do?”
Enough of this.
He echoed her posture, his gaze burning into her even though he was not sure if she could properly see his face. “Why do ye ask?”
Isabella was not cowed. “I want to know what manner of man holds me hostage.”
How to answer that?
He could tell her that he played the lute as well as any bard. That in days of peace, he had penned poetry and even put some of it to music.
He could tell her that, if given the choice, he would have sacrificed his life to save his sister’s. That he would move heaven and earth to save his remaining sister from Gaunt’s clutches.
That all ofthiswas to ensure Elena’s safety.
He had allowed Isabella to believe his interest was solely in the recovery of his lands and property. But by the side of Elena’s wellbeing, he cared little for the ancient stones of Greenock Castle.
Was now the time to divulge the secrets of his heart?
Nay.His heart was his own affair. Moreover, if she knew the truth, she would likely think him a weakling.
If she thought him weak, mayhap she would try to leave. Consequently finding herself face to face with Alaric.
Or face down in a ditch.
Hamish flexed his fingers. “I am the man with the power to decide if ye live or die, Isabella.”
A beat passed. He fancied he heard her gulp. “You have lit me a fire and brought me food. You seem disposed to let me live.”
“For now,” he agreed. “You may still be of use to me.” His voice caught and his next words were unplanned. “Perchance we can be of use to one another.”
But how could a displaced highlander be of use to one of the wealthiest women in England?
