And now I have failed to protect Isabella.
Not failed,he corrected himself. Forsooth, her attacker was behind this locked door. But he had come dangerously close to failure.
For certs, he had not been vigilant enough.
The memory of Isabella’s anguished blue eyes caused a pain to lodge somewhere under his ribs. He would give any amount of coin to never see such an expression on her beautiful face again. He wanted only to keep her safe.
Hamish dragged a hand through his unkempt hair and forced himself to acknowledge the truth of the matter.
I am falling for the lady.
He could not remember feeling this way about anyone. Certainly not Belinda, the sweet-natured clanswoman he had reached an understanding with in those long-gone, carefree days before Uncle Donald’s betrayal. Hamish and Belinda would have wed, were it not for the family feud that had splintered the peace of Greenock. Instead, Belinda and her sisters had fled to the islands. And Hamish could not blame them for it.
But were it Isabella that had run off in the night, he would have likely run after her.
He inspected his aching knuckles, unsurprised to find them dripping with blood.
“Ye are a fool, Hamish McIvor.”
He spoke the words loudly into the darkening sky, but his only response was the distant hooting of an owl. Behind the stone walls of the bakehouse, Alaric had grown quiet. Mayhap he was planning an escape. For certain, he would be plotting revenge. But for now, he was contained and could cause no further harm to anyone.
The problem of what to do with Alaric could wait for the morn. With a deep sigh, Hamish began walking back toward the house. He was now so accustomed to feeling his way across the ice that he hardly noticed his feet sliding across the cobbles. Nor the numbing cold that had laid claim to his extremities. It was only when he entered the feasting hall and stood before the fire there, that he began to tremble.
“Ye need ter drink this.” Siegfried appeared beside him and thrust a finely-wrought goblet into his hand. “I warmed some wine for the lady.”
The wine was fragrant with spices. Hamish did not protest, but drank deeply, twitching as feeling returned to his hands and feet.
“This cold will defeat us all, faster than any enemy,” declared Siegfried.
“It will nay last much longer,” Hamish replied with more confidence than he felt. Then he remembered his resolution to speak only the truth. “At least, that is what I tell myself.” He threw his comrade a small smile.
“The lady says ye have no plan. And that ye shall have to kill her afore she will work with ye.”
“I will ne’er harm her.” Hamish fixed his gaze into the red and orange flames which burned with the same intensity as his newly acknowledged feelings for Isabella.
“That is what I told her.” Siegfried folded his arms beneath the folds of his faded cloak. “Which is when Alaric decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“I see.” Hamish had wondered what first sparked the incident. Though with a man like Alaric, any small thing might do it. He turned to his father’s loyal friend. “Ye were right about him. I shouldna brought him here.”
“It gives me no pleasure.” Siegfried lifted his face to the smoke-blackened rafters as if seeking guidance from above. “ButAlaric was also right. We do need a plan, Hamish. We canna stay here indefinitely. If the lady willna work with ye, we need to move on.”
“I know it.” Hamish drained the goblet and placed it down on a low side table. The warmth of the fire, the comfort of the wine, and the steadiness of Siegfried had all combined to make him sleepy and slow. He would like to sit in this overstuffed chair, drink more wine and talk long into the night with his old ally.
Nay, if he were being truthful, he would like to talk long into the night with Isabella.
As if conscious of his thoughts, Siegfried said, “I laid her fire, as ye asked. And she ate some bread and cheese. I was about to take up water to clean her wound when I heard ye come in.”
“Ye are a good friend.” Hamish clapped him on the shoulder. “I ken ye didna wish for any of this.”
“No more did ye,” Siegfried interjected. “We all must live the lives we are given.”
“And none of us know what the Good Lord has in store fer us,” Hamish finished for him. They both smiled into the fire, remembering how Hamish’s mother would offer such words of comfort to her children and men-at-arms alike.
“What will ye do?” Siegfried asked softly.
“I shall go ter her. Tend ter her wound.” Hamish shrugged. “I shall make one final bid for her aid. If she refuses me again, then we must leave this place.”
“Without her?” Siegfried’s bushy eyebrows inched up his lined forehead.
