She thought of how he had teased her for her fancy ways and almost made a haughty retort, but she swallowed her words just in time. She must not allow her father to discern the merest hint of impropriety between them.
Instead, she satisfied herself by meeting his steady blue gaze and smiling back. A frisson passed between them, and she looked quickly away, feeling a flush coming to her cheeks.
This would never do. Certainly not before her father’s all-seeing eyes.
Isabella took a step away from the fire and made a show of fanning herself. “’Tis warm in here. Perchance I grew over-accustomed to the chill of Ember Hall.” Immediately, she chided her thoughtlessness. “Hamish always ensured the fires were built,” she added lamely.
“We suffered an early snowfall. The freeze e’en reached us here,” Angus spoke up helpfully. “I wonder you managed to keep the animals fed and watered so far north.”
Hamish cleared his throat, correctly divining that an answer was expected from him. “’Twas a daily struggle, milord. The well froze early on and we were obliged to cut ice from the river and melt it.”
“Not an easy undertaking.” The earl stroked his beard, his curious gaze passing from Hamish to Isabella. “And a considerable change in circumstance for you, Bella.”
She affected a laugh. “I did not cut any ice, Father. I stayed safe indoors.”
“But ye did cook for us,” Hamish said unexpectedly.
A log cracked in the fire as Isabella wondered desperately how best to respond.
Once again, her father came to the rescue. “Your mother will be pleased to know you remembered how.”
Isabella summoned a smile. “I know everyone believes me to have led a life of idleness at Westchester, but I did not forget everything I learned as a child.” She was about to proclaim her proficiency in steering two horses over the moors, when she felt the touch of her father’s hand on hers.
“Forgive me, child, I am only teasing. I, for one, know you to be a woman of great competence. I am certain that Hamish here agrees.”
Hamish.
How would he react to being addressed without his title in the great hall of Wolvesley Castle?
But Hamish only looked at her father as if they shared some understanding.
“I agree entirely, milord,” he said.
Isabella held herself very still as Tristan marched back into the hall with a small man scurrying in his wake. Lord Gaunt had not improved any during his sojourn in the highlands. His expression was still sallow, his chin pointed and his expression mean. When his dark eyes roved over Isabella, she felt an answering roll of nausea in her belly. She wanted to back away, or at the very least seek protection behind her father’s large chair. But she recalled Tristan’s words:you are, it seems, key to all this.
It was true. If she had not accepted Gaunt’s proposal, none of them would be in this situation. Albeit, if she had not accepted Gaunt’s proposal, she might never have met Hamish. The incongruity of it all made her head spin and she was obliged to grip the arm of her father’s chair and take a deep breath. Her tightly-laced gown pinched her ribs, and she reflected, again,that there was much to be said in favor of more comfortable clothing. Perchance if she were still attired as a farm laborer, Lord Gaunt would not be looking at her with such a lascivious gleam in his small eyes.
Her father cleared his throat. “Good morn, Lord Gaunt.”
“My lord Wolvesley.” Gaunt made an awkward bow to the earl but completely ignored Hamish. “Lady Isabella.” He bowed again and reached for her hand, which she had no choice but to offer. When he kissed the back of it, she could not help a wince of distaste.
A wince that was duly noted by Hamish and Tristan.
Hamish looked as if he might strike the man down. Tristan appeared merely contemplative. Lord Gaunt gave her hand a none-too-gentle tug, clearly wanting her to stand by his side. Isabella stood firm, wrenching her hand free and placing it, pointedly, on the back of her father’s chair.
“’Twas a surprise to find you here at Wolvesley, Lord Gaunt,” she said.
“Concern for your welfare brought me south, my lady. We expected you at Greenock some days since. And news reached me that my escort party had been murdered by highland savages.”
His voice sent shudders down her spine. If Hamish had not taken her captive, she may already be Gaunt’s bride.
What was I thinking?
Gaunt had flickered his dark eyes toward Hamish as he spoke, leaving no one under any illusions about who he held responsible for the murder of his escort party. Isabella found her vision breaking up into a maze of dancing dots.
Angus reached up to pat Isabella’s hand, as if aware of her discomfort. “As you can see, my beloved daughter is hale and hearty as ever…”
“I do see that,” Gaunt interrupted.
