Hamish wondered if he should admit to speaking with Brianne. ’Twas a secret he had never confided to anyone, not even Elena. But had Brianne ever been there? Or was she no more than a figment of his feverish imagination?
Or a consequence of his guilty conscience?
For he had let Brianne down, just as he was letting Isabella down.
Frustration pulsated inside him once again. He jumped to his feet, unable to stay still for a moment longer.
“Forgive me, Isabella. I am too out of sorts to stay indoors. I must go outside where I can breathe more easily.”
“But it is dark.” She sat up in alarm. “And fiercely cold.”
“I am a son of the highlands.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I dinna feel the cold like an Englishman would.”
She caught his hands and held them tight. “I want to wake up beside you in the morn. Do not deny me this.”
“I willna.” His fingers began to tremble as he perceived the depths of feeling in her gaze. “I promise ye that much.”
*
Hours later, Hamishcrept back inside the keep, walking softly so as not to disturb the sleeping inhabitants of the chambers he passed. The guards saw him; and the guards recognized him, but this could not be helped. When he reached his own bedchamber, he paused, seized with fear that Isabella may have grown angry in his prolonged absence and turned the bolts against him.
He would not blame her if she had.
But when he turned the handle, the door opened easily, and he saw the chamber was still lit by the glow of the fire and several candles which had burned down low. Isabella was laid on the bed, under the covers. Her golden hair fanned out over the pillows and her breathing regular and even.
She slept the sleep of the innocent.
Hamish knew a deep pang of regret that he had not stayed with her. But he had returned, as promised. Isabella would wake up beside him.
He could not control what happened after that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabella was sleepingwhen the bell began to ring. The sound permeated her dreams as if through rolling waves of fog; undefined at first, and easy to ignore. Then it became loud, clamoring and insistent. She sat up in bed and clamped her hands over her ears.
“What is that noise?”
She thought it must be some time after dawn, for weak sunlight was already peeking through the shutters, but the sight of Hamish stretched out beside her did not bring the glow of deep domestic pleasure she had longed for. She only wanted him to make the bell stop. Or at least, to prove that he could hear it too and she wasn’t going mad.
He rolled onto his side to face her, his pale blue eyes sharp with understanding. “’Tis a warning bell. I have heard that sound often enough.” He was out of bed and reaching for his tunic in an instant.
Isabella was briefly distracted by his muscular torso. She frowned, trying to make sense of his words. “But Wolvesley cannot be under attack.”
Still, the prospect was disquieting enough for her to get out of bed and cover her white night rail with a thick robe that most likely belonged to Esme. Running footsteps sounded from behind the door and her alarm increased.
“We should go down.” Hamish hesitated. “But mayhap not together.”
Dimly, she grasped that he was protecting her reputation. “I shall go first.”
“Nay.” He caught at her elbow. “It might not be safe.”
“I am a daughter of this house.” She raised her eyebrows imperiously. “And anyway, you have no sword.”
“I have my fists,” he countered. But then the fight seemed to drain away from him and he sighed deeply. “I am sorry that I was not here for you in the way we both wanted last night.”
His handsome face was creased with regret and Isabella found herself softening. “I am more sorry that we have not e’en the early hours of this morn to be together.”
He ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders and gently touched her hair. “Perchance ’twas not meant to be, ye and I.”
