Most likely a fruitless hope, Annalise recognized as she slowly turned around to find Conor standing near the door with Orla at his side.
The kindly serving woman nodded at her with encouragement, though the familiar sternness on Conor’s face and tension evident in his shoulders made Annalise wonder if she was mad to accompany him anywhere at all.
“I will walk with you.”
There, she had said it as imperiously as a queen, which made another unexpected smile flit across Conor’s handsome face before he grew somber again and bowed his head as if to mock her.
“By all means, Lady Burgoyne, I welcome your company.”
“Here, you will need a cloak, Annalise,” Orla interjected as if to quash any more feigned formality between them and see them on their way.
Within a moment, Annalise was wrapped in the fur-trimmed garment Eva had also given her, and then she followed Conor through the rest of the dwelling-house that she had scarcely noticed the first day of her captivity.
The masculine furnishings of oaken chairs and tables, and little decoration other than weapons hanging from the walls—spears, swords, shields, and knives—not surprising her for so formidable-looking a warrior as Conor O’Byrne.
His stride impatient and his shoulders still stiff as if he already hated every moment of time spent with her before they had even stepped outside.
A brisk wind buffeted her when he opened the outer door that made her gasp with gratitude for the warm cloak she wore, though Annalise didn’t lift the hood to cover her hair.
She wanted to see everything without any obstruction on even the slightest chance there was hope for an escape no matter t?—
“My mother will never forgive me if you catch cold, woman.”
Conor had stopped to face her and lifted the hood over her head, his knuckles grazing her cheeks as she gasped, looking up at him.
He stood so close that she swore she could feel the heat of his body emanating from his woolen tunic, his dark gray eyes staring into hers for what seemed the longest moment until he abruptly took her by the hand.
“Come.”
Annalise did…shivering, but not from the chill autumn air.
His fingers so strong and warm when they entwined with hers as no man had ever done to her before that she nearly stumbled, though he caught her and drew her closer to his side.
Annalise certain she had never felt her heart thudding so hard against her breast at his unexpected protectiveness, though she somehow regained her composure enough to chide herself to beware.
He was an Irish rebel and she was a hated Norman, let her never forget?—
“Conor, wait up for us!”
Annalise gasped at how he suddenly stiffened, but he didn’t slow his pace or turn around even as she looked over her shoulder at the three clansmen catching up with them.
God help her, were all rebels as strapping and broad-shouldered as these O’Byrnes?
The tallest man with bright reddish-blond hair and the other one dark-haired, while the third man appeared older than Conor by twenty years or more from his silvery hair and slight limp in his right leg.
“Did you hear us, brother?” came another shout that held some annoyance, though still Conor refused to turn around and gripped Annalise’s hand more tightly.
His greater annoyance making her jump as he shouted, “Leave us be, I’m taking our guest for a walk!”
Chapter 6
Conor’s blustered demand did little good as Liam and Tiernan caught up with him and Annalise, the two going so far as to rush past and then stop right in front of them—forcing Conor, with an irritated grunt, to come to an abrupt halt.
Annalise gasping when he instinctively drew her closer, which astonished him as much as his brothers-in-law, who shot a sideways glance at each other and then at Niall coming up alongside all of them.
“Will you introduce us, Conor?” his uncle said with a curious look upon his face…almost a knowing look as he glanced from Annalise’s flushed cheeks back to Conor.
He bristled at what they must be thinking to see him holding her so closely against him, his tone brusque as he muttered, “Annalise Burgoyne…Niall O’Byrne, my father’s brother…and those two are Liam O’Toole and Tiernan O’Byrne, the husbands of my sisters, Deirdre and Eva.”
