Robert edged closer as Isabella leaned over the table toward the man who’d spoken earlier.
The finger she pointed at the man before she spoke was long, delicate and caked with ash. “One last thing for you, Roland. I’ll no take kindly to hearing of any further ill-treatment of the lad, Jamie. Do you ken my meaning, Cousin? Dinna make me come back here angry.”
The man’s lips drew back in distaste, but any retort was halted by the laird’s hand to his shoulder.
“Dinna fash yerself over the lad, Isa. No harm will come to him as long as I live. You have my word. Now be off with you.”
Apparently satisfied with her grandfather’s promise, Isabella turned, sweeping past Robert and down the aisle between the tables.
With one last look at the men on the dais, their heads drawn together in hushed discussion, Robert hurried after her, catching up as they exited the great hall.
The late-afternoon rain had slowed to a steady drizzle by the time they walked out the main doorway. There was no point in his new charge getting drenched again.
“If you’d like to wait inside, I’ll go see to our horses and bring them around.”
Isabella drew the edges of her cloak together, attempting to shut out the misting rain. “I have no horse for you to see to.”
No horse? “How did you get here?”
“On the rare occasion the laird summons me, he sends a lad along on horseback. I ride with him. Now I suppose I’ll ride with you.” She lifted one shoulder carelessly. “Or I’ll walk. It’s of no consequence to me how I go, as long as I do.”
“Wonderful,” Robert muttered, stomping down the steps toward the stable.
First they were headed off to Lord only knew where with precious little time before dark would overtake them. On top of that, there was the possibility of MacDowylt’s men waiting out there for them. Now, for the perfect finishing touch, they’d be doubled on his mount, slowing any escape they might need to make.
This whole nightmare just kept getting better and better. But what could he expect? He should have known it would be like this the minute he’d learned Isabella MacGahan was a redhead.
Chapter 7
The rains ceased once they lost sight of Castle MacGahan. Robert’s worries about being caught in the open on the road lessened about the same time, as Isabella directed him to turn their mount into the heavy forest.
If only he could eliminate his worries about Isabella herself as easily.
His failure to see to a small child’s welfare had obviously forced her to live a ragged, dirty existence on the fringes of society. He had always known about hermits. They inhabited both centuries he’d lived in. He’d just somehow convinced himself they were mostly able-bodied men who had made their own choices in life, not unprotected women who eked out a solitary existence because their families had rejected them.
“Only a bit farther now and we’ll be home.” Isabella’s cheerful announcement broke the silence between them.
Her words were welcome news to Robert. Their uneventful ride had lasted perhaps two hours, by his estimation, and it was growing late. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, and dusk already colored the deep recesses of the forest they rode through. Though it was unlikely they faced any danger so far away from the main trail, he would feel much more comfortable when he had her safely behind solid doors.
He just hoped wherever she lived actuallyhadsolid doors. Though the MacDowylt had gone away, he’d be back. Robert had not a single doubt of that fact. It was only a matter of when.
With a seeming lack of concern for her own safety, Isabella sat astride his horse in front of him. The top of her head was level with his nose, while her hands draped over the saddle horn. Her fingers, though dirty, were long and unexpectedly delicate.
Her hair, drying at last, tickled at his nose, filling his senses with the not unpleasant smell of woodsmoke.
How odd. From her appearance, the odors he would expect to find wafting up from the woman would be far from pleasant. And yet that wasn’t at all the case.
Inclining his head, he breathed in deeply, drawing the scent of her into his nostrils. Again he smelled woodsmoke lightly overlaying something fresh, something that made him think of sunshine on a warm spring day.
He must be mistaken.
When he sniffed in a second time, she stiffened, tilting her head to the side as if listening.
“What’s wrong? Is there something out there? Are we being followed?”
“No, my lady. I apologize if I startled you. I suspected something amiss, but there is no one out there.”
Without a doubt, however, something was amiss. All was not as it seemed with the wild redhead in his arms.
