She stopped at the sheep’s stall, where the new mother opened a wary eye.
“Be at peace, Maisey,” she murmured, realizing only as the words left her lips she’d decided on the ewe’s name. It had come to her mind as she’d spoken as if from the sheep herself.
Maisey closed the discriminating eye, acknowledging Isa was no threat to the lamb sleeping peacefully beside her.
Isa watched the mother and babe for a moment more until she was satisfied that all was well and she could leave. Her coming out here had been silly to begin with, but perhaps now she could go inside and relax. There was nothing out here to give her worry.
Comforted by that knowledge, she’d barely touched the latch when a large hand closed around her throat, choking the scream that burst from her lungs.
Robert awoke with the first footfall outside the stable, his hand instinctively closing around the dagger at his waist.
Too light to be a full-grown man. Would MacDowylt have sent a boy? A scout, perhaps, sent to seek Isabella’s location?
The steps paused, far enough away they’d be standing in the open. Careless, whoever it was. He’d expected better than an untrained boy from what he’d seen of MacDowylt and his men.
The moment the door opened, Robert realized his error.
Not a scout, and certainly not a boy.
Isabella.
Her unique scent preceeded her into the stable, wafting ahead of her, fresh and distinct.
After a pat to ensure his steed ignored their visitor, he forced himself to remain motionless as she drew near.
What the hell was she thinking, wandering about after dark? Anyone could be outside her doors, waiting to attack her. Was the woman that naively trusting or simply the brainsick hermit she had appeared in her grandfather’s great hall? Whichever the case, the more he learned of her, the more difficult he realized his task would be.
Her footsteps hesitated and then stopped very close to him.
With his eyes closed, his sense of smell sharpened. The earlier woodsmoke was gone. Now her scent brought him visions of newly mown lawns, sparkling after a fresh rain.
With a sigh and a rattle of pottery and wood, she moved away.
Whatever the reason, Isabella seriously lacked the care for her own safety. Though they likely had a fortnight before MacDowylt could return with his armies, anything was possible. And while Robert grudgingly admired the man’s attempt to avoid war in his campaign to add to his lands, this was one time he couldn’t agree with his methods.
In spite of Isabella’s rationale that MacDowylt would return to the castle, the man knew she didn’t live within the security of the castle walls. At this very moment he could have men scouring every inch of the surrounding countryside, hunting for her location.
It’s what Robert would do in his position.
No, there was no haven to let down his guard here. He could either watch her twenty-four hours a day or he could teach her that the sense of security she obviously felt in her surroundings was false.
Better yet, he could do both.
The melodious tones of her voice floated to his ear as he stealthily rose to his feet and tucked the end of his plaid into his belt before approaching her. She’d just reached the door when he struck. Slipping directly behind her, he slid his hand inside the hood of her cloak to curl his fingers around her slender throat and pull her back against his chest.
As her strangled scream shattered the night, he loosened his grip immediately but didn’t let go. Instead he pulled her closer as all hell seemed to break loose around them.
The sheep’s plaintive wail combined with the cries of frightened goats. Even his own horse bellowed, the whole of their cries all but lost in a crash of thunder, as if Mother Nature herself were venting her outrage along with the animals.
“Have you no understanding of yer place in the world, lass? Do you no see how easy it would be for someone to capture you, or worse,” he demanded roughly, practically shouting to be heard over the din.
Her answer was a blow to his chest, delivered with a great deal more force than he might have expected. For an instant, he wondered if he’d missed some weapon she’d carried as the strike sent a knife-sharp pain slashing through his ribs. He staggered back from Isabella, holding his side as disbelief flooded his mind and he gasped for air.
She stumbled away from him into the dark of the stable, screaming again as she did so, heralding another round of ear-splitting cacophony, the braying of animals lost in the frenzy of the storm raging outside.
His pain disappeared as quickly as it had begun and he breathed in deeply, straightening in time to see flames from the lantern Isa had been carrying spread through the dry floor covering.
Falling to one knee, Robert pounded at the spreading fire with his bare hands, quickly losing the battle as the sparks fed on the dry rushes.
