Page 128 of Bride of Ice
Still, when they arrived at Creagor several hours later, fate had stationed Colban at the palisade gates. And one glance from him rocked the foundations of her world, making Hallie desperate to rearrange her stars and change her destiny.
Colban’s reaction was well worth Isabel’s special attention to her appearance. His jaw went slack. His nostrils flared. His gaze raced over her every contour, hesitating for an instant at her eyes.
The brief connection hit her like a bolt of lightning. Bright with energizing love. Hot with electric desire. Distance had increased the power of their attraction. Their love had not diminished. Not at all. It had grown to striking proportions. And proximity had made it erupt in a jolt of current.
Hallie caught her breath at the force of his gaze. She lowered her eyes before they could reveal the equally intense hunger burning there.
Isabel, however, had no compunctions about making her affections known.
“Colban!” the lass cried, breaking away at a run toward the gates and waving up at him. “How I’ve missed you!” Then she added cheekily, “How we’veallmissed you!”
If her mother thought it strange that Isabel would show affection toward the Highlander they’d held hostage, she didn’t say a word. She was likely distracted by weightier matters ahead.
“May we enter?” Deirdre asked pointedly.
“Och!” Colban shook his head at his clumsy delay. “Aye.”
He leaped down and opened the gates for them. As they filed past, Hallie focused her eyes on the path ahead. Still, she felt a heady thrill as she passed Colban, glimpsing his chest rise with a breath. She was suddenly glad she’d let Isabel dab her with vanilla and orange perfume.
“Your laird?” Deirdre prompted.
“O’ course,” Colban said, awkwardly closing the gates behind them. He beckoned a second guard patrolling the wall. “Stand watch, will ye?” Then he moved to the fore of the group. “This way, if ye please.”
He led them across last week’s battlefield, though little remained to mark the event. Rain had washed away the blood of war. The only scars left were muddy gouges in the grassy slope. The battering ram the English had abandoned was being butchered for wood near the castle wall. The doors to the courtyard had already been restored by carpenters.
Isabel skipped up beside Colban. “Well? Have they fallen in love?”
Hallie frowned. Isabel was badly in need of a bridle.
“Who?” he asked.
“Your laird and my cousin.”
“Isabel!” Deirdre scolded. “Another word, and I’ll leave you at the gates.”
Isabel sighed and fell back beside Hallie, whispering, “I’ll wager they have. I always know these things.”
Hallie let her eyes drift down the length of the tall, handsome champion striding before her—remembering the feel of his broad shoulders, his scarred back, his firm arse. She wished Isabel were right about knowing things. She wished Colban an Curaidh could be The One.
When they entered the courtyard, a maidservant showed alarm at the unannounced arrival of such esteemed guests. She whispered something to Colban.
“It seems Morgan has not yet arisen,” he said.
“What?” Helena burst out. “’Tis mid-morn. Is your laird a layabed? I won’t have my daughter shackled to a—”
Miriel silenced her with an elbow to the ribs.
“Perfect,” Deirdre intervened. “Don’t wake him. We’d like to see the babe first.”
“The babe?” Colban asked in surprise. “Ye mean Morgan’s bairn?”
“Aye,” she replied. “Take us to the nursery.”
Puzzled at first, Hallie quickly recognized her mother’s genius.
Assuring the match between Morgan and Jenefer required the approval and support of Jenefer’s mother. Deirdre knew that once Helena held her future grandson in her arms, there would be no taking him away.
“Aye, let’s see the babe,” Helena agreed. Already she was eager to see her grandchild, even if his father was a layabed.
