Page 149 of Bride of Ice
Ian screwed up his forehead, searching for a way to explain it. “’Tis like metals. Archie is…was…like quicksilver. His honor was always soft and changeable, and he clung to whatever those around him believed. But you and Colban? You’re tempered steel. Your honor is strong and stable. You’d never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”
His words were simple, but touching. Her eyes watered, and for a moment she couldn’t speak.
“So you’ll go find him, aye?” Ian asked.
She wished it were that simple. “I can’t. I have to let him go.Wehave to let him go. ’Tis for his own safety.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You and I may know that Archie deserved what he got. But to the rest of the world, Colban is a murderer.”
Ian’s brow crumpled as he digested this information. Finally he asked, “Do you think he’ll come back?”
She forced a smile of false hope to her lips. “Perhaps one day.”
Ian nodded and returned to staring into the flames.
Hallie sighed. Ian was young and resilient. When one day turned into one week, then one month, then one year, and Colban never returned, Ian would eventually forget him.
She only wishedshecould forget him so easily.
Being with Colban once again at the crannog, even under such dire circumstances and for so brief a time, she’d felt her heart swell with yearning.
Instantly remembered the touch of his hands.
The taste of his lips.
The warmth of his love.
Lowering her hand, she caressed the haft of her dagger, the last thing he’d touched of hers, and a glistening tear fell onto the worn leather.
She would never know that kind of love again.
Chapter 38
Winter sent out one last snowstorm to blanket the Lowlands with white fleece that clung to the cold ground. Days turned into weeks as the earth slept. But the sun eventually returned, melting the frost and awakening the tender seedlings. The hills burst forth, first with snowdrop, then with cowslips and daffodils that dotted the green slopes with sunny yellow.
With white puffs of cloud blowing across a pale blue sky and a crisp breeze fluttering the festive pennants on display atop the castle battlements, the weather couldn’t have been more perfect for Creagor’s first spring tournament.
As he paused on the rise overlooking the castle, Colban couldn’t help fearing he was making a mistake.
It was too soon to risk returning. Less than two months had passed since he’d buried Archibald Scott.
But his new identity as a knight-errant required that he earn what coin he could with his blade. In Dumfries, he’d traded his claymore for a Lowland sword, practiced until his hands were blistered and his arms ached. The blade was lighter and more agile, and he was pleasantly surprised to discover he had considerable skill with it. Indeed, The Sable Knight was beginning to make a name for himself on the tournament field.
So far, he’d been hired to challenge a brute who was terrorizing a local clan, defend a noblewoman whose honor was in question, and champion a merchant lass against her rivals. He’d spent most of his earnings on the trappings of nobility—a new shield, helm, and armor. Now he was down to his last shilling.
Nothing was more lucrative than a tournament. Particularly the one at Creagor, which had been hailed as a tournament to dwarf all others. There was no entry fee for contestants, so matches were based, not on bloodlines, but on merit. Thus the competition would feature the finest warriors in all of Scotland and beyond.
He couldn’t affordnotto go.
At least, that was his excuse.
But he definitely had an ulterior motive. One with crystal blue eyes, bright blonde hair, and enticing long legs.
For weeks, the beautiful Valkyrie had haunted him. Intruded upon his every waking thought. Danced through his dreams. Like a persistent angel, she followed him everywhere.
Every battle he fought, he fought in her honor.
Every challenge he accepted, he accepted in her name.
He lived and breathed and stayed alive for Hallie.
