Page 23 of Bride of Ice
Colban murmured, “I’m a Highlander. ’Twould take more than this kiss o’ frost to freeze my bones, I assure ye.”
He perused the chamber. A large bed draped at the corners in dark blue velvet took up most of the room. A carved oak chest stood at its foot. The hearth was flanked by a chair with cushions and a small table, which held a wash basin, a ewer, a stack of linens, and a small assortment of combs and bottles. Three empty cloak pegs and a sconce with a beeswax candle graced one wall. And a small curtained opening indicated an adjoining garderobe. It was the grandest bedchamber he’d ever seen.
“Sit,” Rauve commanded, guiding him to the chair while he gathered up anything he deemed of value or possible harm from the room, bundling them into a linen square. Then he opened the door and yelled out, “Bart!”
A few moments later, a freckled youth scrambled into the room.
“Light the fire, lad,” Rauve told him, placing the bundle near the door. “Then lock this in the storeroom.”
While Bart started a fire on the hearth, Rauve removed the steel chain binding Colban’s wrists and outlined the terms of his captivity.
“I’ll be standing guard at the door. Another guard will be posted outside, below the window. Only a child could fit down the garderobe hole. And setting the room on fire will just mean a painful death for you.”
Apparently, Rauve had already thought of every means of escape.
“You’ll be brought meals,” he continued, “and water for washing.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “But make no trouble or—”
“I’ll make no trouble,” Colban assured him, rubbing his freed wrists, “nor abuse your generosity.”
Rauve sniffed at that. But Colban could tell the guard was pleased by his praise. In that way, they were kindred spirits. Colban knew all too well that a man’s loyalty and kindness too often went unrecognized.
“Ye’re lucky to have a merciful mistress,” Colban said, casually pressing his fingertips to the tender flesh of his swollen eye. It wouldn’t hurt to perpetuate the myth thathislaird had mistreated him. The less value Rivenloch believed Colban had, the less leverage they could exert over Morgan.
Rauve, discomfited by the compliment, mumbled, “I’ll get someone to tend to your injuries.”
“My thanks.” Then, realizing it would serve him well to be thought a hero, Colban let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad I was fit enough to save Hallie from the wolves.”
From the hearth, Bart coughed.
“What?” Rauve asked.
“There was a pack o’ them in the woods. We were lucky to escape with our lives. I told Hallie to climb a tree while I fended them—”
“A pack of wolves?” Rauve’s bushy brows lifted.
Bart snickered.
Colban frowned at him. What was wrong with the lad?
Rauve crossed beefy arms over his chest. “You saved Hallie from a pack of wolves?”
The lad was grinning now. What was so amusing, Colban didn’t know. But before he could scold the lad for finding humor at Hallie’s peril, Hallie herself opened the door and breezed into the room.
The power of her presence was undeniable. Bold and beautiful, she inspired awe and commanded admiration. Maybe Bart was right to laugh. Maybe the Valkyriecouldhandle a pack of wolves on her own.
But beneath her air of cool competence, Colban glimpsed a hint of distraction in Hallie’s eyes. He’d seen a similar overwhelmed look from Morgan many a time over the last weeks. Leadership was a burden not easily borne by one person alone.
“Is the chamber secure?” she asked Rauve, glancing around the room.
Rauve ignored her question. “Is it true, lass?” he demanded. “Did you clash with wolves in the wood?”
“What?” Caught off her guard, she colored. “‘Clash’ is a strong word. We weren’t in any real danger.”
“No danger?” Colban’s brows shot up. “We were treed all night.”
“They wouldn’t have harmed us,” she muttered, though her blush gave her away. She turned to Rauve. “You know he’d never hurt me.”
“I warned you, lass,” Rauve said. “Wolves are not to be trusted. You may have raised him from a pup, but he’s grown now. To him, you’re prey.”
