Page 52 of Bride of Ice
But the truth was, watching Hallie was doing something strange to him.
His heart thrummed.
His blood warmed to a simmer.
And there was a definite tightening in his trews that hinted at something more than a thirst for battle.
Chapter 15
Hallie followed Gellir’s gaze to the window. It was empty. Perhaps the lads hoped to impress the Highlander with their fighting skills.
But Colban was probably busy, defacing the plaster walls with the letters Ian had taught him.
She sighed and returned to sparring with her brothers, distracted by troubling thoughts. Though she hated to admit it,she’dhoped to impress the Highlander with her fighting skills.
She told herself it was to earn his respect.
No matter the outcome of the siege ahead—whether Rivenloch or mac Giric won Creagor—it would be useful for Colban to witness firsthand the fighting strength of her clan.
If he saw it for himself, he would pass the information along to his laird. Rivenloch’s reputation as a force to be reckoned with would stand. And if the king ultimately decreed they should be neighbors, that knowledge would ensure they’d live in peace.
But there was more to it than that.
A part of her wanted to show him who she was. To let him see her—not struggling to run a household or squabbling with her siblings or dragging sheep out of the muck—but at her best, with a sword in her hand and a cold gleam in her eye.
Why she should care what he thought, she didn’t know.
After all, if things went well for Rivenloch, he’d hie to the Highlands within a sennight, and she’d never see him again.
And even if they went badly, if mac Giric won Creagor, the silent grudge between the clans would make it unlikely their paths would cross.
So what was this curious connection she felt with Colban an Curaidh? Was it because he washerhostage? Was it because they shared a sense of unflinching loyalty? Or the fact they found humor in the same things? Was it admiration for his warrior’s body? Appreciation for his honor? Respect for his fighting spirit?
Was he The One?
That sudden thought popping into her head so disturbed her she almost missed the slash Gellir leveled at her thigh. She managed to block it with her shield. But the impact made her stagger in retreat. She landed with a humiliating plop on her hindquarters.
Reflexively, she cast a glance toward the window to see if Colban had seen her. And that filled her with even more self-disgust.
Why should she care what he thought? He was nobody. He was a Highland foe. A hostage. An orphan. A bastard. He certainly wasn’t The One. No matter what Isabel said.
Gellir held out a hand to her. But even before he pulled her to her feet, a new responsibility reared its head. The laundress came scurrying across the courtyard toward Hallie with a dispute that needed settling.
It was hours before Hallie finally found time to address the platter of supper left in her bedchamber.
Isabel was already asleep in their bed.
The bacon coffyn was cold. The pottage had hardened into a paste. But the ale was drinkable. And the sweet custard was delicious. She’d slurped up the last of it when she realized it was drenched in rosemary-studded honey.
“Isabel,” she said under her breath.
Her little sister was incorrigible.
She was also awake.
She smiled sleepily. “You’ll thank me later, Hallie. You’ll see.”
Hallie didn’t believe in love potions. She kept telling herself that, all the way to the armory.
