Page 67 of Bride of Ice
“I made him a crutch,” Ian proclaimed.
Colban held the wooden staff aloft for her to see.
“Leave. All of you,” Hallie said. She’d deal with their insubordination later. Right now she needed to interrogate the prisoner. And she couldn’t very well do that with her chatty siblings inserting their opinions every few moments. “And take your feast with you.”
They reluctantly slid down from the bed and filed past her to the door.
“Sorry,” Brand mumbled.
Gellir frowned. “Sure you don’t need extra muscle?”
Hallie shook her head.
“You won’t hurt him, will you?” Isabel whispered.
“Only if I have to.”
She couldn’t bear to look into Isabel’s dismayed eyes. She had no intention of hurting Colban. But it would be foolish to admit that.
Ian called back over his shoulder, “If you need any adjustments to the crutch, let me know. I can whittle it down. Or make a pad for the top. Or—”
“Go,” Hallie swatted him on the hindquarters as he passed.
After they had filed out, she made a mental note to post Rauve at the door again. Not to keep the hostage in. But to keep everyone else out.
When she’d closed the door on them, Colban told her, “Don’t punish them. They meant no harm. They just wanted to keep me company.”
But Hallie was no fool. She could guess what he’d been up to. “What did they tell you?”
“What do ye mean?”
She leaned against the table, her arms crossed over her chest. “While they were lavishing you with a feast fit for royalty, what secrets did you pry from their innocent minds?”
Colban blinked in feigned astonishment.
“I don’t know what ye’re talkin’ about.”
Damn her cunning. The wily wench had seen right through him. He hadn’t pried nearly enough secrets from her siblings in their short time together.
At least Ian had conveniently left his notebook behind. It sat on the table behind her. He hoped she wouldn’t notice it.
He shrugged. “We were only woolgatherin’. Ian was explainin’ how he made the crutch. Brand and Gellir wanted to hear about the fight, blow by blow. And Isabel was showin’ off the pearl-handled dagger ye bought for her.” He took a sip of ale from his cup and lifted his brows. “Must have cost a bonnie penny, a dagger like that.” Maybe he could pry from her the source of Rivenloch’s wealth.
But she ignored his unspoken question. “She knows how to use that dagger. Don’t be gulled by my little sister’s sweet smile. Cross her, and she’ll strike you faster than a snake.”
He doubted that. Isabel might have a sharp tongue. But the squeamish lass probably didn’t have the stomach to cut the head off a landed trout.
“Brand can be a braggart,” she warned him. “So anything he said to you was likely an exaggeration.”
Colban smirked. “Ye mean ye don’t have an army o’ wolves and twelve siege towers?”
Her eyes glittered at his unexpected jest, and she responded in kind. “Oh, aye, those we have,” she said drily. “But his accounts of warrior falcons in chain mail are largely exaggerated.”
Colban chuckled in surprise. The lass had an unpredictable sense of humor. And she wasn’t afraid to use it.
“What about Gellir?” he asked.
“Gellir.” She narrowed her gaze. “Do you have any brothers, Highlander?”
