Page 79 of Bride of Ice
Or Foes Beware—We Have Greek Fire.
While Hallie agreed war was not the answer here—at least not while her cousins were held captive at Creagor—neither was undermining all the leverage Rivenloch had by befriending her enemy.
She would not be cruel to her captive. But neither should she be too familiar.
Isabel had gone too far this eve with her play. Wrapping the champion in a plaid. Casting herself as the heroine when she knew very well people remarked on Isabel’s resemblance to Hallie. And then suggesting that they’d outwitted a dragon by swiving…
Her cheeks grew hot as she neared the door of the great hall. But she couldn’t stop herself from casting one last curious glance toward the bedchamber window.
Colban was there in all his handsome glory. His hands rested with quiet strength on the sill as he leaned out over the ledge. His golden hair shone in the moonlight. And where his leine gapped away, she glimpsed the sculpted contour of one broad shoulder.
Engaged with her chattering siblings, he didn’t notice her, which was fortunate, because Hallie tripped at the sight of him. Her breath caught. Her heart bounded against her ribs. And she couldn’t get inside the castle fast enough.
When Isabel came to bed hours later, Hallie pretended to be asleep. She didn’t want a loud confrontation with the lass while the hostage was in the adjoining chamber. But on the morrow, she’d corner her scheming little sister and let her know in no uncertain terms how she felt about the prisoner.
“He’s a hostage. No more,” Hallie insisted, spooning frumenty from the steaming cauldron into a bowl for Colban’s breakfast.
Isabel lifted a brow in doubt and reached into a jar on the kitchen shelf to add a far too generous handful of dried apples to Colban’s frumenty.
“Ourcousinsare hostages,” Isabel reminded her. She affected a sigh and creased her brow in worry. “I can only hope their captor isn’t cruel and coldhearted.”
“I’m not col-…” Hallie began, then tempered her tone. “I’m doing what I must do, Isabel.” To assuage her sister, she added, “And I’m sure Feiyan and Jenefer are fine.”
“Are you?” Isabel added a fat stack of oatcakes to the platter. “Did you see the bruises on poor Sir Colban’s face? What if Colban’s laird raises a hand to our cousins? What if he tries to starve them?”
Hallie removed half of the oatcakes from the platter and steered Isabel out of the kitchens.
She had her own concerns about Morgan Mor mac Giric’s patience, especially when it came to Jenefer’s inflammatory nature. But fretting over it served no purpose.
Isabel tried to take the platter from her. “I’m going to question Colban,” she decided, “and find out what kind of a man his master is.”
“Oh, nay you won’t,” Hallie countered, holding fast to the platter. “You’ve caused enough damage as it is.”
“Damage? Me?” Isabel’s eyes grew dewy with hurt. “I’ve done naught but try to make peace—”
“I’ll take him his breakfast,” Hallie insisted. “You gather your lasses and go down to the loch. Maybe you can bring in one last catch of salmon ere winter.”
Isabel’s hurt vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She couldn’t resist a day of fishing. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll see theprisonerdoesn’t go hungry. You see theclandoesn’t.”
Isabel skipped away, all but forgetting the captive.
Hallie nodded in satisfaction. That should keep the lass busy for a good part of the day.
Meanwhile, perhaps it was a good idea to get further reassurances from Colban. She was getting a bad feeling about her parents petitioning the new king. They should have returned by now. Every day without word from them was a day the ownership of Creagor remained in question. Every day that decision was prolonged, the odds of harm to her cousins increased.
She took the tray upstairs, opening Colban’s door with her free hand. She expected to find the occupant pacing across the chamber or tending to the fire or staring wistfully out the window.
But he was still asleep. And he didn’t awaken when she entered.
He might be an impressive warrior. But he didn’t make a very good guard. Three times now she’d been able to slip past his drowsy watch.
She closed the door softly behind her and observed him in silence.
No longer fierce and challenging, he appeared as innocent as a bairn. His brow was untroubled. His hair was unkempt. His jaw was relaxed, and his lips parted just enough to emit the soft, growling breath of slumber.
He was helpless. At her mercy. Thoroughly subdued. Exactly where she should want a foe to be.
