Page 93 of Bride of Ice
Before this week, Hallie had given it little thought. After all,shewas expected to wed out of duty and not fondness. It had never seemed cruel to her.
Until now.
Over the last few days, she’d sampled something more delicious than duty. More savory than responsibility. More nourishing than power.
She’d had a taste of affection. A wee taste, to be sure. But it had been sweet and warm and filling. And now the thought of marrying a man for whom she didn’t have those feelings left a bitter taste in her mouth.
And if Hallie—whose prize for sacrificing marital happiness would be the lairdship of all Rivenloch—felt the unfairness of that, she couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be Colban. He had naught to gain from a loveless union but the satisfaction that he’d done his master a noble service.
If only the union binding their clans weren’t loveless… If the bride and groom actuallycaredfor each other…
She tucked the corner of her lip under her teeth as an idea began to form in her brain that was intrepid. Impulsive. Irresponsible. A reckless scheme with as many loose ends as a frayed rope. But one that was more satisfying than she cared to admit.
Shecould marry Colban.
The future Laird of Rivenloch could seal the alliance with the Champion of mac Giric.
The idea made her heart flutter. But she was certain her excitement was from finding the perfect solution to a problem. Nothing more.
After all, it was the sensible thing to do. They were already reasonably compatible. And they were both aligned as to their purpose, willing to sacrifice their own happiness for the good of their clan.
Their union could forge an unbreakable bond, enriching the power of Rivenloch, and creating a formidable force along the border.
The more she considered it, the more brilliant a solution it seemed. And the more right it felt.
All she had to do was convince the king of the wisdom of such a union.
Persuade her parents of the Highlander’s worth.
And make Colban agree to the terms.
As he sat stewing in the bath, Colban mentally ticked off the possibilities for a Rivenloch wife out of the limited choices he’d seen.
If not one of Hallie’s cousins, then who?
One of Isabel’s friends?
They were too young. No matter how long the betrothal, he’d never be able to bed one of them without feeling like he was bedding a child.
What about the blind seer?
Her infirmity didn’t bother him, though she was several years his senior. But what was it she’d predicted for Colban? Loneliness and heartbreak? Surely she’d not wed a man for whom she’d foretold such a bleak future.
He was reduced to Burunild, whom he supposed would be a godsend when it came to looking after his injuries. If he could overlook the fact she was ancient enough to be his grandmother.
Hallie would probably find excuses for all of them anyway. Her fierce cousins notwithstanding, she clearly didn’t wish to sacrifice any of her clanswomen to a baseborn Highlander whom she thought swived sheep.
He sighed, wondering what other eligible Rivenloch maidens might look past his humble beginnings and find him palatable.
He’d be far more palatable once he finished this bath, he supposed. He returned to scrubbing his ribs, working his way down his abdomen and lower.
Hallie offered him her hand. “I’lldo it.”
He raised his brows.Nowshe wished to help him with his bath?Now?When he was about to wash his ballocks? He didn’t think so.
“Nay, thank ye.” he said with a chuckle.
She blinked. “What do you mean, nay?”
