Page 61 of The Hawk Laird
“I want Janet safe. We can help each other.”
“How?”
“I promise you will have what you want. I just ask a little of your time.”
“My time?”
“Give me a few days to send a message to Leslie and ask for Janet in trade for you. Let us see if he will accept.”
“You want me to remain as your hostage?” She stared at him.
“My guest. My—friend. I ask for your help. That is all.”
She said nothing. The wind rippled her hair, lifted his hair from his shoulders. James looked away, feeling suddenly, keenly vulnerable. She could refuse and walk away, and he would let her go and see his hopes shatter. Forcing her to be his hostage now would condemn him as the worst of rogues in her eyes. He did not want that.
Her silence lingered. He glanced at her. “My lady, I want to rescue Janet without risking more lives. But I will not keep you if you do not want to stay.”
She let out a breath and glanced toward the great crag. “You want an accomplice.”
“I suppose so.” He smiled a little. “Leslie need never know. He will think you were kept in fear of your life at the hands of an outlaw.”
“He would kill you for that.”
“Lass, he means to kill me regardless. He needs no further reason.”
She glanced at him, her hair whipping across her face. He reached out to draw the strands back.
“What do you say, Black Isobel?”
“Why would you let me go, if I want that?”
“It is unchivalrous to hold a woman for ransom,” he said lightly. “Someone told me that recently.”
“You once said I was your only hope of gaining what you wanted. Rescuing Janet, I think.”
“My only hope, aye. But I cannot jess you as I can this bird. So I humbly beg a boon of you and wait upon your good will.”He kept his tone light, though he felt tension within. He was gambling all just now, placing his wager on her trust.
She tipped her head. “What changed your mind?”
“You. I ask your help. But I will not keep you against your will.” He paused. “Yet if you cannot trust me, I understand. Wildshaw is that way.” He pointed.
“Very well.” She turned. “Show me your wild craig. I will give you a few days. But you must treat me kindly,” she added.
His heart gave a surge, but he nodded and turned to walk ahead. “I can do that. I have learned a few manners from hawks.”
“I have noticed,” she said, and followed.
Chapter Seventeen
“Take off yourshoes.” James spoke loud enough that Isobel could hear him over the pounding din of the waterfall.
She blinked at him. “My shoes? Must we scale the cliff in bare feet?” She glanced up, dreading the climb that lay ahead on the towering crag that rose up from the far bank of a rushing stream. A short distance away, the high, narrow waterfall plunged down into the burn with considerable force, water churning and spilling over rocks as it sped past them. She scowled.
“Shoes and hose too.” James set the hawk on a branch and sat to pull off his boots and hosen. Then he retrieved the hawk and stepped into the burn. The water rushed and swirled around his bare, muscular calves. He took up the hawk on his glove and held out his other hand to her. “Hurry, lass.”
She sat to pull off her hose and her low boots, awkward with the wounded arm still stiff and sore, and crammed the things into her belt. Standing, she lifted the hem of her gown and tucked some of the fabric into the belt too. Then she stepped gingerly into the swirling stream, gasping at the cold. Moving ahead, she was soon knee-deep in the water.
James took her hand in a firm grip to guide her over the slippery stones littering the streambed. Reaching the opposite bank, she stepped out without needing his help. On the bank, he steadied the hooded goshawk.
