Page 54 of Highland Renegade
Not exactly a direct answer, but she was determined not to be confined. “I did. One can lie abed for only so long without anything to do.” Something sparked in his eyes and she realized how that might have sounded. She felt heat sweep across her face and chewed her lip. Dear Lord! How had that slipped out? “I…I mean…it is quite boring to be confined. By myself.” Goodness! That didn’t sound much better. She worried her lip again, willing herself to remain silent, lest she babble some other wanton-sounding thing. Ian contemplated her for a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. And prayed she wasn’t blushing again. He rattled her even when she didn’t think he was trying to.
His voice was noncommittal when he spoke. “I doona want ye to feel like a prisoner, but I do want ye to take care, lass.”
There was that word again! It gave her a rather warm, cozy feeling. And it took another moment before she realized what he’d said. “Take care? What do you mean?” When he looked uncomfortable, she added, “I am not usually clumsy and I have never fallen down stairs before, but thank you for your concern.” When he frowned slightly, she widened her eyes. “Do you think someone meant me harm?” It looked to her like he actually squirmed in his chair.
“I doona ken for sure. The board came loose somehow.”
“That is fairly common in old houses,” Emily answered, “and, I would think, especially in oldcastles.”
“Mayhap.” He didn’t appear convinced. “I dinna like finding that someone put whisky in your tea as well.”
She frowned. “That is fairly common, too. Someone may have thought they were doing a good thing.”
Ian looked as though he wanted to say more, but then he shook his head as if to clear it. “I hope ye are right, but until I can do a bit more checking around, which will be when the harvest is done, I want ye to stay close to Fiona.”
So she had been right. Ian had instructed his sister not to let her out of sight. That probably meant he’d told Hamish to stand guard as well.
She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking while a chill slithered down her spine. She was still a Sassenach surrounded by Scots—one of whom didn’t like her. At all.
Chapter Fifteen
“Thank you for granting my request,” Emily told Ian as they prepared to enter the Great Hall to break their fast the next morning. She’d taken a tray in her room last evening, but only as a compromise.
“I still doona think this is a good idea,” he grumbled.
Fiona gave him a poke with her elbow. “I thought ye said we needed to provide a united front.”
He moved out of range. “I ken that.” Turning to Emily, he exaggerated a bow, then offered his arm. “Allow me to escort ye, my lady.”
Behind them, Lorelei giggled. Emily could only imagine Juliana rolling her eyes at such a grand gesture. She gave both sisters a warning look over her shoulder, then smiled at Ian. “There really is no need to be so formal.”
“Aye, there is,” Fiona whispered. “Remember… It shows the clan ye are under their laird’s protection.”
In England, she’d legally been under her husband’s “protection,” too, although that really meant she was chattel…the personal property of an earl. No one had asked questions when that property had a bruise. Fiona had explained, though, that in Scotland “protection” meant something else entirely. A laird—even though the Crown had outlawed the term, Scots were defiant—didn’t inherit his title because of bloodline. He waschosento lead his clan by his people. As their leader, he had a responsibility to protect and keep each of them safe. His word was also law, at least to his clan. A show of his support would go a long way to deter whomever—if there was someone—had tried to injure her.
“Well?” Ian tilted his head in question and she realized she’d been woolgathering again. She tucked her hand into his proffered arm, rather than laying her fingers on top as would have been proper. If this was going to be a show of solidarity, then she’d make sure everyone who watched them realized it.
Besides, she rather liked the feel of his solid muscle beneath her hand. That should shock her, but somehow it didn’t.
Conversation halted as they entered the hall, then soft murmuring began as they proceeded toward the dais where Ian’s brothers and uncles were already seated. The first thing she noticed when they got closer was that the smaller table where she and her sisters usually sat had been removed. She gave Ian a questioning look.
“Ye will sit beside me tonight.”
She widened her eyes. “Beside you?”
“Aye. ’Tis time.”
She had hoped he would finally seat her on the dais on one of the ends, but she hadn’t expected the place of honorbesidehim. His brothers, ranked by age, always sat to his right and his uncles to his left. She glanced at the high table. Were they willing to finally accept her? Carr’s and Alasdair’s expressions were neutral, Rory was staring pointedly, although she realized he was looking past her, probably at Juliana, and wondered what her sister had possibly done to irritate him this time. Devon looked sulky, but that wasn’t unusual. She slipped her gaze to the uncles, but they were conversing and not paying attention to them. His ward Glenda was at her usual place below the dais, watching with the same wooden expression she usually wore.
The crowd went silent once more as Ian pulled the chair out beside him and seated her. For a brief moment, she almost wished he’d let her sit with her sisters and Fiona near the end of the table. Having nearly one hundred pairs of eyes trained on her was disconcerting, especially when one or more of those sets might truly resent her. She folded her hands in her lap and gave Ian an anxious, sideways glance.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Perhaps I should sit—”
“Exactly where ye are.” His hand slipped under the table and on top of hers. He gave it a gentle squeeze. The gesture was probably meant to be reassuring, but she was instantly aware of how close his fingers were to the very intimate part of her. An odd, thrumming sensation began at that juncture, and the room suddenly felt very warm. Almost as if he read her thoughts—Dear Lord! She hoped not!—he released her hand quickly. His eyes darkened for a brief moment.
He started to speak but was interrupted as a clansman burst through the door at the far end and ran down the length of the room toward the dais, out of breath when he got there.
“Dragoons!” he managed to wheeze, although as deadly quiet as the room had gotten, the word carried. “They are coming!”
