Page 22 of Highland Crown
More important, he had unfinished business with Isabella. He tried to tell himself he’d already done enough in return for her saving his life, but he knew it was a lie. She put her own life in jeopardy for him. And after what he’d learned, she was in greater danger than he was right now.
“Doyouwant me to come inside with you?” he asked, his voice low. The words were only intended for Isabella. “I can wait until you’ve met up with her nephew.”
Her eyes met his, and for the length of a heartbeat he lost himself in their rich golden-brown color. He knew so little about her, but beneath that serious exterior, there was a courageous woman he wanted to spend more time with. He had things he wanted to say to win her trust. Her hand suddenly snapped back from his chest, and she stepped away. Unexpectedly, a blush bloomed on her cheeks.
“Thank you. As Jean said, it’s best if you go. Some of the stitches have pulled. It’s critical you find help and aplace where you can rest for a fortnight, at least. Your wound needs time to heal.”
He took her hand before she could step away. “Thank you.” His voice sounded oddly husky, even to himself. “I mean it.”
She waved him off and reached for her travel bag. “I hope you have good luck in your travels, Captain.”
As Isabella slung her bag over her shoulder and crossed the road alongside the old woman, Cinaed drew a painful breath.
“You’re a fool,” he murmured to himself, watching her walk away. “She’s a married woman. And she’s wanted by the British authorities. Both of those things mean trouble you don’t need.”
Still, he was struck by a strange sense of loss. But how could he lose something that he could never have?
CHAPTER7
And said I that my limbs were old,
And said I that my blood was cold,
And that my kindly fire was fled,
And my poor withered heart was dead,
And that I might not sing of love?—
How could I, to the dearest theme
That ever warmed a minstrel’s dream…
—Sir Walter Scott, “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” Canto III
Isabella was no stranger to offers of protection. Her father, her husband, Sir Walter Scott, John Gordon.
And now Cinaed Mackintosh.
So many men—friends and associates of her father—had felt the need to be protective of her. It had been the same in Edinburgh. All due to the uniqueness of her position as a female physician, she supposed. But no offer from a man had ever effected her like Cinaed’s words.
Her involuntary response took Isabella completely by surprise. The flush in her face, the sudden tumultuous fluttering eruption of warmth inside.Thatwas new to her.
Before her marriage, she’d always found herself to be immune to men who made the conscious effort to attract her. She was fully aware of it when they tried to be charming, flirtatious, forward. The captain was attempting no such thing. He’d spoken the truth, as frightening as itwas. And at the same time, he respected her need for privacy. Still, Cinaed Mackintosh had breached the wall that shielded her heart.
She’d married Archibald for protection. For herself and her sister. And for a chance to pursue her medical career. But now he was gone. She’d always appreciate everything he’d done for her. Her response to Cinaed was a surprise, but she felt no guilt about it.
“It’s not too late,” Jean said, breaking into her thoughts as they approached the inn’s tavern door. “I heard what he said. If ye want, we can put a blanket over his shoulder. Ye both can wait right by this door until I find out where my John is boarding.”
“I can’t.” Her objection was too fast and sharp, and she drew a curious look from the older woman. Isabella fumbled to explain. “More than likely, half the village are coming after us from Duff Head. If he comes in with us, the cart will be out there on the coach road. They’ll know we’re here.”
“We can move it into the stable yard.”
“The captain is badly wounded. He’ll not be able to fight anyone.”
“Well, mistress, I wouldn’t say the man’s good for naught, even with that wee hole in his chest.”
Isabella entered the tavern room ahead of Jean. She didn’t want to discuss this any further. Of course she didn’t want to leave him alone in his condition. Shewantedto take him by the hand and have him come in, for him and for her. And though she would not say it to Jean—she could barely admit it to herself—it bothered her to think he was about to disappear from her life forever.
