"Who's that with Ilysa?" Connor asked when he saw her strolling along the shore with a man. "I'm surprised ye let her walk alone with him this far from the castle."
"That's the MacNeil," Duncan said, which explained why he was not concerned. Alex's father-in-law could be trusted to keep Ilysa safe.
"That's good," Connor said. "With all the men I've seen following her, she needs watching over."
He suddenly realized he had failed to tell her he wanted her to return to Trotternish and decided to do it now.
* * *
Ilysa was grateful to the MacNeil chieftain for taking her outside the crowded castle to enjoy the spring air. Despite his gruff manner, he was easy to talk to.
"Connor isn't the only man who came to the gathering looking for a wife," he said after a while. "As ye know, mine died giving birth a short time ago."
The poor man. "I am sorry," she said and ventured to touch his arm.
"I have both the new babe and a second young son," he said. "Of course, I have a nursemaid for the boys, but they need a mother."
"Mmm," Ilysa murmured to show she was listening. She wondered why he was sharing this with her, but thought perhaps he wanted her advice.
"And I have three foolish daughters," he said, "who are badly in need of a sensible woman like you to guide them."
"Like me?" Ilysa came to an abrupt halt and turned to face him. Could he mean what she thought he did?
"Glynis's mother is the only woman who had my heart," he said. "Still, I did my best to be a good husband to my second wife, as I will do with my next one."
Was this the best she could hope for? Could no man love her? She told herself not to be foolish. MacNeil was a good man and a far better match than she had reason to expect.
"I..." Ilysa faltered, unable to make herself say the words.
"No need to make a hasty decision," the MacNeil said, putting his hand up. "I can see ye need to think on it."
Before Ilysa could get her bearings, she saw Connor striding toward them. He walked with the unconscious grace of a warrior who trained hard every day. And he was so handsome with his steel-blue eyes and his black hair brushing his shoulders that when he fixed his gaze on her face, Ilysa found it difficult to draw air into her lungs.
"Young men don't know what to look for in a wife," the MacNeil said, but she barely heard him. "I know a prize when I see one."
With the wind blowing Connor's hair and the sunset ablaze behind him, he looked like an ancient Celtic god.
"Connor," the MacNeil greeted him, reminding her of his presence. "Ilysa, I'll leave ye with your chieftain."
"Come," Connor said and took her arm as soon as the MacNeil turned around to head back to the castle. "I must speak with ye."
Ilysa's heart beat too fast as he led her down the empty beach. The heat of his muscles beneath her fingers traveled up her arm and through her body to unexpected places. Connor helped her over a rocky stretch of the beach and continued down the shore until they reached a quiet spot shielded by low trees.
The clouds still held the pink and purples of sunset, but the light was fading rapidly. Ilysa had no idea why Connor had brought her here but suspected it had something to do with her locking him in the dungeon. After all the times he had looked through her and not seen her, now that she had his full attention, she could not force words from her mouth.
"The wind has come up. Ye must be cold." He unfastened the brooch at his shoulder and, in one fluid movement, swung his plaid from his shoulders and around hers. A sigh escaped her as she was enfolded in the warmth and smell of him.
For a long moment, Connor held the plaid together under her chin and stared into her eyes. She was afraid to breathe. Anticipation sang through her. Finally he released the plaid, but he still did not step back.
"When I said your gown didn't look right, I only meant I was not accustomed to it." Connor ran his hand down her arm, sending another wave of warmth through her body, then quickly pulled his hand back. "Ye do look lovely, Ilysa. Very lovely."