he forced himself to eat. Nor did he permit himself to glance at her empty chair again, though he was aware of it every moment.
He maintained a pretense of calm and spoke with his men throughout the meal and afterward as well. When he could leave the hall without his departure seeming abrupt, he went up to his chamber.
"Unless we have guests, I will no longer require guards outside my door," he told the two warriors waiting there. "Tell the others."
Having guards outside his chamber was a symbol of chieftainship that now seemed far less important than his privacy. His sword and the bar on his door was all the protection he needed.
He sat in his chair, drumming his fingers and staring at the glowing logs of peat on the brazier. As he waited for the night to come, he tried to plan his strategy for the battle with the MacLeods, but his mind kept returning to Ilysa.
Again and again, he went over what happened in this chamber a few hours earlier. The signs of her innocence had been there, but he had wanted her so badly that he had seen what he wanted to see. She had been willing, but willing to do what? She had done little more than kiss him back, and he had reacted by tossing her skirts up and ravishing her.
Lust had made him deaf, dumb, and blind. For the first time, he understood how his father could disregard the consequences and let himself be ruled by lust. But his father believed he had a right to indulge in his desire, no matter how selfish, and he never felt guilty for it.
Connor was awash in guilt.
Time and again, he saw the swath of blood against the whiteness of Ilysa's slender thigh. Then he recalled how her legs wobbled as he rushed her out the door. Though he had been trying to protect her, that was no way to leave her. He could not make things right. Still, he needed to talk to her and see how she fared.
Finally, the household was asleep, and he could go to her chamber without the entire castle knowing it. A short time later, he rapped his knuckles lightly on her door.
"Who is it?" Ilysa's voice came through the door.
"Connor." He wondered if his name would gain him entry. After a pause, he heard the bar slide back.
He stepped inside quickly - and his breath caught when he saw her behind the door. Her skin and hair glowed in the golden light of the flickering candle in her hand. Though there was nothing revealing about her long white nightshift, it had the power of the forbidden to turn his thoughts in untoward directions. His breathing grew shallow as his gaze traveled down its length to her beguiling bare toes poking out from the bottom.
Connor finally remembered to shut the door. "We must talk."
She gestured toward the lone bench and, after setting her candlestick on the small table next to it, sat down on one end. Ilysa looked so small and fragile that he felt huge sitting next to her. While he usually admired her capacity for silence, he wished she would say something now.
"I was concerned when ye did not come to the hall all day," he said. "Are ye all right?"
She nodded without meeting his gaze. Clearly, she was not all right.
"I am sorry I..." There were so many things to be sorry for that Connor did not know where to start, and so he said the last thing he should have said aloud. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold ye after."
It turned out, however, to be the right thing.
Ilysa raised her gaze and gave him a faint smile. "That would have been nice."
When he gingerly put his arm around her, she leaned her head against his shoulder and gave a shuddering sigh. He held her gently, and neither of them spoke for a long time.
"I've never bedded a virgin before," he said at last. "Did I hurt ye badly?"
"No."
He didn't believe her. "I would have been gentler if I'd known," he said, though he would not have done it at all. "You were married. I don't understand how ye could be untouched."
"Mēchael was killed at the Battle of Flodden a short time after we wed."
"Precisely how long were ye wed?" Connor asked, leaning back so he could see her face.
Ilysa paused and licked her lips. "Three months."
"Three months?" Connor lifted her chin. "How could a man be wed to