"I'm sorry ye lost your son." Ilysa could not yet think of the young man in the story as her father. "Do ye want his brooch back? Is that why ye came to tell me this?"
"I didn't come for the brooch." The MacLeod chieftain's gaze was intent on her face. "I came for my dead son's only child. I came for my granddaughter."
Chapter 37
Connor was the worst kind of fool.
He had caught Ilysa red-handed. And yet, as he followed her slight figure through the darkness back to the castle, doubts assailed him. That's how much he loved her. Passion for a woman could rob a man of rational thought if he let it. Ilysa had sneaked out of the castle for a secret meeting in the middle of the night with the chieftain of their enemy clan. There could be no innocent explanation. And yet, his heart could not accept that Ilysa would commit this treachery.
Even if she hated him for taking a wife, he could not imagine Ilysa doing anything that would put the clan in danger. It made no sense. Yet he had seen her with his own eyes, sitting and talking with the MacLeod chieftain as if they were old friends.
Or more than friends.
Connor wanted to shout at her and shake her - and most of all, to hold her in his arms and beg her to say she had not betrayed him. But his emotions were too raw, the pain too fresh. Until he could think this all through with a clear head in the cold light of day, it would be unwise to confront her. In his current state, he would believe anything she said, grasp at any straw.
Connor kept his gaze on Ilysa, slipping in and out of the moonlight ahead of him like a sprite, while he tortured himself going over and over again what he had seen in the faery glen. When the MacLeod first appeared like a wraith from the darkness, Connor had reached for his sword. He was on the verge of sprinting toward Ilysa to save her when instinct born of years of fighting froze him in place.
First, he sensed the presence of other men in the darkness. When he paused to listen, he heard the telltale sounds of a large group of warriors trying to be silent: a nervous hand sliding a dirk in and out of its sheath, the shuffling of feet, a muffled cough. The hidden warriors would not have stopped him from rescuing her, but only led him to be cautious and cunning in devising a plan to do it.
What truly halted him was Ilysa's reaction to the MacLeod's sudden appearance. She did not attempt to run, or even take a step backward, when he approached her. Instead the pair appeared to exchange greetings. While Connor watched from his hiding place, she allowed their clan's greatest enemy to take her arm and sit beside her. Ilysa showed no resistance even when the MacLeod chieftain rested his goddamned hand on her shoulder.
Connor had been too far away to hear their conversation. With so many MacLeod warriors hidden in the darkness, he dared not draw closer. Yet their ease with each other was obvious, as was the MacLeod chieftain's reluctance to part with her at the end. The MacLeod held Ilysa's hands, as if trying to persuade her not to leave him.
When did Ilysa have the opportunity to become acquainted with the MacLeod? Connor had been away in France for five years. It could have happened then, somehow.
Each instance Connor had seen the two of them together at the MacIain gathering came back to him with sharp clarity. The first time, he thought it an unfortunate coincidence that Ilysa was standing next to Alastair MacLeod at the hall entrance. But now, in his mind's eye, he saw the pink of her cheeks from the cold outside and Alastair striding away from the doorway as if he had just entered.
The second time, Ilysa had not denied speaking with the MacLeod. He doesn't seem like such a bad man to me. I liked him.
How long had she been meeting him in the faery glen? The MacLeod was far from young, but the MacNeil's age had not troubled her. Connor did not believe they were lovers - at least not yet. The pair had neither kissed nor embraced. Again, he cursed himself as a fool for wanting so badly to believe she was innocent - as if a clandestine