no’ any of yer concern.”
Sutherland’s fist smashed into Brodie’s nose, which gave a sickening crunch. Brodie howled in agony, and Sutherland finally pushed himself off the other man. He didn’t wait to ensure Brodie was still down.
Instead, he immediately went to Isolde. Sutherland hovered near her, as though uncertain if he ought to reach for her. In the end, he folded his arms awkwardly over his chest and leaned in close, protective proximity of her.
Isolde couldn’t help the flash of disappointment. Part of her craved those strong arms wrapping around her, keeping her safe. Giving her comfort. Another part of her, admittedly a much smaller part, knew it was inappropriate to wish for such intimate nearness with him.
“Were ye injured?” Sutherland asked.
“Nay.” She looked to her maid, but Matilda shook her head, her hands clutched together over her chest.
Sutherland’s squared shoulders didn’t lower. “Alan, release the bastard. Let him help his brother to a healer.”
Brodie cursed from where he lay on the ground, hand cupped over his bleeding nose. Alan pulled back from Garret, who scrambled to his feet and raced over to Brodie.
“Ye’ll pay for this, Sutherland.” Brodie’s words were muffled by his bloody hand at his face.
Sutherland didn’t deign to acknowledge the threat. He kept his gaze fixed on Isolde, concern evident in his dark green eyes. She was struck once more with how handsome a man he truly was, with his square jaw now scraped clean of whiskers and a straight nose.
“May I walk ye to the castle?” he offered.
This time, Isolde didn’t hesitate. Her fingers slid into the strong warmth in the crook of his arm. A tremor rattled through her body, one swept by a wave of emotions: the fear for what could have happened, the relief for emerging unscathed, the appreciation for Sutherland’s assistance and the apprehension for what would come in the future. Her knees were soft beneath her weight, and it was all she could do to keep from allowing herself to melt against the support of his solid body.
“Mayhap it isna my place to say this…” He spoke in a slow, careful tone. “But I dinna think yer betrothed is worthy of ye.”
Heat singed Isolde’s cheeks. “I never agreed to marry him.”
She stopped when they reached the entrance of the castle. “I’m fine from here. Thank you for your aid.”
His brow furrowed, and she knew he was not yet finished with their conversation. “Is this why yer brother challenged Brodie over yer honor?”
She looked away. A row of red banners rippled in the wind like forked tongues. “Thank you for bringing me to the castle—”
“I’d like to speak with Lord Easton,” Sutherland said.
“You may find him bantering among the men preparing to joust, though he will not be participating himself. It never was his sport.” She inclined her head, cutting off the conversation before Sutherland could pry any more. “Good day to you, Sutherland.”
He offered no further protest. Isolde and Matilda climbed the stone staircase to their private chambers. Only then did Isolde allow her legs to collapse. She flopped onto her mattress and put a hand over her racing heart.
“Are you well, my lady?” Matilda asked.
Isolde stared up at the green linen trappings hanging over the bed. “After the fight tomorrow, we need to be prepared to leave.”
“I’ll have everything at the ready,” her maid assured her.
But the tension did not drain from Isolde’s shoulders. Not when Sutherland had injected himself so completely into her mind, not when so much was riding on the fight tomorrow. And certainly not when fear nipped at the back of her mind, plaguing her with terrifying doubt.
After Cormac had defeated Brodie, he’d sent Duncan and Lachlan to keep an eye on the brothers while Alan went to glean gossip from the ranks. Following an unsuccessful attempt to locate the Earl of Easton, Cormac had taken the time to bathe in the chilly loch. Even as he made his way to the Rose Citadel that night for the feast with Alan and Pip, his hair was still slightly damp, but his body was invigorated with the chill of the water, and all the remnants of travel swept away.
Additionally, he was more confident in where he stood with Lady Isolde’s favor. Or at least, more so than he had been previously. Alan had once more proven his worth in obtaining invitiations for them into the castle that evening, a feast meant only for the castle guests and special attendees by invite-only. Cormac navigated through the crowd