Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,22

summoning Ian with a wave of her hand.

“Then I’ll dine here as well,” Ian decided.

“What? Nay.”

Ian raised his stubborn chin. “We can’t just leave him alone, Hallie. His mother is dead. And he doesn’t even know who his father is. He told me so.”

The Highlander’s mouth opened in surprise. He was obviously unaccustomed to wee lads who blurted out truths.

“Did he?” she asked.

This was an interesting coil. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad that Ian had had time to interrogate the captive, after all. Colban an Curaidh had confessed he was a bastard and an orphan. Perhaps she could glean more useful information from her little brother.

On the other hand, it made her wonder… What had Ian revealed to the prisoner about Rivenloch, about her? The possibilities were unsettling.

“I’ve been alone before, lad,” Colban said. “Go on now and do what your sister says.”

He was making a point. Letting her know Ian had indeed revealed he was her brother. It was Colban’s way of telling her he was well aware of the leverage he was giving up by not seizing the lad.

“Will you at least keep him company, Hallie?” Ian asked as he climbed down from the bed.

“Of course.” She gave the Highlander a grim smile. “I’ll be watching his every move.”

“Fine,” Ian conceded with a sigh. “But I have to put away the chess pieces first.”

“I’ll put them away,” Colban offered. “Ye go on now. Go eat.”

Ian looked crestfallen, but he grabbed his notebook and quill and climbed off the bed.

“I’ll be fine,” Colban assured him. “Besides, I obviously need to practice my game if I can be trounced by a scrap of a lad.”

Ian grinned.

As Hallie ushered her brother to safety out the door, her mind whirled like a tempest.

On one hand, she was grateful for the Highlander’s mercy.

On the other, she knew it gave him an advantage.

Because he had shown restraint, the scales were tipped in his favor. She owed him a debt of honor.

And because she now knew things about him, because he’d shown his true colors, she could no longer consider him a nameless, featureless foe.

He was Colban an Curaidh, poor orphan, unfortunate bastard, worthy champion.

She lifted a brow. She was beginning to understand why he was called The Champion. He really did look heroic, standing with proud confidence in the glow of the fire, his arms crossed in challenge.

He was chivalrous enough to confront wolves in her defense. Honorable enough not to harm an innocent child, even when it would be to his advantage.

He deserved her gratitude.

With one hand on the door, she murmured, “My thanks.”

He shrugged. “I vowed I’d hurt none o’ your clansmen.”

“So you did. But you wouldn’t be the first man to break a vow.”

“Fair enough. But may I give ye a piece of advice?”

She bristled. What possible advice could he have?

His eyes smoldered with humor. “The next time ye want to rescue a wee lad from a brawny foe, ye might want to bring a blade.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. Being unarmed had been a tactical mistake on her part. But she wasn’t about to admit it.

She gave him a grim smile. “I assure you I’m just as deadly with my bare hands.”

Then she ducked out the door before he could test that lie.

Chapter 10

Hallie was glad the Highlander couldn’t see her as she paced outside the door, fuming. It was completely unlike her to charge into a possible conflict without her sword. Hell, it was completely unlike her to be fuming.

What was wrong with her? What was it about the Highlander that made her feel off-guard? Off-balance? And out of sorts?

Hallie prided herself on ruling with an even temper. While others panicked around her, she cultivated an air of composure. It was the key to good judgment.

As a leader, she was efficient. Fair. Diplomatic. She never let emotions interfere with her decisions.

She had experience beyond her years. It was part of her training to be laird. She’d solved disputes. Issued orders. Taken prisoners. Fought in battle. All with an uncluttered mind and a steady hand.

But this hostage was ruffling her unruffled calm.

What was it about Colban an Curaidh? His courteous manner? His trickster’s tongue? Those deep brown eyes that danced when he spoke? His inexplicable kindness? The charming lilt of his words? His tragic past that tugged at her heart? Or the impressive cut of his figure that disrupted her senses?

She whirled and sent her skirts swirling like a violent squall around her. And then she stopped, closing her eyes, willing