Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,29

the laird’s right hand man, must deny their own desires for the good of the whole. Whether it was right. Or fair.

He scraped a chair across the floor to sit near the fire.

As he gazed into the flames, he realized a curious irony.

Being held prisoner here was the first time he’d experienced freedom. It was the first time he’d been separated from the Girics. The first time he’d actually considered his own circumstances, needs, and comforts—if even for one brief moment—apart from Morgan.

He took a deep breath, stretched his legs out toward the hearth, and let it out in a long, relieved sigh.

The moment wouldn’t last, he knew. Soon he’d learn whose side the king had taken. Soon he’d have to choose whether to undertake careful negotiations or prepare for battle. Soon he’d have to decide whether to betray the Rivenloch clan who’d shown him mercy or the mac Giric clan to whom he owed allegiance.

Soon he’d be called upon to use the shrewd and seasoned workings of his mind. But for now, he would listen to his heart.

Colban woke with the sun. He’d slept atop the bed, wrapping himself in the coverlet. But the Lowland weather was so mild compared to the snowy Highlands that he didn’t realize he’d left the shutters open all night nor that the fire had dwindled.

He arose with a stretch, raked back his hair, poked the fire to life, and then stumbled toward the garderobe. On his return, he glanced out to the yard below.

Poor Gellir was still leaning against the courtyard wall. He must have been there all night, guarding against Colban’s escape. His locked legs were holding him upright. But he was fast asleep. His sword hung limp in his hand. His head lolled upon his shoulder. And his mouth was open wide enough to accommodate a sparrow’s nest.

Colban wasn’t the only one to spy Gellir, asleep on the watch. Brand, recovered from the trebuchet mishap, was stealing up on his slumbering sibling. Crouching before him, he slipped his hands around Gellir’s heels. Then, with a mischievous jerk, he pulled the lad’s legs out from under him.

Gellir landed with a yelp and a thud on his hindquarters, dropping his sword, which sent Brand into maniacal fits of laughter.

Infuriated, Gellir scrambled onto his feet. He lunged toward Brand, wrapping vengeful hands around his brother’s neck, choking him off mid-laugh.

But Brand wasn’t as helpless as he appeared. He plowed a fist into Gellir’s belly. When Gellir folded forward with a grunt, Brand snatched the dagger from his brother’s belt.

Gellir clapped his empty sheath. Then, aware of his disadvantage, he released his brother and made a swift retreat. Bending down, he swept up his sword in rage.

Colban stiffened. It looked as if Gellir would lop off Brand’s head in the next moment.

“Enough!” came a cry from across the courtyard.

Hallie came striding across the green. But this was a Hallie he hadn’t seen before. Clad in chain mail, bearing a blade and shield, she looked like a warrior queen on a mission of vengeance.

As she charged forward, her blue tabard whipped around her like angry ocean currents. She tossed her shield and helm aside, and the sun glinted off her bright hair and her silver blade.

The brothers lowered their weapons.

Colban crossed his arms, leaning a shoulder against the window to watch.

“Gellir was asleep at his post,” Brand accused.

Gellir scowled. “I was only…resting my eyes.”

“You were snoring,” Brand insisted.

Hallie turned on Brand. “So you attacked your brother while he was helpless?”

“What? Nay.” Brand straightened defensively. “’Tis like Ma says. In battle, you have to take every advantage that’s given you.”

Hallie suddenly seized the dagger from him with her free left hand. A quick flick of her wrist sent it point-first into the sod. “Like that?” she asked.

Colban snickered. She was certainly a cocky lass.

His pride bruised, Brand folded his arms and thrust out his stubborn chin.

“And you,” she accused, facing Gellir. “You should have summoned a man to relieve you.”

“I’m fine,” he lied.

“Is that so?” she asked. “Your reflexes are fine?”

He scowled. “They’re bloody perfect.”

Brand, sensing what was about to happen, scrambled in retreat.

“Come on then,” Hallie invited, raising her sword. “Let’s see those perfect reflexes of yours.”

Colban narrowed his eyes. Gellir wasn’t actually going to fight his sister, was he?

The lad might be younger and shorter than Hallie. But he was packed with burgeoning muscle and full of youthful rage. One slip of the lad’s impetuous blade could do her serious harm. And she’d cast aside