that. She might as well command him to cease breathing.
But she was serious.
He lowered his brows and fought back a grin. “Is that so?”
“Aye.”
He mused over that, rubbing his chin. “And why exactly?”
Hallie blinked.
Why. She’d been asking herself that ever since he’d faced off against the beasts in the woods.
Why would he want to help his enemy? Why should he care what happened to her? And why should he so cheaply value his own life?
The conclusion niggling at the back of her mind was—as Isabel kept insisting—the Highlander had affections toward her.
The idea was ludicrous. Preposterous. Inconceivable.
Yet her heart fluttered at the thought.
What other reason could there be?
No one defended Hallidis of Rivenloch. Her little brother was right. She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed defending. Trained as a warrior, destined to be laird, she’d been taught to be self-sufficient.
She had to be as strong as any man. Thus no man had ever tried to be her champion.
Now, for the first time in her life, a stranger sought to protect her, not because it was his duty as a member of the clan, but purely because he didn’t want her to get hurt.
She was touched. Flattered.
She was also troubled.
First, because it was a dangerous mistake to trust a captive, whose prime objective was always to escape.
And second, because this foolhardy hostage with his misplaced heroics was beginning to tunnel his way into her heart. Even now she could feel him sapping her supports and undermining her resistance.
Her eyes melted when she looked at him. Her breath softened when they spoke. Her pulse quickened when he was near. And if they happened to touch, the brush of his skin awakened her senses in a curious and enticing way.
Clearly, allowing anyone that kind of power over her mind and body could prove deadly. No matter how pleasant and intriguing and welcome his attentions felt.
Besides, Hallie had no right to feel affection for a man. Any man. She was well aware of that. She was the heir to the title of Rivenloch, with all the responsibility that came with that. Her heart was not her own to give. Her hand was a matter of strategic alliance. Her clan and her inheritance were a royal gift to be bestowed upon whomever the king chose.
So how could she answer him?
Why should Colban the Champion refrain from being her champion? Why should he stop risking his life for her?
In the end, she gave him an answer that was technically true. A brusque, honest, chilling answer. Even if it wasn’t the answer in her heart.
“Because you’re no use to me dead.”
Chapter 17
The Valkyrie’s words felt like a blunt knife shoved between Colban’s ribs.
For a stunned instant, all he could say was, “I see.”
A stony silence fell as his hurt slowly coiled into anger.
Damn it, twice now he’d been willing to forfeit his life for the lass. Even her men were impressed by his deeds.
True, this time his judgment had been faulty and his rescue misguided. But his sacrifice had been genuine.
Was this how she repaid him? With cool indifference and callous rejection?
Maybe Isabel was right. Maybe Hallie was too cold and unfeeling for her own good.
Bitterness compelled him to remind her of the cost of his actions. Indicating his injury, he said with heavy sarcasm, “Then I must apologize for damagin’ your goods and decreasin’ my value.”
It gave him some satisfaction to see her color at his remark. Then she breezed past, muttering, “Breakfast will be up soon.”
When she closed the door behind her, he was left with an ache in his gut. An empty place that no amount of frumenty was going to fill.
For a brief moment, he’d felt something burning between them. A spark of life. An ember of affection. A flame of lust.
For an instant, he’d forgotten they were foes. He’d seen her as a capable warrior. A brilliant commander. A clever lass. An alluring woman.
Just as he’d let his instincts guide him in defending her, he’d allowed his heart to lead him in desiring her.
But his instincts had been wrong. It appeared his heart was as well. And he was paying the price of his miscalculation with a throbbing ankle and a hollow chest.
With a sniff of self-disgust, he pushed up from the chair to test his bandaged limb. Putting weight on it sent a twinge up his leg that made him grimace and sit back down. He supposed he’d limp for a few days. But the pain would remind him never