Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,44

never actually killed a man before.”

“That’s…comfortin’.” Of course, Hallie had already assured him he was no use to her dead. He took a sip of ale.

“And…” She glanced left and right as if she feared someone might be listening. Then she lifted her brows to impart the grave significance of what she whispered. “I don’t think she’s ever kissed a man either.”

Somehow he managed to swallow the ale and keep up a pensive frown.

Isabel seemed to sense his doubt. “I know ’tis hard to believe. But you don’t know her like I do.”

Here was his opportunity. “So tell me, since ye know her so well. What is this ‘not as unfeelin’ as she seems’ sister o’ yours really like?”

Isabel’s eyes lit up. She hopped up onto the bed, dangling her legs over the edge and kicking her slippered feet back and forth as she warmed to the subject.

“Hallie is fierce but fair. Above all else, she cares for the clan. She loves and protects all of us. Faithful Sir Rauve who’s guarding you. Burunild who dressed your wounds. Bart who laid your fire. Wee Tim who mucks out the stalls every day. John and James, who tend the sheep. The Rivenloch children just learning to crawl. Even the wrinkled white-haired wenches who bicker all day.”

Colban chewed thoughtfully at a bite of bacon. Hallie’s loyalty to her kin was likely her fatal flaw. It was the reason she’d taken such drastic action—absconding with him—in order to protect her foolish cousins.

“She’s generous,” Isabel continued. “She’s always buying us gifts from the fair. New weapons for Brand and Gellir. Something scholarly for Ian. A trinket for me. Oh!”

Hopping down from the bed, she came close. She reached for the sheath at her hips and whipped out a dagger. For an instant, Colban wondered if she meant to stab him. But she turned the blade in her hand to show him the haft. It was a small eating dagger, and the delicate handle was inlaid with pearl.

“She brought me this last spring. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Colban swallowed the bacon as he nodded.

Two thoughts popped into his head as he studied the jeweled crossguard.

One, the lass was entirely too careless. He could easily snatch that dagger from her, leaving her at his mercy.

Two, Hallie must be a woman of wealth to afford such a lavish gift. Was her wealth inherited? Or won off of unfortunate foes?

“And what does she purchase for herself?” he asked.

Isabel furrowed her brows as she put away her dagger. “Not much. Maybe new stockings. Or tallow candles. Once she bought an orange. I don’t think she liked it.”

He’d heard of oranges, though he’d never tasted one. They came from far away. And foreign merchants seldom traveled to the remote Highlands.

Isabel gave a sharp, startling gasp. “Are you thinking of getting her a gift?” Her eyes brightened. “That’s brilliant! She can hardly refuse a gift. And it would surely soften her heart toward you.”

Colban’s jaw hung open. Was she mad? He had no intention—and little hope—of softening Hallie’s heart. But before he could tell her so, Isabel began pacing again, twirling the dagger in her fingers and chattering all the while.

“She has little use for ribbons or jewels. And she’s got plenty of daggers. Ink? Too practical. A bottle of French wine or beeswax candles? Nay, gone too soon. Something lasting, like an ivory comb or a silver chalice…”

Colban’s head was spinning. A silver chalice? The lass must think he was made of coin. He had absolutely no intention of buying a gift for his captor. Not only was he certain it would do naught to soften her heart. But he knew the only “gift” she was interested in was the return of her cousins.

“I know!” she suddenly cried. “I know the perfect gift for my sister!”

Before she could reveal her perfect gift, there was another knock on the door, accompanied by an announcement of, “Breakfast!”

Apparently, Rauve was no longer overseeing who came in and out of Colban’s room.

Brand didn’t wait for an answer, but shouldered his way in. Carrying a platter piled high with fruit tarts, he grinned and kicked the door shut behind him.

His face fell when he saw the tray already on Colban’s lap. His brow furrowed when he saw who had brought it.

“Isabel! How did you get in here?”

“I knocked,” she said, adding pointedly, “and waited for permission. You can take that food away. I’ve already brought him breakfast. Shoo.”

“Don’t shoo me.”

Before they could begin bickering, Colban said, “’Tis