Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,59

That should keep the lass busy for a good part of the day.

Meanwhile, perhaps it was a good idea to get further reassurances from Colban. She was getting a bad feeling about her parents petitioning the new king. They should have returned by now. Every day without word from them was a day the ownership of Creagor remained in question. Every day that decision was prolonged, the odds of harm to her cousins increased.

She took the tray upstairs, opening Colban’s door with her free hand. She expected to find the occupant pacing across the chamber or tending to the fire or staring wistfully out the window.

But he was still asleep. And he didn’t awaken when she entered.

He might be an impressive warrior. But he didn’t make a very good guard. Three times now she’d been able to slip past his drowsy watch.

She closed the door softly behind her and observed him in silence.

No longer fierce and challenging, he appeared as innocent as a bairn. His brow was untroubled. His hair was unkempt. His jaw was relaxed, and his lips parted just enough to emit the soft, growling breath of slumber.

He was helpless. At her mercy. Thoroughly subdued. Exactly where she should want a foe to be.

Yet dominance was not what she felt when she looked at him. As she continued to stare—at the stray lock of golden hair dangling over one eye, at the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, at his bare toes peeping out from the bandage—her heart melted.

Not often, but more of late, Hallie had been thinking about the man she would eventually wed. Wondered what he would be like. Whether she would grow fond of him. How it would feel to wake up to the same face every day for the rest of her life.

She would have no choice in the selection of a husband, of course. The position of laird of Rivenloch was too valuable to king and country to be left to chance. Her marriage would be a carefully arranged alliance.

But once in a great while—when she was lying in bed at night or bathing in the loch on a lazy summer day or watching her parents gaze longingly into each other’s eyes—she indulged in a selfish dream that she would one day find a love match.

Looking at Colban now, she felt closer to that tantalizing dream than she’d ever felt before. She could easily imagine awakening with the Highlander beside her each morn, savoring the simple beauty of his face. The idle power of his body. The soothing sound of his breathing. She could even imagine growing to care for him.

She bit her lip, indulging in the fantasy.

The champion had much to recommend him as a husband.

He was a fine warrior. His skills with the claymore, his strength, and his spirit inspired admiration among her men.

His loyalty and chivalry were undeniable. Not only did he place his laird’s life above his own. He’d risked death to come to Hallie’s rescue, unwilling to leave her in the hands of attackers. Her parents would doubtless consider him a valuable addition to the Rivenloch army.

He would make an excellent father. He had a way with children. He knew how to listen to Ian. How to charm Isabel. How to make Brand worship him like a hero. Even how to impress dour Gellir.

Her husband’s most important duty, of course, would be giving her heirs. Whether Colban was capable of siring offspring she didn’t know. But she remembered the lust in his eyes. The heat of his kiss. The quickening in his braies.

The memory of touching him triggered a wave of molten desire. If Colban an Curaidh was unable to plant his seed, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Not only was he well-equipped for the task. He also seemed to have no qualms about a woman overstepping the bounds of propriety. Looking into his eyes. Kissing him. Caressing him.

Nor did he hesitate to return her affections. Claiming her lips with his enticing mouth. Grazing her bosom with his rough fingertips.

She was still adrift in a sea of sensual musings when Colban wakened with a gasp.

She gasped in response, almost spilling the frumenty.

“Hallie.”

Her name spilled out on a sigh, disrupting her thoughts the way a sudden breeze stirred the leaves. He rose on his elbows, and his leine slipped off one magnificent shoulder.

Her heart leaped. Her nostrils flared. She thrust the platter forward, as if it had the power to shield her from