of that short, wiry hair against them, her lips eager to discover if his mouth truly was as supple as it looked.
A splash sounded as her goblet was filled once more. Bile burned up the back of Isolde’s throat, and the room rocked about in a dizzying spin.
“I should go,” she murmured.
“The feast is no’ yet over.” His eyes narrowed with apparent concern. “Are ye well?”
Isolde got to her feet, which only set the world twirling faster. She tipped to the side, but Sutherland caught her. Pain exploded at her injured arm, and she cried out, drawing it protectively to her chest.
“Forgive me, I dinna mean to hurt ye. I merely tried to keep ye upright.”
“Is she well?” A woman asked in a snide tone.
“Too much excitement,” Sutherland said.
He didn’t leave her side. Instead, he put a supportive arm over her shoulders to aid in keeping her upright. She leaned into him, not because she needed to, but because she wanted to. Aye—with every aching beat of her hollow heart, she wanted to. He was solid under her touch, his body heat radiating through his fine tunic. She longed to close her eyes and revel at his strength until she was lulled into sleep in the cradle of his arms.
His essence was all around her, the hint of sandalwood and wonderful masculinity. She inhaled, savoring his scent. Her exhale came out in a contented hum.
“You have no idea how much I’ve longed for this,” she whispered.
Or did she whisper it? Mayhap it had merely been a thought.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered because she might soon die. Or be forced to wed Brodie Ross. Either future was dismal.
“What ails her?” Matilda’s voice pitched with concern.
“Wine,” Sutherland replied quietly.
“I’ll see to her,” Matilda said.
“I can help her to her rooms,” Sutherland said.
Matilda hesitated. “Aye, very well. I don’t think I’d be strong enough to get her above stairs.”
Velvety darkness winked in and out of Isolde’s world. She felt herself lifted as if she were floating and carried through a cold hallway before being delivered into a warm chamber and pillowy bed that seemed to embrace her whole body.
The click of a door startled Isolde from her dreamless slumber.
“My lady.” Matilda settled beside the bed and filled Isolde’s vision. “I’ve never seen you in such a state. What ails you?”
“Oh, Matilda,” Isolde said miserably. Tears ran hot from her eyes and soaked into the pillow as her pent-up emotions finally were free to wash over her. “I think I’m going to die.”
Cormac scanned the surrounding field of men. Some donned their finest surcoats over their chainmail in preparation for the joust. He wore an old tunic over his chainmail, eager more for practice rather than the daily jousts.
“I signed you up for the melee.” Alan smiled so wide that all his teeth showed.
Cormac lifted a brow. “Why would ye do that?”
The sky rumbled overhead as flecks of rain began to spit at them.
Alan framed his hand over his face like a visor. “Now you have an excuse to remain here through the end of the tournament.” He lifted his brows up and down as if they were in on a secret plot together.
“I said I was part of the melee to appease Lady Isolde,” Cormac replied. “I dinna have actually to join it.”
Alan opened his mouth, paused, then closed it and dropped his head. Guilt tightened in Cormac’s chest. He put a hand to the mercenary’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. At that very moment, Pip’s ears perked up, his attention pinpointing on a lone man in armor who wore his helm, even in the rain.
Lord Easton.
Or, most likely, Lady Isolde.
The dog panted excitedly, leapt to his feet and dashed over to Lord Easton.
For now, Cormac did not question his suspicion. Especially not after he had accidentally grabbed her injured arm in his attempt to keep her from falling the prior eve.
He could still recall how her body had rested so easily against his, the sweet scent of roses tempting him to tilt her head upwards to have better access to her mouth. He hadn’t, of course. But it didn’t mean he hadn’t been tempted.
Especially when she’d inhaled deeply, as though smelling him and breathed out those words that had haunted him through the night.
“You have no idea how much I’ve longed for this.”
Had she truly longed for him the way he’d longed for her? Most likely, the wine had put such words in her mouth. She had consumed a hearty