Read Online A Highlander’s Homecoming by Melissa Mayhue - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Mayhue
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business.”
Around Isa, the air stilled as if the collective room held its breath, waiting to see which of the big men would blink first.
“Who are you to make such a claim? By what right?”
MacDowylt had asked the exact questions ringing in Isa’s mind.
“I am Sir Robert MacQuarrie, oath-bound to see to the lady’s welfare and protection.” The stranger flicked his gaze to her for a moment and then back to MacDowylt.
In that moment, Isa was struck again by this MacQuarrie’s eyes. Shielded. Eyes so hard they masked even the possibility of any emotion hiding behind them. What she wouldn’t give for that ability.
“Oath-bound,” MacDowylt repeated skeptically. “And just who would have had the audacity to accept such an oath from you?”
“Her father.”
His words tingled down Isa’s spine like tiny fingers brushing against her skin. What he claimed was impossible.
“What could you possibly know of my son?” the MacGahan laird demanded, once again on his feet, Roland rising to stand at his side.
“I know that his last words to me were of his concern for his daughter’s safety. I swore to him I’d see to her protection.”
Though MacQuarrie responded to her grandfather’s question, he did so without taking his eyes from MacDowylt’s face.
Roland snorted his disbelief, his normal sneer altered to one of contempt. “You’d have us believe you were there at his death? A score ago? You could have been no older than that filthy cur.” He gestured toward the spot where Jamie crouched.
“Nevertheless.” MacQuarrie shrugged as if their belief of his story was of no consequence to him. “I gave my oath to Thomas and I’m here to keep that promise.”
His body shifted toward MacDowylt, an almost imperceptible action, but the threat it held was unmistakable. As if charged with his intent, the air around Isa began to shift and flow with his movement.
“I’ll tell you one last time to release the lady’s arm.”
In the long moment that passed, Isa focused on the MacDowylt’s face, watching for any sign of understanding. How could he not feel the tension building as the air stilled to stifling around them? Much more of this and she’d be forced to gasp simply for her next breath.
When the corner of the warrior’s eye twitched again, she felt the tension blanketing her drain away.
He released his grip and lifted his hands in front of him as he slowly backed away.
Though MacQuarrie lowered his sword, he held it loosely in front of him, at the ready. Only then did he fully shift his gaze to her.
When she met his stare, she found herself captured. The eyes she’d found so hard and devoid of emotion only moments before were anything but empty now.
There, swimming in the brown pools, she could almost swear she saw something else. Something reaching out to her as if she were being invited into the very depths of the man’s soul.
Ridiculous. Every bit as impossible as his having been old enough to have been at her father’s deathbed to give the oath he claimed.
And yet . . .
In those depths she saw no deception. No dishonesty in the dark waters of his gaze. Nothing there but determination, solid and forceful.
“I can trust you?” To her own surprise, the involuntary words issued from her on a breath.
“You may believe me, my lady. Trust this to my care.”
Believe him? No, she couldn’t do that. His story was simply too unreasonable for the facts.
Trust him? Hardly. She trusted no one.
But allow him to deal with this situation? Leave her future in his hands as he’d asked? That, amazingly, she realized she could do. Especially since she was at a loss as to her next step in this delicate political dance.
She nodded her agreement and he smiled before turning his gaze back to MacDowylt.
That smile, a barely noticeable quirking of the corner of his mouth, obviously meant only for her, slammed into her, weakening her knees and her resolve.
This man, this Robert MacQuarrie, was
Around Isa, the air stilled as if the collective room held its breath, waiting to see which of the big men would blink first.
“Who are you to make such a claim? By what right?”
MacDowylt had asked the exact questions ringing in Isa’s mind.
“I am Sir Robert MacQuarrie, oath-bound to see to the lady’s welfare and protection.” The stranger flicked his gaze to her for a moment and then back to MacDowylt.
In that moment, Isa was struck again by this MacQuarrie’s eyes. Shielded. Eyes so hard they masked even the possibility of any emotion hiding behind them. What she wouldn’t give for that ability.
“Oath-bound,” MacDowylt repeated skeptically. “And just who would have had the audacity to accept such an oath from you?”
“Her father.”
His words tingled down Isa’s spine like tiny fingers brushing against her skin. What he claimed was impossible.
“What could you possibly know of my son?” the MacGahan laird demanded, once again on his feet, Roland rising to stand at his side.
“I know that his last words to me were of his concern for his daughter’s safety. I swore to him I’d see to her protection.”
Though MacQuarrie responded to her grandfather’s question, he did so without taking his eyes from MacDowylt’s face.
Roland snorted his disbelief, his normal sneer altered to one of contempt. “You’d have us believe you were there at his death? A score ago? You could have been no older than that filthy cur.” He gestured toward the spot where Jamie crouched.
“Nevertheless.” MacQuarrie shrugged as if their belief of his story was of no consequence to him. “I gave my oath to Thomas and I’m here to keep that promise.”
His body shifted toward MacDowylt, an almost imperceptible action, but the threat it held was unmistakable. As if charged with his intent, the air around Isa began to shift and flow with his movement.
“I’ll tell you one last time to release the lady’s arm.”
In the long moment that passed, Isa focused on the MacDowylt’s face, watching for any sign of understanding. How could he not feel the tension building as the air stilled to stifling around them? Much more of this and she’d be forced to gasp simply for her next breath.
When the corner of the warrior’s eye twitched again, she felt the tension blanketing her drain away.
He released his grip and lifted his hands in front of him as he slowly backed away.
Though MacQuarrie lowered his sword, he held it loosely in front of him, at the ready. Only then did he fully shift his gaze to her.
When she met his stare, she found herself captured. The eyes she’d found so hard and devoid of emotion only moments before were anything but empty now.
There, swimming in the brown pools, she could almost swear she saw something else. Something reaching out to her as if she were being invited into the very depths of the man’s soul.
Ridiculous. Every bit as impossible as his having been old enough to have been at her father’s deathbed to give the oath he claimed.
And yet . . .
In those depths she saw no deception. No dishonesty in the dark waters of his gaze. Nothing there but determination, solid and forceful.
“I can trust you?” To her own surprise, the involuntary words issued from her on a breath.
“You may believe me, my lady. Trust this to my care.”
Believe him? No, she couldn’t do that. His story was simply too unreasonable for the facts.
Trust him? Hardly. She trusted no one.
But allow him to deal with this situation? Leave her future in his hands as he’d asked? That, amazingly, she realized she could do. Especially since she was at a loss as to her next step in this delicate political dance.
She nodded her agreement and he smiled before turning his gaze back to MacDowylt.
That smile, a barely noticeable quirking of the corner of his mouth, obviously meant only for her, slammed into her, weakening her knees and her resolve.
This man, this Robert MacQuarrie, was
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