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stir. His expression challenged her to protest, and she had a feeling that he was spoiling for a fight. When
she did not respond at once, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.
She was sharply aware of him physically. In her present position, she looked him eye to eye. His hands at her waist were warm
and strong. His body was large—huge compared to hers—and she realized that until he chose to set her down, she was powerless
to make him do so. That helpless feeling was unlike any she had experienced since early childhood. Her nerves tingled and
her breathing quickened.
She swallowed, hoping she could control her voice long enough to insist that he set her down, without revealing the disturbing
effect he had on her.
Before she could speak, he said, “Eilean Donan is an islet, mistress, much smaller than the Isle of Skye. If one had such
power, one could pick up our islet and Loch Duich—the entrance to which it guards—and put them both down anywhere on Skye
without disturbing much of this island’s present landscape.”
“Have you a point to make, sir, before dinnertime?” she asked.
“I do,” he replied, his strength apparently unstressed by her weight. He was still gazing steadily at her, and briefly meeting
that gaze, she saw that his eyes were not dark brown, as she had thought the night before, but a deep blue so dark as to look
nearly black. In an area where many men revealed the coloring of Viking forbears, his was unusual.
“The point,” he said, giving her a shake as if to be certain that he held her attention, “is that once we reach Eilean Donan,
you will go nowhere without my permission. It is clear to me that Mackinnon has allowed you far more liberty than simple good
sense would dictate. That will change.”
“You take your new authority much too seriously, sir,” she said, hoping that she sounded as determined as he did. “I am quite
capable of looking after myself, and I would ask you to put me down now. You have shown off your splendid strength to everyone
in the stable yard. I warrant that they are much impressed by it, but in truth, such a display is unseemly.”
He looked around and his rueful expression revealed that he had forgotten their surroundings. To her relief, he set her gently
on her feet. When he shifted his hands to her shoulders, holding her, relief turned to apprehension.
She realized then that the top of her head did not even reach his shoulder. Thus, he seemed larger than ever when he put a
finger under her chin and raised it, making her look at him again as he said quietly, “Hear me well, mistress. You no longer
answer to Mackinnon but to me, and you would be wise to remember that. Not only am I not a man you can safely cross, but I
am now your legal guardian, and by the King’s authority I hold the right to marry you myself or to arrange a marriage between
you and any other man I choose. Do not stir my temper.”
A mixture of fear and something less easily identified shot through her, but she repressed the feeling, licked dry lips, and
said with careful calm, “Am I to have naught to say to such plans, sir? I tell you now that I will not willingly marry you.
Nor will I marry any man simply because you say that I must. I tell you also—nay, warn you—that if you believe Donald of Sleat
will ignore this… this usurpation of his authority, he will soon make you see your error.”
His eyes gleamed. “I hope that Sleat comes to Eilean Donan to debate the matter with me, lass, for he will meet a warm reception.
If he dares to set foot anywhere in Kintail, my men and I will be ready for him.”
He seemed suddenly like a different man. Although he had scarcely been gentle before, by comparison to the violence she sensed
now just below the surface, his previous demeanor had been lamblike.
Abandoning her airs, she said quietly, “Why do you hate him so?”
“He killed my father.”
“Men kill other men frequently,”
she did not respond at once, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.
She was sharply aware of him physically. In her present position, she looked him eye to eye. His hands at her waist were warm
and strong. His body was large—huge compared to hers—and she realized that until he chose to set her down, she was powerless
to make him do so. That helpless feeling was unlike any she had experienced since early childhood. Her nerves tingled and
her breathing quickened.
She swallowed, hoping she could control her voice long enough to insist that he set her down, without revealing the disturbing
effect he had on her.
Before she could speak, he said, “Eilean Donan is an islet, mistress, much smaller than the Isle of Skye. If one had such
power, one could pick up our islet and Loch Duich—the entrance to which it guards—and put them both down anywhere on Skye
without disturbing much of this island’s present landscape.”
“Have you a point to make, sir, before dinnertime?” she asked.
“I do,” he replied, his strength apparently unstressed by her weight. He was still gazing steadily at her, and briefly meeting
that gaze, she saw that his eyes were not dark brown, as she had thought the night before, but a deep blue so dark as to look
nearly black. In an area where many men revealed the coloring of Viking forbears, his was unusual.
“The point,” he said, giving her a shake as if to be certain that he held her attention, “is that once we reach Eilean Donan,
you will go nowhere without my permission. It is clear to me that Mackinnon has allowed you far more liberty than simple good
sense would dictate. That will change.”
“You take your new authority much too seriously, sir,” she said, hoping that she sounded as determined as he did. “I am quite
capable of looking after myself, and I would ask you to put me down now. You have shown off your splendid strength to everyone
in the stable yard. I warrant that they are much impressed by it, but in truth, such a display is unseemly.”
He looked around and his rueful expression revealed that he had forgotten their surroundings. To her relief, he set her gently
on her feet. When he shifted his hands to her shoulders, holding her, relief turned to apprehension.
She realized then that the top of her head did not even reach his shoulder. Thus, he seemed larger than ever when he put a
finger under her chin and raised it, making her look at him again as he said quietly, “Hear me well, mistress. You no longer
answer to Mackinnon but to me, and you would be wise to remember that. Not only am I not a man you can safely cross, but I
am now your legal guardian, and by the King’s authority I hold the right to marry you myself or to arrange a marriage between
you and any other man I choose. Do not stir my temper.”
A mixture of fear and something less easily identified shot through her, but she repressed the feeling, licked dry lips, and
said with careful calm, “Am I to have naught to say to such plans, sir? I tell you now that I will not willingly marry you.
Nor will I marry any man simply because you say that I must. I tell you also—nay, warn you—that if you believe Donald of Sleat
will ignore this… this usurpation of his authority, he will soon make you see your error.”
His eyes gleamed. “I hope that Sleat comes to Eilean Donan to debate the matter with me, lass, for he will meet a warm reception.
If he dares to set foot anywhere in Kintail, my men and I will be ready for him.”
He seemed suddenly like a different man. Although he had scarcely been gentle before, by comparison to the violence she sensed
now just below the surface, his previous demeanor had been lamblike.
Abandoning her airs, she said quietly, “Why do you hate him so?”
“He killed my father.”
“Men kill other men frequently,”
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