Chapter 11 #3
For his part, Robert finished off the mug of weak ale Isa had offered earlier.
Relaxing in his spot against the rock wall, he was amazed that he could feel so comfortable, so natural, so at peace.
The moment was almost perfect. A man, a woman, a child.
If he had his little dog, Charlie, here, the scene would be complete.
Isa stared down at the boy in her lap, one long finger delicately stroking the side of his poor, misshapen face as little snores wafted up from him.
“What accident befell the lad?”
She looked up, startled, at his question, as if she’d been so lost in her thoughts she’d completely forgotten he was even there.
Not exactly a major stroke for his ego.
“Fire,” she answered at last, running her fingers lightly through the child’s hair.
“Though his grandmother swore to me it was no accident, their home burning to the ground. He was just a wee thing at the time. Must have been going on five years ago? Maybe six. I dinna believe he was even walking when it happened. Annie, his grandmother, was the one who pulled him from the flames. Burned her hands so badly she couldna ever fully return to her duties as cook.”
“His parents?” From the ill-kempt look of the child, he had a pretty good idea what her answer would be.
“His mother died in the fire. He had no father. Well—” Here her eyebrows lifted in a knowing manner. “No father that ever stepped forward to claim the poor lad.”
Robert nodded. It happened. People were people. The only thing worse was that he knew it would continue to happen. The passage of time wouldn’t much change people for the better.
“Was the battle you fought near here?”
This time it was his turn to be surprised by a question.
“Battle?”
“I could no help but notice yer wound this afternoon. The one on yer chest.” Her cheeks colored and she fastened her gaze back on the sleeping boy. “I’ve no great experience with battle wounds, but yers looked to be serious. Was it recent?”
“No. It was a long time ago.” Another lifetime ago.
Her eyes cut to him, her brow wrinkled. “But I could have sworn . . . It looked to no to have been healed too long.”
His gaze locked on hers until she looked back down.
The old scar had looked oddly pink this afternoon, but he’d reasoned that was likely a trick of the fading light. Or perhaps the result of her having elbowed him in that exact spot.
Surely it couldn’t be anything more serious than that.
“Of course, I am no a healer,” she muttered, cradling Jamie’s head in her hands as she slipped out from under him.
She lay the boy down gently as she stood, then stretched out her back before hurrying to the other end of the room.
There she bent over her wooden chest before returning, her arms wrapped around a thick woolen.
“I suppose I’d best take my own advice and get some rest.” Her eyes flitted nervously around the room, refusing to light anywhere.
Was she waiting for him to go?
“Well, then, I guess I’ll be out to the stable.” He rose to leave but she stopped him with a hand to his forearm, which she removed as quickly as she’d touched him.
“There’s no a need for you to do that. Yer welcome to take yer rest here by the fire, with the boy.”
She held out the bundle in her arms as if in offering. When he took it, his hands covered hers and her eyes widened, the spark he’d seen in the woods this afternoon returning. A tingling rushed through his body and the mark on his arm felt alive with movement.
Isa jerked away and stepped back. Averting her gaze to the floor, she clasped her hands tightly behind her.
“I . . . I’ve a boon to ask of you, Robbie.”
As if the look he’d just seen in her eyes wasn’t enough, her familiar use of his name sent a rush of heat chasing after the tingle that dove straight to his loins.
He lowered the bundle in his arms, holding it in front of him like a shield to protect him.
Or a screen, to hide the effect she had on him.
“Do you suppose you could find something for Jamie to do for you tomorrow? Odd jobs to keep him here for another day until we’re ready to travel to the castle?”
The thrill he’d felt building fizzled away like cold water tossed on embers. Was she so desperate to keep the boy here because of him? How ridiculous! Why on earth would she feel that was necessary? She didn’t need protection from him. He was sworn to be her protection.
“I suppose he could . . . he could maybe help me gather the saplings and bring them down for the fence.” He stumbled through his response, stung by her lack of trust in him.
“I would be most grateful to you. It’s only that he tells me of his grandmother’s illness and I want to keep him here long enough to be able to check on the woman for my own self when we go to the castle.
I dinna believe he’s being cared for at all, and he’s half starved every time I see him.
” She gripped the edge of her apron, twisting and tormenting the material in her grasp as she spoke, her words racing out as if she couldn’t speak them fast enough to suit her needs.
As her words died out, her face a flaming red, it occurred to Robert there might be more to this situation than his injured pride was allowing him to see.
It might not be that she wanted the lad to protect her from him. It just might be instead that she wanted the lad to protect her from herself.