Chapter Five
Constantine was sure the lass could feel his agitated heart thumping against his ribs as they traveled back to the road leading to Tor Castle.
She had been easy to find thanks to the single hoof prints her abductor’s horse had left.
The scent of her now, sitting in front of him on his horse, went straight to his head and soothed him before he kicked the unwanted thoughts away. He had no place for a woman in his life. No desire for one.
He hadn’t answered her when she asked about him killing his wife. In a way, he had killed her by not being there with her, at her side to give her strength. He wasn’t ready to speak of Alison or Katie, especially not to another woman.
When he’d gone into the inn to look for her and found her gone, he’d returned outside and threatened to kill the remaining three men if they didn’t tell him who had taken her and where they went.
He’d discovered that it had been Reggie MacKintosh, the MacKintosh chief’s eldest son who had taken her.
Constantine hadn’t cared if her captor were the chief himself.
MacKintosh should not have laid a finger on his…
his ward. He hadn’t cared when he’d kicked down the door of the small barn in the hamlet of Muirshearkich and killed MacKintosh where he stood.
The sight of her alive caused an odd flutter in his chest. He hadn’t kept his word to protect her.
Still, he had raced to her. He had killed in a blind rage on account of her.
It angered him that he would expend so much passion on her.
He barely knew her. But she evoked a spark or light in him of some kind.
Be it compassion, the gleam of strength and resiliency flashing in her gaze every now and then, or physical attraction.
When he’d found her, he bent to her. He shouldn’t have. Were there always thousands of tiny brown spots strewn across the bridge of her nose? Was her skin always so pale? Were there always dark crescents under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in…
He let out a little breath while they traveled and forced himself to breathe. He thought he’d forgotten how when he found her thrown in the threshing.
He wasn’t moved by much anymore, not by beauty, nor by one’s sorrows or sorry past. But he was moved by her.
“Thank ye fer coming fer me, Chief…I mean Lochiel,” she said now in her dulcet voice. “I knew ye would.”
He looked down at her uncovered head. She was a curious lass. She claimed to hate chiefs, but she clearly didn’t hate him. She didn’t trust him completely but enough to know he would come for her.
“How would ye know if I would come or not, lass? I dinna come to the aid of many.”
“Aye. That is what made me stand out to that man back there.”
“What are ye sayin’?” he asked, slowing his horse to a halt. “Look at me, lass.”
She obeyed and turned in his lap to face him. He refused to be moved by her now. Something in him that had once been soft, told him to stand firm and never forget the pain of losing his wife and daughter.
“That man noticed how ye guarded me. He thought there was something between us. That’s why he took me.”
He kept his breathing steady—though it was much more difficult than he’d imagined it would ever be. “Is that so,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t expect her to answer it.
But she did. “Aye. He said, ‘Though I wouldna have believed it if I hadna seen it with my own eyes. ’Tis rumored he hasna had a woman since he killed his wife.’” She finished and blinked up at him.
Constantine gave the reins a gentle flick and his horse began a slow trot.
“Fine, dinna answer.” She brooded a bit and turned to face the road.
“I didna kill her,” he offered after a moment. “She perished while giving life to our daughter.”
“Oh,” Miss Drummond lamented but didn’t return her gaze to his. “Fergive me fer bringing it up. I—”
Maddeningly, he was tempted to rest his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. He almost groaned out loud at the thought. “I shouldna have mentioned it. I dinna want yer pity. But I would have ye know that I didna murder my wife.”
His voice sounded rougher than he’d intended. She stiffened a bit in front of him.
Good, let her be angry, or think that he was. It was for the better. Once they arrived at the castle, he would keep his distance for a few days and then he would leave.
“Then…” she began, drawing him away from his plans… “ye have a daughter?”
“Nae,” he told her, his hands tightening into fist around his reins. “She joined her mother shortly after bein’ born.”
She made a sound but it was muffled in her hand. She said nothing else until they reached Tor Castle.
It had been a while since Constantine had been back.
He didn’t particularly enjoy being there, and most times, the only reason he did return was because his cousins were here.
But Alison was also here on every stairway, in the Great Hall and the kitchen.
In the chapel and in his chambers. His brother, Gilbert was here in the study hall, the solar, the Great Hall.
Ghosts roamed in every space, like sand seeping into every nook and cranny after a storm.
Their arrival—that was, the arrival of Geoffry, Fionn, Lachlan, and Lewis brought almost every female to the great doors to greet them home.
They didn’t spare Constantine a glance. Not that he saw, at least. They knew it was pointless.
It was something Miss Drummond would come to learn.
And then, she too, would remove her claws from him.
His heart was no longer available. He questioned if it even beat some days.
“Welcome home, Lochiel.”
Constantine turned to his cousin Hugh MacDonald, steward of Tor Castle.
Constantine’s father Malcolm had taken him in sixteen years ago, just before Malcolm died in battle.
When Gilbert became Lochiel he appointed Hugh to be their steward.
Constantine saw no reason to change things when he became Lochiel.
“’Tis good to see ye, Constantine.” Hugh offered him a warm smile, then turned his sharp gaze on Miss Drummond.
“Hugh, this is Miss Drummond, my guest.”
Hugh had always been kind enough to Alison—mayhap, sometimes a little overly protective. Constantine hadn’t blamed the steward for wanting to protect her. Alison was alone often due to the constant warring between the leaders.
He felt the slightest twinge of something eating at his innards, like a fire licking dry wood when Hugh continued to stare at Miss Drummond. Everyone in Lochaber knew Hugh was a handsome devil. In fact, that was what most called him. Handsome devil.
Constantine didn’t like the handsome devil shining his grin on Miss Drummond. But whatever he was feeling was terribly wrong, so he looked away at one of the chambermaids fawning over Lachlan.
“Joan,” he called out brusquely, “bring Miss Drummond to a chamber on the second floor.” The second floor gave Miss Drummond status.
He gave her tattered breeches and coat a scowl.
“And get her somethin’ clean and proper to wear.
Hugh,” he called out, “she is under my protection. Make certain everyone knows.”
“Aye,” Geoffry boasted. “He killed the MacKintosh’s eldest son fer thinkin’ to take her.”
A collective gasp filled the hall, but Constantine’s gaze had fallen on Miss Drummond. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but before she could get it out, he held up his hand. “I’ll see ye at supper.”
He left her without another word, trusting in the care of his staff to see to her needs and his cousin to see to her safety.
He climbed the stairs, expecting her to call out to him, or mayhap chase him.
He felt the infuriating urge to turn around to see what was keeping her from him.
He didn’t do it and was feeling rather good about it until he thought about the other men at the castle who didn’t know Ismay or that she was under his protection.
But he’d told Hugh to make certain the others were made aware.
What if Hugh forgets to tell them? What if one of them tries to woo her right under his nose?
! Wait now, the lass wasn’t his. He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking of her in such a manner.
She wasn’t his woman. Still, he had promised to protect her.
He pivoted on the heel of his boots on the dimly lit second landing. and started back for the stairs, ready to find Hugh and make certain he hadn’t forgotten his command. He stopped when he heard Miss Drummond’s voice.
“I have put the same question to him several times,” she said to someone as she ascended the stairs. “He has yet to answer.”
“Hmm, aye.” Hugh replied. “The Lochiel does as he likes, including barely speaking to anyone.”
Constantine scowled. Had he not told Joan to show Ismay to a chamber? And did he truly barely speak to anyone?
“I think he doesna wish to admit that he has a kind heart and took compassion on me.”
“Aye, compassion on ye.” Hugh was quiet for a moment. Then, “Tell me, Miss Drummond, have we met before, from where did ye come?”
Met before? Constantine inched closer to discovery, but he thought he should hear her reply.
“I’m certain we havena ever met,” she told him in a voice so quiet, Constantine almost didn’t hear her.
“Hmm,” Hugh considered her further. Then continued. “About the Lochiel, I think ye have the wrong man. The Lochiel doesna have a kind heart and I wonder if the MacKintosh chief will agree with ye about compassion when they tell him his son is dead. What do ye think, Miss Drummond.”
They reached the top of the stairs and one of them paled when he saw Constantine.
“Hugh,” Constantine said, moving closer, “if the MacKintosh chief canna control his bairns, they become trouble fer Lochaber. Fer me. I willna put up with them much longer.”
Without waiting for Hugh’s response, he turned his attention to Miss Drummond. “Where is Joan?”
“She had an urgent matter to attend with Lachlan.”
Urgent, as in she needed to tell him she loved him. She wasn’t the only lass who did.