Chapter Twelve #2
Constantine wondered how long this slight wisp of a lass had been holding back such a temper? Likely, her whole life. Of all the things he was so ridiculously happy about lately, her confidence in her safety here—enough to argue with his men without fear of consequences, made him happiest.
Fionn, and especially his brother were going from repentant to insulted as she went on. “Are ye the ones so concerned that ye will lose without him? What if he isna ready to fight—and he is not! And he gets killed? Will ye take responsibility fer that?”
Geoffry opened his mouth to speak but shut it again when Constantine sat up on his elbows and veered him off his angry path.
“Miss Drummond, thank ye fer havin’ my well-bein’ at heart.
I will admit that I am no’ against it.” He ignored Geoffry and Fionn’s quick, startled breaths and stunned expressions at his words and continued.
“But bein’ the leader here, I dinna have the luxury of remainin’ in my sickbed—even if ye are sittin’ beside it.
” He almost smiled when he caught the brothers out of the corner of his eye, turning to stare at each other.
If they believed he cared for her, they would be doubly cautious about how they treated her.
At first, he thought her scalding cheeks were enough to keep her from arguing with him in front of his men, but they soon cooled. “I dinna care if ye are the leader. I willna let ye out of this bed.”
He felt his gaze go warm, almost as hot as her cheeks had been. “How will ye keep me here?”
With a mumble oath, Geoffry spun around to leave and pulled his brother with him.
The door slamming shut snapped Constantine and Miss Drummond out of their reverie, and they looked away from each other.
“Lass.” He returned his attention to her first. He realized while his belly sank and flipped on the way down that he liked looking at her. “I spoke true when I said thank ye fer havin’ my well-bein’ at heart. But when my kin leave to fight, I will be with them.”
“Nae, ye will no’.”
His dark gaze hardened. “Ye insult me.”
“I dinna care,” she let him know, folding her arms across her chest.
He scoffed. “I dinna take orders from ye.”
“Should I beg?”
Was she being serious? Did he see a flash of fear in her eyes? Not fear of him, but for his being.
“Nae!” he rushed to tell her. He could not take it if she—
“Please, dinna go, Constantine.”
—begged him. He swallowed and looked into her eyes. “Clever lass.”
She did not respond but let him keep looking.
“I shouldna let ye have such dominion over me.”
“Why no’?” she asked softly, her voice skipping over his ears like a faerie’s laughter.
But he was the one who laughed. “Why not? Because…” He paused, trying to think of a reason to give her. Finally, he came up with one. “Because, if I let ye have me, and I lost ye, it would destroy me. My clan needs me. I canna let myself be destroyed.”
Whatever dreamy thoughts she looked like she was having a moment ago, faded into stunned disbelief. “What?”
He offended her. Damn him. “I didna mean it the—”
“Ye didna mean it?” she repeated coolly.
“I refuse to love again.”
She clenched her jaw.
Why could he not find the right words to tell her? “I’m no’ the hero ye think I am because I protected ye. ’Twouldna be right to let ye lay claim to a heart that barely beats.”
“It beats, Chief,” she corrected him. “I felt it in yer pulse and felt it pressed against me.”
“Hmm?” he asked, his anxious gaze fastened on her. Did she just say…? “Pressed against ye? When was my heart pressed to ye?”
She still appeared serious, but he was sure he saw a spark of fight still left in her.
“When ye kissed me last night, Constantine. I think since ye took yer pleasure in my mouth, ye should at least obey me.”
He felt like he could fall through the floor and then continue to burn his way to the earth’s core.
He had kissed her. It was not a dream. It flooded images through him.
Her eyes, closing to receive him, her sweet breath mingling with his.
And aye, he had taken his pleasure in her and then doubted it was real.
“Fergive me,” he said, fully repentant.
“Do ye mean that?” she asked him, narrowing her eyes. “Truly?”
Constantine somehow sensed that his answer was more important than he realized. “Aye, I took advantage of ye.”
She laughed quietly behind her hand. “Ye were the one who was weakened, not I. How could ye take advantage of me? If anyone is guilty, ’tis me. And I am no’ sorry.”
Constantine did not know if he should laugh or swear allegiance to her. “Then ye are no’ angry?”
She shook her head. An auburn curl tumbled down her cheek.
He lifted his fingers to it, but she pulled away from his touch.
Almost, it seemed, on instinct. He lowered his hand, but he was not offended or hurt by her rejection.
Aye, he was sorry he had kissed her when he should understand that she had been hurt and left skittish and untrusting of men.
He was not like other men. He did not know why it was so important to him that she knew it.
Of course, he was letting his wounded body fantasize about her, she was not his woman.
She was not staying at Tor. If his heart and head were in a better place, he might consider a longer future with her.
But, a part of him was angry at himself for letting her into a place where only Alison was allowed.
“I will think aboot yer request that I no’ fight while I recover.”
Her face lit up with joy. “Thank ye, Chief!”
He knew he was in danger of falling hard, but what could he do? What defense did he have against her clever wiles? He would not fight while he recovered. He just had to make certain he recovered quickly.
They ate together in his chambers, after she helped him sit in a chair. His cousins visited him and carefully watched his interactions with his female guest, muttering amongst themselves. Only Lachlan grinned like a fool while they shared ale around Constantine.
Hugh even came to sit among them in the chambers without any other purpose than to check on the Lochiel’s well-being and the well-being of Miss Drummond.
Constantine was glad others felt protective of her. After this afternoon’s incident, Geoffry and Fionn seemed to have forgotten her insult. The drunker Fionn became, the more lovingly he stared at Miss Drummond.
Constantine liked having them all around, but he was tired and wanted a few last moments with Miss Drummond before he fell asleep.
None of the men complained or teased him about throwing them out before the darkness of night settled on Tor. Lachlan, the perpetual rogue, winked at him on his way out.
Constantine considered making the lad train more. Since he had time for so many lasses, he could use that time to practice fighting.
“Why are ye scowling?” Miss Drummond asked while she began to clean up the cups and jugs the men had left.
“Because ye are cleanin’ instead of sittin’ near me.”
She stopped and looked at him, then smiled. She put down what was in her hands and came to sit on the chair closest to the bed.
“Miss Drummond—”
“When are ye going to call me Ismay?”
He felt the need to gasp for air looking at her pouting lips. “I…” He swallowed another breath and then took hold of himself. “Ismay is a verra bonnie name.”
“My father gave me the name when he took me in,” she told him proudly.
“When ye were born—”
“I didna have a name. I was called many things—but none of them are proper.”
She spoke as if he’d likely heard the same story from twenty other people. He had never heard such a tale in his life. A child without a name for the first eight years of her life. Who murdered the chief with whom she lived and became a child murderer and a hater of clan chiefs.
“Yer father chose wisely,” he said on half a breath. It was not that he pitied her anymore. Now, he could only stare in admiration that she had withstood the most tender ages under torment and survived, and then when her new, better life ended, she still did not give up.
What if he asked her to stay and then he died in battle?
“Ismay, I—” What? What did he want to say to her? “I want ye to sleep in yer bed tonight. Dinna tend to me. Bethia will do so. Ye need rest.” No. That was not it. He wanted her to rest, but not yet. He couldn’t tell her that now without sounding like an indecisive fool.
She waited a moment, as if she knew there was more he wanted to say and was waiting for it.
When nothing more came, she nodded and left her seat. “Goodnight then, my lord, chief.” She smiled and Constantine thought she moved a hair’s breath closer to him. Did she want him to pull her down for another kiss? Was he trying to convince himself that she wanted the same as he?
She left without kissing him, and he decided that if he were not so sleepy and his heart were his to do and feel as he chose, he might have gotten up out of bed and gone after her.
In fact, when he fell asleep a moment or two later, he dreamed he did just that.