Chapter Fourteen #2
“I was thinking of ye and ended up here.” Her gray eyes were like turbulent seas he wanted to run to.
He raised his brows and chuckled softly. “Do ye think of me often then?”
When she nodded her bonnie head, he wanted to bolt out of his chair and shout with joy that she shared the same plight as he.
“I am enjoying getting to know ye, Lochiel. I mean Constantine,” she whispered the last.
He let his smile on her widen. “I feel the same. Ye are a refreshin’ delight.”
Her cheeks grew pinker. She gasped a little breath when he leaned in. He should stop. He would stop if she requested or demanded it. He hoped she would allow it.
Her breath was sweet against his lips, proving his first assumption.
He breathed her in and reached for her bonnie cheek.
Pressing his mouth to hers was the hardest thing Constantine had done.
Marching into battle, clothed in mists with bagpipes playing a haunting tune all around him was not as hard as this.
Going home to an empty house was not as difficult.
He knew himself then. Kissing Ismay Drummond meant he was changing into someone he didn’t know.
Let me be a stranger to myself, he settled it in his head.
He took her in the way a starving peasant enjoyed his first meal in days.
He did not kiss her harshly or without control.
Nae, he took his time, caressing her petal-soft cheek then running his fingers through those bouncy flames and moving her head closer.
He savored the scent of her, the feel of her in his hand, the taste of her like sweet fruit off the tree.
He could have continued basking in her for the rest of the night, but when he stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue, she froze up and backed away.
He was glad. It was better to stop before he did something he would regret—like promise her anything.
“Ye are the first man who kissed me with intimacy,” she confessed. “I fear I let it overwhelm me.”
He offered her a smile. “I think the solution to that is practicin’ more often; gettin’ accustomed to it.”
“Is that so?” she asked with a playful grin that made his foolish head spin.
“Aye. I am a patient man. I dinna let desire rule over me.”
“Desire?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Fer me?”
He nodded and watched her face go up in flames.
“Ismay?”
“Aye?”
He did not release her gaze. “I willna let any desire rule over me. Ye have nothin’ to fear from me, aye?”
“I dinna fear ye, Constantine. Ye are the only man in my world whom I trust.”
Now it was his turn to blush. To trust another being in this life was a risk.
If one was graced to be the one another trusted, it was an honor.
A great one. Knowing Ismay had no one else made his heart break.
She had had one man in her life, only one she trusted.
Now that her father was gone, she had no one.
Nae. She had him.
It hardened his resolve to protect her, even from himself.
“Come, the hour is late,” he urged gently, hesitantly. “Let me escort ye to yer chambers.”
“All right,” she said, suddenly shyly.
She walked beside him down the hall to her chamber door. When they stopped before it, he leaned across her and opened the door with one hand. His heart thrashed wildly in his chest with the desire to kiss her again. But he had promised to let control lead him.
Before he had a chance to move out of her way, she gave him new things to dream about when she stepped past him and gave his lips a short, bold kiss.
He watched her disappear into the chamber, too surprised and pleased to speak.
She kissed him! He found it so exhilarating he almost knocked on her door to see if she would do it again.
He laughed softly. He laughed! Och, what was he to do with her?
He would not send her away and return to his dull, dreary days, hearing the same talk about responsibilities, raiding, the troubles of others, some fact he already knew about his enemies.
Ismay Drummond breathed fresh air into his days and he would not be quick to let her go.
But would she stay? Or would she choose a holier life hidden in a convent than one with him?
He would not force her to stay. He would not force her to do anything she chose not to do.
If she left, would his guilt over betraying Alison’s memory leave with her?
Would she wait while he went off to fight?
For the second time in his life, he wished he did not have to leave for battle. It would be a fight to the death. The MacKintosh chief would die and Constantine would inherit yet another sorrowful spirit that lived in his head.
He’d been killing for a long time now. The weight of all he had done was slowly destroying him, for he was drowning in the darkness.
But…his smile returned, reigning supreme. He wasn’t a monster. He was a soldier. If he had to fight, he would. If he had to kill a man for kidnapping a woman with vile intent, he would. But he would add praying for a way to avoid the upcoming battle to his list of strategies.
The MacKintosh was fortunate, he decided, stepping into his chambers. If this missive from the Chattan had been delivered last month, Constantine’s enemy would be dead by now and he would have grieved his deed. Because he was not a monster.
*
He was not a monster, but he still could not sleep longer than three hours.
The glorious consolation prize was that he didn’t remember dreaming.
There were no accusing eyes and wailing babies, no cries from men with whom he’d grown to adulthood dying in his arms. He was sure it all had to do with Ismay.
It was as if she had taken on his ghosts and was conquering them all.
Remembering the succulent taste of her drew him from his bed.
He slipped on a loose shirt and a pair of breeches, then padded out to her chamber door.
He did not knock or seek entry, but pulled a chair closer to the door, sat in it, and protected her from dust motes and castle mice until Bethia and Joan turned up at her door early the next morning.
Seeing them and wishing they had not seen him, he scrambled to his feet. But there was nowhere to run. It riled him that he wanted to hide from these two delicate lasses—who were not so delicate at all.
“What are ye doing here, Lochiel?” Bethia put to him sternly.
He was uncertain, but did she add emphasis on his title, as if he had more important things to see to? He didn’t.
With a resigned sigh at being caught, he confessed without any regret. He didn’t care if he sounded like a fool. He would not hide behind lies to protect his pride. “I’m standin’ watch over Miss Drummond”
“Against whom?”
He shrugged. “Anyone who thinks to breach her door.”
At that, Joan stepped away ten paces.
And the door to Ismay’s chambers swung open.
She appeared as if from the gates of his dreams, where she stood guard with an array of bonnie smiles, playful grins, and most deadly, her tinkling laughter that sounded like siren songs in his ears.
Her sleepy eyes took him in before anyone else, so he knew that it was him who brought such a radiant smile to her face.
“I thought I heard yer voice.” The sound of her settled over him like a welcomed blanket. “Ye are here early.”
“He has been guarding yer door all night,” Bethia informed her a bit stiffly.
“Och, and ye believe him?” Ismay said with a little laugh that reverberated through his blood. “He was being playful. In truth, he has come to bring me to the loch.”
“The loch?” Joan asked.
“Playful?” was Bethia’s choice of query.
“And of course, ye both will accompany us. Is that not correct, Lochiel?”
“Aye, ’tis.”
He didn’t have to play along. It was his castle and he was lord of it.
He didn’t have to make excuses for where he spent the night.
If others wished to gossip, let them. But Ismay would not have it.
So, for her, he agreed. He even smiled to help drive home, mainly to Bethia, that as astonishing as it was, he could be playful—since for her it was the part of the explanation most unbelievable.
“Well,” Ismay sang out, leaving the chambers. “Let us be on our way.”
Constantine joined her on her way to the stairs. What other choice did he have? It would be like trying to ignore the melodies of fairies, or the call of the waves.
“Did ye sleep by my door, Lochiel?” she asked in a voice only he could hear.
“Aye.”
He did not know what he expected her reaction to be, but it was not gratitude. Still, she offered it to him.
“Once again, I earn yer gratitude fer nothin’ but protectin’ ye from a mouse.”
“All right, then tell me. What do ye think ye were doing at my door? Ye know more than I do what ye were protecting me from.”
He stopped for a moment and looked into her eyes. “From bein’ alone.”
He held out his elbow when they reached the top of the stairs. She curled her wrist through it and let him lead her down.
Did she truly wish to bathe in the loch this morning? “The water will be cold, Lady.”
“I imagine so,” she replied softly, as if to bewitch him. It was working. “But the thrill is worth the chill, aye, Chief?”
His smile lit the halls and drew Bethia’s attention. Her scowl, despite it being a mild one, widened into stunned disbelief when he turned to shine on her. Nothing, neither guilt nor shame would veer him off his path to do as Miss Drummond wished.
On the way out of the castle, he met Hugh and told him to tell the cook to prepare a feast and have it brought to the loch. He also enlisted the aid of Lachlan. He reasoned it would be a wee bit more challenging to protect Ismay if he had to watch over Bethia and Joan as well.
“I brought an extra plaid to keep ye dry and warm,” he told Ismay, coming up behind her on the path.
She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Ye are verra thoughtful, Constantine.”
Hearing his name, Bethia pulled a kerchief out of a fold in her skirts and wiped her nose.
“I mean Chief-Lochiel,” Ismay stammered.
Constantine’s smile faded and he turned to glare at Bethia. “How much longer before the darkness engulfs me and I am lost? Would ye prefer that?”
The older chambermaid gave her nose one last swipe with her kerchief and then ran off. Constantine did not go after her. She was Alison’s friend, and to the MacMillans went her loyalties. Nothing would change that.
He didn’t care. He wanted to be right where he was with Ismay; making her smile—which in turn, did the same for him—and he hadn’t smiled in so damn long.
He would have time on the field, waiting to fight, to consider what everything with her meant, and if he should ask Ismay to stay with him for good. Today was hers.
When they rounded the bend and she saw the small pool and its glistening waterfall, she squealed with delight and hurried toward it.
He watched as Joan rushed to her and began untying the laces of Ismay’s stays. He commanded Lachlan to look away if he wanted to keep his eyes.
He did the same and turned toward the trees, then he smiled, pleased at the sound of Ismay’s laughter filling the small cove, and all the nooks and spaces of his heart.