Page 18 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird
“Nae.” He glanced toward her bandaged arm. “The cut?”
“Remains a cut.”
“Dizziness?”
“Nae.”
“Pain?”
“Only when questioned.”
His gaze rested upon her for a moment longer, as if he suspected sarcasm concealed a mortal injury.
Donaldina folded her hands in her lap. “Why are ye here?”
“I am returning tae the cliff path.”
She straightened. “Tonight?”
“Aye.”
“But the light is nearly gone.”
“That is the purpose.”
It took her a moment to understand. “You expect Cormac left men behind.”
“I expect naething. I intend tae make certain.”
He spoke with the calm simplicity of a man proposing to inspect a roof before rain. Donaldina stared at him.
“Ye fought through me castle, driven out a traitor, attended me brother’s burial and spent the remainder of the day questioning armed men. And now ye mean tae walk along a cliff in darkness.”
“There is still light,” he said plainly, moving toward the door.
Donaldina rose. He stopped.
“Ye should rest,” he told her.
“And ye should possess the sense God grants ordinary men. We must each endure disappointment.”
“Donaldina.” The use of her name halted her more effectively than the command hidden within it.
Since returning to the castle, he addressed her properly before the councilors and clansmen: Lady Donaldina or me lady. Those were words that restored distance and concealed the strange intimacy of the cliff path. Now they were alone, and her name sounded different in his voice.
“Ye arenae coming,” he said.
“I ken the path better than ye.”
“I’ve seen enough of yer knowledge of it.”
She felt the sting of the remark and knew at once that he had not intended cruelty. Something harsher than reproach lay beneath it.
Fear.
The realization unsettled her.
“Ye believe I shall be safer here?” she asked.
