Page 47 of Highlander’s Captive

“Aye.” Craig stood up from his sleeping roll and put on his coat. “’Tis the one solid thought I’ve heard in weeks.”

They walked up the stairs and went onto the wall. They leaned against the parapet, breathing out clouds of steam into the dark air. From here, the river and the loch were black against the shore and hills on the other side, which were grayish from a thin layer of snow.

Hamish handed Craig the drinking pouch and Craig gladly took several gulps. He grunted as the liquid burned his mouth and watched Hamish take a sip as well.

“Wife didna want ye to sleep with her?” Hamish said.

Craig threw a careful glance at Hamish. The man looked out into the vast darkness, his face pointedly calm and indifferent.

“I dinna wish to discuss my wife,” Craig said.

“Aye. Forgive me. ’Tis only that talking about things that trouble me helps when I canna sleep.”

Craig cleared his throat. He felt possessive of Amy—Hamish had often been near her, and now his first question was about her… Why was he so interested in her? He’d never get her as long as she was Craig’s.

“Why couldna ye sleep?” Craig reached out for the pouch.

Hamish chuckled. “Thinking of a woman kept me awake.”

Craig ground his teeth. Amy?

“A woman?” he said.

“Well, nae a woman. A girl. From when I was a wee lad.”

Craig raised his eyebrows, then took a sip. “Aye?”

“I was fostered on a farm after my parents died. She, too. She was the only person in the world who was kind to me. We were thick as thieves. My foster parents were rough with us both, but she, being a lass and younger, was weaker. She got sick because they beat her, and she died.”

Craig shifted his weight from foot to foot and gave Hamish back the pouch. Hamish took several long gulps. “I’m sorry to hear that, Hamish,” Craig said.

“I think of her often. Think what would have happened had I protected her. Would she have grown up strong and bonnie? Would I have marrit her? How would my life be different if she hadna died?”

Craig exhaled. The uisge began burning his stomach pleasantly, loosening his thoughts. Finally.

He sighed. He understood those thoughts, that pain. He hadn’t lost Marjorie, but he had allowed great harm to come to her. What would her life be like if she hadn’t been abducted and abused?

“I swore then to never let a woman be harmed,” Hamish said, then looked at Craig. “I suppose I feel overprotective of yer wife because of that.”

That, Craig understood, too. “Dinna fash about my wife. I am the one who is responsible for her protection, and I’ll never let harm come to her.”

“Aye. I ken. Still. Canna help it. Someone raises his voice at a woman, and something in me rises. I swear, I havna any thoughts of her as a woman, Craig. She’s rightfully yers, and I will never look wrongly at another man’s woman. I hope ye believe me.”

Craig studied him. There was a tone of insistence in his voice, mayhap a wee bit too much pressure in his words, but his eyes shone earnestly, dark under his furrowed brows.

Craig had no reason to mistrust him. In fact, he could very much relate to Hamish’s protective instinct.

Craig clapped the man’s shoulder. “Aye, Hamish. I believe ye.”

“Thank ye.”

“And if ye see anyone lurking around the pigeon house or anything strange, come to me, all right?”

Hamish straightened up. “Why? What is it about the pigeon house?”

Craig trusted him, but not that much. “Nothing. ’Tis only that if she tries to send a message to her father, ye canna allow her to do that. Aye?”

Hamish’s cheek twitched, barely noticeable under his eye. He probably still wasn’t thrilled that anyone could think badly of Amy.