Page 66 of The Laird's Masked Passion

Something unreadable passed through his eyes. “Dae ye dance?”

“Very well.”

“A modest answer.”

“A true one.”

“Then perhaps me people will judge fer themselves.”

Her pulse gave an inconvenient little leap. “Are ye asking me tae dance with ye, Laird MacKenzie?”

“Nay.”

“Nay?”

“I am warning ye that I may.”

The warmth that rose in her face had no right to appear after such a day, but there it was, disobedient as the rest of her.

Elspeth looked down at her soot-marked gloves. “Then I warn ye that I may allow it.”

The room quieted again, but not as before. The smoke still clung to her. The fear had not vanished. But for the first time since she had arrived, Elspeth felt the smallest fragile shape of purpose.

Colin reached for the door.

“Elspeth.”

She looked up.

His voice was low. “It is a good idea.”

The praise settled strangely inside her, warmer than it should have been.

“Careful,” she said softly. “If ye continue tae approve of me, I shall begin tae suspect fever.”

His gaze held hers for a moment.

Then he opened the door. “Then we had best arrange the feast before it passes.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Colin did not trust quiet prisoners. Men who shouted could be measured. Men who begged could be understood. Men who spat curses usually had more rage than discipline and therefore more weakness than they knew.

Lachlan Kerr had said almost nothing since being brought to the castle. That made Colin want to break his silence one bone at a time.

He stood in his study with the door closed, with the smell of smoke still caught in his cloak and hair. On the table lay three matters, each troublesome in its own way: a burned storehouse, a prisoner who would not speak, and his wife’s idea of answering fear with music.

Breac stood near the hearth. Murdoch leaned against the wall with the expression of a man who considered furniture a needless indulgence.

“He has said naething useful?” Breac asked.

“Naething,” Murdoch replied. “He denies setting the fire. Denies kenning Munro. Denies even running.”

“He wascaughtrunning,” Breac frowned.

“Aye. He denies that, too.”

Colin’s mouth flattened. “Then he is either loyal, terrified, or stupid.”