Page 14 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

She suddenly felt terribly alone without Orrick’s reassuring touch. She wanted to take his hand again and hold on to him. Strange. She couldn’t remember the last time she had accepted solace from anyone.

“Not many men would have borne such pain as you did sealing that wound,” Orrick said in a soft voice.

A faint smile touched Isolde’s lips as she closed her eyes. “Women are forced to tolerate pain far above that which men could endure on a regular basis.”

A soft, male chuckle sounded as she slid further into a relaxed state. “How right you are, warrior girl. How right you are.”

*

Isolde awakened in the middle of the night to find herself tucked beneath the covers of a strange bed. The golden glow of flames from a recently banked fire glowed in the hearth. She sat up, trying to put the bits and pieces darting through her mind back together. When her gaze drifted to a chair beside the bed, and the sleeping warrior in it, she remembered everything.

She had been injured and Orrick MacLeod had taken her back to Dunvegan. Every moment she spent here brought danger to the entire clan. Some of those she’d met yesterday understood that—Rowena, Alastair, and Tormod. Yet others had put that threat behind them to care for her—Orrick, Gwendolyn, and Fiona. Their acceptance of her, despite the risks, warmed her heart, knowing there was still kindness in a world that had shown her little in the past few years since her parents died.

Even so, she could not stay with the MacLeods long. She would not repay their kindness with suffering. Her gaze travelled over the face of the man at her bedside. His features at rest appeared softer. His face was less angular, his cheeks less sculpted, his lips less firm. It was as though in sleep he could be himself and not what others expected him to be. Isolde knew that sentiment all too well.

His lids flickered, then opened to reveal those dark eyes that always saw too much. “You were very restless during the night.”

She stiffened, then forced herself to relax. “I am not used to a soft bed, the warmth of the fire, or company.”

“If you would prefer less comfortable accommodations—”

“I did not mean—” She bit her lower lip. “I am grateful for all you’ve done to help me.”

He sat forward in his chair. His gaze searched her face. “How are you feeling? Lottie said you might run a fever.”

“I am better. I should probably go. Even though I was injured and not quite myself yesterday, I could tell I was the cause of much friction between you and your brothers.” She pushed the covers off, intending to get up when she saw she was dressed not in her rags but a soft linen night rail that was so thin and sheer it was almost transparent. She pulled the covers back.

“My brothers are not heartless. They have agreed to protect you while you recover, Isolde Nicolson.”

Her heart stumbled. “You know who I am?” And what I’ve done?

“My brothers seemed to recognise you immediately. You looked familiar to me when we met, but I still cannot recall where we met before. You wouldn’t care to enlighten me?”

Isolde dropped her gaze to the coverlet. Once she told him, the judgement that filled the eyes of others would also be reflected in his brown eyes. She issued a soft sigh. It was inevitable he would find out. Best if it came from her lips. “We met at the Highland games six summers ago. You were there with your friends when you came upon me preparing for the archery tournament.” She returned her gaze to his. “You mocked me for being a female archer.”

His brows furrowed, as if searching his memories. Then the lines between his brows smoothed and he smiled. “That was you?” He chuckled. “Well, we might have laughed at you, but you put us all in our places when you won the tournament.”

She didn’t share his amusement. “I’ve spent my life proving that I am a skilled archer and worthy of fighting alongside men. I am as hard and calculating as any male warrior.”

He sobered. “I apologise that I was amongst those who belittled your skill.” He gazed at her without speaking for a moment. “I think you are not as hard as you’d like others to believe. You were quite concerned for the safety of the little girl when the badger attacked.”

“I acted on impulse and was punished for it. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I am soft and feminine.”

He smiled. “You don’t believe feminine attributes have any place in a warrior’s life?”

“Not if she wants to survive in a world of men.”

His smile increased. “Wait until you get to know Gwendolyn, Fiona, and Rowena better before you make that judgement part of who you are. They are three of the most feminine yet fearsome women I know. But that will happen only if you stay here a while. It is my intent to stay by your bedside until you and I can start strengthening your arm once more.”

Isolde set her jaw stubbornly. “Go to your own bed. I have no need of you.”

“You did me a favour by saving Emlyn. Therefore I must do a service for you in return. I’ll stay with you until you are able to care for yourself again.”

“I am able to care for myself now.”

His brows arched. “If that is so, then stand and walk to the door.”

Isolde pressed her lips together and pushed back the covers once again. What did it matter if he could see through her gown? For once she made it to the door, she would never see him again. She put her feet on the floor and stood. The room swayed before her eyes. She bit down on her lip, determined to take a step, and her knees buckled.