Page 24 of The Hawk Laird

“I need to be welcome somewhere. I may find that at Wildshaw. Please take me there.”

“I would sooner take you to your grave,” he growled.

A shiver ran down her spine. She glanced at him, seeing a gaze hard and cold as steel.

“Why do you bear such vehemence toward Sir Ralph?”

“Wildshaw,” he said, “belongs to me.”

She stared in surprise. “But the English king made Sir Ralph its captain. My betrothed did not take it from you.”

“I inherited it upon my brother’s death. The English took it.”

“Then I will not trouble you to go there, but if you take me near it, I will find it myself. I have no other refuge.”

“I will not do that.”

She turned to frown at him, but he did not look at her. Puzzled, she turned back. Within moments she saw a black horse tied to a hazel tree. James slid down, mounted the black, and drew up beside her. The leather satchel with her spare clothing, which Sir Eustace had carried, was tied to the back of his saddle. Wordlessly, he took the reins of her horse to guide it alongside the black.

“Father Hugh and Sir Eustace will help me. Once in their safekeeping, I will be off your hands,” she said.

“You are in safekeeping now. Mine.”

“Am I? It seems as if you are holding me hostage.”

“In a way I am.” Bold words, spoken quietly. His grip pulled her reins taut.

Her heart thudded, but she lifted her chin to disguise her panic. “What do you mean? You cannot think to ransom me. I have scant value now, with my castle destroyed.”

“You have value outside of Aberlady.”

“What? Oh! Does King Edward want me brought to him? Is that why you came to Aberlady? You mean to escort me to the English king and make a profit for yourself!”

“If I intended that, I would have walked you out the gate of Aberlady and handed you over to the English, and saved myself the bother of descending a cliff in the dark.”

“Then what do you want?” Anger and fear struck through her with hot, quick force. She yanked on the reins. “You cannot take me where I do not want to go!”

He did not loosen his hold. “Lady Isobel,” he said, not unkindly. “Just now, I want to take you where your wounds can be looked after properly.”

“And then you will barter me for coin to the English!”

“If you prove a wearisome guest, I will give you to them for naught.”

“Ah, so you do mean to barter me!” She yanked back.

“Possibly.” His grip was firm on the leather.

Panic struck her. “Why? I have done naught to you! You treated me with kindness at first. I do not understand you!”

“Must you?” he asked, sounding exasperated.

“Aye,” she said. Suddenly she wanted to know him, very much; his thoughts, his past, his feelings. Her heart pounded with a heady combination of fear and fascination. “Aye! Why do you do this? What do you want of me?”

He sighed. “We cannot stay here, Lady Isobel. Come ahead.” He pulled on the reins. She held on to them stubbornly.

“You helped me with a gentle hand when I was injured,” she said, the words spilling forth as her temper boiled. “You gave me time in my mother’s garden for my farewells. And I was sure that you regretted setting Aberlady afire.”

“I did. Let go of the reins.”