Conall would have laughed if he hadn't felt so badly for the broken little figure sprawled in the dirt at his feet. He sent a warning glance to his men to cease their chuckles and with a wave of his hand sent them back to their work.
For an instant he worried that the girl had severely hurt herself, for she did not move, not even when he knelt beside her and softly said her name. He found it pleased him to say it even as he realized it should not. There was a way to address a Lady and to lapse by calling her by her given name in front of his men had been a grave mistake.
He'd worry on that later.
"Come now, little one," Her tiny sniff brought the corners of his mouth up, "Roll yourself over and let me see what ails you."
"I'm well. You may go, milord." Her voice came muffled and choked.
Laughing he swiftly rolled her over and hoisted her tiny figure into his arms, surprised at her lightness. He'd have to take notice of her eating habits and make sure she was getting enough sustenance at their meals.
He was always so busy trying to learn the ways of Lady Catriona that he'd not paid Isla much thought. He'd have to remedy that, while Catriona would be his wife, he was still duty bound to watch over his young charge.
Another sniffle brought his attention back to the tiny bundle of weeping woman in his arms.
"Look at me, Isla." There, he'd said her name again. That must stop at once.
A watery onyx gaze was lifted to his and tangled curls from loosened braids spilled over his bare arms. The silky texture sliding over his flesh sent a shiver down his spine.
There were a few abrasions amongst her freckles and clumps of mud stuck to her forehead, but there were no wounds that could not heal on their own.
"No real damage, mo bhilis. You'll be to ye fair self in a fortnight."
The bottomless dark of Isla's irises transformed to a an indigo and an eagerness passed across her tiny dirt covered features, "Fair?" Her voice no more than fairy's whisper.
He'd not meant to call her fair and now he was unsure of a proper response. It was obvious the answer was very important as she never took her searching gaze from his. He'd venture to guess the lass had not been paid many compliments, overshadowed by her more ethereal sister.
Clearing his throat awkwardly he gave a slight positive nod.
A wide smile parted her lush lips and even through the dirt and mud Conall could see a glow emanating from her.
Beautiful.
Where had a thought like that come from? He was losing his mind, that's what it was. Too many new responsibilities and other distractions causing what he hoped was a temporary bout of daftness.
Moving briskly, his marching feet carried them to the entrance of the keep all the while her watchful eyes stared up at him in wonder. He pretended to not notice. He'd have to watch himself more carefully with the young girl, less she get the wrong idea.
Perhaps he was seeing things that were not there. She had cowered from him like he was a beast no more than moments ago. Mayhap she was just relieved to not have had her bones crushed by his fists? Women were quickly becoming a lethal poison to his once sharp senses.
Standing just within the hall's entrance he lowered Isla gently to her feet, keeping his hands on her slender waist till he was sure she could stand on her own. Almost feverish warmth emanated beneath her gown and into his scarred. Clenching his hard jaw he fought off the insistent lust that coursed through his body, settling heavily in his loins.
He'd been too long without a warm woman in his bed and that was proving to be a disadvantage here. Gills was always saying if a young man abstained for too long he was bound to lose his mind. Gills' never seemed so full of wisdom as he did to Conall in this moment.
"Thank you, milord." Her head was lowered again, the glow gone. Conall knew it was best to let her go this way but found he wanted to stay near her for a bit longer. "Come with me, I have a salve that will heal your wounds."
Before he could change his mind, and because he found he did not want to, he started dragging Isla along with him to his chambers in the West tower. The words improper and ruined screamed in his head, but as he did with most people he did not care to listen to, he tuned the urgent voices out.
There was a moment when he felt her feet trying to dig into the ground and stop his mad flight for the tower but a sharp tug had ended the physical argument and once again she was scurrying along with his insistent stride.
Her hand was tiny and soft within his much rougher hold and he wondered if all her skin would prove as sweet. Oh how he was running down a road that would bring him no good. Bring her no good, and that was the more important point his conscience tried to make.
He was honor bound to cause this girl no harm and he'd stand by the vows he made when The Bruce had knighted him, but with each step that brought them closer to his chambers, the less and less he cared about honor and vows.
How odd! There had never been a time in his life when he'd thought of discarding his duties, but now with Isla's slender fingers brushing his palm and the soft breathy noises escaping her mouth as she ran to keep from being dragged, it was all he could think of.
Under control, Con! Bring yourself under control!
And then they were within his chambers. He did not even recollect opening the door. Some reason forced its way forward and bayed him to leave the door open as he released her hand and went in search of the salve an old camp woman had made for him.
Even with his back to her, he could feel Isla's nerves rolling in great waves around the large chamber he'd taken as his room. The soft sound of her slippers shuffling against the stone whispered against his ears. It was the late Laird's solar, but it no longer appeared as it had when his father had ruled the room, the same room he'd slept in with Conall's weak willed mother.
He'd ordered every last piece of furniture from the room burned. Now all that adorned its vastness was a heavy wooden bed, two chairs before the hearth and three ornate chests that he'd filled with the few things he'd managed to drag along his travels.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Isla. You have nothing to fear." This said as he sorted through a chest set at the foot of his bed.
"Yes, milord."
Her voice had a hint of defeat laced through the soft tones and he stopped his search so he could face her, still kneeling on the hard floor, "I assure you, I mean no harm."
"I should not be here, Laird." She glanced around the room with unease, "If someone comes upon us they may think poorly of the....the... I should not be here." She turned to leave but he halted her retreat with a loud command to stay her actions.
"I am the Laird here, Lady Isla. The people of this keep will think exactly as I tell them to think."
She looked at him with annoyance now, "You think it that easy? Tell them to not think and they will not?"
When he gave a nod of agreement a short laugh escaped her lips, "Then I believe you have a lot to learn about a clan." Stepping back into the chamber she crossed her arms over her small chest, "They are not animals or even good little soldiers you can command with no regard. They have thoughts and feelings of their own. You should remember that in your dealings with them."
"You question my ability to run this clan?" Unwanted anger rose from his stomach causing his vision to turn blurry. How dare she tell him how to handle his own clan! She could barely walk five steps without falling on her face or causing some other catastrophe and she thought to teach him how to handle an entire clan?
"No! No, of course not, milord. I merely ask that you understand that while this may be your keep, your clan, your actions are still watched and as a Lady mine are severely scrutinized." Her hands now rested on the generous flare of her hips even as a mask of uncertainty settles across her marred face, "As a woman I am judged by a harsher standard. You're a man, you may do and say as you please. I've no such freedom and many a tongue will speak ill of me if it is known I am here."
Then he could have sworn a smile tilted the sides of her bow lips, "I know Catriona especially will not be pleased."
A sudden burst of sound echoed up the stairs leading to his solar and Lady Catriona appeared as though just the mere mention of her name conjured her up before them. Her flashing blue eyes darted around the room before settling on Conall, who found that kneeling on the ground at the feet of the two women left him feeling rather inadequate to deal with whatever confrontation was about to take place.
Her cold gaze was at war with the sweetness of voice as she asked, "What takes place here?"
Isla straightened her back answering her sister even though the woman had not even acknowledged her presence, "The Laird is finding a salve for my face. I fell."
At the sound of her sister's voice Catriona's arm went ridged at her side curling her hands into angry fists but her voice was cool when she replied, "Of course you did, dear sister."
An eerie smile distorted her beautiful features, making her appear ghoulish but the look was smoothed as she leveled her eyes once more on Conall. "Milord, we would be content to receive you in our solar once you have found your potion." With this she wrapped talon fingers around Isla's upper arm and hauled her from the chamber.
Unease tightened Conall's stomach but he turned back to his chest wishing to have the task carried out quickly. He did not think it a sound idea to have the two women alone together. Not when Catriona appeared she wished nothing more than to rip Isla to shreds.
Strange that she would be threatened by Isla's mere presence in his open chambers. If he did not believe the mood had more to do with her own vanity and not his honor, he would have been offended.
He'd have a lot of sweet talking and smoothing of feelings to do.
Where in bloody hell is Gills when I need him? Gills had a way of softening difficult situations with his quick wit and friendly face. Conall made war, instigated battles, he'd never tried to ease one.