The Lady's Protector (Highland Bodyguards #1) (18 page)

“Ye might want to close yer mouth, lest ye drool all over yerself.”

Ansel snapped his eyes from Isolda and pinned his sister with a narrowed gaze. She only smiled sweetly at him.

He and Meredith sat on a length of thick woolen Sutherland plaid, for though it was a dazzlingly bright fall day, the ground was still soft from the recent rains. In fact, the grass surrounding Brora Tower glistened in the yellow sunlight, sparkling to rival the crystal-clear skies overhead.

Yet despite the perfect autumn day, Ansel felt a familiar gray weight pressing in his chest.

“I wasnae drooling.” Nay, he hadn’t been, but he was staring. He couldn’t seem to
stop
staring at Isolda these past five idyllic days at Brora Tower.

How she’d transformed in those few short days. Slowly, he’d watched the tension ease from around Isolda’s mouth and eyes. Her shoulders straightened, but not with the cold rigidness she’d borne when he’d first met her. Nay, now she carried herself with an easy grace that entranced him.

It had taken all of Ansel’s willpower of late not to reach out and stroke her glowing cheeks, or caress the dark, cascading tresses that she now left unbound from their confining plait. How he longed to kiss the woman blossoming to life before his eyes.

He somehow found the strength to remain sleeping on the floor at the foot of her bed every night despite the lure of her slow, steady breathing, which lifted her perfect breasts and parted her berry-ripe lips. He had to clench his fists as he sat by her side at Meredith and Burke’s little wooden table for meals to avoid dragging her into his arms. And he never missed the gentle sway of her body whenever she busied herself with chores around the tower.

But far more perilous than the primal pull he felt toward Isolda was his knowledge of the source of her transformation.

She feels safe.

Even thinking it now sent his heart hammering against his ribcage. He’d finally earned her trust, and his reward was getting to witness her body relax, her mouth and eyes soften, and her laugh rise naturally in her throat.

Ansel felt Meredith’s keen gaze studying him.

“Tell me, Brother,” she said, far too casually for his liking. “Why is it ye’ve decided ye cannae own up to yer obvious feelings for Isolda?”

Obvious
? He silently cursed himself. Aye, he must appear like a moon-eyed fool for all the ogling he’d been doing.

Unbidden, his eyes landed on Isolda once more. She stood a pebble’s throw away, slightly farther down the hill upon which Ansel sat with Meredith. Isolda and Niall were working to train Meredith’s most recent animal acquisition, a young deerhound. As Isolda bent to hand Niall a scrap to give to the wiry gray dog, her chestnut hair glinted in the sun.

Ansel let out a long exhale through his teeth.

“As I told ye before, Meredith, ye should mind yer own business.”

She swatted his shoulder and shot him a scathing glare, though he almost smiled at her fierce little scowl. His sister had always been a soft-hearted, gentle creature—it explained the ever-growing menagerie of animals with which she surrounded herself.

“Ye
are
my business, ye old goat—and so is Isolda, for I find that we are fast friends,” Meredith said, her eyes following Ansel’s to where Niall and Isolda played with the deerhound. “Ye cannae be holding back because ye fear she doesnae return your affection,” she prodded softly. “Her eyes are drawn to ye just as much as yers are to her.”

As if beckoned by Meredith’s words, Isolda lifted her head and locked eyes with Ansel. Before she could quickly avert her gaze, those pale green depths scalded him.

“It is no’ so simple,” he muttered under his breath.

Just then, the tower door opened off to their right and Fiona’s dark head poked out. She slid from the safety of the doorway, the large orange cat at her feet. The cat trotted toward where Meredith and Ansel sat in the sun, gingerly lifting its feet over the wet grass. Fiona, spying Niall and Isolda with the gangly deerhound, merrily scampered toward them.

In just a few days, Isolda had managed to capture the affections of all at Brora. Granted, Burke had an easy, friendly way with everyone. It was no great surprise that he quickly extended his kindness to Isolda. But Meredith, like Fiona, was normally shy and reserved. Yet both Ansel’s sister and niece were clearly taken with Isolda, and Ansel reckoned that Isolda would be the first to break Niall’s young heart.

The orange cat settled itself on Meredith’s lap, and she stroked him absently as her gaze followed Fiona to where Niall and Isolda stood.

“And why is it no’ so simple?” she said, shooting Ansel a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Ansel sighed again. Though his sister was sweet and warm-hearted, she was also a Sutherland, which meant that she was as stubborn and unyielding as the rocky soil in the Highlands. She would keep after him until she had her answers.

“King Robert has entrusted me with protecting her,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I cannae be both her lover and her guardian. It would only lead to…distractions—which she could pay for with her life.”

He turned to glance at Meredith and found her staring at him quizzically. “Ye are truly daft, arenae ye?”

Ansel frowned at her, but she went on. “Did ye ever consider the fact that yer feelings for Isolda make ye a
better
protector?”

“Ye dinnae understand,” he muttered.

“Och, but I do. Ye are frightened for her, is that it?”

Ansel nodded curtly. Aye, he was frightened—he’d never felt so vulnerable knowing her safety depended on him. It was as if his heart beat outside of his body.

“Ye are frightened to lose her,” Meredith went on, interpreting his silence. “Ye care so greatly for her that ye dinnae ken what ye would do with yerself if something happened to separate ye.”

He swallowed but didn’t answer. His gaze fixed on Isolda. The deerhound was playfully chasing a squealing Fiona in a circle around Isolda’s legs, with Niall calling encouragement to the animal.

“Dinnae ye think that such a strong drive to keep her safe would be a good thing?”

Ansel’s chest pinched painfully. He longed to believe Meredith’s words, but he’d told himself over and over that he
couldn’t
want her. He was a man of honor, of duty. Wouldn’t he be turning his back on the mission his King gave him if he let himself care for Isolda?

Or might there be a sliver of hope that he could both honor his mission and claim what his heart wanted more than anything?

Before he could form a response to Meredith, the deerhound bumped into Isolda’s legs as he made yet another loop around her. The young, ungainly animal was nigh full-sized, his head approaching Isolda’s waist, but he clearly didn’t have control over his limbs yet.

Isolda wobbled, then her foot slipped on the damp grass and she tumbled backward, landing hard on her bottom.

Like lightning, Ansel shot to his feet. Somehow he covered the dozen paces between them in a heartbeat. He dropped to her side, taking her gently in his arms.

She blinked up at him. Then to his utter surprise, chiming laughter erupted from her.

He couldn’t help it. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, joining her merry laughter. He carefully helped her to her feet, his hands lingering on her waist.

“Oh drat,” she said, batting at the mud on the side of her green gown where she’d slipped. When the mud wouldn’t budge, she simply shrugged and shot him a grin.

The sun seemed dim compared to her radiant smile. His breath froze in his lungs as he continued to stare down at her. Her smile faltered as the air thickened with anticipation around them. The shrieking children, the overexcited deerhound, the tower, and Meredith’s watchful gaze all seemed to fall away.

“Thank you,” she said, blinking.

Ansel forced his hands to drop and stepped back. “Of course.” He cursed himself for a bloody fool as he quickly strode back to where Meredith sat and resumed his place on the plaid next to her.

“I think ye just proved my point, Brother,” Meredith said. Though she kept her gaze casually on the orange cat in her lap, a mischievous smile curled her lips. “Yer love for Isolda makes ye all the better to protect her. It isnae a liability, but rather a strength.”

“Love?” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Meredith turned on him, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Ye are the greatest dolt I have ever known, Ansel Sutherland! Of course ye love the lass!”

It was as if a pit had opened up beneath him, threatening to suck him into the muddy ground. Yet at the same time, his heart seemed to have sprouted wings and taken flight in his chest.

He loved Isolda.

It was as clear as the sky overhead, as bright and pure as the sun bathing him in warmth.

He loved her. It was so simple, and yet so strong.

Suddenly he was on his feet again.

“I need to talk to her.”

“Aye,” Meredith said, her merry voice chasing him as he strode back toward Isolda. “Ye do.”

Isolda ruffled Niall’s sandy hair as he darted past her and after the deerhound. She felt her lips curl as she watched the children chase the dog.

Niall was likely only a few months older than John. Her heart tugged at the thought. Would she recognize her own son when she saw him again after almost a year apart? She was so close to John now, closer than she’d ever let herself hope to be again.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, pulling her gaze from the children and the deerhound. When she turned to find Ansel approaching again, her heart lurched, but for an entirely different reason.

Ever since he’d bathed at the nearby lake—he called it a
loch
, his brogue caressing the word—on the day they’d arrived, he’d donned his green and blue plaid in the same fashion as Burke wore his. It was belted around his hips and fell in pleats to his knees, where his woolen hose and boots met the edge of the plaid. An extra length of the colorful material was thrown over his shoulder across his simple white linen shirt. He truly fit the part of a Highland rogue now.

His eyes held her as he approached, his dark brows lowered and his mouth set firmly. Even in the face of his gruff demeanor, butterflies fluttered through her stomach. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

He halted before her, so close that she had to tilt her head back to maintain their eye contact.

Suddenly, though, his steady countenance faltered. He shifted on his feet, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“It was just a little slip. No harm done,” she said quickly. “I am well, I assure you.” And she was, except for the painful contortion of her heart when he’d scooped her onto her feet a moment ago after the dog had tripped her.

“I…I wish to speak with ye,” he said, his voice low and rough.

She blinked, her mouth all at once dry and her tongue wooden. Something clearly weighed on his mind.

They hadn’t spoken of their lovemaking at the inn since they’d had to flee Stirling. Ansel had made it more than clear that he thought their lapse had been a mistake. Although such knowledge stung, it was for the best—it served as a reminder that she, too, had her reasons not to make such a dangerous error again.

Whore
.

Harlot
.

Wanton
.

The memory of her parents hurling those words at her still burned almost six years later. And though Lancaster had never said as much, his treatment of her, and of John, proved that he, too, recognized her for what she had become—a nobleman’s mistake, to be swept out of sight with the right amount of coin.

The heat of shame—for the past and for the traitorous longing she still felt for Ansel—burned her cheeks. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

Ansel cocked his dark head toward where his sister sat unabashedly watching them. “It would be best if we were alone.”

“Are…are you sure that is wise?”

They had both been studiously avoiding being alone together these past five days—except for the fact that they shared a small chamber every night. Ansel was always careful to wait long after she’d climbed into bed to take up his place on the floor, and he was always gone by the time she rose in the mornings. Still, sometimes she woke in the middle of the night and listened to him breathing, deep and slow. His mere drawing of breath sent a searing knot into her stomach.

“Aye,” he said. “Come. Walk with me.”

He extended his forearm toward her, his eyes dark and unreadable as they scanned her face.

Slowly, she looped her arm in his. The cords of muscle in his arm jumped under her fingertips. It was as if a bolt of lightning passed between them at the contact. Heat coiled deep in her belly and rose into her cheeks.

“What is it?” she croaked as they drew away from where the others played on the grass surrounding the tower.

His arm stiffened once more beneath the thin linen of his shirt. Isolda dared a glance at him. For the first time since she’d known him, he seemed…tentative.

Ansel cleared his throat. “Ye…ye certainly have a way with Niall and Fiona,” he said at last.

Surely this wasn’t why he wished to speak with her alone. Yet his discomfort radiated off his large frame like heat from a fire as they strolled side by side down the grassy slope away from the tower.

Isolda felt her brows collide. What was Ansel about? He seemed to be struggling mightily with something. It would be cruel of her to push him, so she decided to go along with his line of conversation.

“Thank you. Fiona truly is sweet behind her shy exterior. She will grow into a great beauty like Meredith someday, I’m certain. And Niall…” Her throat tightened. “He reminds me a great deal of John—or how I imagine John is now.”

“Ye miss him terribly.”

It wasn’t a question, but Isolda nodded at Ansel’s gently spoken words.

“I…I suppose ye long to return to Dunstanburgh with John someday, then,” he said carefully. “When it is safe for ye to retrieve John and return to England, that is.”

Not long ago, Isolda would have bristled at the subtle undertone in Ansel’s voice. It made it seem as though he was angling for information. She would have clamped her mouth shut at even the faintest impression that he was pressuring her to tell him John’s location.

But she knew Ansel now. She trusted that he would never try to coerce or cajole the information from her. Instead, Ansel’s line of conversation appeared to be probing her desire for her old life at Dunstanburgh.

“Nay, I think not,” she said softly. “Dunstanburgh holds naught for John and me anymore.”

Ansel’s step faltered, and he turned surprised eyes on her. He recovered quickly and continued to guide them toward the sparkling lake beyond the tower.

“I ken that living in the middle of the castle’s construction would be…uncomfortable,” he said slowly. “But that willnae go on forever. Soon enough, the castle will be completed and ye and John could live in peace there.”

Even as he spoke, though, a cloud crossed over his eyes. Her own heart squeezed at his words.

“I am no longer certain that peace will ever exist so close to the Borderlands,” she murmured. “Or that John and I will ever truly be safe in England.”

“But what of yer title and all the finery that comes with it?” he pressed. “Surely ye will miss the life ye had there.”

Isolda would have laughed if her heart hadn’t suddenly jumped into her throat, nigh choking her with emotion. Realization dawned on her. With a flashing clarity, she knew she had to tell Ansel the truth at last.

“Ansel…you must know something.”

She swallowed, but her throat remained thick. She had hidden her secret for so long. Yet she trusted Ansel like a flower trusts the sun to warm it and draw it back to life after a long, cold winter.

“I…I am not a lady. Not truly.”

He drew her to a halt again, this time at the lake’s rocky edge. To her relief, he did not gasp in shock or level her with a sharp, questioning gaze. Instead, he kept his eyes on the lake’s shining surface, saving her from the embarrassment of having him see her blush of shame.

“What do ye mean?” he asked at last, still pointed more toward the shimmering water than to her.

Isolda dragged in a fortifying breath. Something about gazing at the lake, gilded in sunshine and lightly ruffled by a soft breeze, helped her find the strength to speak.

“I am the daughter of a cloth merchant. My parents and siblings and I traveled between festivals and markets to sell our wares. We visited Clitheroe almost six years ago for the fair in honor of the Earl of Lancaster inheriting Clitheroe Castle from his father-in-law. Thomas…”

She had to swallow hard and forced her tongue onward despite the thick shame rising in her throat.

“Lancaster, that is,” she went on, “saw me at the front of my father’s stall during the fair. I was selling cloth to the ladies of the castle. He approached and…”

The bands of muscle under her fingertips bunched and twisted as Ansel clenched his fists.

“Did he force ye?” His voice was raw and rough, but he continued to stare at the lake.

“Nay,” she whispered. “He wooed me, silly girl that I was. I had only just turned seventeen. Though we saw all manner of people in our travels, my parents kept me sheltered from the roving eyes and hands of men. I wasn’t even supposed to work the front of our booth, for my father forbade it, but both he and my mother had been pulled into a dispute with one of the neighboring merchants.”

A puff of air escaped her lungs to think back on her folly. How little she’d known of the consequences of her ignorance.

“Lancaster spoke to me at the booth. He begged me to meet him in secret. Of course I had never been the recipient of such attentions, especially not from such a powerful man. He told me that I was special, different. He made promises that I learned only later he had no intention of keeping.”

She fell silent for a long moment, her heart twisting at the memories she so often tried to forget. Ansel remained quiet, letting her gather her words in her own time.

“Lancaster lost interest in me once he had taken my innocence. When I realized I was pregnant, my family was preparing to depart to southern England for another festival. They denounced me, saying I had shamed them. They told me to seek Lancaster’s protection, so I went to the castle to plead my case to him. They left while I was there. I’ve not seen them again.”

“And Lancaster,” Ansel said, gravel in his voice. “He sent ye to Dunstanburgh.”

Isolda nodded, blinking back the tears that blurred the dazzling lake before her eyes. “He did me the honor of granting me a title, and he provided a guard and a maid for my comfort—Bertram and Mary. But the truth is, he bought my silence and my invisibility. He hid me and our son at Dunstanburgh, with no one else but an aging guard and maid the wiser.”

She shook her head, pushing down her tears. She would not allow herself to indulge in such self-pity. She had made her choices, foolish girl that she had been, and she had lived with them alone for all these years, never allowing the shame to break her.

“It was actually a relief to be at Dunstanburgh, for there were no prying eyes—there was not much of anything at all when we arrived. I had the chance to remake myself as a lady. And I am thankful, too, that I got to study the ladies who purchased cloth from my family. By watching them, I learned how to dress, how to carry myself as a noble would.”

Ansel let out a long, slow breath. “That is why ye clung to yer fine clothes and yer cold demeanor, isnae it? They were a mask behind which ye hid yer past.”

Isolda’s heart lurched. How had he seen through all of her defenses? And how was it that even as she laid herself bare before him, she still felt safe?

“Aye,” she breathed.

The sun glinting off the lake was suddenly too bright, too harsh against the burning tears brimming in her eyes. She dropped her gaze to her feet, but her eyes landed on her mud-stained, simple gown of green wool instead.

A wild giggle rose in her throat, followed by a burst of full laughter.

Ansel looked at her fully for the first time since he’d guided her away from the tower. Concern was written clearly in his brown eyes as he stared at her. He likely thought her mad for laughing even as tears filled her eyes. The thought only made her laugh harder.

“What is it?” he asked, his brows colliding.

“My dress,” she said between giggles.

His already concerned features darkened further. “I ken it isnae what ye are used to, nor what ye’d prefer, but—”

“Nay,” she gasped, finally reining in her laughter. “That is just it—this is exactly what I prefer. I would trade all of Lancaster’s titles and money and brocades and silks for…this.”

She swept her hand down her dress, then let the gesture continue over the sparkling lake and the sun-bathed grassy hills toward the tower.

“I dinnae understand,” Ansel said, though his eyes softened on her. Liquid warmth swelled inside her with only his look.

“I don’t want Dunstanburgh or fine dresses or a title. This is what I want—family and a home and a simple but happy life,” she said.

A life with you
.

The words almost slipped out, but she swallowed them back just in time. Aye, she wanted Ansel, but he had made it clear that he was her protector, nothing more. “I…I have been so lonely all these years,” she whispered instead.

Something flickered across his face—surprise, followed by hope, and then resolution.

“Isolda,” he said, his voice a velvety caress. “Ye never have to feel lonely again, for ye carry my heart with ye wherever ye go.”

Her lungs compressed in shock. “W-what?” she managed to breathe.

Ansel cupped her cheek in his warm, callused hand. She lost herself in the depths of his chestnut eyes, and the whole world seemed to fall away.

“I love ye.”

The hard, handsome lines of his face blurred before her, but the tears that sprang to her eyes were nothing like the ones that had pricked there earlier. “You…you love me?”