The Laird's Captive Wife(57)

‘I am,’ she admitted.

‘’Tis not to be wondered at.’ He paused. ‘Thank you for your efforts today. It has been a long time since Dark Mount looked like a home.’

There could be no mistaking the sincerity of the words or the expression in his eyes as he raised her hand to his lips. Not knowing quite what to say she remained silent, every fibre of her being alive to him. Would he take her in arms now? If he did, what then? Recalling the power of his kiss and how it had set her aflame it took but a second to know the answer to that. He surveyed her just a moment longer and relinquished her hand.

‘Goodnight. Sleep well, lass.’

In silent confusion she acknowledged that what she felt was not relief but something akin to disappointment. She bade him goodnight and turned away. He watched her until she was out of sight.

* * *

Two days later the weather changed and it snowed again overnight. By morning all the landscape was transformed. Ashlynn surveyed it for a while from the roof terrace before making her way down to the hall. Finding no sign of Iain or her brother she went outside.

The courtyard had been cleared and the snow banked high against the walls. It was bitterly cold but the wind had dropped and the ice crystals courted the sunlight like flung diamonds. Ashlynn smiled and breathed deeply, enjoying the moment. She would take a turn or two before starting work. In spite of what had gone before there was plenty to be done. Her mind moved ahead, thinking of food for the feast. She would consult the cook about that in due course…

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a large ball of snow which caught her squarely in the chest. Looking up indignantly she saw her brother some yards off regarding her with a speculative smile. In that moment he was so much the old Ban again that her heart swelled. The feeling was short-lived as another snowball caught her shoulder. Ashlynn’s eyes narrowed.

‘Just you wait!’ With a speed born of expertise she fashioned a missile and lobbed it back. Ban ducked and it skimmed his cloak but, when he turned round again, the next one hit him in the face. Spluttering, he heard her laugh.

‘My aim is still good, brother.’

‘Too good, you minx.’

Several more men had emerged from the hall and other bystanders watched with interest, among them Iain who had just emerged from the smithy hard by. Ban fired off several more shots with varying success for he was still using his left hand to avoid straining the recovering shoulder. However, he kept up the pressure. Ashlynn found herself trying to dodge Ban’s missiles while throwing her own, and her usually accurate aim became less so. A large snowball, intended for Ban’s chest, flew past and hit Iain instead. She heard several sharp intakes of breath from the onlookers and then muffled snorts of laughter. Ban guffawed. For a moment Ashlynn was still, but remorse was short-lived and mischief reasserted itself in a wide grin.

Seeing it, Iain lifted an eyebrow and strolled casually towards her. Undeceived by this apparent nonchalance, Ashlynn turned to flee. He caught her in six strides and lifted her off her feet with no more difficulty than he would have lifted a wisp of straw. Her shriek of protest went unheeded. Then he glanced down at his struggling burden with a glint in his eye that boded no good at all.

‘Throw snowballs at me, would you, lass?’

‘You don’t understand…’

‘Oh, I think I do.’

He carried her to the edge of the courtyard where the cleared snow was banked in great heaps. As she saw him grin an unwelcome suspicion dawned.

‘Iain, no!’

‘No?’

Ashlynn struggled harder. ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘You know better than that, lass.’

‘You wouldn’t…’

The sentence ended on a shriek of outrage as he dropped her into the huge white drift. Roars of laughter erupted from the spectators. Then, almost as though at a signal, other missiles began to fly amid yells and curses and laughter and soon the air was thick with them. For a moment Iain surveyed the scene, grinning. Then he glanced down at Ashlynn who, almost completely engulfed, was trying unsuccessfully to extricate herself.

‘Help me out, you villain!’

‘Villain is it now?’ He shook his head. ‘Not content with an unprovoked attack you insult me into the bargain.’

Torn between laughter and frustration she moderated her tone. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. Won’t you please help me up?’

His grin widened and he surveyed her a moment longer. Then, reaching down a hand, he caught hers and hauled her out of the white mound. Covered from head to foot she was grinning herself now. He shook out her cloak and then began to brush some of the snow from her hair. As he did so a stray missile caught him round the ear. Unable to help herself Ashlynn laughed out loud. His expression was eloquent but far from stopping her amusement served only to fuel it.