Damn propriety! Damn everyone!
Malcom was home. Aye, and it was his son they wished to see this moment, not him. He knew Glenna would watch him well; she loved Malcom as though he were her own. And Glenna was the closest thing to a grandparent Malcom would ever know. They needed time to reac-quaint themselves.
He, on the other hand, needed something else entirely.
Something only Page could give him.
Ignoring her protests and her threats, he bore her without a word into his home, and up the stairwell to his chamber.
“Put me down!” she demanded. “I am perfectly capable of making my way upon my own two feet, thank you!”
“Of a certainty, ye can, lass.”
But he didn’t stop, and she shrieked in outrage. “Put me down!” she demanded. “Everyone is watching!”
“Are they really?” he asked with little concern.
She actually growled at that, and Iain had to suppress a hearty chuckle at her fierce expression of frustration.
“Put me down, I tell you! Now! You overbearing brute!”
“Of a certainty, I shall,” Iain said amenably, though he continued to carry her up the steps, disregarding her request until he was within his chamber, and managed to kick the door closed.
Only then did he put her down and release her.
chapter 25
The instant her feet touched the wooden floor, Page scurried across the room, too outraged to care that she might stumble over some misplaced object within the gloomy confines of the room. She went as far as she dared, and then whirled upon him, her hands going to her hips as she glared at him through the shadows. She tried to focus upon his imposing form standing so forbiddingly before the only door.
“Sweet Jesu!” she exclaimed, when she still could not see him clearly enough. “Have you no tapers?”
Lord, but she couldn’t recall when she’d been so humiliated! And then at once she reconsidered. Of course she could! No other moment in her life would ever pain her more than the instant she’d discovered her father’s treachery. Be that as it may, Iain MacKinnon’s rude conduct came mightily close!
“We dinna keep servants to anticipate our every whim,” he answered calmly. “We do for ourselves, lass. If the room is dark and cold, I beg your pardon.”
Page had to clamp her lips together to keep from lashing out a response to his unjust insinuation—that she would have had servants to coddle her. Indeed! If her father could scarce trouble himself to name her, he certainly hadn’t been any more inclined to see to her comforts!
On the contrary, he’d worked her tirelessly, and the common coarseness of her hands bespoke as much. She clenched her fists at her sides, and gritted her teeth in renewed anger at the reminder of her father and his heartless disowning.
“No servants?” she answered flippantly. “What a pity. Ah, well, I shall find myself quite at home anyway,” she answered truthfully.
“I shall see to it,” he promised, his words a seething whisper.
There was a moment of taut silence as he pushed away from the door and moved through the shadows. Page followed him with her eyes.
When at last her vision adjusted to the gloom, she watched as he finally lit a taper. Its flame thrust immediately upward and remained steady and true, brightening the chamber. It was a large room by most any standard—large enough to make it appear utterly barren despite the massive bed that occupied its space. The bed itself was strewn with furs, but the rest of the room was completely devoid of anything that would give it warmth. Nothing upon the walls, nothing upon the floors.
In the center of the room stood a small brazier, its pith blackened and unused. It, along with the bed, remained the only evidence the room was in use at all, for the chamber was impeccable and uncluttered—appeared abandoned even. A hasty glance about revealed a single window at her back, curiously barred. Through the rashly placed wooden slats, thin rays of sunlight sluiced into the musty confines of the stone-walled chamber.
At once her gaze was drawn back toward the soft flicker of the taper within Iain’s hands. Its glow illuminated his hard masculine features fully, and she shuddered at the way his gold- flecked eyes watched her so intently.
Was he awaiting her reaction to this place he’d brought her? Did he intend to imprison her here? Jesu, but why should he? She had no place to run to, she thought morosely.
“What is this place?” she asked him.
“My chamber.”
“You sleep here?” Page asked with no small measure of surprise. Mentally she compared the sparse room to her father’s lavish bedchamber—his so filled with richly colored tapestries and manifold extravagances.