The moment felt significant. Wondering if even such a small concession put her on the slippery slope to surrender, she reached out and laid her fingers on that brawny forearm. Through the thin sleeve of his shirt, his skin was warm. Her traitorous heart gave another great thump.
She raised her eyes to his, not sure what she'd find there. Triumph? Possessiveness? Danger? But his glance was as warm as his skin. He still smiled at her as if he liked her and the prospect of a stroll in the sunlight with Mhairi Drummond was his idea of the perfect way to pass an hour.
Hatred and anger had kept her safe and stalwart. If she let go of these, what would become of her?
Troubled, she walked at his side down the steps and through the great hall. Maids were setting up for dinner. Sheena raised her head and sent her a meaningful look and a nod, which Mhairi hoped meant that their plot progressed. How she wished she could leave Achnasheen this very minute.
The Mackinnon didn't take her out the main door into the courtyard. That would feel too much like freedom, she thought caustically, although her bitterness proved harder to maintain than she liked.
Instead he led her down a long corridor and into a walled garden flooded with sunshine. In unfeigned pleasure, Mhairi glanced around the sheltered green space built into the side of a cliff. The scent of roses lay heavy on the air. "This is lovely."
"Aye, my mother planted most of the roses, and she loved to sit here and do her needlework."
More warmth in his voice. This time, the warmth of what she recognized as love.
His long, thin mouth quirked in se
lf-deprecating amusement. "Aye, I ken you're astonished I had a mother, but I did."
She stared at him, perturbed and finding it astonishingly difficult to think of him as a ruthless kidnapper. By heaven, she didn't want to start seeing the Mackinnon as fully human. Better by far to think of him as the incarnation of evil. She’d already had too many disloyal thoughts since she'd been here. No Drummond should make concessions to a Mackinnon.
"I thought ye appeared fully formed from the bowels of hell." But her insult lacked the usual conviction. Sniping at him took too much effort on such a bonny afternoon.
"Och, that's only the impression I like to give when I'm wooing a fair lassie."
She had an awful time trying not to smile at the wry response.
The Mackinnon tilted his head toward the corner. "I brought someone to see ye."
"My cousin?"
Regret she couldn't trust darkened his eyes. "No, lassie."
Mhairi turned to see Flossie. "Ye said you wouldnae let me see her."
He shrugged. "I thought ye might appreciate talking to someone familiar."
"Under supervision, I suppose."
He shook his head. "Ye can have half an hour with the lass."
"Aren't ye worried we might try to escape?" she asked snidely and wondered why on earth she was talking him out of his unexpected generosity.
As he glanced around the garden, his expression was eloquent. "There’s one door and that leads straight back to the great hall. The only other way you'll break out is if ye grow wings."
Mhairi was more comfortable with the idea that she remained a prisoner. It reminded her why she hated Callum Mackinnon.
When she didn't answer, he inclined his glossy dark head in the familiar brief bow. "I’ll leave ye to make sure your maid is unharmed. I promised ye she was, but I ken you dinnae trust my word."
His faint rancor surprised her. If she didn't know better, she'd almost wonder if her continued hostility hurt him beyond his urge to dominate.
"Why on earth should I trust ye?"
"Why indeed?" he murmured, and on that enigmatic question, he left her.
Chapter 13
The Mackinnon was true to his word and left them alone. That was confirmation enough that there was no escape from this garden.