Chapter 5
Every time Honoria thought of Lash’s tempestuous green eyes, she became more convinced their paths were meant to cross. And the more she became convinced of that, the more fascinating he became. An air of danger shadowed him, and she was drawn to that danger—like light was drawn to reveal the darkness.
His accent was neither Scottish nor English, his skin tanned, and not the way one would expect from a man occupying the British Isles, but richer, smoother. He also did not approve of animals being killed for sport. Unusual among the men she knew.
Her mind circled back to his weariness, his uneasiness around her. Honoria had not missed the flash of fury in his gaze when she remarked on the identity of his assailant—a truth he clearly did not wish to be known. But it didn’t change the fact that Lash absolutely knew who had stabbed him.
Honoria entered the drawing room and spotted her sister at the writing desk. She was forever writing letters. As a child, Isla had written countless letters to Drew Murray. They’d all been fast friends since childhood, but that ended with Ewan’s death. It had been Drew’s blow that claimed her brother’s life—a standard, friendly bare-knuckle fight gone wrong.
Needless to say, these days Isla’s letters were not to Drew Murray but Patrick Moray.
“Fate has finally sent me a boon,” Honoria said, sinking into a plush, upholstered emerald settee.
“Mmm.”
“Would you stop writing and spare me a moment of your time?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be nurturing the stranger upstairs back to swift health so he can leave?” Isla said without looking up from where she sat scribbling.
“What has gotten you into such a snip?” Honoria muttered.
“I’m not in a snip.” Isla looked up from her writing station. “Go paint something and leave me be.”
“I cannot paint. I’m blocked.”
“You mean your plaything consumes your mind.”
“He is not a plaything,” Honoria denied. “And his name is Lash, and he is as mysterious as the fairies that hide in the forest.”
Isla’s eyes widened as she looked up from her letter. “He is awake, then?”
Honoria nodded. “He woke up for a short while but is sleeping again.”
“Och, that is good news. Did he say anything about his attack?”
“Nay, he was reluctant to part with any information. But he did mention that the man would want confirmation of his death.”
Isla drew in a gasp. “There are still men out looking for his body?”
Honoria nodded, her expression grim.
“How dreadful.”
“Aye, but he is safe here with us. And I reckon the man will give up his search eventually.”
“You cannot know that,” Isla argued. “The attack must not have happened far from where you found him.”
“Then we shall deny his presence if someone comes searching for him at our big castle door and alert the authorities.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “That big castle door cannot protect us for long and the last thing Hugh will want is the authorities searching our grounds and discovering our family secrets.”
“Lawd, I forgot about that.”
“I do not like this, Honoria,’tis dangerous. We must tell Hugh.”
“Not yet. What if he sends him away? I need more time with him.”
“Why?” Isla’s eyes clouded with suspicion. “What are you up to?”
