Honoria nodded. “I think he meant to shock me. Do you think Hugh suspects?”
“Nay,” Isla said slowly. “Not even I suspected a Gypsy. But our brother hasn’t been the most perceptive these days.”
Right. The dairymaid, Mary.
The journey back to Callum’s chamber felt like seven lifetimes. Honoria wasted no time to inspect his wound, Isla hovering close.
“See, it is as I told you,” Isla said when the wound showed no sign of infection. “A man his size needs substance, not broth, to regain his full strength, that is all.”
“He is burning up,” Honoria said, her hand on his forehead.
“He overexerted himself,” Isla insisted. “The gallery is quite a way for a stroll in his condition.”
Guilt swamped her.“’Tis my fault, I should not have provoked him.”
“There is nothing to be done about it now,” Hugh drawled, clearing his throat. “Speaking of questionable decisions, I’ve sent word to Adair.”
Honoria gasped and whirled on her brother.
By all that lived and breathed!
Her face flushed with anger. She was long used to her brothers intervening in her life, but never Hugh. Her twin always had her back.
“When?” Honoria demanded.
He held up his hands. “It had to be done.”
“When, Hugh?” she insisted.
He let out a heavy sigh. “After he regained consciousness for the first time. I assured Adair all is well.”
“And you believe that will matter?”
Honoria balled her hands into small fists. They’d all descend upon the castle and drag her away from Lash’s side, claiming it was “too dangerous” for her to be near a stranger—even a weakened one. They’d lock her away if they felt they had no choice.
At times such as this, Honoria was tempted to set the castle ablaze and shout “Now what will you do?”
Most young girls dreamed of living in a castle. All Honoria wanted to do was escape hers.
“Och, lass, I couldn’t leave the matter be. Adair would have my hide if I did not send word that a man was found injured on our lands.”
Honoria stared into her brother’s eyes, the same golden as her own. His held a note of contrition. She knew hers must be flashing with anger and disappointment.
“You tell yourself that, Hugh MacCallan,” Honoria snapped. She tried to imagine Hugh in a silk taffeta gown and powdered wig, which unusually helped to improve her mood in times of deep frustration. But no matter how she dressed Hugh up in her mind, or colored his eyes with coal, and brightened his lips with strawberries, her temper did not cool.
“Lash is no threat to us,” Honoria insisted.
Hugh’s face darkened in displeasure. “You cannot be so foolish as to believe him innocent. The man was attacked for a reason!”
“And how would you know? Have you spent any time with him?”
“No one told me he was awake!”
“Honestly, when did you become such a stick-in-the-mud?” Honoria said. “You give most people the benefit of the doubt.”
“That was before Adair left me in charge of you and Isla. They are counting on me to keep you safe.”
Isla scoffed.
