My Heart Stood Still Lynn Kurland (some good books to read TXT) 📖

Believe me when I tell you it will be my pleasure."

And what was she to say to that? She tore her gaze from the book, which did indeed look powerfully interesting, and met his eyes.

She cast about for something to distract him. "How did you find Edinburgh? Was it to your liking?"

"Yes," he said. "I hope you'll come next time. You would enjoy it."

"Did you obtain your tools?" she asked, desperate to avoid any prying questions.

"I did. I'll get to work first thing in the morning. Want to look at your book now?"

She was on her feet before she knew what she was doing and blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm for bed," she said.

"Are you staying here?"

"Aye," she said, then she left the kitchen at a dead run.

She ran all the way to the chamber she hadn't slept in for three days, stood just inside the door, and shook. So there went all her fine resolves to be brave.

"Coward," she whispered. Aye, that she was indeed. 'Twas nothing but a simple book. Looking at it would give her time to spend with a man she thought she might come to love.

Come to love?

She sank down on the floor, put her hands over her eyes, and wished she could weep.

 

 

It was rather late the next morning when she rose. She ignored Thomas's knock. Once she was fairly sure he had left the inn, she left her chamber, avoided those breaking their fasts at the dining table, and refused to answer any of Ambrose's questions about why she looked so poorly. She left him in the competent care of Mrs. Pruitt and escaped the inn. The last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone about why she was doing what she was doing.

She truly had little idea herself.

She toyed with the idea of taking herself off to some far-flung corner of the island, but where would she go? And why would she go anywhere else when her heart was inside her castle gates? In Thomas McKinnon's keeping?

She surrendered and turned toward the castle. She walked up the way and into the courtyard. Thomas and his two village lads were huddled together, having speech. The garrison was clustered around them. Iolanthe parted the gaggle of men and looked into the circle.

Well, there obviously was the beast Thomas had brought to give life to his tools. 'Twas a handsome shade of red, she would give it that, but it had little else to recommend it.

"You know how the compressor works, don't you?" Thomas asked Burt and Charlie. "You turn on the generator to get the juice going ..."

He turned on a black machine, then gave his attentions over to his red one. The noise that made was irritating but not unbearable.

"And then every now and again, the compressor will kick on and keep our tools going. Right?"

Burt and Charlie nodded sagely, as if they'd seen it all before. Iolanthe looked at her men all standing in a cluster about Thomas and wondered if they understood as well. They were all nodding just as wisely.

And then the red beast gave forth a mighty howl.

The shrieks of the men and the hisses of swords being yanked from their scabbards was deafening. Burt and Charlie apparently had their eyes quite suddenly opened, for they looked about them and began screaming themselves.

And then they bolted for the gates.

And Thomas said a very foul word.

"Weel, ye never said the wee demon would scream thusly!" Connor MacDougal said defensively. "We were taken unawares!"

"And now I've lost my work crew!" Thomas exclaimed.

The beast subsided into blessed silence. Iolanthe watched Thomas and the garrison study each other with varying degrees of disgust and distrust.

"Beg pardon, Thomas," said one of the men humbly.

"Shut up, Robert," Connor snarled. He resheathed his sword with a mighty thrust, then folded his arms over his chest. "What'll ye do now?"

"Look for other workers, I suppose," Thomas said with a heavy sigh. "Maybe from farther away."

"Mayhap this has taught ye a lesson," Connor continued archly. "Mayhap—"

"Mayhap when I finish the tower, I might start on the great hall and give you somewhere dry to put your feet up," Thomas said shortly. "What do you think about that, Laird MacDougal?"

The thought obviously was one Connor hadn't considered, if the look of surprise on his face was any indication. Iolanthe watched him turn the idea over in his head, then come to a decision.

"I accept your offer," Connor said, bowing formally. "Be about your work, man. I hate standing in the rain."

Thomas looked at Duncan. "Any ideas?"

He considered. "The lads could roam about for a bit. A few weeks. Just until you were finished."

"What a thought," Thomas muttered. "A visit to the seaside, maybe. A long one."

"London," said one of the men.

"France!" cried another.

"Oh, why stop there?" Thomas asked. "Make it Rome. Great place. I've been there several times. Lots to see. Lots of ruins. Lots of really fine looking Italian women."

"Dead?" Connor asked doubtfully.

"I'm just sure of it."

"Ach, weel, then," Connor said, adjusting his plaid. "Come along, lads, and leave the man to his work." He looked at Thomas. "Have me hall finished when I return."

Thomas grumbled at him, then turned back to his red beast.

Iolanthe watched as her entire garrison tromped out through the gates—with the unsurprising exception of both Duncan and Roderick, who remained behind. Thomas leaned over to pat his machine, then straightened and looked at the two men.

"Staying to help?"

"Oh, aye," Duncan said, nodding.

'To keep watch," Roderick said ominously.

Thomas frowned at him, then looked at Iolanthe and smiled. "An interesting morning so far, as you can see."

"Aye, I noticed."

"I'd better go down to the village and see if there's anyone left who hasn't heard their stories."

"Fetch the priest to come up," Duncan said wisely. "It'll make the lads feel better with a man of the cloth to protect them."

"No doubt." Thomas looked at Iolanthe. "Want to come?"

She chewed on her answer, trying to make a nay into an aye.

"Or you