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The door closed behind him.

A cheerful smile spread across his face. His eyes were dark and attentive on her, taking her in head to toe. “Hungry?”

“Always.” She smiled. He handed her the bowl with porridge, a spoon of honey in the middle. She went to one of the beds and sat on it, placing the bowl in her lap. He sat on the bed opposite hers.

“I put in some honey for ye, and a little butter.”

“You shouldn’t have.” She smiled. “I don’t really mind simple porridge. I can eat anything. I’m not demanding.”

She mixed the hot porridge with the melting butter and honey and took a spoonful. Hamish’s eyes narrowed. “Are ye not? ’Tis unusual for a clan chief’s daughter. Are ye not used to honey and fresh berries and the best all the time?”

Oh snap. “I guess I’m just different from other clan chiefs’ daughters, you know.”

He chuckled. “Aye, I can see that.” He studied her. “I suppose ye are nae too happy to be away from home.”

She smiled. “Not too happy, that’s right.” Though she felt more cheerful with the hot porridge in her hands and Hamish’s friendly presence than she had since she’d arrived.

He nodded. “When did ye hear from yer father last?”

All these damn questions… She took another spoonful of porridge, feeling Hamish’s eyes on her. “When I left home—”

The door opened, and Craig stood there, tall, and broad-shouldered, and so handsome her breath caught.

* * *

Hamish jumped up, and just for a split second, his hand jerked to his claymore. But then he relaxed and forced a smile.

“Craig—”

“Hope I didna interrupt anything,” Craig said, his eyes narrowing on Amy and Hamish.

Craig didn’t like what he saw one bit. It was the first time he’d seem Amy with her face carefree and the corners of her lips up in a small smile. Was it because Hamish sat so close, his knee almost touching hers?

Surely Craig’s stomach was tense only because he didn’t like his men getting too friendly with the enemy. Not because he hated that it was Hamish who’d made her smile.

And not Craig.

“Ye didna interrupt,” Hamish said. “I brought Amy her meal, ’tis all.”

Craig studied Hamish for signs of a lie. Hamish was a MacKinnon, and the clan was loyal to the Bruce. They had hidden him when he was chased by the English and the enemy clans. Which had saved the king’s life and brought him to where he was now.

“Aye,” Craig said. “Thank ye. Bruce and the troops are leaving north as we speak, so is yer clan. Surely ye dinna want to be left here.”

Hamish glanced at the window.

“My clan and I decided ’tis best I stay and help ye with the castle,” Hamish said. “If ye agree, of course.”

Craig glanced at Amy who was eating another spoonful of her porridge.

“I didna ken ye wanted to stay. May I ask why?”

“To help ye protect the castle, of course. Bruce will get more supporters after neutral clans hear of Inverlochy. But ye will need good warriors.”

But that was not the reason. He wanted something here—no one just stayed back without their clan.

“But what is it to ye?” Craig said.

Hamish let out a nervous chuckle. “Sire, yer questions have the most amazing ability to make one want to shite himself. If ye’re looking for bad intentions, ye’re looking in the wrong place. I didna have a home for years, always on the road. ’Tis good for a warrior to have a rest under a roof and behind four strong walls. All I wanted with Amy was to keep her company. The lass didna do anything. She isna responsible for her brother’s and father’s deeds. Dinna punish her for what she doesna deserve.”