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Isobel’s sobs lessened as she looked up from her father’s shoulder and spotted Greta lurking behind him.
“Greta!” she cried, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. “D’ye still have the necklace?”
“I do indeed,” Greta smiled down at her. “And I’d happily let ye play with it again, only I must be getting home. It’s late.”
“Where’s home?” Warren asked, swinging Isobel up into his arms and wrapping his jacket around them both. “I’ll take ye there.”
“Och, nay,” Greta said, doing her best to sound confident. “Me lodgings are in the next town, about a mile from here. I daenae want to put ye to the trouble. Isobel looks like she needs to be in bed, and I’ll be fine on me own, now that Tam’s… well, ye ken.”
She spoke calmly enough, but Warren wasn’t fooled for a second. He had dealt with Tam for now, but he could tell by the way her eyes constantly darted around the street that the incident had shaken her.
“I’m nay letting ye walk all that way yerself,” he said firmly. “Me hostel’s in the next street. Ye’ll come back with us, and I’ll take ye to yer lodgings at first light. Nae arguing,” he added, seeing her open her mouth to protest. “Ye can share the bed with Isobel here. I’ll take the floor. It willnae be the first time I’ve had an uncomfortable night’s sleep, and I fancy it willnae be the last, either.”
“Really?” Isobel said excitedly. “Greta, can you really come with us? Oh, say ye will, Greta! It’ll be so much fun!”
Greta hesitated for a moment.
“I couldnae possibly intrude on yer hospitality like that," she said, reluctantly. “Ye've helped me twice already tonight — I daenae want to be any more of a burden to ye, and I'm used to the walk. I will be fine.”
“If I’ve helped ye twice already, then ye might as well allow me to help ye a third," Warren said gallantly. “And anyway, me mind's made up. I willnae hear of ye walking home on yer own, and, as ye can see, I cannae leave me daughter to accompany ye, so I'm afraid ye must indulge me in this.”
Greta started to protest once more and then, realizing her legs were still trembling from the scare she’d had and that she badly needed to sit down, nodded her agreement.
“Well, it looks like it’s two against one,” she said, smiling at the little girl. “How can I possibly refuse?”
* * *
The room in the hostel had seemed more than large enough when it had only Warren and Isobel to occupy it, but with Greta standing next to the bed, looking awkwardly around her, Warren suddenly felt the space much too small.
This was very inappropriate, he knew. Scandalous, even. And while the presence of his daughter might make the situation a little easier to explain, he was uncomfortably aware that Greta was placing herself in a compromising position by accepting his offer to stay.
“As I said, ye can take the bed with Isobel,” he said, clearing his throat in a bid to disguise his discomfort. “Speaking of which, Isobel, it’s time ye were in bed. Ye should have been asleep long before now!”
“I’m sorry,” said Greta, for what must have been the fourth or fifth time since they’d embarked upon the short walk to the hostel. “This is all because o’ me. I promise I’ll be out of yer way as soon as it’s light.”
“Ye’ll dae nothing o’ the kind,” Warren said kindly. “Isobel would never forgive me if ye weren’t here when she woke up.” Then, frowning slightly as he noticed how pale Greta looked, he took a step closer, seeing again how green her eyes were, and how pleasing they were against her alabaster skin.
Her long dark hair had come undone at some point in her struggle with Tam, and it tumbled down her back in loose curls, giving her a wild, untamed look that made his fingers tingle with the sudden need to reach out and stroke it back from her face; a need that he would, of course, suppress, he told himself firmly.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked instead. “He didnae harm ye, did he?”
“Nay.” She shook her head. “He tried to, but nay. I managed to get away, but if ye hadnae been there to help me…”
She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“There’s nae point in thinking like that,” Warren said, moving towards the door of the room. “Yer safe here, and that’s all that matters. Now, if ye wouldnae mind helping me daughter here into bed, I’m going to go down and ask for some food to be brought up for us. And maybe a wee dram of whisky, too, to help settle yer nerves.”
Twenty minutes later, Isobel was sleeping soundly, the thick velvet drapes pulled around the bed so Warren and Greta wouldn’t disturb her as they sat at a small table on the other side of the room, finishing off the meal the landlady had brought up for them.
The whisky she’d drunk had helped settle Greta’s nerves, as Warren had promised it would, but her cheeks were still flushed at the memory of the pointed look the landlady had given her when she’d brought the tray up.
“She thought I was a… a lady of the night!” she said, her hands covering her face in mortification. “A woman of loose morals! What was I thinking, coming here with a man I daenae even ken?”
It was, indeed, a mystery to her why she’d agreed to come here — a mystery that could only be partly explained by the inexplicable attraction she’d felt for this man since the moment she’d set eyes on him. Greta did not trust easily, and she had never in her life trusted a man, not even her husband.Especiallynot her husband.
But as she sat across the little table from Warren, listening to him talk about his travels with Isobel and how he’d brought her from their home to visit an elderly aunt, who wasn’t able to leave her home, she realized she felt strangely comfortable in his company. He’d said she was safe, and it was hard not to believe him. No man who loved his child the way he so obviously did could possibly be bad, she decided, watching as he got up to peek through the drapes and check on the little girl.
“She’s a beautiful wee lass,” she said when he rejoined her at the table, pouring them each another dram of whisky from the bottle on the table.
