Free Mistress of the Storm by Terri Brisbin Page A

it. Truth be told, he’d encouraged her for she made him feel as though he had a home.
    Isabel did not raise her eyes from the table, nor did she begin to eat. Though he knew she must be famished from the day’s travel and meager rations, she waited without a word. He touched her hand and she startled, then recovered, allowing his hand to cover hers without moving it away.
    “Eat,” he whispered as Gunna prattled on without pausing for anyone to answer the questions she posed. She didn’t notice the silence, but he did. Isabel spoke not a word except to murmur her thanks when Gunna placed another cup or bowl within her reach or refilled the one before her.
    He ate, listening to Gunna’s lively chatter, picking out bits of news about the surrounding neighbors, about the villagers in Uig, and Gunna’s concerns. But he never took his eyes off of Isabel. He sensed she had closed herself off from him. Duncan asked a few questions of Gunna and watched as Isabel finished eating.
    “Has Gunna showed you my chamber here?”
    “Aye, my—” Isabel paused for a moment, not knowing whether or not to address him as lord among his people, who seemed more like his family than servants. All of them, from the field hands to the woman who kept house for him, treated him like kin, or the way Isabel thought kin would treat each other.
    The woman Gunnhilde stopped and stared at her then, and Isabel knew she’d misstepped in some way. She knew the young woman was special to Duncan, and he would not have told her of his arrangements or of Isabel’s true place there. Whores were a fact of life but were not tolerated in a man’s home or around his kin.
    Duncan squeezed her hand. As she dared a glance up at him he spoke softly, guiding her way. “Duncan.”
    “Aye, Duncan. Mistress Gunna showed me your chamber.” Isabel also realized Gunna wanted to please Duncan more than anything in the world, so she continued. “And it is most pleasing.”
    The woman smiled and nodded at Duncan.
    “I thank you for worrying over my comfort, Gunna,” Isabel said softly. The warm surroundings gave a sense of intimacy to their conversation that almost put her at ease, but she knew better.
    Every possible warning sounded to keep her from feeling too at ease there, among those people, with him. She needed some time and some space to gather her thoughts and her resolve. Looking around and then at him, she wondered if he would give her leave to go outside without him. Taking a chance, she rose from the stool and stepped away from the table.
    “May I walk for a bit?” she asked.
    Silence filled the house, only the crackling flames in the hearth making any noise. Isabel worried her lower lip, waiting for his permission, not daring to meet his gaze or to look at Gunna.
    “You are my guest, Isabel. You may come and go as you please,” he said quietly.
    She nodded and smiled at Gunna. “My thanks for the meal.”
    Then she fled, one slow step at a time.

Chapter Seven
     
    I sabel left the house and followed the path away—the one they arrived on though she had no memory of the last half of the journey. Her body ached from the hours spent on the horse and each step she took began to ease the pains in her back and legs. She passed the men who’d been working in the fields and the one named Harald who’d spoken to Duncan in a frank manner.
    He knew who she was.
    He knew what she was.
    Isabel felt his gaze remain on her long after she walked by him, but she kept on walking. His attitude she understood, more than she comprehended Duncan’s. He confused her more with each encounter. A man buying a whore’s time for weeks? A man taking a whore to his home and among his people? None of that should have happened. She offered him nothing more than any other woman could—a night of pleasure, a bout of bedplay that would last for a few hours.
    She turned her face up to the sky and watched the clouds gather and swirl. The storm had followed them from the coast