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“I am busy,” he growled.
“Ye were rude!”
He went still, his eyes still fixed on the ledger a moment longer before he lifted his head and finally met her gaze. If he had expected her to be intimidated, he was a fool, for her eyes only blazed brighter.
“Is that how ye welcome guests?” Isla snapped, stepping into the room.
He said nothing, only rose to his full height and came around the desk, some dark satisfaction rising in him at the sight of her holding her ground. He crossed to the door and closed it before looming over her.
“A Sinclair is never a guest,” he hissed.
“Well.” She jutted her chin. “Mary is me family. She isnae simply a guest. And ye treated her abhorrently.”
“I was cautious,” he argued.
“Cautious?” she scoffed, shaking with anger. “Ye scared her, poor girl.”
He leaned in. “Good.”
She craned her neck, refusing to back down. He admired the fire in her, but also hated it. That defiance made him want to—
“She came for me,” she argued. “Do ye have any idea what she risked to find me? What me uncle will do to her if he found out?”
“Maybe it was yer uncle who sent her.”
“Ye are being ridiculous.” Isla jabbed a finger at his chest. “Mary risked everything to come warn me.”
He curled his hands into fists. “She is a Sinclair!”
“She is a brave woman who deserves respect.”
“Yer cousin got more respect than I would have ever given anyone bearing that name, riding up to me castle wearing Sinclair colors.”
“She isnae me uncle!” Isla yelled. “She is all the family I have left.”
“And me family is still dead!” Alisdair bellowed.
Both stood glaring at each other, their breathing ragged, their bodies tense. The silence stretched heavy, filling the room.
Alisdair’s breath caught as her scent tickled his nose. All the effort he had put into avoiding her all this time evaporated in a moment when that sweet fragrance invaded his nostrils. She needed to go now, but she seemed determined to challenge him.
“Ye judge people before meetin’ them. Ye did the same to me,” she remarked, her tone calm but cold.
“And that has kept me alive. Ye came here kennin’ what me family has suffered.”
Her chest rose on a deep breath. “Ye arenae the only one who has suffered.”
Alisdair’s face hardened. He had never forgotten that bruise on her hand.
“And that,” she continued, “doesnae give ye the right to be just like him.”
“Take that back!”
“Why? Ye think ye are better than him?”
“I am nae yer uncle.”
“Nay, ye’re nae. Nae yet. But that look ye gave Mary? I have seen it a million times on the very man ye despise.”
