A Promise Given by Samantha James Page A

leave her with her father? Duncan
looked with disfavor upon his younger daughter, ever and always. He had loved
Margaret best. Indeed, Ian wondered harshly if he had ever loved Sabrina. The
last thing she needed was more guilt heaped upon her head; the wretch would do
precisely that. He would crush her spirit—leech the very life from her soul
little by little—indeed, he was surprised the bastard hadn't already done so.
And she fared little better than a servant—that, too, was something he feared
would never change.
    A muscle tightened in his jaw. He tapped his fingers together before him, his
mind twisting and turning. She was not his responsibility, a voice inside
reminded him. He was not beholden to her. He owed her naught…
    But she had no one else, still another voice chided.
    And the issue was no longer clouded by his obligations to Margaret.
    The shadows of night poured through the windows when at last Ian rose.
Resolve crystallized inside him. He knew what he must do…
    And why.

    Sabrina woke slowly the next morning. Something elusive danced within her
brain. She groped for the memory, her mind still befuddled with sleep. She had
slept deeply, more deeply than she had for ages—but no wonder. Her mouth was dry
as bone, no doubt from the sleeping potion Ian had…
    Ian
. He had brought her here, to her chamber.
    She remembered being lifted, borne upward and cradled against solid warmth,
and burying her face against his neck—it was a sensation that was distinctly
memorable—and distinctly pleasurable. His scent was clean and woodsy, his skin
had been smooth and warm. And later, she remembered him staring down at her. His
mouth was set sternly, yet she had sensed he was not angry.
    She cringed inside. She had made a fool of herself. She had wept in his arms.
And yet—he had not made her feel foolish. He had brought her here, and taken
care of her, as no one else had ever done.
    I kissed you because I wanted it.
Had he truly said that? Or had she
only imagined it?
    She flung back the coverlet, suddenly impatient. God in heaven, why did it
matter? What was wrong with her? Oh, how she wished she could be indifferent to
him. Despite her every effort, she could not put him from her mind!
    But she would, she vowed… aye, this very day!
    To her utter consternation, she learned later that morn that Ian had still
not yet departed for the Highlands. Silently she fumed. The rogue! She could
almost believe he stayed on solely because he knew it would vex her!
    It was late that afternoon when she encountered Alasdair lounging on a bench
in the great hall. He immediately came to his feet when he saw her.
    "Sabrina!" he greeted her. “We missed you at the evening meal. I trust you’re
feeling better?"
    Sabrina felt her cheeks heat. Of course her headlong flight from the kirk
must have been noted by all. She summoned a faint smile. "I am fine," she
murmured.
    His brown eyes softened. “It’s not to be wondered at," he said kindly. "It
has been a trying week."
    "That it has," she admitted. There was a small pause. "I've not seen Ian
today. Is he preparing for your journey back to the Highlands?" She held her
breath and prayed.
    Alasdair's broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I've no idea," he said
cheerfully. "Ian has chosen to keep his plans to himself."
    Hmmmph,
thought Sabrina. Somehow she was not surprised. "It seems a
bit unfair that he keeps you from your kin so long." She eyed Alasdair
curiously. "Do you have a wife who awaits you at Castle MacGregor?"
    "I fear there's none that will have me," he said with an exaggerated sigh.
"All the ladies are smitten with my cousin."
    Sabrina smiled, her first genuine smile in days. "Oh, I doubt that. You're a
handsome devil," she found herself teasing. "I suspect they all secretly pine
for you. Mayhap you need only give your lady of choice some encouragement."
    The corners of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled. He took her hand and gave
her