My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

"I'll get them later," he said. "Come on, Io. Your family's waiting."

She had no choice but to follow him.

She stood at the door as he knocked, finding herself slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat as Thomas often did. No wonder he found it so comforting.

After an eternity of waiting, the front door opened.

"Hey, Zach," Thomas said easily. "How's tricks?"

The young man facing him gaped, a forgotten snack dangling from his hand. He stared at Iolanthe, then at Thomas, then back at her until she wondered if she'd failed to dress herself properly.

"Iolanthe, this is Zachary. He's Elizabeth's youngest brother. Elizabeth is Jamie's wife." Thomas pushed Zachary aside and led her into the hall. "Zach, close the door. Io, come with me, and I'll make the introductions."

Iolanthe followed him, then found herself shadowed by Zachary, who continued to stare at her as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Thomas reached over and gave him a companionable shove.

"You're drooling," Thomas said pleasantly.

Zachary shut his mouth with a snap, but the look of complete idiocy didn't leave his face.

"Is he daft, then?" Iolanthe whispered to Thomas.

"Just awestruck," Thomas said dryly. "Don't worry, he'll get over it."

Iolanthe nodded, then looked around her, noting the familiar things and the changes. The lack of rushes was a vast improvement, but the hearths looked the same. There were new doors off the great hall, but the same stairs leading up to a pair of other chambers that had been built adjacent to the great hall in Jamie's day. She wondered absently if that part of the keep had been added to. With the way Jamie seemed to accept strangers and family alike, he would need a goodly amount of room to house them all.

"My laird."

Iolanthe stiffened when she heard Thomas's voice laced with affection and respect. She turned to look at the recipient of such consideration and found herself rendered immobile. Why, the man couldn't have looked more like her grandsire if he'd been his twin. He stood and came over to her.

"Granddaughter," he said.

"My laird," she whispered.

Then she burst into tears.

Jamie gathered her into his arms and patted her back soothingly. "Ach, there, there, lass. No need for tears."

She wept as if she'd never wept before in her life. It was unseemly and untidy, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"By the saints, Thomas," Jamie said, his voice rumbling in his chest, "what have you done to the girl?"

Iolanthe shook her head and pulled away. Thomas shoved a cloth into her hand, and she dried her eyes and blew her nose. She looked at Jamie and managed a smile.

"He saved my life, my laird," she said. "A braver rescue I couldn't have asked for."

"Well, then," Jamie said, beaming his approval on Thomas, "give us the tale, man. Here, sit with your lady and tell us how 'twas done. We've worried mightily over you both."

His lady. Iolanthe sat next to Thomas and found, surprisingly, that being addressed as such was not only tolerable, it was highly desirable. She did her best to remember names as introductions were made, then promptly forgot everything as she listened to Thomas give his report. It took most of the late afternoon, through dinner and through more talk before the fire. She couldn't remember the last time she'd passed such a pleasant evening.

Well, outside of all the evenings she'd passed in Thomas's company since his rescue of her.

Iolanthe felt her eyelids begin to grow heavy and wondered if anyone would notice if she simply went to sleep.

Peacefully.

Without fear.

She realized she had actually fallen asleep only when she heard Thomas calling her name softly. She opened her eyes and found him standing in front of her. She smiled up at him.

"Aye?"

"I've brought your things in," he said gently. "Elizabeth has a room all ready for you. I put your gear in there."

"Thank you." She looked at him, then frowned. "You've your coat still on. Have you more things to fetch?"

He shook his head. "I'm not staying."

She sat bolt upright. "You're what?"

"I'm not staying."

"But... but..." she spluttered. "But you can't go back to Thorpewold."

"I'm not. I'm just going to... um... Ian's for a few days," he said, gesturing vaguely. "He lives close by. We have some... um, business together. Yes, business."

She snorted. "You're a poor liar, Thomas McKinnon."

He blew out his breath and squatted down in front of her. "All right, I'm going to Ian's to give you time. I want you to have peace here to decide if you want me or not. Is that truthful enough for you?"

"Well," she said, taken aback, "you've no need for a temper."

"Ha," he said, rising. He looked at her crossly. "Ha." Then he seemed to consider, discard, then consider again.

The next thing she knew, he had hauled her up to her feet by her arms, pulled her into his arms, and clutched her to him with his face not a finger's breadth from hers.

"Make up your mind, Io," he said. "Please."

And just when she thought he might just kiss her, he seemed to think better of it. He released her with less reluctance than she would have liked, but she couldn't blame him. She had led him on a merry dance the past few days. 'Twas little wonder he had no patience left for her.

He turned and left the great hall. Iolanthe watched him go. The door shut, and she found herself very much alone. She sank back down into her chair and looked over her shoulder at the door for several moments, expecting Thomas to come back in and say he'd been jesting with her, that he had no intention of leaving.

But the door remained closed.

At length, she turned to look at the fire, feeling the silence descend.

And with that silence came perhaps what she had needed from the beginning.

Peace for thinking.

She closed her eyes. Mayhap Thomas had things aright, and that was the best thing for her. She would make herself a place in his