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As he pulled open the window, the wind and rain abated momentarily, and the Highlander stepped silently into the room.
She neither raised her head nor moved, but remained as she was—huddled on her knees with her back to him. Jaime continued to cry; he could see her shoulders hunched forward and quaking a bit. Without taking his eyes from her, Malcolm reached behind him and pulled the window shut. The wind and the rain picked up again, and the sound of the drops beating against the diamond-shaped panes, along with the dropping of the latch penetrated her solitude, and her head snapped around to face him.
Her look of surprise quickly gave way to relief and—dare he even think it—happiness as recognition set in. But there was also something extremely vulnerable in her attitude, in her fa
