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No harm will come to you from our hands, lady,” Fallon told her quietly. That depended on his definition of harm. A man and a woman’s ideas on harm often differed.
She’d never put much stock in her looks. They were always just there. Like the sun or the sky. Neither helping nor hindering. Her strength, speed and capability were infinitely more important.
She missed her Highlands. Yes. But she knew better than anybody, home wasn’t a place; it’s a state of mind. It’s the people you’re with. And for her, those people were all here.
In a way, that unsettled Shea more than the anger. You could accomplish some truly heinous things once emotion has been tucked away.
Anger dies, eventually, if you sate it with enough blood. Hate fades. Grief dwindles. There are reasons behind emotion. Such is not the case with true detachment.
