Chapter Twenty
Isobel studied the shadows on the ceiling as she lay in bed alone. She usually treasured her time of solitude, but now she’d grown accustomed to falling asleep with her husband next to her. It had become so easy to be with him and the rest of their group and she found, for the first time in years, she longed for their company instead of shunning relationships. The new sense of belonging frightened her.
She and Grant had dined in their room tonight, she assumed because he was worried about her being seen, which she had to admit was a valid concern now that she was certain Torsten was looking for her. She wished she could go back and ask the priest if there had been others with him. She needed to know if he’d told anyone, although she doubted it, if someone else took her to Argyll, he wouldn’t get the credit and she knew the Covenanters he associated with were not honorable men.
Grant had taken her to bed, the pace slow and gentle, but somehow even more intense than their previous bed play. Something had shifted between them and although she wanted to give in to the emotions and throw herself into being a perfect wife for him, she couldn’t afford to until she’d solved the problem of Torsten Campbell.
If Torsten was looking for her on MacLean lands, she needed to get there to find him before he came across someone she cared about. She’d consider trying to get a message to one of her brothers, but Grant had made it clear any further contact with someone who dealt with the Resistance wouldn’t be tolerated. He wouldn’t even let her go back to the priest to have him deliver her message through the communication chain. Writing and sending a letter through the post was the fastest way to let the news fall into someone else’s hands and then everyone would know who she was, so that option was not viable, either.
Her best recourse would be to talk to Grant about visiting her family when they returned to Skye. It would be a legitimate trip because there were a few things from home she’d like to bring with her and her family had dropped her on Grant’s island with barely anything that was her own. He would have to let her collect her belongings.
Grant would probably send for her items if she wished, but how was she to protect him and Annis if she couldn’t take care of the threat? Once Torsten Campbell was gone, she’d devote herself to her husband and new family and she would find a way to fit in.
At peace with her decision, she finally closed her eyes and hoped she would rest.
The most vivid dream of that day on the road to Edinburgh invaded her sleep. It was the day she’d first seen Grant. This time, the battle went well and all the Covenanters were defeated. She saw Grant from a distance, but he didn’t see her and he turned with his friend, mounted his horse and rode away without ever meeting her eyes. She called out to him, but he never turned back.
She woke as Grant’s arm wrapped around her, but the dream had left her hollow. She burrowed into his arms, looking for the security they offered and the assurance that he wouldn’t leave her. She barely slept the remainder of the evening.
…
The next day was clear and they left just as the rooster called the last of its crowing. They rode hard all day, only stopping for short meals. That night, intense dreams invaded her sleep, leaving her restless and apprehensive. The one that lingered in her thoughts the following day, making her stomach turn, was the dream about the kitten she’d found on the side of the road. This time when opening the sack, she found a baby, but instead of telling her she should take care of it as he had the furry creature, Grant took the babe and left her on the side of the embankment, telling her she’d never be able to protect something so precious.
The next several days passed in the same haze as the scenery changed, the mountains becoming higher, the passes more treacherous, and the lavender on the sides of the hills blurring by. Even the air felt cleaner as they moved farther away from the city and the sites of battles she’d witnessed.
Before she knew it, the sun was setting on another day and they were at the shore waiting for a boat to ferry them across to Cairntay, the MacDonald stronghold that sat high on the cliffs on the other side. Grant’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. It gave her a sense of pride in this place to see her husband affected by just the proximity to his home. She was pleased he looked more at ease, but it was almost time to put her plan into motion.
As the boat slid into the shoreline, Grant took her hand. “Let’s go home.” It sounded like he wanted her there, too, and she should be a part of it.
“Aye.” She smiled at him as he led her toward the vessel, and she wanted that dream again, the one she’d held as a child, where she had a husband who loved her and a family and didn’t have to think about safety.
A large black shadow cooled her skin as it slid over her body. A black bird headed in the direction they’d just come from, reminding her she wasn’t safe. And because of her, her husband and their clan weren’t safe, either.
Boyd escorted the still limping Annis and got her to a railing she could hold on to. Strolling up beside her maid as the boat started its journey across the water, Isobel asked, “Are ye looking forward to seeing yer baker?”
“Aye, I am. I have missed him terribly.”
The waters were moving swiftly, guiding the boat out to sea as the men fought against the current, rowing massive oars, shuttling them toward the green hills and rocky cliffs on the opposite site.
“Ye deserve a few days’ rest. Stay off yer feet and ye can come back next week when ye’ve had time to mend.”
“Nae, I’ll be fine.”
“Ye need to let it heal.” And she needed to sneak away. She couldn’t have Annis following her if Grant let her visit her brothers, especially because she might find Torsten Campbell there. Her maid needed to stay on Skye where she was safe.
“Very well, as long as ye promise me ye will get some sleep. Ye look exhausted.”
“I havenae been sleeping. I’m having dreams so real I can feel them, and they willnae let me rest.”
Annis smiled as if she’d just told the lass her biggest secret.
“What?”
“Ye are with child.” The lass clasped her hands together.
“Nae.” She wasn’t ready for that. “Why would ye think something so silly?”
“When was the last time ye had yer courses?”
Her fingers curled around the railing as the world tilted. She’d not even noticed, being so distracted by her new environment and then the journey to Edinburgh and the threat of Torsten. How had she missed the signs?
Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out as it dawned on her that she’d not bled since before her wedding to Grant. She swallowed mixed emotions—fear and delight mingled in equal measure—and her arms prickled as the mist from the water tickled her skin.
“My older sister calls them mother’s visions. She was plagued with them for both of her pregnancies.”
Why had she not known these things? What was she going to do?
A bairn.
Her hand drifted to her belly as she thought about the tiny life hidden within, someone to protect and guard. A little life who needed to stay close to Cairntay for safety, who would need its mother nearby.
Who would need her.
Och, how would she tell Grant?
He’d never let her leave for MacLean lands if he knew she was with child. Her other hand came to cover her mouth, then she let it fall back to her side. “But I havenae been sick. I thought mothers were always ill.”
“Nae, only some. I’m certain ye are. I’ve seen it enough with my large family.” Annis laughed.
She attempted to control the trembling in her fingers. If she’d not shut her mother out all those years ago, maybe she would have known these things. “Ye cannae tell anyone.” Annis looked confused. “Just let me accept it before we say anything.”
The lass nodded.
A hand touched the small of her back and she jumped.
“Och, settle down there. We are almost safe and home.” Grant moved to stand beside her.
Her husband’s gaze drifted back to the shoreline, his ruggedly handsome features appraising his home as if it was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen, as if he was happy to come back. She had to admit it looked magical and impregnable in the fading light—a combination of the charmed home the child in her had wanted and the fortress the grown woman in her needed.
She’d never felt that way on MacLean lands. Perhaps it was because she’d never felt safe after the attack.
Her own gaze drifted in that direction, and she wondered if she would ever feel as he did. Could this place truly give her the security she’d missed all these years? Tears stung at the innocence she had lost. She would never let that happen to her child.
Would her babe be protected by the Isle of Skye’s cliffs and the strong gray stone of the castle on the hill? Cairntay appeared to be an impenetrable stronghold, and the men told stories of failed invasion attempts where its imposing walls had protected Clan MacDonald.
Once Torsten Campbell was gone, she thought so.
Regret took hold because it was her that had put them all in jeopardy, the very thing she’d been trying to avoid. If Argyll discovered who she was, he would come after the MacDonald clan for protecting her. She had put Grant, Annis, and now her babe at risk. She had her own people to protect now and she couldn’t do that and be associated with the notorious group.
This was her fresh start. This place and this man and his child could fill the void and give her the peace she’d once craved.
Later, after bathing, having a large meal, and being reunited with the little furry creature, she fought to hold her eyes open. She waited for Grant to return, but he didn’t.
…
“I need men hidden on the other shore.” Grant leaned back in the chair in his father’s study. He arched his shoulders back and stretched his head to one side then the other, but it did little to assuage his tight muscles.
He’d thought once they were home the tension would lessen, but the threat to Isobel felt intensified. At least when they’d been moving about, she would have been harder to track, but now that they were back on MacDonald lands, she was well protected, but also easy to find. He’d have to post guards on her and make sure she didn’t leave the castle until he’d eliminated the danger.
“Why?” The lack of worry in Alastair MacDonald’s tone denoted the trust of a man who believed in him unconditionally. His father was a tough man, and he had earned Grant’s respect over the years. The laird moved to a table on the side of the room, picked up a decanter, and poured them both a dram of whisky.
“Torsten Campbell will be coming for Isobel.” The pressure on his chest at just saying the words threatened to steal his breath. “He’s been looking for her on MacLean lands, and I sent word that I wanted his audience.”
The laird nodded, his lips quirking to one side as they often did when he was deep in thought.
“He’ll be here. And nae, it seems he wants the reward for finding her and willnae risk telling anyone else.”
“I believe ye are correct if he has no’ betrayed her so far.” His father paced as he did when he was mulling over a problem.
“I’m going to offer him Lyall’s dowry.” He’d been thinking on the matter since the day he’d sent the missive to the Campbell for a meeting. Neither he nor the clan needed it, and it felt right. Despite their short time together, he knew Lyall would want him to be happy.
His father coughed, choking on the whisky he’d just sipped. “But ’tis a fortune.”
“Lyall was a generous woman. She would have wanted it. I think she would have liked Isobel.”
“Ye have had a change of heart.”
He gave a slight nod as he assessed all the things he’d learned about Isobel on their journey, and how he wanted nothing more for her than to have a life free of worry, to be able to form relationships again, and to feel safe.
“She isnae who I thought she was. But there’s more to my plan. I think ’tis necessary Torsten stay on Skye with us. He could live prosperously and never have to want for anything, but I dinnae trust him to take the money and still keep his mouth shut.”
“I agree.”
“Ye will honor the deal and put him under MacDonald protection?”
“Aye. Ye have my blessing.” Somewhere in his father’s deep burr and firm words, he heard approval, maybe even pride.
It was the right thing. If the MacLeans had offered a dowry for Isobel, he’d have thrown that in as well.
“Why do ye need men?” The laird settled into the chair behind his desk.
“The Campbell man may not accept the coin and our hospitality. I cannae take the risk no harm will come to Isobel or that he’ll not come back with an army and attack the clan. If a deal is not reached, I’ll have to kill him.”
“I am proud of ye, son.”
A moment of silence passed as his father’s gaze drifted to the portrait that hung to the left of the fireplace. A young man stared back at them with similar features to his father’s, a reckless spirit shining in his eyes.
“My brother would be, too.” A sheen glistened on his father’s eyes.
The laird stood and returned to the tray on the table, pouring a healthy serving of whisky into two more glasses. Striding back toward him, his father took Grant’s empty cup and offered the full one. He accepted it. “I didnae tell ye everything that happened that day. I couldn’t find the words and then there was never a good time because each time yer uncle’s name was mentioned ye closed yerself off so I just couldnae do it.” His father took a big gulp, seeming to be immune to the potent liquid, but then his eyes clouded.
“The MacLeods werenae offering him an agreement. It was all for show. Glen let his guard down and that’s when he was stabbed. What ye saw that day, when it looked like he had attacked first, it wasnae true. When Glen drew his sword, he was already wounded and defending himself.”
Chills erupted on his shoulders and spread to his arms and back. Implications washed over him as everything he’d believed came crashing down around him. His uncle had gone out with peace in mind and had never made it home.
Grant spent the next several hours planning with his father.
Later, as Grant entered his chamber to find his wife asleep, the kitten curled up near her feet, he studied Isobel in the candlelight. He had a sinking feeling, especially after the talk with his father, Torsten wouldn’t accept the bargain. The only way to truly protect his wife might be to take out the man who would see her harmed.
Not wanting to wake her, he undressed, blew out the candle, and slid under the blankets to join her. The last time they had shared this bed, he barely knew her. Now, he felt as if his universe revolved around the little lass and he drew her near, knowing he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and confident he had the MacDonald clan behind him.
The next morning when he woke, he found his wife petting the creature as it sat on her chest. A light rumbling sound vibrated from the happy cat. “I think he missed ye.”
Isobel turned toward him and continued to massage its ears, cheek and neck. “It’s a she.”
“How do ye ken?” Resting on one elbow, he scratched the scruffy thing’s neck. It leaned into his touch.
“The person who watched her while we were gone told me. She also said it kept coming up here looking for me and crying.” Her sideways smirk held a suggestion of a smile, like she was pleased the little fluffy creature had chosen her.
“Well, whether or no’ ye want the thing, it wants ye.” It was kind of like him. He wanted her, but he’d never stopped to think how she felt. She seemed more comfortable with him, but would she be happy here with the MacDonalds, with him, without the Resistance?
“Daracha,” Isobel said as her gaze drifted from him down to the creature. Now the smile was genuine.
“What?”
“That’s her name. We can’t keep calling her ‘it’.”
Awareness struck him. She had decided to make this marriage work. If she hadn’t formed an attachment to him, she had at least bonded with the cat, something he guessed she’d not done since her childhood. And Isobel had said “we.” A pressure on his chest lifted, because she had decided she belonged here, with him.
“So ye’ve decided, ye like it here and ye’ll stay.” He tensed with need for her, to claim her once again and seal their life together.
“Aye.”
He scooped up the kitten, put it on the other side of him, then leaned in to give his wife a kiss. His lips collided with hers, pure joy spreading through him as she leaned into his embrace.
A knock sounded and he reluctantly pulled back. “Och, ’tis too early for Annis.”
“Nae, I sent her home for a few days. She shouldnae be here.”
The noise sounded again, this time a deeper, more urgent pounding.
“Yes?” he called out.
“Grant,” Boyd said.
“What?”
“Ye are needed below.”
Resignation washed over him as a dark foreboding shadowed the joy he’d felt only moments earlier. He and his father had agreed to call a council this morning to discuss the danger facing the clan, but the sun wasn’t even up.
“Looks like we’ll have to do this later.”
Isobel nodded as he slid from the covers.
The cat, who had jumped to the floor, paced around him, crying as if hurt. “What’s wrong, wee one?” It rubbed against his calf then started to the door before looking back and meowing at him again.
“She’s probably hungry and needs to go out.”
After dressing quickly, he opened the door to let Daracha out, then turned back to look at the sleepy lass he was leaving.
A moment of panic assailed him at the thought of her wandering around on her own—she seemed to find trouble anytime he left her to her own devices, and he’d not had a chance to talk to her yet about the threat headed their way. “Stay in the castle until I can talk to ye. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She stretched and nodded.
Satisfied she might just go back to sleep, he stepped through the door, shut it, and met Boyd in the hall.
Daracha bounded for the stairs and then pounced out of sight.
Boyd started, “He’s on the other shore on the land of Clan Ranald.”
That was where they had been just yesterday before crossing over to Skye. “Do ye ken if he brought men with him?”
They reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner toward his father’s study. “I dinnae ken yet. The laird just sent me to fetch ye.”
Grant pushed in the door and was not only met by his father but a roomful of men with silent, stony faces. Boyd followed and clicked the door shut behind them.
“What has happened?”
His father pulled out a piece of parchment, leaned forward on his elbows, and began reading.
His father dropped the missive on his desk and peered across the room at him. Surely, his father wouldn’t expect him to hand her over. But the thought of all the innocent MacDonalds murdered on Rathlin Island on Ireland’s shores by Argyll’s men because they were kin made his pulse hammer out a furious pace that turned his stomach.
“What do ye wish to do, Grant?”
It was the moment he’d always dreaded, when his father had him make decisions for the clan. Was it a test, or would his father go with his wishes? Either way, the clan had to come first, but he would find a way to keep Isobel safe no matter the cost to him.
“She is a MacDonald now. One of us. We willnae hand her over to a Campbell.”
The laird nodded his approval, and relief flooded him that his father would stand beside them.
“We must contain this before he can get to Argyll, then. Let’s come up with a better plan now that we ken where he is.”
They spent the next few hours devising plans to keep his wife and the clan safe. When Grant finally emerged from the room, he headed straight toward their chamber to discover his wife missing.
Damn, he’d not even had the time to put guards on her. What if Torsten had come to the Isle of Skye for her?
He couldn’t lose someone else. No, it was more than that. He couldn’t lose Isobel. He had cared for his last wife as his friend, but it was more with her. Somehow she’d become part of who he was, of who he wanted to be. He could no longer see life without her.
A shiver ran down his spine and he rushed from the room to find her. Relief flooded him when he found her at a table with his mother, laughing as she rubbed the kitten that sat in her lap.
“Mother, can we have a few moments?”
Fenella MacDonald jumped up to rush over and draw him into a tight, reassuring embrace. He returned the hug.
“Aye. I’m so pleased ye two are back.” Looking to Isobel, she pulled back and continued, “I’ll be just outside. When ye are done come find me and I’ll introduce ye to the cousins ye havenae yet met.”
“Aye, I’d like that.”
Grant studied his wife, pleased that she and his mother seemed to be forming a bond as well.
Although Isobel wore a dark blue gown that had been made for her and given to her last night upon their return, the ties were loose and while he could see she had tried to pin up her hair, strands fell around her face, giving her the appearance of a woman who had been thoroughly ravished. Suddenly, he wanted to scoop her up and rush to their chamber to do just that.
But there were more important things that had to be taken care of first.
Isobel said, “I’d like to go collect my belongings.”
“What belongings?” He didn’t think she’d forgotten anything on their trip.
“From my old home.”
A chill ran down his backbone. How could she even think of leaving right now? “I’ll send for them.”
“Nae, I’d like to go see my brothers.”
Something about her persistence clicked—she knew exactly what she was doing and he wasn’t going to have it. Clenching his fists, he couldn’t help the anger creeping into his tone. “Then I’ll ask them to come for a visit.”
“I’d like to go.” She squared her shoulders, making it seem almost like an order.
Reserve gone, his temper sprang from the place he’d tried to keep hidden. “Until the threat is taken care of, ye will be going nowhere.” His words echoed through the empty hall, reverberating almost like a physical blow. He softened his tone. “Ye are safer here.”
“We cannae sit around and do nothing about it.” Her gaze pinned him with accusation.
“That is exactly what ye’ll do. I’ll have Owen and Ian guard ye until ’tis sorted out.”
“And we ken how well that worked out last time.” She stood, attempting to get an even footing with him, but he still stood several inches taller than her. Isobel had proven she was capable of handling herself, but also that she was good at getting into trouble.
“Ye will stay here on Skye for now.” He closed the distance between them and reached for her cheek, but she pulled back. “I promise I’ll take ye soon.”
Her sad gaze spoke of mistrust and stabbed at his heart. “Very well.” Skirting around him, she made her way for the door, but it didn’t seem right—she wouldn’t give in that easily. He’d have to find his friends. They were the only ones he trusted to keep her safe from Torsten Campbell and from herself.
A storm had rolled in and the walls inside the castle grew colder as he made his way back to his father’s study, hoping the men hadn’t gone far. Owen was still talking amongst the MacDonalds. Thunder boomed and he felt a shift in the air. A damp cool breeze blew in through the window.
“I need ye and Boyd to keep watch on Isobel.”
“Aye. Where is she?”
“With my mother. I think they were going to stay near the castle. Especially with the threat of the storm.”
Owen started off in search of her, but only minutes later he rushed in. “Isobel is no’ with yer mother. And she’s no’ in yer chamber.”