The Highlander's Heart (28 page)

Isabelle slipped back up to the sleeping quarters and bundled some pillows under the blanket on Cait’s bed. She hoped Mairi would not check on her. Then she went into the ladies’ solar. It was empty, since the entertainment was just ending. She would have but a moment to do this. She took a quill and found a parchment. She would not leave again without an explanation.

Isabelle hoped that if Campbell knew she was safe with her own guard, he would let her go without pursuing her. The need for secrecy might not even be warranted. He might allow her to leave with her guard, without complaint. He had, after all, said he would give her to the bishop instead. Yet he was still a wanted man in England, and her soldiers were Englishmen. Captain Corbett had trusted her by coming into Campbell’s gates. She could not betray him, not knowing what Campbell or his illustrious houseguests might do. No, she needed to sneak away quietly.

She stared at the blank page, wondering what to write. How could she express her feelings toward Campbell? Her conscience bothered her. She had promised Campbell not to escape. She argued with herself that if she left a note, it wasn’t truly running away. It was a poor excuse, but it was all she had.

Footsteps and happy female chatter could be heard from down the hall. Isabelle scratched a few lines of inadequate explanation and rolled the parchment, stuffing it in the pocket of her skirts.

“Lady Tynsdale,” said Mairi, entering the solar. “Where is Cait?”

“She is over-tired from lack of sleep. I had her lie down to rest.”

“Poor Cait. Ye missed a fine performance,” said Fiona, her folded arms resting on her large belly.

“Aye, ’twas amazing,” said young Gwyneth.

“’Twas a paltry attempt at best,” said Lady Eileen, and all the heat left the room.

The Campbell ladies gave Eileen a wide berth and talked softly amongst themselves.

“Did ye see Gavin Patrick arrive wi’ his uncle, Laird MacLaren, and his stepfather, Chaumont?” asked Fiona.

“Is Gavin the one Cait is going to wed?” asked Effie.

“Aye, he is a handsome one,” said Elyne. “But why are they here now?”

“They come to witness the execution,” said Fiona, her voice low. Isabelle strained to hear the conversation.

“Poor Cait, she winna be pleased,” said Effie.

Isabelle rolled her eyes at the understatement. Yes, Cait would be quite displeased indeed, and possibly homicidal. Isabelle was glad Andrew would escape that night. She doubted he had many mornings left him.

Isabelle tarried in the solar only as long as she deemed necessary, then made a great show of yawning and telling the company she needed to get some rest. In her sleeping quarters, Isabelle stuffed some pillows under the blanket on her pallet and slipped in the note for Campbell. She hoped he would understand.

Isabelle crept to the courtyard toward the wagons. Darkness had fallen fast, the thick clouds shutting out the moon. If she was wise, she would crawl into the wagons and wait for her men to leave at first light. No more pickle barrels or tar-filled boats. This time she would escape on a bed of silk. A faint light shone in the window of the chapel.

Campbell.

***

Campbell knelt before the altar in the chapel and prayed for guidance. Had he not always sought to follow the will of God? How could God abandon him now? What was he to do? He had carefully managed to keep Douglas and Stewart apart after supper and ushered them to bed rather early. It was all he could do. Cait’s betrothed, Gavin Patrick, along with MacLaren and Chaumont, had come to witness the execution.

Campbell put his head in his hands. He did not like this responsibility. He actually found Andrew McNab to be a likable lad, and Campbell guessed he took more on his shoulders than was his due to protect his clan. Campbell admired that, yet the lad had been caught with Cait. He had to die. No member of his family could travel safely again if he did not make an example of him.

Campbell shook his head. Being laird meant he had to do some unpleasant things. But he was laird, and he would see them done.

“Why do you pray so long, my lord?”

Campbell knew her voice without looking. Isabelle had come for him. She sat in the pew next to him, her silken black hair covered by a simple, gauzy veil and flowing loose down her back. Her brown eyes shimmered in the candlelight, bringing warmth to the cold night.

His Isabelle was here. Everything was right once more. “Ye left before the entertainment,” said Campbell.

“I was helping Cait,” answered Isabelle. It was true, if vague.

“Thank ye for yer kindness to her.”

Isabelle frowned and pursed her lips together, trying to block the stab of guilt. “I have only wanted to help her. I hope you know that.”

“Aye, and I thank ye for yer help tonight. I dinna ken what to do wi’ Douglas and Stewart. That is why I pray. I pray long because I have not received an answer to my question.”

“And what is your question? Maybe I can help.”

“I doubt it.” David Campbell put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. “I pray for guidance in marriage.”

“After speaking with both Douglas and Stewart have you been swayed to one side or the other?”

“Nay. They both have plans for power. Plans they wish me to support. They will be at war soon I fear, and I will be forced to take a stand.”

“Well then, in absence of a clear choice, you are free to choose whichever bride you find more palatable.”

Campbell snorted. “That rules out Lady Eileen.”

Isabelle laughed. Campbell joked so rarely it always surprised her when he did. “I tell you, there is no love for her in the ladies’ solar. What is Miss Stewart like? Surely she is a better match for you.”

“Ye saw her at the banquet.”

“Did I?”

“Aye, she arrived wi’ Stewart. She was seated to my left.”

“The child?” Isabelle was incredulous.

“Stewart says she is twelve years.”

“No! She is no more twelve years than I am. Why, you would become an old man before she reached her maturity.”

“Thank ye verra much.”

“’Tis true and you know it. How old are you? You could be her father I feel sure.”

“I am thirty-three and until this moment I had thought I had a few years before my dotage. I so appreciate yer correction of my false pride.”

Isabelle smiled. “I did not mean to suggest you would be singing with the angels soon.”

“Thank ye for that at least.”

“I mean a man of your stature could have two or three years left in him at least.”

David Campbell’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight and the corners of his mouth twitched up. “Two or three years. How generous.”

Isabelle smiled and patted his hand consolingly. “At the very least.”

David Campbell laughed out loud. Isabelle reveled in the sound, loud and throaty and very much alive. David slid a little closer and put his arm around her shoulders. Isabelle liked the feel of his arm, solid and warm. Isabelle closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the faint sound of crickets floating through the night into the chapel. The chapel was dark, lit by a single, flickering candle, throwing faint dancing shadows onto the walls.

“I was married at sixteen,” Isabelle began, a lump forming in her throat. She had never spoken of it before. She had wished to forget, to pretend it never happened. Somehow, though, she wanted to tell Campbell. She needed him to understand. “Tynsdale was in his fifties at that time. I was to be his fourth wife.”

Campbell said nothing but gently rubbed her shoulder.

“After the plague took my parents and siblings, I was left the heir of Alnsworth. I understand Tynsdale well compensated my uncle for the marriage contract with me.” Isabelle spoke a little fast not wishing to dwell on the sad facts. “I was married at Tynsdale Castle. I met him for the first time in front of the priest. I was terrified. After the feast, they took me to his chamber.” Isabelle’s voice trailed off. She stood and took a step toward the altar. She could not look at Campbell when she told him.

“I was put in his bed. Tynsdale came for me. It was… unpleasant. Afterward, he laughed and told me to cry if I needed to, but to accustom myself to it. He left, and I did cry. I thought my life could not get any worse, but I was wrong. A few hours later, Tynsdale stormed back into the room. He dragged me from the bed and screamed that I was a whore. He struck me across the face. I was so shocked I didn’t even feel it. He hit me several times I think, I… I do not like to… ’tis difficult to remember.”

Isabelle took a breath, her scar throbbed in pain. “He threw me across the room, then bashed my head into a table. There was so much blood…” Isabelle’s voice abandoned her.

Warm arms engulfed her, and Isabelle melted into David’s embrace. He gently touched her hand where she had been rubbing the scar along her hairline. Isabelle rested her head on his shoulder and listened to the crickets’ faint lullaby until she felt surer of her voice.

“Simon ran into the room, he must have heard the commotion.”

“Who is Simon?” asked Campbell.

“He is the son of Tynsdale’s mistress, grown to manhood. Tynsdale has no other children, you understand. He wanted me to breed him a legitimate heir.”

Campbell nodded and continued to hold her.

“Simon pulled me from the room and took me back to my maid. He told me that Tynsdale had killed his two previous wives. Indeed, I had heard that each of them only lived a few months into the marriage. Simon helped me escape with my maid that night and warned me never to return or Tynsdale would kill me too.”

Campbell pulled her closer and stroked her hair, murmuring something in Gaelic. Isabelle closed her eyes, comforted by his strength and warmth. Her muscles relaxed and she breathed in his familiar scent.

“I have wondered what I did wrong,” said Isabelle. I must have done something wrong to enrage my husband.”

“I have seven sisters to me. As their brother and laird I have the right and the responsibility to discipline them. And trust me when I tell ye that they have enraged me beyond speech on more than one occasion. But, Isabelle—” Campbell gently tipped her face up to look him directly in the eye. “Only a rat-bastard coward would ever strike a woman.”

Isabelle closed her eyes and laid her head back down on his chest. She smiled faintly, experiencing an emotion that was new to her. She felt safe.

“Trust me, Isabelle, I will not give ye back to him. After I deal with our current guests, I will take you to the Bishop of Glasgow. He can get you back to England safely. Since yer husband has fallen out of favor, your king may well support your annulment.”

“And give me and Alnsworth to another man,” Isabelle finished.

“Aye, ’tis likely,” said Campbell softly. Neither spoke, the murmur of the crickets the only sound.

Campbell wrapped his arm around her waist and strode with her out of the chapel into the cool darkness of the night. It felt natural and right.

“I wish… I wish…” Isabelle took a breath. “If I did not have to protect my people from Tynsdale, I would be content to remain here with you.”

Campbell held her tighter. “I wish I could keep ye, but I must choose a wife and soon. It would be… distracting to have ye here and no’ fair to whichever bride I choose.”

“I suppose you must choose one of them.”

Campbell nodded, his jaw set.

“Do you yet know your mind?”

Campbell gave her a wry smile. “Aye, I ken what I want.”

“Which would you choose?”

David stopped by the castle wall and drew her into the shadows. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her slowly and without apology. “I want what I canna have… Isabelle.” His green eyes smoldered. There could be no mistaking his meaning.

They entered the stone keep and walked up the spiral staircase to the third floor where the sisters slept. At the doorway he hesitated, then pulled her back into the stairwell.

“Stay wi’ me tonight.” Campbell held both her hands, his eyes reflecting the dancing torchlight. Isabelle’s heart skipped a beat. “I winna force ye but… I must choose a bride from two unappealing options. I will do my duty, yet I would wish for one night to be wi’ the lady I want, the lady I choose. I would ask for one night wi’ ye.”

Isabelle caught her breath. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Just one night,” he repeated. “Just one night I can look back on after I wed.”

Isabelle nodded. It was all she could manage. Her body hummed to his tune. She would follow him anywhere. They continued up the spiral staircase.

David stopped when he got to his door. “Ye dinna have to do this.” He leaned back against the doorpost. “Truly at this point ye could ask for anything and I’d give it to ye. Ye dinna need to sleep wi’ me.” Campbell looked up at the ceiling and folded his arms across his chest.

Isabelle reached up and twined her hands around his neck. “I would like nothing more than to spend my last hours at Innis Chonnel with you.”

David exhaled as if he had been holding his breath. “Good. Because I was going to have a hard time letting you go.” He slowly embraced her in his large arms, one hand moving up through her hair, the other cupping her backside. “Ye dinna ken how long I’ve wanted to do this.”