The Highlander's Heart (31 page)

A slow smile crept over the duke’s face, and he inclined his head. “I do ask you to join with us against our common English enemy, but this time we not only request your help but pledge our support to raise your armies. And we will send French troops to march alongside you.”

“’Tis a fair offer, to be sure,” said Douglas, his eyes on the chest of gold.

“I would hear more,” agreed Stewart.

The Duke of Argitaine dismounted, and the lairds met with him, discussing details of the proposed French plan.

Isabelle’s heart sank. Her holdings were on the border so her King Edward would no doubt use her castle to reinforce the line against Scotland. She would be married off to some warrior who could promise security. Would Alnsworth be home to battle? Would she see Campbell again from the other side of her castle wall?

A low moan caught her attention. It was Cait, weeping over the body of Andrew McNab.

“Cait!” cried Isabelle, rushing to her side. “Is he… is it too late?”

Andrew McNab made a raspy noise that gave Isabelle hope. “Look, he lives still. Oh, stop that crying and see what you can do to help.”

“Does he live?” asked Gavin, taking a keen interest.

“Dinna hurt him!” cried Cait, trying to cover Andrew with her body.

“By the saints, I’m no’ going to hurt him,” replied Gavin, irritated. “Give him some room to breathe now.”

Cait sat back up, and Gavin gave Andrew some drops from his flask. Andrew’s eyes opened wide and then blinked at the faces around him.

“Am I dead?” rasped Andrew.

“No’ yet,” said Gavin, helping the lad to sit up and giving him a healthy swig from the flask. “Are ye well, lad?”

“My throat pains me, but all things considered, I am glad to feel it.” Andrew took the flask from Gavin’s hand and drank until his color returned. He offered it back to Gavin who shook his head.

“Keep it,” said Gavin, a smile brightening his face. “Consider it a wedding present.”

“So ye will no’ press yer right to wed me?” Cait asked, eyes wide, her blond hair falling down around her.

“I would ne’er press anyone into marriage,” responded Gavin gallantly.

Isabelle noted that Gavin was a broad-shouldered, attractive lad. Had she known Cait’s betrothed to be such a handsome young man, she doubted she would have assisted her escape. Isabelle wondered why she had doubted Campbell’s plan for his sister. Surely he would care to make a match for Cait better than the one that had been made for her.

“He lives?” asked Campbell, not sounding particularly enthusiastic.

Andrew struggled to his feet and stood before Campbell, his arm around Cait, more for support than affection.

“Since he saved my life,” Isabelle caught Campbell’s eye. “I would ask that you grant me this one boon and let the lad live.”

“I also advocate for the life and freedom of this lad,” said an elderly voice, new to the conversation. Isabelle turned to see a man in white robes with an equally white beard walk up to Campbell.

“Bishop!” stated Campbell, clearly surprised. “What do ye do here?”

“I come to ask for Andrew McNab’s life. He is important for the Church.”

“How could Andrew be important for the Church?” asked Campbell. Even Andrew’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Andrew McNab,” said the bishop. “Are ye prepared to make a new life for yourself? To walk the path of righteousness and not follow the path yer brother was on?”

“Aye, yer grace.”

“And will ye convince yer brother by any means necessary to serve me.”

“Aye, yer grace.”

“There’s a good lad. Now introduce me to your lovely bride.” The bishop was all smiles.

Campbell sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Andrew McNab, for acts of heroism in saving the life of Lady Tynsdale from the hands of a madman, I pardon ye from the sentence of death by hanging. Now take yer arm off my sister and get the hell off my land.”

“Thank ye, Brother,” said Cait with a brilliant smile that immediately turned mulish. “But I will leave wi’ my husband.”

“Ye will marry Gavin Patrick as ye are betrothed to do,” growled Campbell.

“I canna marry him when I am wed to another,” cried Cait.

“Forgive me, sir,” broke in Gavin. “I am conscious of the honor ye do me to accept a betrothal between yer sister and myself, but I feel I must break the engagement, for the reasons of…” Gavin stumbled over his words and gestured in Andrew’s general vicinity. “I mean no disrespect, but I would like to find a bride o’ my own choosing.”

Campbell sighed again, but nodded saying, “I understand and hold naught against ye.”

Campbell glared at Andrew, then Cait, then Isabelle. “How is it ye were wed?” Campbell’s voice was deceptively soft.

Andrew swallowed and put a hand to his throat. “Last night an old man came to my cell and performed the wedding rites.”

“Ye were there, Cait?”

She nodded.

“And how did a priest come to be in your cell, or Cait for that matter?”

Andrew grew pale once more and paused, the silence loud and painful. “That I canna say.”

“Isabelle!” Campbell barked. “This was yer doing, dinna deny it.”

“I have no desire to deny it,” said Isabelle, holding herself up a little taller.

“And what concern is it to ye that ye be meddling in it?”

“She came to me for help and why should I not assist her? People talk of love and sing of love, but so few people actually experience it for themselves. True love is found so rarely. I wanted someone to have it.” Isabelle’s words came out in a jumble, and she felt perilously close to spilling tears.

“The Church accepts the marriage of Andrew McNab to Lady Caitrina Campbell.” The bishop spoke with religious authority. It was done. They were wed.

Isabelle glanced at Campbell expecting to see his anger, but he was staring at her, his eyes dark and mournful.

“Gavin!” shouted MacLaren and Gavin immediately returned to his uncle’s side. The men had huddled around the Duke of Argitaine and were speaking in low, fervent voices. MacLaren gave Isabelle a hard stare.

The steward stepped forward. “This is a fortunate day for ye, Lady Tynsdale. The man who wished ye dead is now himself a corpse. ’Tis time to return to England with yer guard. I wish ye well and I advise ye not to dawdle long in Scotland, but return home by the shortest route possible.”

Campbell’s face returned to stone, expressionless in the gray mist. He had protected her, killed for her, and now he said nothing. He was letting her go.

“Good-bye then, my lords.” Isabelle curtsied to the men. “Your Grace.” She inclined her head to the bishop.

Captain Corbett motioned for his men to move out. It was past time to go. At least Cait was going to be able to keep her lover. Campbell would have to pick between two poor choices for a bride and Isabelle would be given to another man.

“Farewell, Lady Tynsdale.” Campbell stepped toward her.

“Farewell to you, Laird Campbell.”

“Godspeed.”

Isabelle nodded and bit back tears.

“Hold there,” said MacLaren. “The lady and her guard know too much. She should no’ be allowed to return and give the news to her king o’ this meeting wi’ Argitaine.”

Isabelle glared at MacLaren, then at Campbell. Would he dare to make her a captive again? Her anger wilted the moment she looked into his eyes. Campbell’s expressionless mask cracked, revealing raw hope. He wanted her.

Though others stood around, Campbell was the only one she saw. If they were speaking, she heard nothing. Wind played with her hair, clearing the mist so the castle was once again in sight. It had never been far away.

Isabelle
. Campbell spoke her name without saying a word.
Isabelle
.

With a flash of insight, Isabelle realized something that changed everything.
I’m not married.
A smile crept over her face.
I’m not married
. She mouthed the words to Campbell. His eyes flashed with sudden comprehension.

“MacLaren is right,” said Campbell. “Lady Tynsdale canna be allowed to return to warn King Edward. Alnsworth, the fortress she inherited, is too vital to the success of this mission. It must be taken.”

Isabelle’s guards clustered around her and stood at the ready. “I will not let you hold the Lady Tynsdale prisoner,” said Captain Corbett.

“Nor will I,” added Isabelle.

“Then I will marry the Lady Tynsdale,” stated Campbell with a look of satisfaction that even his disciplined control couldn’t remove from his face.

Isabelle’s heart leapt and happy tingles flashed through her. “I accept your offer, Laird Campbell.”

“Nay,” interjected Douglas. “David is betrothed to my daughter.”

“He is not formally betrothed and you know it. He will wed my granddaughter,” said the steward.

“I will do neither.” Campbell’s voice rang with authority. “Ye are both my allies, my friends, and my kin. Let us keep it that way. I will wed the English countess and hold Alnsworth for yer invasion.”

Douglas scowled. Stewart looked regally displeased.

“You will hold Alnsworth against the English?” asked Douglas.

“Aye,” said Campbell.

“We can use Alnsworth to push forward into England?” asked Stewart.

“Aye,” said Campbell.

Douglas and Stewart seemed appeased, or perhaps the amount of gold offered by the Duke of Argitaine was enough to make them forget old rivalries in the pursuit of new wealth. Isabelle smiled at the men. The Scots were a practical sort.

“Captain Corbett, I give ye this choice,” said Campbell. “Swear allegiance to me and continue to serve your lady or—”

“Please, Captain Corbett,” interrupted Isabelle. She did not wish to hear the alternative. “Please stay with me and swear allegiance to Campbell. You have served me with honor and I would not have you harmed for coming all this way to rescue me.”

Corbett nodded. “Thank you, m’lady. I would be pleased to serve you and your new lord. My men also. My mother was a Scot. Alnsworth has changed masters often, and many of us who live there have mixed blood. You will need to take it back from Simon’s men, and I would dearly love to help you do so.”

“Come, let us retire to Innis Chonnel,” said Campbell, a smile still on his face. “We can discuss our plans in further detail and I can begin plans for the wedding. Bishop, would ye do the honors for us?”

“I need to be back to Glasgow soon.”

“Then we will wed tonight.”

A chill went down Isabelle’s back at the announcement. People started to move down the shore to the location of the ferry back to Innis Chonnel. Isabelle was vaguely aware that Campbell’s brothers were clapping him on the shoulders as they left. She was reasonably certain Cait tearfully said something kind before she also made her way to the ferry on Andrew’s arm. Isabelle only had eyes for Campbell.

“Isabelle.” Campbell’s voice broke with emotion. He held out his arms and Isabelle ran to him. “I ne’er thought ye could be mine. All this time I’ve prayed for guidance in marriage and all I saw was ye. I thought ye were a distraction, but nay, ye are God’s answered prayer.”

Happy tears streamed down her face. She was home.

The breeze off of Loch Awe played with Isabelle’s hair and swirled her gown. The sun broke through the mist and sparkled off the green-blue water. David Campbell held her tight. Everything was right with the world.

Pulling back with a smile, David wrapped his arm around her waist and they walked slowly to the dock. The birds chirped happily, the air was fresh and… actually it smelled of fish, but never mind that, it was still lovely. Isabelle smiled and closed her eyes, breathing in the romance of it all. Her problems were solved, the crisis had passed, all was well.

She opened her eyes to the leering grins of David’s brothers. Dain raised one eyebrow at her, Hamish smirked, and Gill and Finn grinned maliciously.

“Damn, but I may have to kill them.” David released Isabelle and stormed off to his brothers with the same scowl he had given his enemies.

***

Isabelle hovered in the doorway of the chapel. She had been there before, but never alone. Campbell was busy preparing for the wedding. The Campbell ladies had taken her measurements and promised to alter a gown to make her look stunning, then shooed her out the door. Isabelle, the bride, found herself with nothing to do but wait for a few hours until the ceremony.

Isabelle leaned her head against the smooth, oak door frame. Campbell certainly was not delaying their nuptials. She, too, wished to be wed at once before anything could disrupt their plans. She stepped forward with hesitation. The chapel was empty, but she still feared someone would ask her what business she had here. She wasn’t sure why she had come, but still, she walked forward to the altar and sat in the first pew.

Colored shafts of light shone through the finished stained-glass window above the altar. It was a beautiful sight, but not why she came. She had not been one to pray, she had not believed it would do her any good. But now… now she wasn’t so sure what she believed. She had prayed for help and had received it. Was it divine intervention, or just dumb luck going her way for once?

Isabelle sighed and leaned her head back against the pew. She no longer knew what was true, but she felt more at peace with this lack of knowledge than she ever did when she was certain of her lack of faith. But would that be enough? Could God accept her humble prayers since she had so little faith?

Isabelle looked up at the stained glass window. It depicted the parable of the lost sheep and showed a shepherd reaching over some rocks to find a little lost lamb. A lost sheep. A chill ran up her spine. The good shepherd searching for his lost lamb.

“Thank you,” she prayed. “Thank you.”

Isabelle smiled and stood, crossing herself before the altar. Colored shafts of light shown on her through the stained glass and she believed. She believed the Good Shepherd had found her. Mother Enid was right. Isabelle had changed. The hurt of losing her family was still there, but the bitterness was gone. It was time to become part of a new family… if they would ever accept an Englishwoman as Lady Campbell.

Isabelle turned and walked to the door. Mairi stood in the doorway, frowning.

“So here ye are, we’ve been looking for ye.” Mairi crossed her arms in front of her. “We need to get ye fitted, go on wi’ ye.” Mairi inclined her head for Isabelle to leave, but Isabelle paused by the door.

“Mairi, I wish you to understand that I would not presume to take your place here at Innis Chonnel.” Isabelle wished to make peace with Mairi. She would have a difficult life in the castle if Mairi took a disliking to her.

“Ye will take yer place as chatelaine as is proper for ye to do.”

“Certainly, I will fulfill my role to the best of my ability. It’s only that I understand you wished David to wed Lady Eileen and I would hope we could still work together.”

Mairi put her hand on Isabelle’s arm. “Ye ken I wished Eileen to be mistress here?” Mairi burst into uncharacteristic laughter. “Nay, dinna worrit yerself on that account. I was resigned to the marriage when I thought we had no other choice, but I am quite happy to be given an alternative. In truth, I come to the chapel to give my thanks and ask forgiveness for something I said to Lady Eileen.”

“What did you say?”

Mairi grinned, her eyes sparkling. “I had the immeasurable joy of telling Eileen exactly what I thought o’ her. The look on her face is something I will cherish forever.” Mairi hugged Isabelle lightly and kissed both cheeks. “Welcome to the family, Isabelle. Now stop dawdling and get to the fitting.”

***

True to his word, Isabelle and David Campbell were married that afternoon. It was everything Isabelle wanted, namely David as groom. Later she would not be able to recall the color of her gown or if she held flowers, all she knew was she was marrying David Campbell. Even Eileen’s ferocious glare appeared, if not cheerful, at least humorous. Isabelle smiled at her from her seat of honor beside David at the feast.

“We have a problem.” David Campbell eyed his grinning brothers with a wary glance.

“I am not sure I understand your concern. What do you fear your brothers are going to do?” Isabelle asked, taking another helping of roast pork. The cook had no more than five hours to prepare for the wedding feast but he had acquitted himself well. She savored the flavors.

“Are ye familiar wi’ the customs for the bride and groom on their wedding night?”

Isabelle paused a moment to give the question some thought. She had lived isolated for many years with precious few weddings, but hazy recollections slowly returned.

“Is that when they strip you—”

“Aye.”

“And then they make you—”

“Aye. And ye can be sure they will make us do every humiliating custom and make up a few o’ their own.”

“Your brothers are not so bad, once you get accustomed to them. How do you know they will do that?”

“Because I did it to Dain when he was wed. ’Tis a grudge match now.”

“That was a mite shortsighted of you.”

“Yer wisdom astounds me.”

“Sarcasm will hardly help your cause. I suppose you wish me to fix this for you? Very well, enjoy your meal, I will be back shortly.” Isabelle wiped her mouth and stood from the table. David’s brothers indeed took notice, and she could feel their eyes upon her, plotting and devious.

“Where are ye going?” hissed David.

“To defend the honor and dignity of my person.”

Isabelle strolled around the great hall, speaking to a few people, happy and laughing. David wished to go to her, but dared not stand lest his brothers take it to mean he had finished his meal and decided to march them up to his bedchamber.

Presently, Isabelle returned with a knowing smile.

“Ye’ve done something,” Campbell whispered to Isabelle from the side of his mouth.

Isabelle nodded and smiled.

“Some daft thing, no doubt.” Campbell put his arm around her shoulders. “I am glad ye are on my side.”

Sir Dragonet, the former minstrel, stood from his place at the high table next to the Duke of Argitaine. “I would be glad to play for the happy couple and wish them many prosperous years to come.” The French knight walked around the tables to the center of the hall with his lyre.

“Nay, ’tis right for her kinsman to entertain the bride first.” Captain Corbett and Isabelle’s guards stood and also strode to the center.

“I’m sure you are a very entertaining diversion, but we are in the presence of his grace, the duke. He prefers more accomplished talents.” The minstrel’s voice rang through the hall and people quieted to hear the growing confrontation in the middle of the room.

“’Tis so like the French to arrive unannounced, uninvited, and expect preferential treatment. Well, not tonight, Frenchie.”

The minstrel knight laid his lyre on the table behind him, out of harm’s way. “You insult me! I demand satisfaction.”

“I’m right here, if you are man enough.” Isabelle’s guard stood with five of his mates, giving him an unfair advantage, or so it must have seemed to the French soldiers accompanying Argitaine who now stood and jumped over tables to join the fray. The minstrel knight ran forward, throwing the first punch and was soon swallowed up in a sea of bodies. The French joined in, followed by the Scots who picked their own sides. David’s brothers, not ones to avoid a fight, jumped from their table and joined in the chaos.

“Come now,” whispered Isabelle to David.

“What? What is happening here?”

“A diversion, make haste.”

Isabelle and David slipped from the hall and ran up the circular stairs toward his chamber.

“Merciful heavens, ye arranged a brawl so we could escape?”

“I did not hear any better ideas from your quarter,” retorted Isabelle.

“I’m no’ angry. I’m impressed.” They reached David’s room and dashed in, closing the door behind them. David caught Isabelle around the waist and drew her close. “Ye’re a devious wench, but ye’re mine.”

“How long before they note we are gone?”

“Soon, I warrant. I’ve trained my brothers no’ to start fights, but they ken how to end one.”

“We must go somewhere they won’t find us.”

“My chamber is the first place they’ll look.”

“Yes, yes, I know that much. Where can we hide that they won’t find us?”

“I’m certain ye’ll think o’ something. Ye always do.” David’s eyes danced. “Only not a pickle barrel.”

Isabelle glared at her new husband. “Pray tell, when are you going to let me forget that?”

“Ne’er.” David tried unsuccessfully to squelch a grin. “When we reach the end o’ our days, I will lie on my deathbed and gently take yer hand and whisper,
pickle
barrel
.”

“Your deathbed may be sooner than you realize.” Isabelle drummed her fingers on his shoulder, a slow, malicious smile creeping across her face. “I know just the place we can go. A place they will never find us.”

***

“I apologize most humbly and sincerely. I regret my words and anything else that may have caused ye pain or embarrassment.”

“Too late for that now,” said Isabelle, dragging her husband forward with one hand, holding some blankets with the other.

“I beg your pardon a thousand times over. I swear I’ll never mention pickles ever again, or even eat a pickle. Pickles will be banished from my domain. Anyone found wi’ a pickle will be flogged. Please, can we go back now?”

“You are not considering the consequences. Would you rather go here or face your brothers?”

“Brothers. Most definitely I choose my brothers. They at least, winna kill me.”

“I am not going to kill you.” Isabelle tugged him up one more step.

“So ye say, and yet ye keep pulling me higher.”

“We are almost there.”

“Nay, no’ one more step. Ye ken how I feel about heights.”

Isabelle stopped a few steps away from the top of the tower. “Yes, and so do your brothers. They will never search for you here.”

“That’s because they know I’d rather die than go up here.”

“Would you rather they find me and strip me—”

“Come on then, up ye go.” David stomped past her and pulled her up to the top of the tower. The waxing moon was nearly full, and the sky twinkled with stars. Atop the highest tower, they could see all around, the black water of the loch, the torches in the courtyard below, small and flickering like a mirror of the stars.

David swayed and fell to his knees, one hand on his head, the other on the stone floor.

“Swooning for me, my love?” asked Isabelle, blinking three times.

“Aye, I’m fainting for ye, I am.” David closed his eyes and lay down on his back. “I must be a fool in love wi’ ye to come up here.”

Isabelle said nothing. The breeze whipped her hair around her face. She laid out the blankets, making a cozy nest.

“Why are ye so quiet?” asked David.

“Is that wrong?”

“Nay, but for ye ’tis a wee bit peculiar.” David propped himself up on his elbow. “Did I say something to upset ye?”

“I still do not know your feelings for me.”

“I should think they were readily obvious,” said David with a smile.

“Not to me.”

David took her hand in his. “I love you. It is what I said that night in the mist, and what I declare to ye now that I have the right to speak the words.”

“Truly?” Isabelle’s voice was small, she focused on spreading out the blankets before sitting on them.

“Truly. I love ye, Isabelle. Now and forever.”

Isabelle met his gaze, her eyes wet with tears. “I love you too.”

“There now, no need to cry.” David sat up and slid over to sit with her on the blankets. He wrapped her in his arms and smoothed her hair with his hand. “Ye are what I’ve been wanting all my life. Ye are the wife I thought I would never have. I am so blessed to have ye. By the saints…” David released her and lay back down, his hand over his eyes.

“What is wrong?”

“I can see over the wall when I sit up. Please let us go back down,” David’s voice was tight.