Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero (8 page)

“I have to go. I…I love you, Marcus. Get well so that I may see you again soon.”

He didn’t repeat her sentiment. She swallowed hard, afraid he had decided they had no chance to be together and after this last incident, he no longer would fight the inevitable. But
she
would.

Rob closed the door after her and hurried her down the stairs and out of the tavern. Before long, they were riding once again across the border with the Scots at their side and were headed back to her keep.

When they were only a mile or so from her castle, a force of a dozen men—her father’s men—led by Sir Halloran, captain of the guard, charged her and her escort. Her heart couldn’t have beat any faster with fear.

Rob and his escort and that of the Scot’s quickly drew swords and encircled her as before, only with a larger force this time.

“Nay!” she shouted as loud as she could manage and rode through her escort to reach her men. “Hold! ‘Tis me! Lady Isobel! They are not here to fight, but to escort me home safely! Let them return to the border without a fight!”

Rob and some of the others had rejoined her, not allowing her to face the Englishmen alone, should they not believe who she was. She pushed back the cloak, some of her hair loose and falling about her shoulders.

Her men looked furious with her, maybe a little worried. “I will not return to the keep and will fight you myself if you battle with these men,” she warned.

“Aye, be off with you then,” Sir Halloran said to her escort. “We will not fight you here. Come, Lady Isobel, we will escort you back to the keep.”

“After the Scots and the Highlanders are gone,” she said. She didn’t want them to be pursued after she was returned to the keep.

“Aye.” Sir Halloran scowled at her, looking highly displeased.

She hurried to dismount and handed the reins to one of Rob’s men. Then she said good bye to Rob, telling him in private that she would wed Marcus and that he better not marry a Highland lass in the meantime or he would wish he hadn’t.

Rob smiled and bowed to her. The party turned and headed back toward the border.

Sir Halloran rode forth then and she knew he meant to lift her into his saddle, but she feared that once he had hold of her, he’d return her to the keep and the other men would go after her escort.

She quickly pulled out her
sgian dubh
and took a stance that said she was serious about this. She would not be thwarted in her task.

“My lady,” Sir Halloran said, trying to persuade her to listen to reason and sounding perfectly disgruntled. “If your father knew what you have done, he would have all our heads.”

She wouldn’t budge and he finally waited for her to agree to let him take her home. When the horses’ hooves had faded off in the distance, and she turned to see that her escort was long gone, she sheathed her
sgian dubh
. The knight dismounted and lifted her onto his saddle.

“I could have taken you,” he said, “easily. But I wished to show goodwill toward the men who returned you safely.”

“Thank you.”

“But your father will be most displeased.”

She knew she could only further displease him if she continued to want to be with Marcus and her father denied her the chance to do so.

Now that she knew Marcus would live, the next time she left the castle, it would be to find a safe haven far from her father’s reach, and she prayed he would change his mind about wedding her to someone other than Marcus.

Marcus couldn’t believe that Isobel had managed to see him alone and while the fighting was going on. Though he had been glad to share a moment with her, he wouldn’t stop worrying about her safety until Rob returned safely himself. Marcus scowled at Finbar.

“Mary said her charge would find a way to slip out somehow to see you as determined as she was. She thought it safer for her if she had an escort,” Finbar explained, his arms folded, his demeanor as stubborn as any of his kinsmen.

Still feeling tired, Marcus couldn’t agree or disagree with Finbar’s comment. But if Isobel didn’t make it safely back, or his own kinsmen died en route…

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. As soon as he heard voices speaking low in the room, he woke to find candlelight reflecting off the walls and Rob had returned safely.

“Isobel?” he asked immediately.

“She protected us.” Rob smiled. “With her
sgian dubh
, she threatened her da’s people if they should ride into battle against us. They left us in peace. The good news is that Pembroke arranged a tentative peace between the Scots and the English. I spoke with him myself, and he sends his regrets about your injury. He asked if there were any more men who attacked you, or just the one. When I told him there were three, he fully intended to find the others and hunt them down.”

“Three was enough. Why would he know of only the one?”

Rob shrugged. “I wonder if whoever paid them tried to get rid of the bodies to hide the evidence. Since the men who attacked you are dead, he felt the matter closed.”

“You told him what the one man said, aye? These men were doing a task for another, most likely a lord vying for Isobel’s hand in marriage.”

“Aye. I told him just that. Pembroke did not feel that was the case. No evidence exists to back up the claim.”

“‘Tis as plain as the tusks on a wild boar.” Marcus grunted. “If a peace agreement of sorts has been reached, the bad news is Pembroke doesna need me to convince the Scots to stand down in exchange for my wedding Isobel.”

“Aye. The other good news is that before we parted ways, he said he willna have Isobel wed anyone for a couple of months. He wouldna say for certain why, but I got the impression he was rethinking the situation as far as your injury was concerned and wouldna want his daughter to marry a man who would have had you killed. But know this, the lass will wed you—her words—and if you wed another in the interim, it will go badly for you.”

Marcus smiled. He loved her and if it was in his power to do so, they would be wed.

***

After returning to Lochaven, and for two months, Marcus had continued to beseech Pembroke to allow him to marry his daughter. He wasn’t about to give up his clan, nor did his people want him to, but if it was the only way to have Isobel, he had to consider it might be his only choice. Still, he didn’t believe Pembroke would want a Highlander to take his place should he die, or that Marcus’s child would someday hold the title and lands. For all that time, Marcus had corresponded with Isobel as well. Though it was rare for Highlanders—and many of the English and Normans did not know how to read or write—Isobel’s mother had learned, and she had been adamant that both Isobel and Marcus acquire the craft so they could send missives to each other to keep in touch.

Thankfully, Pembroke had allowed the correspondence between them to continue. Marcus often thought he did so because it was easier to keep them apart that way. Pembroke had to know that if he had not allowed them to write to one another, Marcus would have showed up in person. If someone had tried to kill him again?

More skirmishes would have ensued. Better to keep the peace this way. Marcus didn’t mind, well, overmuch, that her da was breaking the seals on her missives to Marcus, nor that he did the same with Marcus’s letters to Isobel, as evidenced by Lord Pembroke’s seal affixed to both—as long as they were allowed to correspond.

Following the hunt that morn and while his people who had grievances gathered to speak with him about them, Marcus once more read Isobel’s words.

My beloved,

Even though my father has said I must soon see the men who wish to court me, he has made no mention of a pending date. I think he is softening his views to allow us to wed. Though you know the way he is. He will not say so in so many words, but he has mentioned about his nephew, John, a number of times. I believe if he allows the two of us to wed and me to leave here, my cousin will fill my place should my father no longer wish to manage the estate. ‘Tis good news, aye? With all my heart and forever yours, Isobel

Finbar stalked into the great hall, his dark blond hair disheveled, his blue eyes shifting to the missive in Marcus’s hands. His cousin knew the only missives he ever received were sent by messenger from Isobel.

“The first of our clansman wishes to lodge a complaint about one of the sheep herders allowing his sheep to graze near his cottage. And the others are all waiting to see you.”

“Aye, call them in.”

Finbar did so, and his people lined up one by one to hear how he would resolve their difficulties with their neighbors or family members.

He had only listened to two complaints when he heard footfalls in a rush headed for the great hall. Thinking it was another clansman with a gripe, who worried he’d missed the time that Marcus had set aside for dealing with the issues, he listened to the next one.

When Marcus saw a red-faced Rob hurrying to see him, and a quick comment to those waiting in line that they must vacate the great hall at once, Marcus raised his brows at him.

It was not Rob’s place to send his people away. At once, Marcus knew the matter had to be of grave importance for him to do so. Still, his people did not vacate the room, moving somewhat toward the doorway, but still waiting to hear if Marcus wished them gone.

Marcus motioned to them to leave. “Go. I will see to your complaints as soon as I can.”

“Not today, but several days from now,” Rob said.

Marcus lifted his head a bit. This did not sound good. “We will let you know when I can meet with you again.”

“Aye, laird,” several said and made their way slowly out of the great hall.

He was certain they wished to learn what the trouble was as much as Marcus did.

“What is the difficulty, Rob?”

“Lord Pembroke’s daughter could be in grave danger, Marcus,” Rob warned, his blue eyes flashing with indignation as he paced about the great hall, his hair unkempt as if he’d been outside in the cold wind recently. He hadn’t been on the hunt earlier, but instead in the village. “‘Tis your duty to secure the lass and bring her here before anything untoward can happen to her. You promised her mother you would.”

Marcus stared at his cousin in astonishment.

Rob continued as if he couldn’t speak fast enough. “Lord Pembroke always had a kind word to say about our clan and his Lady Pembroke had been a good friend of your mother’s. God rest their souls. We owe it to his daughter to keep her safe. She loves you and we know how you feel about her.”

Her father would not allow Marcus to protect the lass. Rob knew that. Her da would protect her.

“Has someone taken her from her castle?”

“Nay, ‘tis worse.”

When he was riled, Rob often got his facts out of order and Marcus was attempting, without success, to understand what the truth of the matter really was without interrupting him and asking. Had Lady Isobel been betrothed to someone when she had vowed to wed Marcus instead? ‘Twas what Marcus suspected Rob was saying. If Marcus rushed him in his attempt to get at the truth, he knew Rob would make even more of a muddle of it.

Instead, he offered the facts in the situation his cousin knew very well. “Her da would no’ agree to my taking her to wife. I have beseeched him incessantly. He will no’ change his mind. He is the one who will keep her safe, no’ me.” Marcus gave a disgruntled exhale of breath and frowned even more at his cousin as he sat at the head table. “Wait, she hasna run away, has she?”

“Marcus,” Rob said, barely getting the words out. “Word comes that his lordship is already dead.”

Marcus stared at his cousin in disbelief, and then abruptly rose from his chair, the legs scraping the stone floor.

Before he could speak, Rob said, “Whoever has murdered him will blame the Highlanders for his death and whoever has done this dastardly deed will spirit Pembroke’s daughter away before—”

“Where has Lord Pembroke died? When? Have you evidence that any of this is true?” His thoughts were swirling, stumbling over one another…Isobel, the earl, who had done such a thing?

If someone pretended to be her friend now in her time of grief…

Marcus cursed under his breath. “The lady could be in grave danger.”

“Aye, that is what I have been trying to say. ‘Tis rumor of the most reliable source. One of James MacNeill’s brothers, Angus, was passing through our lands on some business and had news that his cousin, Niall, has wed a French countess and learned of Lord Pembroke’s death. He knew you would be concerned for her safety. He had to return to Rondover Castle, but said if you need his and our cousins, the Chattan brothers’ help, they would be at your disposal.”

Marcus couldn’t believe the news about Isobel’s da. “Where did the killing take place?”

“Near the hillside village of Chirnside in one of the scattered hamlets. ‘Tis what Angus related. For fear of King Henry’s hearing of the news that someone from the area has murdered one of his devoted lords, the body has been taken further south. Hopefully, to hide the fact he died up there and not nearer his own castle or on English soil.”

“And Lady Isobel?” Marcus clenched and unclenched his fists, fearing for her safety. If he did secure her and bring her to the Highlands to stay safely under his roof, would King Henry believe Marcus had her da murdered and then secreted her away?

God’s wounds, Marcus had wanted the lass since she had bloodied Lord Fenton’s nose when the baron had made some degrading comment about her Highland heritage.

“You still want her, I know it,” Rob said, despite the fact Marcus was already stalking toward the keep’s entryway. “We are leaving right away then?”

Marcus cast a reproachful look over his shoulder, indicating that his cousin had to be daft not to realize it. When he saw the grin on Rob’s face, Marcus shook his head and reached for the door to the inner bailey.

Before he could grasp the handle, the door swung wide and one of his clansmen, who had recently joined their ranks, stood before him dressed for the journey, his blond hair looking as wild as Rob’s, his blue eyes narrowed, mouth pinched, grim as if he was going into battle. And ready for it.