Highlander Untamed (38 page)

She felt Bessie’s reassuring hand on her arm. “I am sure they would be here if they knew you were leaving.”

It was uncanny how Bessie always seemed to guess what she was thinking. Isabel managed a wobbly smile. “I am not so sure. Please tell them—”

“You shall tell them when you return,” Bessie said firmly.

Isabel knew Bessie was trying to ease her suffering, pretending that she would return someday. But both knew that day would likely not come. After what she’d done, she knew Rory would never forgive her. He’d given her something sacred—his trust—and she’d deceived him.

She fought to control the tears once again as she felt Bessie’s strong arms gathering her in a tight embrace. Too tight. Indicating that Bessie, despite her words to the contrary, also worried that they might not see each other for some time—if ever.

Colin cleared his voice, signaling that the time for good-byes was at an end.

“Dearest Bessie, be happy. Robert and his daughters need you. Don’t worry about me, I’m strong.” With one last kiss on the soft cheek of her childhood, she turned and climbed into the waiting
birlinn.

Smoky fingers of haze threaded the perfect circle of the iridescent moon above her as the
birlinn
pulled away from the castle. She lifted her hand in silent farewell to the shrinking figure of Bessie poised forlornly at the base of the sea-gate stairs.

The droning sound of the oars dipping and pulling the water filled the silent boat. No one spoke a word. Men who had laughed easily with her only yesterday now acted as if she were a leper. On a
birlinn
full of MacLeod clansmen, she felt completely alone. Isabel sat huddled on the boat, her puffy, tearstained face hidden from the curious stares by the deep hood of her cloak.

She had traveled full circle. Fate had won. Star-crossed enemies they had begun, and star-crossed enemies they would end.

For the last time, she lifted her red-rimmed eyes to the gray walls receding into the mist, hopelessly memorizing with watery vision the grim castle that she had come to love. A fresh spasm of despair filled her heart as her gaze was drawn to the top floor of the Fairy Tower, to that familiar window where she had looked out in happiness only yesterday.

As if sensing the shift of her eyes, a shadow moved away from the window. Her breath caught for an instant. Her heart pumped frantically with hope.
Please give me a sign, any sign.
She refused to blink lest she miss it. She kept her eyes glued to the window in the Fairy Tower, hoping and praying with every fiber of her being for a sign of forgiveness. She stared until the tower slipped into ghostly gray, swallowed by the ephemeral mist.

The dream was over.

Her heart had been cleaved in two—part of her was gone forever, left behind to rot in a much beloved old castle.

Chapter 23

The sound of a door opening shattered the peace of deadening solitude. Rory knew he’d been fortunate to avoid them for this long. Isabel had been gone now for almost a day. Margaret and Alex had shown remarkable forbearance considering the circumstances, but their patience had finally run out and they’d tracked him to the library. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he understood their questions. If only he had answers.

Rory directed his gaze back to the fireplace, where he had spent the last few hours staring placidly into nothingness. The sting of betrayal had dulled. Sinking deep into his chair, he took a long swig of
cuirm,
allowing the drink to ephemerally kindle the emptiness smoldering inside him.

They stood beside the chair, waiting.

Finally, Margaret dropped to her knees beside him and took his hand in hers. “What happened, Rory? Won’t you tell us why you sent Isabel away?” She lifted the empty jug next to him. “I’ve never seen you like this, it scares me. Never have I known you to try to dull your senses with drink.”

If only it were that easy, Rory thought. He looked down at the confused, heartbroken face of his sister and cursed Isabel MacDonald again. This time for her betrayal of his family; he was not the only one who would be devastated by her treachery. Rory took a deep breath and dispassionately recounted the events yesterday leading to his discovery of Isabel with the Fairy Flag—or what he’d thought to be the Fairy Flag.

Their bewildered expressions mirrored what his had been, so thoroughly had Isabel charmed them.

“I don’t believe it,” Alex said dumbly.

“Oh, Rory,” Margaret said at the same time. “Did she offer no explanation?”

Rory couldn’t bite back the burst of sarcasm. “What for? For coming to Dunvegan under false pretenses as a pawn for her loathsome uncle, for spying on us, or for—” He stopped himself.
Making me love her.
He glared back into the fire so they would not see the pain twisting through him. He still couldn’t believe he’d been so wrong.

Margaret bowed her head on his hand, and her shoulders began to shake. “Oh, Rory, it is all my fault.”

Rory stroked her pale cheek. “Don’t be ridiculous. What part could you have played in this treachery?”

Margaret raised her tearstained face to his. “I overheard Isabel speaking with Sleat at the gathering, I heard him threaten her and say something about the flag. I should have come to you.” Her hands twisted. “I never thought…I knew she was hiding something, I just assumed she would eventually confide in you.”

Rory stared hard at his sister, unable to prevent the momentary flash of anger that went through him for another betrayal, from yet another unexpected source. He took another long drink and allowed the moment to fade. It would do no good to lash out at Margaret, not for doing what he’d done himself. Trusting Isabel.

“You should have come to me,” he said. “But don’t blame yourself, Margaret. You were only showing loyalty to your friend. She was an accomplished liar. You were not the only one she fooled.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone.

Alex shook his head, still stunned. “So she admitted coming to Dunvegan for the flag?”

Rory nodded tersely.

Margaret’s brows gathered across her nose. “But it wasn’t actually the flag she’d placed in her trunk?”

“No, it was an old shawl of Bessie’s. Though the resemblance was uncanny. For a moment it even fooled me.”

“But if she meant to steal the flag, why did she not do so when she had the opportunity?” Alex asked.

“She claimed that she’d decided she couldn’t betray us and was planning to use the shawl to trick her uncle.”

Margaret bit her lip, thinking. “Do you believe her?”

That was the question he’d spent the last day trying to avoid. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“I think it does,” Margaret said softly. “She loved you, brother. Of that I am sure. I know that she admitted coming to Dunvegan under false pretenses, but from what you said, she only agreed to help Sleat so he would help her clan against the Mackenzies. It sounds like she had no choice, her clan needed her. I know how important it was for Isabel to earn the respect of her family. She spent her childhood recklessly trying to attract their notice. I suspect coming here was her opportunity to finally prove her worth.” Margaret’s face filled with compassion. “It must have put her in a horrible position: being forced to choose between her family and us. But if what she said is true, Isabel chose us.”

“Can you forgive her so easily, Margaret, when she chose to ally herself with Sleat. Have you forgotten what he did to you?” Rory demanded.

“Of course I have not forgotten what
Sleat
did to me. Sleat is worthy of your wrath. I, too, burn for revenge. But I shall bide my time and wait for the right opportunity to present itself. I do not excuse what she has done, but I do understand the circumstances. From my own experience, I know how cruel and unyielding Sleat can be. He will twist anything to his purpose. If he wanted something from her, he would not be gainsaid.” Margaret paused. “Have you forgotten what she did
for
me?”

“I have not forgotten,” Rory replied stonily.

“It doesn’t make any sense. I agree with Margaret, Isabel loves you. Why did she not confide in you?” Alex asked.

“Apparently, she started to after I was injured but was scared that I would not forgive her. She claimed that she intended to tell me when she was sure I would not repudiate the handfast.”

Alex lifted his brow in surprise. “You hadn’t told her?”

Rory shook his head. “Not until I heard from the king.”

“It sounds like she had reason, then, not to confide in you?” Margaret asked quietly.

Rory clenched his jaw. “She lied to me.”

“Yes, but she also loves you,” Margaret said. Taking a deep breath, she added, “And I think you love her.”

Rory stiffened, refusing to look at his sister, not wanting to give credence to her statement. Love didn’t matter, not without trust. “It’s done.”

He turned to his unusually quiet brother. “And what of you, Alex? Do you agree with our sister—should I forgive my traitorous bride?”

Alex shook his head, his eyes shining with anger. “Isabel betrayed us all. In your place, I might have done worse.”

Rory nodded.

Alex turned to leave the room but looked first to his sister. “Leave him be, Margaret. He has a right to his solitude.”

Margaret smiled sadly, leaned over, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry, Rory, I know how this must have hurt you. What she did has hurt me, too. You must do what you think is best. But are you sure there is no other way?”

Rory sat mutely, steeling himself from considering Margaret’s question.

“And remember this,” she said in warning. “If you do not want her, someone else will.”

Rory’s fingers tightened around the stem of his goblet until the silver began to bend. His reaction was instantaneous. Violently, he tossed the now ruined goblet to the floor, where it clattered conspicuously in the otherwise deathly quiet room.

Margaret turned and followed Alex out the door. “I think you have your answer, Rory. If what she said about her clan needing Sleat is true, you might not have much time to figure out what you want. Her family may be forced to seek another alliance soon. One that could take her from you forever.”

Rory did not give any evidence that he had heard her. Once again, he sat motionless before the flickering flames of the soul-cleansing fire.

But he had.

Three days later, the MacDonald of Sleat watched from the battlements of Dunscaith Castle as the group of MacLeod clansmen approached over the tangled, grassy moors. He recognized the hooded woman astride the palfrey immediately—after all, he had provided her cloak.

Sleat swore, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the residue of wine. So, his disloyal niece returned under guard—she must have been discovered. ’Twas as he had expected, then. The chit had failed. Silly wench, to succumb so easily to the wiles of a handsome face. He shrugged with disgust. Well, what could you expect from a woman? Women were good for only two things: providing a substantial tocher and providing an heir. Good thing he was smart enough not to wager his quest for the Lordship solely on the capabilities of a lass. An alternative plan was already in position.

He drew his fingers across his chin, considering her return. Isabel knew where the secret entrance was to Dunvegan—of that he had no doubt. Mackenzie had followed the three retreating MacLeods after the latest attack until they had simply disappeared right into the face of the rocky cliff beneath Dunvegan. The Mackenzie chief had searched the area exhaustively for the entrance, to no avail. But Isabel would be able to find it. He would watch his dear niece closely. And wait. She might be of some use yet.

Another bungled attempt on MacLeod, he thought, disgusted. The man was proving exceedingly difficult to kill. He’d had high hopes that this last attempt might succeed, until his informant had apprised him of the MacLeod’s miraculous recovery. Sleat did not believe it was actually magic that had enabled MacLeod to evade death so many times, but he would take no chances. That bloody flag had defeated the MacDonalds before; it would not do so again. Magic or luck, it did not matter, it would run out soon enough. All was ready—soon he would reclaim the Lordship and rule the Western Isles. It wouldn’t be long now before his dream was fully realized.

The great Rory MacLeod would not stand in his way.

Chapter 24