She imagined him in that room overhead, crouched down and listening attentively. How had he hoped she would react?
Swallowing, Isla returned the poker to its stand.
After a few minutes, the footsteps retreated, and another door closed with a faintsnick—Tavish retreating to his own bedchamber.
Emotion gathered in her throat, as unwelcome as it was unexpected. That same well-worn grief, a king tide rushing into her chest and threatening to spill over its banks.
With a stern shake of her head, Isla banished it.
Malton Hill and her people there.
That was her goal.
She merely needed to keep her eyes on the prize.
20
Seven Years Earlier
August 31, 1810
Pettercairn, Scotland
Days.
It had been days since Isla’s wedding and not a word from Tavish.
Granted, Gray had confined Isla to her bedchamber. A footman tracked her every movement the one hour a day she was permitted to stroll in the garden.
But still . . .
Tavish was resourceful, and Gray’s servants bribeable.
Why hadn’t he contacted her? What had Gray done?
Fear for Tavish kept Isla up most nights. Sleep, when it did come, wasfitful. She would race through dark woods, screaming for Tavish but never finding him, before awaking with a lurch, heart thudding and throat dry.
Gray refused to speak with her.
In retaliation, on day three, Isla stopped eating.
Tray after tray was sent down to the kitchen, strawberry tarts and roasted pigeon untouched. Isla controlled so little in her world. But her meals she could rule with an iron fist.
Cast me out, her actions screamed.I dare you.
Tavish wouldn’t care if she were illegitimate. If Gray renounced her, then she could join her husband. They could run away and start their life together.
On the sixth day, Gray stormed into her room, a footman at his heels carrying a tray laden with Isla’s favorite foods.
“You will eat,” he demanded. “I grow tired of this childish display of temper.”
Isla merely stared at him—light-headed with hunger, limbs weary—hoping her gaze appeared as dead as she felt.
“I will eat when I am no longer a prisoner. Until then, you can watch me starve and know that your uncaring hand has caused it.” She turned to look out the window.
Gray had ranted for another five minutes. Isla ignored him.
Her stomach knotted in pain, but she scarcely noticed. Her heart felt fractured and shattered in ways she hadn’t known hearts could break.
