Isobelle hardly dared ask, knowing the man at her side would not take the question well. But Gaspar’s comfort would have to wait.
“Do you know, James? The faery, did it come?”
James gave her a wink, then a slight nod. “All tales yer brother and sister are anxious to tell ye.”
“But what of Ivar?”
Gaspar tensed again. “Ivar?”
“Easy mon. He’s marrit to Morna, Isobelle’s sister.”
Isobelle jumped and wrapped her arms around Gaspar’s neck. No news could have made her happier. She could stand to wait a wee while for other details. The important thing was that Morna and Ivar had been reunited. All her suffering had not been for naught. And if she hadn’t suffered as she had, been chased out of a town or two, she might never have met Gaspar.
Her dragon held her close until the big Scot cleared his throat. “Here now. Shall we all rest a bit on the beach, and away with the tide? I must admit, my rowing muscles could use a bit of recovery time.”
“Indeed,” Gaspar said. “It will come in on the south of the island, and roll north. We can reach the channel with little effort.”
Isobelle did have one more question that could not wait to be asked. “Tell me, whom did my brother marry?”
James was suddenly uncomfortable again, but she was not about to show him mercy. Who knew how long it might be before she was able to ask her brother anything?
The big man looked at Gaspar, then at the sea. Finally, he turned back. “It seems as though yer brother… uh, Monty…” Hetook a deep breath and rubbed his face. “Monty married the faery, lass.”
“The faery?”She and Gaspar said in unison.
She looked at her poor confused dragon and wondered if returning to Scotland with him might not be a good idea. Of course, she did not fear he would change his views and begin executing witches, but she did worry all the talk of the wee folk, and selkies, and loch monsters might be too much of a strain on his mind.
“Well,” her dragon said with horribly false cheer, “I cannot wait to meet a real faery.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Gaspar woke to the cry of a gull. The eastern horizon was still blue, but a light blue. He hadn’t slept well, what with Isobelle in his arms and the big Scot snoring at their backs like a scornful chaperone who only pretended to sleep, snorting each time either of them shifted position. But considering how anxious he was to be away, he wouldn’t have slept well, James’ snoring notwithstanding. They’d already loaded their things in the boat, including Isobelle’s damp plaid, so there was little left to do but climb aboard. And it was high time they did.
If the patriarch thought to send his new executioner along early, he might think to send others as well.
Gaspar stood and stretched, then bent to wake Isobelle. But he paused at the rumble of oars being stowed.Manyoars. He looked about the shore, but there were no boats other than James’. He turned, but saw nothing but the tower keep, his home for the last ten years. Another noise came from the west, but the west beach was empty. Cautiously, he moved to peek at the portion of the south beach blocked from sight by the tower.
Twolanchasrolled in with the tide, their bows sinking deep in the wet sand.
We should have left as soon as we had a boat!
A half dozen guards sporting black uniforms poured onto the shore from each bow. A figure in a long gold robe followed more slowly.
Gaspar ducked out of sight and hurried back to Isobelle and the Scot who were already on their feet.
“To the boat,” he hissed, then he snatched up his sword lying next to the blanket and unsheathed it quietly.
Isobelle turned and ran without question. The giant pulled his sword free and took a stance. Gaspar was simply grateful they’d thought to load the boat before bedding down. Isobelle would want for nothing, even if she never made it back to her brother’s side.
“You two, go! I will hold them off for as long as I can!”
James gave him a funny look. “Dinna be daft.Yougo.” He then turned a smile to the dozen church guards pouring from both sides of the tower. They seemed a bit surprised to find their quarry outside waiting for them. But they stopped and created a line, then stood at the ready to charge. One man’s attention remained on the side of the tower.
Recognizing every man facing him, Gaspar spoke quickly.
“Contrary to what the patriarch will tell you, this woman is no witch. I would rather die here today than allow her to be harmed.”
“You are bewitched,” snarled Jappot, a guard he never cared for due to his fondness for tormenting prisoners. “We have come to save you from her, Dragotti.”
