2
"Father!" Isabella's voice rang through the manor as she stormed through the foyer like a gale force wind coming off the open ocean. The servants scattered at the sight of her, each trying to duck and cover before being plowed over by her temper. "Where is my father?"
"In the study,"a brave soul responded from the broom closet. The hearty chuckle of the Scotsmen trailing her did nothing but stir her ire further. With pursed lips, she made a beeline down the hall, and the heavy steps of the brute bounced off the walls like thunder.
"You are to wait in there,"Isabella ordered, pointing to the sitting room. Aaron rolled his eyes as he pushed past her, and he hunted for the study. "You have no right to be in here."
"Aye,ye see, that's where I think ye might be mistaken," Aaron said over his shoulder without so much as a glance in her direction. "That parchment ye shredded under the carriagecomin' here wasnae the only copy. And accordin' to the decree, I have every right to be here. So, ye can wait in the other room while the grown-ups negotiate a fair price for yer wee ego."
Isabella gaspedand froze in place. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as Aaron's words lashed her like a whip. The indignation burned like the fires of Hades.
"How dare you,"she snapped as she scattered down the hall like a bat out of hell. There was no way she was going to marry this man; she didn't care if he was the next in line for the royal throne.
"I daenae seewhere ye think ye're goin'," Aaron huffed as he kept paced with her step by step. She could see the spark in his eye. This was nothing more than a game to him. Perhaps he enjoyed how flustered he made her, or maybe he was nothing more than a masochistic fiend.
"I'm goingto see my father," she snapped as she turned into the study.
"What's all this commotion?Are you determined to wake everyone in the house storming in at this late hour?" Isabella's father, Byron grumbled as he pulled the paper off him.
"Lord Thompson, I presume?"the brute behind Isabella asked.
"Yes, and who might you be?"Byron asked as he shifted in his seat. Isabella watched as her father struggled to sit straighterafter being slouched for so long. She cringed at the flatulence sounds coming from the leather cushion as he shifted.
Pity prickedher heart as she helped her father and placed his glasses in his hands. She leaned back and studied him for a moment. His wrinkled features and filmy eyes made her heart ache. She couldn't let loose her ire on him. Not when it was clear the old man could barely take care of himself let alone be in cahoots with a Scot.
"Aaron Grant,"the Scot answered as he arched an eyebrow and flashed Isabella a smug grin. "Laird McNeil."
"Oh dear."
Isabella glanced to the door.Terror gripped her as she watched her mother drop like a rock, her body sprawled over the threshold of the study.
"Cynthia?"Byron gasped as he jumped from his chair and rushed as quickly as he could to his wife's side. Isabella was at her side in a flash. Panic shot through her as she wondered what sort of fate befell her mother. Surely it couldn't have been the Scot taking up nearly half their sitting room. "My love. Are you all right?"
Isabella roseand moved to the small table in the corner of the room to fetch the pitcher of water. She glared at Aaron as she walked by him. He stood like a sentinel with his arms folded over his chest and rooted to the very spot, refusing to aid.
"This is your fault,"Isabella hissed as she passed by.
"Aye, of course it is,"Aaron chuckled darkly and rolled his eyes.
"If she dies,I'll never forgive you," Isabella growled as she poured her mother a glass of water.
"Yer maither's nae dead,"he said. "She would have given off a foul smell if she had died."
"And why shouldit not surprise me that a man of your caliber would know all about death? How many of my countrymen have you slaughtered this week?" Isabella grumbled through clenched teeth as she walked back to her mother with the glass of water. She kept her eyes locked on the Scot as if he were a thief come to steal nothing short of everything from her.
"Now that depends,"the brute said as he rubbed his chin. How Isabella wished she could do something to wipe the smug grin off his face. By the spark in his eye, she could tell he was enjoying every humiliating moment. "Would ye have me count the bairns too?"
"You're insufferable."The words were like acid on Isabella's lips. She was preparing to unleash more of her venom when she noticed her mother moving in the corner of her eye.
"Oh, there you are my dear,"Byron said, drawing Isabella's attention to her mother. "Come, let us get you to the couch."
"What?Oh, I thought… the most dreadful sight… there was a Scot in our sitting room," she mumbled as she rubbed her temples.
"I wonderwhat will happen when ye realize it wasnae a dream?" Aaron said and tilted his head to catch Cynthia's eye. Isabella pursed her lips and shook her head at the audacity and sheer attitude of the Scot. The tales her mother had whispered in her ear as a child all came rushing to the forefront of her mind. And as she sorted through the tales and myths, one thing seemed evidently clear — her mother wasn't lying.
The Scot was rude,insufferable, nasty, condescending, and downright disagreeable in every manner. Isabella sneered as his gaze fell on her. For but a flash of a moment, Isabella thought she saw something, a spark of pity flickering in his eyes. She pulled in a long deep breath as she watched him pull something from his vest pocket. Her heart sank into an abyss as she recognized the King's seal.
"Byron,please tell me you know what that man is doing in here," Cynthia gasped as she took the water from Isabella.
