"It's true that I come from the MacIntosh clan," she said, lying through her teeth. "But the village I spoke of isn't quite as nearby as I said... This parchment was slipped beneath my door, but when I went to discover who had done it, there was no one. I cannae think of who would write such a note to me or what it could mean... And so I went in search of the village that it described. I'm sorry tae have trespassed; I never meant such a thing. I'm so frightened..."
This last line was true; she had never been more terrified in her life. And yet, nearly everything she had told this caring woman had been a lie. She had felt bad for it, but it had to be done.
To reveal herself to her father's enemy would be nearly the same as running herself through with a sword by her own hand.
Fiona looked as though she were considering her words, her brow furrowing. After a moment, she nodded.
"Alright then, lass," she said. "I'm going to speak tae my son once more, and this time, I expect that he will be down to free ye shortly. He may be the Laird, but I am still his mother."
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with a strange mix of mischief and sympathy for Isla. The woman was trying to put her at ease, Isla realized with a sigh of relief.
Perhaps she would see another day after all.
"Ye'll have tae stay here for the time being," she said. "But dinnae ye worry, lass. It's easy to see that ye mean us no harm. I cannae fathom what ideas my son has blustering about his head, but I will soon dispel them, never ye fear."
And with that, she smiled warmly at Isla and turned to pull the dungeon door open. The light brightened the darkness of Isla's prison for only a brief beat of a moment before she was left alone again in the darkness.
Before, she had wanted to bury her head and cry, but now it seemed as though there was a thin sliver of hope on the horizon. If she just kept her chin up, perhaps she might make it out of here alive after all.
Maybe she might even discover this truth that the letter had promised to enlighten her with. No, she would find out what had been hidden from her.
It was a promise she made to herself. She would live, and she would fight for the truth, no matter what.
She could not fail. If she did, it could cost her the ultimate price.
* * *
Iain could not believe what he was hearing.
He had paced the floor of his bedchamber for nearly an hour when his mother had come knocking upon it once more.
She had not waited for him to open it or call for her entrance but had pulled it open immediately. Her face was a storm, and he knew then that she had gone down to the dungeon.
"Iain MacThomas," she said. "Ye are to release that poor lass immediately. I told her tae be expectin' ye down to free her shortly. I cannae fathom what ye have brewin' in that head o' your'n, but I dinnae want tae see her down there for a moment longer!"
"Mother —”
"No," she said, cutting him off with a raised palm. "It's true that the lass lied to ye, but she was frightened out o' her wits! Here ye were thunderin' and threatenin' a defenseless young lass and wonderin' why she would lie to save her life!"
Iain's thick brows rose high. "So shewaslying?"
"Not in the way that ye think," his mother said. "The poor thing is from the MacIntosh clan, which accounted for the gown she was found in. A note had slipped beneath her bedchamber door. It's cryptic and mysterious, this letter, and instructed the lass tae meet the unknown sender at a village, a little south and west of here. She was about tae head through the forest alone if our men had not intercepted her first. She means us no harm, Iain."
His mother looked gravely serious. He knew immediately that if he did not cave and free the young woman, his mother would and would waste no time doing it. He groaned, running a hand through his coarse hair and then straightening.
He had not thought to free the woman before he had a chance to sort through the complicated emotions that had been brewing ever since he first laid eyes on her. He could not think of a way to speak to her; it was impossible to meet that blue-eyed stare without falling straight into those beautiful twin pools.
He could have drowned in them and not wished to be saved.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He turned away from his mother, frustrated and upset. It was impossible to explain the situation to his mother, but here she was, expecting one anyway.
If he did not break and allow this, he would have to face admitting that the woman in the dungeon had, in fact, previously resided in his dreams.
"Alright," he said. "Fine, Mother. Yer will has conquered my own; I'll allow the lass to go freely to this village. But on one condition. I will follow alongside her with a few of my men in order to prove her words. If the lass is lying, then she dies then and there. I will not be made a fool of."
His mother glanced away, not wanting to consider the possibility. He knew the image had already sprung to her mind by the way her face settled. She was frowning deeply, sadness settling into her eyes. Iain noticed then how much older his mother looked than in his memories of her.
"Mother, I dinnae want tae upset ye," he said. "But we cannae just let a spy go free, no matter who they are. What about all the lasses of our clan? If the Robertson clan overrun our stronghold, then what do ye think will happen? We cannae have innocents slain if they decide to try to overrun us. The men will lose their lives, and the women will be dragged away to the enemy’s castle. Mother, it's a gamble we simply could not take."
