Even now, the thought of how Duncan treated Isla burned in his heart. He would make it his life's mission now to show her nothing but tender love and compassion, to be as far from comparable to Duncan Robertson as he could. He remembered his own father, Caelan, and how fair and even-tempered he had been.
I will do better, Father. I will live my life in a way tha' would make ye proud. This I promise ye.
His only wish was that his father would have been able to meet Isla. He knew that Caelan would have welcomed her into the family and that his mother back at the keep would surely do the same.
They made their way through the forest, cutting through the moors at one point in Fingal's direction. As the man guided them through, his voice low and calm, Iain realized just why the men had followed Fingal, turning on their Laird in the battle. He was respectable, knowledgeable, and fair.
Though not all of the men chose to follow him, those that did choose his side did so out of respect. Duncan’s hold on his soldiers had only been that of fear.
The afternoon passed peacefully, the songbirds twittering in the treetops. Iain felt as though he could ride with Isla's arms around him for the rest of his life.
"There, y'see," Fingal said, gesturing out into the sloping hills. "I said tha' we'd make it back before sundown, now didn't I?"
"I remember ye sayin' somethin' abou' mid-afternoon," Iain replied with a smile in his eyes. "Which we passed a few hours ago, but aye, we did make it before sundown, I'll give ye tha'."
He turned around to see Isla's eyes full of tears as she gazed at Robertson Castle. Iain could only wonder what she was thinking, but when he looked in her eyes, he could almost see the twenty-odd years of memories replaying in the clear blue spheres.
The horses made their way up to the castle gates, which swung open for them as soon as the guard saw Fingal. Iain straightened; he had never been so close to the Robertson Castle before, let alone inside of it. He felt Isla stiffen behind him and the horse's hooves clopped on the stone bridge. He could feel the stares of the Robertson guards, but not one of them dared to approach them.
"Ye mus' truly be the authority here, Fingal," Iain said lowly to the man riding beside him. "I was certain I would have a dozen arrows in my chest by now."
"Ye would have if I had no' accompanied ye," Fingal said and began to chuckle then. "But I suspect tha' all o' the hatred between our clans will be smoothed out soon."
The courtyard of the castle looked similar to his own; there were four stone walls surrounding the castle on each side and a large hawthorn tree in the center of the yard. The buds were just beginning to open up, and he heard Isla sigh in contentment, as though she were relieved to finally be home.
Just then, the large wooden door that Iain assumed led to the main hall was thrown open, and two young women came bolting out. Iain noted that they both had flaming red hair, much like Duncan had, but the sweet and genuine smiles on their faces told him that they were nothing like their father.
"Isla!" the two of them cried in unison.
The two young women tore down the stone walk, and he felt Isla jumping down from the horse. He watched, his heart clenching, as the three women embraced warmly.
"Isla, we thought ye were dead!" the taller woman cried. "When Brigida came home without ye, we could only fear the worst!"
"Brigida made it back?" he heard Isla asked. "Oh, tha's wonderful! Elayne, Annabella, I thought about the two of ye everyday tha' I was away!"
The shorter of the sisters wiped her tearful eyes with the back of her sleeve, a motion that he had noticed Isla doing more than once. Even though they were not truly sisters, the three young women were clearly close enough that their parentage did not matter.
"But what happened tae ye?" the shorter woman asked then, seeming to get hold of her emotions. "Where did ye go?"
Isla turned to look at him on his horse, her eyes shining bright with emotion.
"Annabella, Elayne," she said. "I want ye tae meet Iain."
"Iain?" Elayne asked. "Iain MacThomas, our father's greatest enemy?" She gazed around, craning her neck to look into the crowd of men on horseback. "An' where is Father? I dinnae see him... Isla, what happened?"
Iain felt Isla sigh even from the distance between them; her face fell, and her gaze dropped to the stones she stood on. When she turned back to him, he could sense that she needed him. He turned to look at Fingal, gesturing once with a jerk of his head that he should follow. The man dismounted and trailed behind him silently.
"Sisters," Isla said. "Come inside; we have so much tae talk about tha' I fear we'll be discussin' everythin' well intae the night."
Fingal turned once, calling for the men to take the horses to the stables, and he held the great door open for them as they stepped inside.
Iain trailed behind Isla and Fingal, not daring yet to speak a word in his former enemy's home. He breathed in, admiring the fine tapestries that hung from the stone walls and the myriad of candles lighting up the room.
There came the dull ache of fatigue, but Iain knew that there was no time to rest yet. He and Isla had much to talk about with the two young women who kept casting worried glances back at him.
He wanted very much to assure them that he meant them no harm, but it was Isla's story to tell. He knew one thing was for certain; he would be there at her side to support her no matter what.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
