The harrowing, gut-wrenching hours while the women waited for news from the castle were not some Izzie cared to repeat—ever. When the bell from the castle rang out in the middle of the night, and they realized the men had done it, she’d cried tears of relief and happiness and celebrated along with everyone else.
But even knowing that Elizabeth intended to break the engagement didn’t make the celebration feast any easier. For days Izzie had been blaming the betrothal and Randolph’s refusal to break his word for keeping them apart, but what if that wasn’t it? What if even with the impediment between them removed, he still wouldn’t admit his feelings for her?
Izzie was painfully conscious that the reprieve from the betrothal had come from Ella. Randolph hadn’t chosen her.
The thought was sobering and heart twisting. And watching him didn’t make it any better. Randolph always had that aura of hero around him, but now it was worse. Now he wasn’t just a hero, he’d become a legend. She watched him glitter like a star beside her cousin and the king from the corner of her eye. Watched the women fawning over him—even with Elizabeth sitting right there!
How could Izzie fit into that world?
She didn’t. But the one time their gazes had caught gave her hope. She’d seen something there.Feltsomething even from her position below the dais. He did care about her. She knew it.
So when her cousin left to find Thom MacGowan, Izzie volunteered to take her cousin’s note and find Randolph to explain that her cousin was breaking the betrothal.
Though the midday feast had ended hours ago, the air of celebration still hung about the city as she made her way up the mile-long high street that separated Holyrood Abbey from the castle with her escort. Joanna’s brother Richard had offered to walk with her as he was heading up to the castle himself. The king and most of his men had removed to the castle, but the ladies—and their husbands in the case of Jamie—would stay in the abbey for now.
Even if she no longer needed to worry about Sir Stephen, Izzie was grateful for Richard’s presence as men—drunken soldiers mostly—spilled out of alehouses on more than one occasion. Richard proved to be a good roadblock, as he put himself between her and the path of more than one staggering drunk.
It was nearing twilight, and with the fading light, Izzie was grateful for the fur-lined cloak that she’d donned as the mild almost-spring day gave way to the cold winter hours of night. By the time they’d reached the castle, the sun was a delicate wisp of pinkish orange on the horizon. With all the thick, dark gray stone walls, it seemed even colder.
It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago this castle was filled with a garrison of Englishmen. Elizabeth had told her that those who had not died in the fighting had already been sent back to England after vowing not to return. Her cousin had also mentioned that Randolph had been put in charge of supervising the destruction of the castle walls, which was why she was here and not at the siege camp.
She and Richard were still laughing about the last drunk who’d mistaken Richard for his wife and tried to kiss him, as they strode through the gate.
There were a number of people milling about the courtyard—soldiers and villagers who seemed reluctant to leave the celebration. She stood on her tiptoes and pretended to look around. “Should we find the barber?” she teased with a playful tug on one of Richard’s shoulder-length blond locks. “Perhaps it’s time for a trim?”
The young warrior shook his head with disgust. “If he mistook me for his wife, perhaps we should give her a sword.”
Izzie laughed again. He was right. Richard was at least a few inches over six feet and although young, already thick with the imposing muscle typical of his Norse forbearers. The woman would have to be formidable indeed to be confused with him.
“Besides,” he added with a wink. “The lasses like my hair long.”
Izzie couldn’t help smiling as she shook her head. He was incorrigible and a horrible flirt, but she’d grown fond of both Joanna’s brothers. “I’m sure they do. And which poor unsuspecting lass is to have her heart broken tonight?”
“You can save them all if you just say the word.” He took her hand and clasped it to his chest. “Put me out of my misery, dearest Isabel, and run away with me.”
She laughed again and gave him a hard shove. “Go spin your silken tongue to someone who doesn’t know you so well. But you should have care, one of these days I may take you up on one of your proposals just to teach you a lesson.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “And why do I think you actually could?”
Isabel would have given him another shove and told him to get if a dark shadow hadn’t fallen across them both.
“What the Devil is going on here?”
She looked up onto the familiar darkened features. It appeared she didn’t need to find Randolph; he’d found her.
CHAPTER NINE
Not five minutes after leaving the relaxing, steam-filled kitchen where his sore muscles had found relief in the hot water of a wooden tub, those same muscles were tight and knotted again.
At first Randolph thought he’d imagined her. He’d been thinking about Izzie—and what in Hades he was going to do about Elizabeth—when he’d caught a glimpse of the laughing couple as he left the kitchen on his way to the Great Hall. That was when he’d known he wasn’t imagining her because he sure as hell wouldn’t be imagining Izzie with a big Viking. It was only as he drew closer—stormed across the yard, actually—that he realized the Viking was Douglas’s young brother-in-law, which didn’t necessarily improve his temper any. The lad already had something of a reputation around camp for his prowess both on and off the battlefield.
Christ, Randolph was considering breaking his word for her—she was right, he’d proved himself many times over, and even if he hadn’t before, the taking of Edinburgh Castle should have put his past to rest for good—and she was flirting and carrying on with the lad as if she had no care in the world?
Wasn’t she supposed to care abouthim? Well, it certainly wasn’t looking like it. And unless he’d been mistaken, the lad had just propositioned her, and she hadn’t exactly discouraged him.
“My lord,” the lad said with a bow of his head.
“Sir Thomas,” Izzie said at the same time, not with a bow but with a small frown wrinkling her nose.
