Apparently, the entire castle was aware of what had transpired last night. If Colin had an opinion on the matter, he kept it well hidden. Like Rory’s other men, he would never question his chief.
Rory nodded, flipped over the parchment, and recognized Argyll’s seal.Damn.He opened the missive and read. It was the news he’d been waiting for. News that should make him happy. Instead, he felt the noose of duty closing around him. Argyll wrote that the next time the MacLeod presented himself at court, the king would agree to hear the matter of Trotternish. Isabel was slipping through his fingers. He related the contents to his men, and they all fell silent.
Finally, Alex asked the question they all were thinking. “You will still repudiate the handfast?”
Rory smothered the almost visceral response to deny. Instead he said, “Aye. It is necessary. Argyll has proved his sway with the king by getting him to agree to hear the matter at all—something James has previously refused to do. With the Mackenzie supporting Sleat’s claim, we need Argyll’s influence.”
“If only there was another way to make James see Sleat for the overreaching tyrant that he is,” Alex said.
Rory smiled at his brother who was so infuriated on his behalf. “Be assured, if there is another way, I will find it.”
He put aside the disturbing emotions evoked by the contents of Argyll’s letter, and returned to the discussion for which they’d gathered—defending against an attack by the Mackenzies. Rory didn’t want any more surprises. The Mackenzies’ boldness in attacking so close to the castle concerned him. Alex relayed the events of the attack as he’d done earlier, including the conversation between Isabel and Murdock Mackenzie. Something Alex said stopped Rory cold.
“You’re sure?” Rory asked.
Alex nodded. “I was in and out of consciousness, but Murdock knew that you had delayed your stay in Edinburgh with Argyll.”
Rory felt a flicker of unease. How the Mackenzies knew of his plans bothered him. He’d purposefully kept his stay with Argyll quiet.
Rory thought for a moment, his eye catching Argyll’s letter on the table. Suddenly, he recalled another letter, one received by his bride only yesterday. He’d realized just how much he’d grown to trust her when Sleat’s letter yesterday caused barely a flicker of unease.
Rory held his face impassive. “Did my bride send any letters while I was gone?”
The men looked distinctly uncomfortable. Douglas answered. “Only one. To her father, Glengarry.”
“I’m sure it was a coincidence,” Alex said, jumping to Isabel’s defense.
Rory didn’t believe in coincidences, but for her sake, he hoped it was.
“The lass is a MacDonald. Can we trust her?” Douglas asked the question Rory did not want to voice himself.
Rory thought for a moment. The memories of last night assailed him. He thought of the woman who’d given herself to him freely and without conditions. He thought of the contentment he’d known while holding her in his arms, the strange sense of peace that had settled over him. He thought of her kindness to Margaret, her radiant charm, her loneliness, and the happiness she’d found at Dunvegan. If not in his mind, Rory knew the answer in his heart.
“Aye, I trust her.”
But if he ever found out she’d deceived him, her loss of innocence would be the least of her problems.
Chapter 17
As the yule celebration gave way to Hogmanay, and winter faded into spring, Isabel kept her vow to squeeze every bit of happiness she could out of her time at Dunvegan with Rory. They made love every day except…Isabel sighed wistfully, recalling the day a couple of weeks after Christmas when she’d gotten her flux. Though she did not want a child without a husband, she felt strangely disappointed. And hurt by Rory’s visible relief—relief she understood, but which pained her nonetheless.
At times, Isabel felt her new plan was working and that Rory had begun to love her. Alone at night, cradled in his arms, she believed nothing could ever come between them. At meals, or over the long hours spent planning the festivities for the Highland games, he would laugh and tease her as if she were part of the family. And occasionally, she would catch him looking at her with something akin to tenderness in his eyes.
But other times, she was not so sure. He had not discussed a change of intent or broached the subject of their handfast at all. She wanted to believe he’d reconsidered, but any casual reference that she made to a future beyond July was ignored or met with an uncomfortable smile and a swift change of subject. And then there was that odd conversation about the letter she’d written to her father. He’d seemed to think she might have told her father something of import, but what? He’d started to question her, but her answers had seemed to satisfy him and he’d dropped the subject.
There were so many times Isabel wanted to declare her love. But the knowledge that her words would only cause him discomfort, and perhaps even guilt, held her back. She wanted honesty between them more than she wanted anything else, but until she secured an alternative to the alliance with Argyll, she dared not risk it. Nor could she risk upsetting the delicate balance they’d fought so hard to achieve.
Time slipped away too quickly. Especially the nights. Her cheeks reddened. And sometimes the days, she thought, recalling the fragrant, downy meadow of heather. A few weeks into March, Rory had finally relented and allowed her to spend a day outside the castle walls. Little did she know that behind his acquiescence lay an ulterior motive. Making love outside had been an entirely new experience for her. She smiled. Rory had kept his word to teach her much, and Isabel had proved an apt, and attentive, pupil. So much had changed since that wild, passion-filled night before Christmas. Gone was the nervous virgin, replaced by a confident, sensual woman. A confident, sexually adventuresome woman.
When she wasn’t occupied tumbling through meadows of heather, Isabel kept herself busy with the accounts and organizing the festivities for the Highland gathering and, much to her delight, a wedding. Since Margaret had pointed it out to her those many months ago, Isabel had noticed Robert’s blatant interest in Bessie. Nevertheless, she was surprised when Bessie came to her with the news of her proposal. She was overjoyed for her dear nurse, but Isabel would miss her terribly if Rory repudiated the handfast.
She was painfully aware that only three months remained in their handfast period. With the Highland gathering fast approaching, Isabel would be forced to see her family and report her progress. She hoped to broach the subject to her father about shifting alliances.
But today, Isabel’s mind was turned to other matters. After much anxious preparation, the day of Bessie’s wedding had finally arrived. Following the small ceremony, long tables and benches had been set up in the courtyard for the celebration to take advantage of the favorable weather. Isabel knew she wasn’t the only one tired of being cooped up in the castle.
Standing in the crowded courtyard, she leisurely swept her eyes over the scenic vistas surrounding her. She inhaled the fresh breath of spring that was in evidence all around. The lemon yellow sun hung all alone in its azure frame, its extreme brightness seeming to defy heavenly competition. The sea rolled and glistened, its turquoise waters unusually clear and vivid. Behind her, the landscape seemed to turn more colorful by the moment, the forests flourishing green, the horsetail standing proud on the heathered hillsides, the purple thrift and yellow iris blanketing the coastal cliffs. A lazy breeze tickled the rustling leaves and gently cleared away the vestiges of winter dankness.
Spring had certainly arrived.
