“The MacLeod is a proud man,” Sleat taunted. “How will he react to having been duped by a MacDonald lass? At my bidding.”
Isabel forced a nonchalance to her expression that belied the fierce pounding of her heart. “But if you tell him now, you lose all chance of my finding the flag and an entrance, if it exists. I do still have two and a half months left in the handfast period.” Ten weeks to find a solution, and then she could confess all to Rory—before her uncle.
He scowled at her as if he gleaned her true purpose for delay and wanted to refuse, but then he gave a curt nod. “Very well, dear niece,” he said, smiling grimly. “But as you now seem to be a reluctant spy in our family endeavor, we shall have a new codicil to our original arrangement. Bring me what I want within ten weeks and I will not tell the MacLeod the true purpose behind your handfast. Fate will decide the future of your marriage, as it will the future of the MacLeods. But if you fail, your handfast husband will learn your little secret.”
Isabel lost all pretense of composure. “You can’t even be sure there is a secret entrance. And what if I cannot find the flag by then? It must be well hidden. You can’t force me to find something that doesn’t exist or is impossible to find.”
“’Tis not my problem. Where you fail, others may succeed.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is not your concern. You should be concerned only with what you were handfasted to do. When you are ready, send me a letter; my man will find you. Do not think to trick me. My man is familiar with the flag.” He turned on his heel, abandoning her to the agony of her own introspection.
What am I going to do?Panic squeezed her chest. She’d thought she would have time to work it all out. But if her uncle told Rory, it would ruin everything. Now she had to find a way to satisfy her uncle, until she had convinced Rory not to repudiate the handfast and to support her father in the feud with the Mackenzies. But what if it didn’t work?
It had to work.
But in her heart she knew she could not betray Rory, whether he loved her or not. It was a staggering realization. Would her family ever forgive her failure?
Tears of frustration built behind her eyes and threatened to burst. She wanted to fall to her knees and bow her head in despair but knew she could not risk Rory finding her in such a state. There would be too many questions. Questions she dared not answer.
A sudden rustling noise behind a tree caught her attention, distracting her from the tumultuous quandary of her horrible predicament. She held her breath and stared at the space. Minutes passed before she dared exhale. She could see nothing out of the ordinary, and so returned to the agony of her own burdens.
But her uncle’s words came back to her. Was someone watching her? Had her uncle hid another spy in their midst?
Rory watched Isabel’s conversation with her uncle with marked interest and growing unease. Isabel would never betray him. Of that he was certain. She cared for him and his family. No one could be that accomplished an actor. But something else was at work. He didn’t like the way Sleat was talking to her; he seemed to be threatening her. When Sleat grabbed her arm, Rory decided he’d waited long enough.
It was well past time he found out what hold her uncle had on her.
He approached the edge of the clearing, where she stood under a canopy of trees. “Are you well, Isabel?”
She startled, her eyes jumping to his face. “I’m fine,” she said too quickly. “It’s too warm in the sun, that’s all.” She tried to smile, but it faltered.
He picked up a small yellow flower, broke off the stem, and tucked it behind her ear. His mind immediately flew to another time when he’d tucked flowers behind her ear. The day he’d taken her outside the castle walls and they’d made love on the hillside of heather. If only he could stall time. He caressed her wan cheek with the back of his finger. “I noticed you speaking with your uncle.”
If he hadn’t been touching her, he might not have noticed her slight flinch. “Yes.”
“He appeared to be angry with you.”
“Yes.”
Rory dropped his hand and unconsciously clenched his fists. “If he is threatening you, I will—”
She stopped him with a small hand on his arm. “It’s nothing like that.”
But something was clearly bothering her. She was hiding something from him, but what? He couldn’t help her if she continued to be evasive. “Will you not tell me, Isabel?” he asked, more gently this time.
She turned away, almost as if she didn’t want to look at him. “He merely sought assurance that our handfast would be formalized into marriage.” She paused, giving him an opportunity to speak. “Assurance I could not provide.”
He felt the sting of her accusation, but he could not argue. “Your uncle seems to take an unusual interest in our handfast.”
Her eyes flashed. “Shouldn’t he?” she challenged. “’Tis because of him that I am here. And isn’t it our handfast that is forestalling the feud?”
She was right, but Rory wondered if that was Sleat’s only interest. “Did you tell him?” The words knotted in his mouth, but Isabel understood.
“No. I did not tell him you intend to repudiate the handfast. He’ll find out soon enough.”
Rory hated this feeling. He wanted to be able to wipe away her hurt. And his own. But he couldn’t, not until he had a reason to. Instead he cupped her chin. “Your uncle is plotting something, and I do not trust him.” He hated to ask her, but it had to be said. “I want to trust you, but you are making it difficult. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
