Thankfully, after their uncomfortable confrontation two days ago, things had returned to normal. Though Rory hadn’t been fully satisfied by her explanation for her uncle’s anger, he had believed her vow of trust. A vow she meant with all of her heart. Even if her plan did not work, she could never betray Rory or his family.
She hadn’t intended to tell him she loved him, it just happened. She’d been disappointed that he had not spoken in return, but Rory was not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve. She also suspected that he did not want to complicate her leavetaking, should it prove necessary. But in her heart, Isabel knew that he shared her feelings. Indeed, since her declaration, she’d caught him watching her, his gaze noticeably softer.
She must have been standing there staring for some time before Ian’s voice drew her attention from the magnificent specimen of her handfast husband.
“Come, Bel, you’ll miss all the excitement.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was about to start.” She allowed him to lead her toward the field. “You’ve acquitted yourself well in the games, Ian. Are you not participating in the last event?”
“No, Angus is the best of the MacDonalds at the caber toss. But even he does not stand much chance against the MacLeod. Rory Mor’s skill is fit for the bards. It’s too bad that we are not truly…Oh, well.” He paused, considering. “Tell me, Bel, is everything well with you?”
Isabel knew what he was really asking. She looked around nervously, this time making doubly sure that no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. Finding nothing amiss, she relaxed a bit and, meeting his concerned gaze, said truthfully, “As well as can be expected given the circumstances of my being here.”
“I only ask because, well, you seem quite happy with the MacLeod, and I just wondered whether you were perhaps having second thoughts.” Noticing the panic that spread across her features, he grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry, I would not say anything to our uncle. Anything you say now will remain between us.”
Isabel detected the genuine concern in his voice. Rorywasright. Ian was worried about her. She desperately needed someone to confide in. “Am I all that transparent? It seems I have fooled no one. Our uncle suggested much the same thing but did not put his concern quite so nicely. I think he fears I may not go through with our plan.”
“Will you?”
Their eyes met and held for a moment. Satisfied with what she found, she shrugged. “I don’t know what I should do, Ian, but our uncle has not left me with much choice.”
“I cannot tell you what to do, little sister, but there is always a choice. You just need to find the one that will make you happy. And I have never seen you as happy as I have these past few days. You’ve made yourself a home at Dunvegan. Not only your husband, but his entire family has obviously welcomed you. You’ve changed.” He put his hand to his chin, assessing her. “You’re happier, more confident”—he paused—“different.”
Different from when at Strome.He left the words unsaid, but Isabel knew what he meant. She had never found a place at Strome.
But Ian acted almost as if that embarrassed him. As if for the first time he realized that she’d always been excluded.
Isabel tiptoed into the room. The easy fall of voices broke off. Drat and double drat, she thought. How did they always hear her? “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Ian said quickly.
Isabel scrunched her lips together, and put her hands on her hips. She hated always being left out of everything fun. “Are too,” she challenged as only an eleven-year-old could do.
“Run along now, Isabel,” Angus said. “I think Bessie is calling you.”
“You had friends,” Ian said, as if trying to reassure himself.
“Of course.”
His gaze sharpened. He didn’t believe her. “Who?”
“It’s not important.”
“Who?” he demanded.
Isabel felt her cheeks heat. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. “Bessie, Mary, Sari.” All servants.
“What of the girls from the village?”
She shook her head.
Ian swore. “I’m sorry, Bel. No wonder you were always following us. None of us realized…” His jaw hardened. “We should have, and I’m sorry for it.”
Isabel smiled, pleased by his acknowledgment. “It was a long time ago. But you are right, I have found happiness here. Margaret is a true friend.”
His solemn eyes grew merry with mischief. “I thought our uncle was going to trip over his tongue when he first beheld bonny ‘one-eyed Margaret’ without her patch. It was truly a horrible jest he played on her and the MacLeods with that atrocious procession. But ’twas he who looked foolish when she, as ethereal as a fairy princess, stood next to that great toad of a woman Mackenzie that he married instead.”
Isabel raised her hand over her mouth to cover her giggle. “His expression was rather humorous.”
