Ismay’s heart halted, taking with it, her breath. “That was the plan all along.” she said, feeling faint.
“My plan,” Marjorie MacPherson corrected. “MacRae is too simpleminded to plan an hour ahead.”
Ismay breathed and closed her eyes remembering every time she threatened MacRae with the Lochiel’s imminent arrival. It was what they wanted—for him to leave Lochaber so they could have him hanged for his crimes of raiding and robbing.
Ismay felt terror creeping up her spine. He would come. She had left him ways to track her. If he found her it was her fault.
“Why are ye doing this?” Ismay asked her on a slight cry. She couldn’t help it. She was weak and tired, and she had always wanted this cruel woman to love her. “Why do ye hate me so much?”
Marjorie stared at her, her emerald eyes as sharp as multifaceted shards of glass. “Ye had his devotion, though ye did nothing to earn it. Whilst I toiled fer nine years fer the same from him—and never got it. He left ye everything. Ye, a murderous waif, who would always be as filthy as the cursed day he brought ye home.” Her smile curled into something dark and deadly. “There. Does that satisfy yer curiosity?”
“Aye,” Ismay said and wiped her eyes. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “Ye said it yerself, I was deserving of nothing, yet he gave me everything—as a loving father would. He was my father, and that is enough. I dinna need a mother. It makes me feel pity fer ye, and relief fer any unborn children ye might have borne him.”
She took the slap Marjorie shot out at her and ignored the sting. “If ’tis my inheritance ye want so badly, ye can have it.”
Marjorie backed up and laughed. “Do ye expect me to believe ye would give it up so easily?”
“I’ve lived without it all this time. I dinna need it, and if it mightmake me even a little like ye, I want nothing to do with it.”
Marjorie took a step toward her. Ismay wouldn’t let her slap her again.
“He spoiled ye by letting ye speak freely. MacRae willna be so generous.”
“If ye dinna report the Lochiel fer coming here, I will sign over my inheritance to ye. Otherwise, I can assure ye, MacRae willna kill me. I will certainly kill him first and ye will finally get what ye deserve. Nothing.”
Marjorie stared at her in disbelief for a moment then scoffed and looked heavenward. “What would ye have me do with that imbecile out there?”
“I would have ye do nothing,” Ismay let her know. “The Lochiel will take care of him.”
Ismay didn’t miss the slight upward turn of Marjorie’s malevolent smile.
“What will ye sign?” she asked Ismay.
“Write up whatever ye wish about the inheritance. I will sign it when I know the Lochiel is safe.”
“Ye love the savage,” her mother mocked.
“The savage is outside that door, Alistar MacRae,” Ismay told her.And ye, Mother.
“I will consider it,” Marjorie told her and left the room.
Ismay gritted her teeth when she heard the key locking her in again. “Let me out!” she shouted.
“So ye can run?” Marjorie answered through the door. “It willna be much longer.”
Ismay wondered what she meant. Did she know where Constantine was? Was he here in Cannich? Had her mother already reported him to authorities? She had to get out of here and warn him if he was close by. She didn’t trust Marjorie to keep her word. Ismay hadto save him!
She ran to the window and examined the nails driven into the wood of the shutters. They creaked when she pushed. So she pushed harder until she saw the slightest movement of one of the nails loosening. She leaned her shoulder against the wood, thankful they weren’t in a castle. She should be on the ground floor.
An hour and three splinters later, the shutters opened enough to let in the sun. Her heart beat frantically. She had to hurry before her mother returned. She gave the shutters one last long, hard nudge with her shoulder. The nails tore from the wood and fell outside the window. Ismay looked out. It was about two feet to the ground. Without another thought, she pulled up her skirts then her leg over the sill. One and then the other. She sat on the edge for just a moment to look over her shoulder at the door. Nae! She wouldn’t shed a tear over the woman who practically raised and who only cared about her father’s money.
Then she jumped down and took off running.
She didn’t make it far when she was caught, scooped up into Chief Alistar MacRae’s arms. She struggled and kicked, but his grip held steady.
“I came out to hunt and look at the hellcat I caught,” he said, sounding like a purring cat.
“Let me go!” she screamed.
