And so his fate was sealed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They slept thatnight in the hayloft. Iseabail was embarrassed by the accommodations, but Reuben kissed her cheek and whispered that he had lived in worse. That sparked a conversation about exactly when and where he had lived so crudely, and she heard the tale of his first home as a young boy where he daily faced down vermin the size of dogs. He was so funny as he spoke that she laughed, even though the tale was excruciatingly sad. Her childhood had often been harsh, but she’d always had food and a warm bed. And normal-sized rats, at least by Scotland’s standards.
He roused her early, and she wondered if he had slept at all. She had rested deeply thanks to his presence. She always felt safe around him, and that made all the difference.
“Is there something wrong?” she whispered.
“No,” he said as his thumb stroked down her cheek. “But there are people you should talk to before you confront your uncle.”
“Who?”
“I’ve no idea, but Fergus arranged it—”
“And Talia would have helped.” She stretched as she worked out a kink in her back. “There’s a stream nearby. I’ll—”
“I’ve brought water and a towel,” he said as he pointed down from the loft. “Don’t go about without me.”
She knew better than to argue. She’d married him for his ability to protect her, and so she did as he instructed. Instead, she asked him what he and Fergus had talked about last night. She and Talia had whispered about all the clan’s children as they peeked in on her sleeping seven. Without a trained midwife, the women were nervous about their babes. And without a trained healer, even the men felt the anxiety.
“I asked him who wanted to marry you,” Reuben said as he tidied the loft. Apparently, he wanted no evidence of their presence. He glanced at her. “You had your pick of men here.”
She shook her head. “My mother did not allow it—”
“Before your sixteenth birthday? I wouldn’t either.”
“And my uncle kept everyone away afterwards. He said my witchcraft would kill them.”
“And you believed him?”
“Of course not. My craft is with medicines and blessings.”
“But they believed it.”
She nodded.
“Were you hurt by that? That your friends, the people who had known you all your life, could believe such a thing?”
She looked down at her hands. Yes, she supposed it did hurt a bit. How could they think she would ever harm them? “My mother made sure they believed it.”
He wrapped her in his arms, and she settled into his comfort. “There will be an end to this today,” he said. “You will finish it.”
She jolted. Today? But—
“This is your fight, Iseabail. These are your people. If I say anything, it will only damage your cause.” He chuckled. “I’m just the Godless Sassenach.”
She lifted her face to his. At one time in her life, she had believed the tales she’d heard about the English, but she had long since discarded those stories as foolish. “You have never been such to me.”
He smiled as he stroked the line of her jaw. “How did you manage to leave them?”
She frowned. “I have told you how I traveled.”
He shook his head. “You left everything you know, every soul you’d ever met, to find your fortune in England. Even now, I can hardly believe you were so brave.”
She’d been desperate or she’d never have tried it. And now she saw how fortunate that gamble had turned out. He was here with her, and they would soon face her uncle together. It didn’t matter if he was a silent presence nearby. He was with her, and she felt safe.
“When will we confront him?”
