David sighed. This was not how he wished to break the news to her.
“New home?” Isabella asked, turning to him.
“Aye, we laid siege to Blackadder Castle,” he said. “It’s ours now.”
“And David has a wife too,” Will said.
“You? Married?” Isabella said, looking as if she’d seen a pig fly.
David’s head was aching.
“Her name is Alison—Lady Alison,” Will said. “She’s pretty and kind, and we all like her verra much.”
“Then I’m sure that I shall like her as well.”
David spurred his horse and rode ahead.
The journey to Dunbar had taken half a day, and he’d had hoped to return by nightfall. Despite Isabella’s assurance that she was well, she tired easily. He was glad he’d had the foresight to order a tent brought along for her.
Will ate supper with her in the tent, then came out to join David and the men around the fire.
“Mother wishes to speak with ye,” Will said.
“Now?” David asked.
When Will nodded, David took a drink from his flask and got up. There was no door to knock on, but he felt uneasy simply entering her tent.
“Lady Isabella,” he called from outside. “Ye should be resting. Shall we speak in the morning?”
“Come in.” Her voice was so faint he barely heard it.
He stepped inside and looked at the woman who had caused the downfall of his father and nearly his clan as well. Yet he could not blame her for his father’s weakness. Isabella had never meant to cause harm.
“My son has grown fond of your bride and her daughters in a short time,” she said with a warm smile. “Will spoke of little else.”
“Hmmph,” David grunted, and hoped that would be the end of it.
“What about you?” Isabella asked.
“What about me?”
“How do you feel about your new bride?”
Why was she asking? She’d never concerned herself much with him before.
“We’ve spoken little, you and I, for having lived under the same roof for so many years,” she said, seeming to read his thoughts. “After losing your father and being kept away from all of you, I don’t want this distance between us anymore.”
All David wanted to do was leave the tent.
“I could never have replaced your mother in your heart,” she said, “but I should have tried harder to mother you. You were still young enough to need it.”
“I wasten.” For God’s sake.
“As I said.” She sighed. “I do regret it.”
“You’ve nothing to regret with regard to me.” It was not her fault that he was difficult to feel affection toward, even as a child.
“I was young and so in love. And then the babes came,” she said, sounding wistful. She paused, then asked, “So tell me, how did you acquire this wife?”
