One look at the mess that was Isabella and he had no doubts as to whether or not she needed to leave here. This was certainly no place for her to continue to live. No, she’d be much better off at MacQuarrie Keep.
What his mother would say when he broughtthisone home was more than he could imagine. For a fact, Margery would have her hands full turning this female into a lady, but if it could be done, his mother was indeed the one to do it.
“You?” the MacDowylt sputtered. “Dinna you think her grandsire will have something to say about that? She is the laird’s only living heir.”
Robert didn’t wait to see if the man in question spoke up. What the old laird might have to say on the subject was of no interest to him.
“The MacGahan has had the past twenty years to prove his ability to watch over Isabella’s welfare. As you can plainly see”—Robert cast an impersonal look her direction before facing MacDowylt again—“he’s failed in that task as Thomas feared he would. It’s in my hands now, and I reject yer offer of marriage on my ward’s behalf.”
“Thomas said that, did he?” The laird spoke up at last. “When he charged you with her care? What else did he say?”
Robert held his words for a moment, considering what would be in the old man’s mind. Perhaps the truth would convince him and prevent any outbursts of
violence.
“Yer son feared what you might do when you learned of his death. He told me you were not an evil man but that his daughter was ‘different,’ as her mother had been.”
The MacGahan flinched as if he’d been struck. “Thomas told you of Elesyria?” He shook his head as if he could hardly believe what he heard. “That being the case, I canna doubt yer word, MacQuarrie. I relinquish authority over Isabella to you as my son requested.”
“You’ve no a right to do this! You canna break yer word again.” MacDowylt yelled toward the dais, his eyes flashing with his anger as he turned back to Robert. “You want the lands for yerself, I’d say, but it’ll do you no good. They’re owed my people in good faith. I’ll have them if I have to lay waste to every living soul for miles.”
Robert shrugged, keeping a tight hold on his response. What he’d like to do was show this blethering young idiot what happens to bullies who go through life spewing threats, but this was neither the time nor the place for such actions. Swords were being drawn around the hall even now and he had Isabella’s safety to consider.
“And a fine lot of good that will do you, aye? With no one left to work the lands or tend the animals, you’ll be no better off than you are now.”
MacDowylt’s face and neck had discolored to a dark splotchy red by the time he spoke again. “You’ll no get away with this, MacQuarrie. Nor you, MacGahan. I’ll be back, and then we’ll see who has the upper hand.” With one last angry look around the hall, the young man turned and stormed from the room, his warriors following closely behind.
“If you’d but name me tanist, this would no be a problem any longer.”
Robert looked back at the man who spoke. Seated at the right hand of the MacGahan, he leaned toward his laird, urging the old man to retake his seat. His hair hung in lank strings around his face, framing dark eyes filled with traits Robert recognized all too well. Cunning, greed, hatred—each emotion transcended his travels through time. There were men such as he in both the centuries Robert had inhabited.
“Isabella is the issue of my son and my heir in his place.” The old laird’s hand shook as he reached for his tankard. “I owe Thomas this much.”
“A woman canna be laird of the MacGahan,” said MacGahan’s right hand. “You ken the truth in this. Look at her! You’ve need to see to the future of yer clan, no the memory of yer lost son. You should have given her over to MacDowylt. There’s no a need for the fate of Clan MacGahan to be tied to her any longer.”
Beside him, Isabella snorted her derision at the man’s words.
“You speak as if you think I’d want anything to do with this castle or the clan. I want nothing more than to be left alone by all of you.”
“And left alone is what you’ll get.” Once again the laird rose to his feet. “Begone with you and take yer new...guardianalong as well.”
“None too soon for my liking,” she muttered, turning and starting toward the door.
“Hold on there!” Robert reached out and grabbed Isabella’s arm as she attempted to push past him.
This was not at all what he’d had in mind. It was too late in the day for them to chance being caught on the road overnight, especially if MacDowylt and his men had camped somewhere nearby.
“We’ll stay here this night and leave for yer new home at first light.”
“New home?” Isabella drew back from him, appearing to study him through the matted red curtain of her hair. “Dinna be witless, man. I’ve no intention of going anywhere but my own home, and I’ll be about doing that right now. I’ve animals waiting on my return.”
“You canna stay here,” the laird interrupted. “I’ll no have her spend even one night under my roof against her will. As she says, you must leave now.”
Robert looked around him in disbelief. He was surrounded by sheer insanity. What Isabella proposed, what her grandfather insisted upon, was nowhere in the realm of logical behavior.
Still, the MacGahan guards who’d stepped forward, swords drawn, gave emphasis to the fact, logical or not, he and Isabella would be leaving this keep as soon as possible. There could be no argument about it.
She’d taken barely two steps when she stopped and turned back toward the large table with a muttered, “I almost forgot.”
