“Isabella! There you are!” Laird MacGahan’s voice rang out over the noise of the crowd and the people quieted, all heads turning to look in their direction.
Isa grabbed Robert’s hand, as if for support, scooting closer to him before the old man called out again.
“Join me up here on the steps, lass. I’d have my granddaughter at my side on this day.”
She looked to Robert, her eyes rounded, and he nodded his reassurance before leading her through the opening that formed in the crowd between the laird and where they’d stood. He gave her hand a squeeze before she let go to stand beside her grandfather.
He moved back, but only a couple of steps. Though he wanted to watch Isa, to be able to give her encouragement if she needed it, his attention was completely taken by Lardiner.
The man glared at Isa in a way that made Robert remember the saying, “If looks could kill.”Which made no sense at all.
After all, Roland’s daughter would shortly be the wife of the MacGahan, so what threat could he possibly see in Isa?
Chapter 14
Isa fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. She’d never been seated on the dais next to her grandfather before, and his insistence that she stay for the wedding feast and occupy this place next to him now was most confusing.
She sat on his right with Agneys on his left. Roland sat next to his daughter, his expression as close to a smile as Isa could ever remember seeing on the slimy man.
The only positive in her grandfather’s table arrangements had been that he’d seated Robbie next to her. More than once this evening she’d felt the need to let her foot linger close to his under the table. Each time, the look he’d sent her had settled her nervous stomach and given her strength to continue to sit here amid so many stares.
She slid her foot next to his now, waiting to catch his eye. The almost-smile he gave her warmed her heart and seemed to make the air in the room easier to breathe.
Not that anyone else would recognize his expression as a smile. Even with his sword hanging from his chair rather than strapped to his back, her guardian looked every bit the warrior tonight, his emotionless mask securely back in place.
She’d been fooled the first time she’d seen him, thinking the man was truly without emotion, but she knew better now. There was much more to her Robbie than mere warrior.
She’d seen with her own eyes the kindness in his face when he’d gently taken Jamie under his wing, slowing his progress on the task at hand to allow the lad to work with him on the fence. She’d watched this afternoon as justice had lit his expression when he’d come to the rescue of that family of tinklers in the courtyard.
And without a doubt, she’d seen the heat of desire in his expression a time or two.
If only her life had been different, she would have chosen a man such as Robbie to spend it with. A man of intense emotions but always in complete control of them. A man to fill her days and share her nights. A man to father her children.
She sighed at the hopeless daydream. Even if a man such as he were the least bit inclined to care for a woman like her, the knowledge of what she was, what she was capable of, would send him running in the opposite direction fast enough.
The clanging of metal tankards against the large wooden tables jerked her attention back to the present. With a guilty start, she found Robbie staring at her, and she felt her face heat as if he could read her thoughts.
“Raise yer cups in celebration,” Roland announced. “Of our laird and his lady, Agneys.” He paused, waiting for the cheering to subside. “You’ve news yet to share with yer people, have you no, my laird?”
If Isa didn’t know better, she’d think her grandfather uncomfortable with the question. Though the idea seemed impossible to her, she could have sworn he stiffened in his chair before responding to Roland.
“I’m no sure what yer speaking of, Roland.” Randulf reached for the full tankard sitting on his left.
“Here, now, my laird. This is no time to be a modest man. Yer people deserve to hear from yerself the good news you and yer lady have to share with us.”
Randulf looked out over the faces in his hall before turning his gaze to Isa.
Isa had always believed her grandfather had the most piercing stare of anyone she’d ever known. When he’d trained that gaze on her as a child, she’d imagined herself a rabbit in the falcon’s sight. As she met his eyes now, she wondered how she could have ignored how much like her father’s eyes his were. How like Jamie’s. Frosty blue, like storm clouds on the horizon.
At this moment, with their gazes locked, she could almost allow herself to believe he was trying to share his thoughts with her through those eyes.
But, of course, that was ridiculous. Her grandfather had shared nothing with her since that awful day he’d come to tell her he’d received news of her father’s death.
At five, she’d had no understanding of how to control her emotions. She’d felt swallowed up by an unimaginable sorrow to know her beloved da would not be coming back to her. When the tears started, she couldn’t stop them any more than she could halt the thunder or the rain or the quaking of the earth that had followed.
Her fault, her grandfather had accused. The fault of her mother, the treacherous Fae whore who’d broken his only son’s heart and left him with a dangerous half-breed to raise.
Thunder boomed outside now and Isa closed her eyes to break the strange connection with her grandfather. To break the connection to her past. To stop the horrible memory that was all that she shared with the old man sitting next to her.
