Exactly how Isa felt.
The marriage, though irregular, was binding in every way. They’d given their vows in the present tense.
Though she had never really believed she would wed, when she’d allowed herself to dream of a wedding day, she certainly hadn’t imagined it as this quick, detached business transaction. Once she’d agreed to MacDowylt’s demands, his man had escorted her to her bedchamber. She’d hardly had enough time to wash her hands and face before there’d been a knock at her door. They’d whisked her downstairs and into the great hall, still wearing the same filthy, smoke-streaked gown she’d donned that morning, as if they feared she’d change her mind if she had any time to think on it. A few mumbled words and it was over.
She was married.
Now Malcolm and Patrick ignored her completely, discussing the need for new fortifications as they led her up the stairs and toward her bedchamber.
Her husband. She had a husband.
Isa could hardly believe what had happened, feeling almost as if she were walking through a dream.
At the entrance to her room, they stopped, and Malcolm entered the room ahead of her, holding her door open. He still spoke to his brother as he waited for her to pass inside.
“And what of MacQuarrie?” she interrupted. “Will you allow me to see him now?”
Another of those annoyingly inscrutable looks passed between the brothers.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He’ll have to remain in the holding cell where Roland placed him for now.”
Malcolm stepped out of her room, pulling the door to shut it behind him, but Isa jammed her foot into the opening.
“What?” he asked, frowning in irritation as he stepped back into the room.
“I’ve held to my end of our bargain, MacDowylt. I’ve given you my vows. Now it’s time for you to keep to yers and allow me to take MacQuarrie and leave here.”
Isa took it as a bad sign when Patrick backed away, giving them a measure of privacy.
“I’d ask you to consider my current situation, Isabella.” Malcolm took her hand, leading her over to a chair by the fire. Only when she sat down did he continue. “As the new laird of the castle, I canna very well allow my wife to go running off around the countryside with another man.”
“But we had an agreement.” He had no right to do this!
“I agreed to nothing. You offered to wed in return for my allowing you to leave with MacQuarrie. I told you I’d consider yer words. Under the circumstances, I found yer terms unacceptable. Therefore, I decided we would proceed under my terms instead.” Hands clasped behind his back, he strolled to the door.
He’d tricked her?
“Yerterms? You gave no terms.”
“But I did. I told you we must wed and that is what we did. That you chose to believe anything else is no fault of mine. I did say that you were far too trusting.”
Isa opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, her mind trying to catch up with the helpless frustration she felt.
“You let me go through with that... that sham of a marriage believing you’d let us go, and you without the slightest intention of doing so?”
“It’s no a sham, Isabella, as well you ken. It’s legal and binding what you’ve done. What we’ve done. And now, as laird, I’ve matters requiring my attention. Good day, madam.”
Isa ran across the room but arrived there too late. He’d already shut the door and dropped the brand-new outer bar into place.
“Damn you, Malcolm MacDowylt!” she screamed, dropping her forehead against the wood.
Wait.
What had he said about Robbie? That he’d have to remain in the holding cell where Roland had placed him?
Castle MacGahan had no holding cells. Where could...
No!
