Highland Obligation (Highland Pride)

by Lori Ann Bailey

  “Ye probably saved Ian as well. They would have killed him if he’d woken before he did, because he was in no shape to fight.”

  “Och, is he all right?”

  “A healer came to see to him last night. Said he would mend, but to go easy on the journey.” Annis laughed. “I heard him arguing with Owen in the hall this morning. He wanted to take a turn watching the doors, but his brother wouldnae hear of it. Said he was ordered to rest.”

  Luckily, she was able to convince Annis to fashion a simple braid. Annis hurried to pack while Grant and she were at this meeting. Because Isobel needed to act like a proper lady to prove she was a meek lass, she still had to wear a dress.

  As they sat in a private booth in the common area breaking their fast, Grant leaned in and slid something across the table to her. “I think ye should have this.”

  Lifting his hand, she blinked at his offering. A sgian-dubh. The knife was simple, with a hilt made from the smoothed antler of a deer and a blade about five inches long. Perfect for defending oneself or others in close combat. She wanted to jump across the table and plant her lips on his. It was the best gift she had ever received. The straight blade was polished and sharp, ready to defend its wearer against enemies, but what she valued most was the untouchable gift he gave. His trust.

  Neither spoke as he reached under the table and took her calf in his hand. Pushing up her skirts, he holstered and secured the knife to her leg, the perfect spot. Easily reachable whether she needed to slice a cut of meat or defend herself in battle. Once safely attached, he pulled down the material of her gown to cover it.

  “Thank ye,” she managed without choking. He only nodded.

  “Are ye ready?”

  “Aye.” Peace invaded her senses, and something unexpected happened—her heart fluttered. He was trusting her and giving her permission to be who she was. If they weren’t rushing out, she’d draw him near and hold him. For the first time in ages, she felt truly safe and understood.

  “Boyd is staying to keep watch on Ian and Annis. They should have everything ready to depart upon our return.”

  Owen met them at the stables where they mounted and rode across the city to meet with the other Royalist lairds at Holyrood Abbey.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As they reached the Abbey stables, Isobel saw faces she recognized. First was Brodie Cameron. Until recently, he’d been the most wanted spy in all of Scotland and one of the Royalist Resistance’s most valuable resources. Second was Blair Macnab, who was like a sister to her friend Kirstie in the Cameron clan.

  The next face that came into focus would have caused her to stumble had she been walking. It was Robbie.

  He was now a Cameron, but she knew his true identity—he was the secret son of King Charles and the prince heir’s younger twin brother. Very few knew of his existence, even fewer knew where he was hiding.

  Which angered her, because of all the places in Scotland he should avoid, Edinburgh and anywhere near Parliament was on the top of the list. Alex had sent her to guard him on a couple of occasions before the Camerons had taken him in, and the young man had never been so careless before.

  Brodie, Blair, and Robbie all knew she was the female face of the Royalist Resistance and she trusted them.

  They dismounted and passed their horses off to the stable hands and walked up to the group who were standing alone, at a good distance from anyone who might hear. She stomped up and hissed to the lad, “What the hell are ye doing here?”

  Brodie stepped in between Robbie and her. “I could ask ye the same thing, Isobel. Although I almost didnae recognize ye.”

  Grant took her hand and drew her to his side. “Dinnae talk to my wife that way if ye dinnae wish to leave my cousin a widow.”

  She couldn’t help it. She started laughing. Grant hadn’t told her who his cousin had married, but Brodie Cameron was the last man she’d expected to settle down. “Ye are married to Skye?” She’d never met the lass whose horse she’d been borrowing or whose old furniture now resided in the bedchamber she shared with her husband.

  “And ye ken my wife?” Grant sounded jealous, and she rather liked that he might be.

  “Aye.” She nodded to her husband then glanced to the one man in the group she didn’t know. She asked Brodie, “Can he be trusted?”

  “Oh, aye. This is Finlay Cameron. We are escorting him and his wife home from visiting the king in England. If the king trusts him, ye can, too. And this is his wife, Blair Cameron.”

  “It’s good to see ye are well, Blair. And ’tis nice to meet ye, Finlay. I have heard of yer connection to the king.”

  Blair threw her arms around Isobel. “I’m so happy yer safe. Ye saved many lives when ye told Kirstie about the plot to take out the Royalist lairds.”

  Isobel hugged her then, pleased she’d been of some help. When the lass drew back, Isobel turned and smiled up at her husband who seemed shocked that she knew most of the group and they knew of her secret. She glanced back to the retired spy. “My husband can be trusted as well.”

  “We’re on our way home to Kentillie, but stopped over last night. We heard about the meeting today and thought we would lend our support and get word back to our laird on what is decided.”

  She took Grant’s hand and whispered, “Brodie used to occasionally help the Resistance.”

  Then Brodie met Grant’s glare. “I gave it up so that I could be a good husband to yer cousin. I can assure ye she is safe with me.”

  She turned to quiz Robbie. “And why are ye here? ’Tis no’ safe and ye ken it.”

  “I had a chance to see my mother. I took it. And I was safe with the Camerons. They kept watch over me the whole time.”

  “Are ye planning to stay in the Highlands then?”

  “Aye, my home is now with Clan Cameron and I dinnae plan on leaving again.”

  She was pleased Robbie had chosen to live among the Camerons because they were unwaveringly loyal to the king. His secret was too deadly to reveal to Grant among the mixed company. What if not all present were aware of the truth? She would wait until they were alone tonight and whisper to him that they had been in the presence of royalty.

  …

  “So, ye all ken who Isobel is?” Grant asked, feeling lost in the crowd. His wife had actually made friends despite her desire to push everyone away. He wondered if she realized she’d let these people into her life.

  “Aye,” Blair said. “She’s helped a great many people.”

  His wife blushed. She was lovely, even with the slight bruise marring her cheek. By all appearance she was a lady and not a woman who would don men’s clothes and run into battle. It gave him an idea.

  He leaned in. “Ye can help keep her safe.”

  “Whatever we need to do.” Blair nodded.

  “We need witnesses. People who can verify she was nowhere near any of the Resistance skirmishes.”

  “That’s a great plan. She can say she was with Skye when the battle that took yer brother-in-law happened. My wife would be happy to help.” Brodie smiled.

  He could count on Skye, his cousin, to vouch for Isobel should the need arise. A huge weight lifted from his chest.

  “And she was with Kirstie and me on Macnab land the time before that,” the petite blonde who’d embraced his wife added.

  Even Finlay broke in. “And before that, she was visiting the Cameron laird’s new wife at Kentillie.”

  As they stood there and continued to talk, a solid plan developed to defend his wife should the need arise.

  Bells trilled through the yard, indicating it was time for them to file into the abbey and discuss how the Royalist clans could keep their religion without drawing the notice of those supporting Parliament. There was nothing they could do to stop the decree that only one religion should be practiced in Scotland, but they could keep their people safe.

  While he’d not been able to stop Parliament from committing to the Covenants, today he had been able to assure his wife’s safety. />
  Now there was only one threat left. Torsten Campbell. And he had to find the man soon, because losing Isobel would destroy him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Although Isobel’s husband and the other clan representatives hadn’t been able to sway Parliament, the trip to Edinburgh had been a success. Grant had let her sit in on the meeting where the representatives of the Royalist clans talked about how to keep peace in the Highlands without drawing notice to their clans because they would continue to practice their religion in secret.

  Friends she didn’t know she had were also willing to stand up for her if Argyll ever learned of her involvement with the Resistance. And the best thing yet, as Grant’s wife, she could advocate for the safety of the clans as well. She felt as if she had a whole new group of people to safeguard, her new family.

  Shortly after the meeting, they retrieved the rest of their band and headed back to the Isle of Skye.

  Isobel had become accustomed to the silent, steady pace they’d set; even the weather cooperated, providing sunny days with a pleasant wind. As the terrain turned more mountainous, she found peace in studying the patches of lavender on the inclines and security in the tree-lined paths.

  After hours of scouring the landscapes, she felt certain Torsten Campbell was not lying in wait, but must be actively hunting for her. If he knew her whereabouts, there would have been a confrontation by now. They’d passed several groups of people on the roads north, farmers on their way to markets, mothers heading into the villages for supplies, and once some young children running with a black, wiry-haired dog whose protruding tongue was almost as long as its snout.

  In the middle of their fourth day, the sun disappeared, clouds filled the sky, and a strong wind blew in a storm that pelted them so hard, it felt like tiny stinging daggers on her skin.

  “We’ll stop at the next village,” her husband called from behind.

  She recognized the little town and the church that stood in its center. Many priests in the area were connected with the Royalist Resistance, not as actual members, but as conduits between groups, delivering messages and storing knowledge. This village was near the middle of the Highlands and was the hub of Resistance activities.

  “Isobel,” Grant’s voice broke in. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped and was staring at the church. In the back of her mind, a plan had started to develop. “Did ye see something?” He seemed on edge for the first time in days.

  “Nae. I’ve been here before.” She couldn’t lie to him. Aye, she’d seen this place before, but his tone had made it seem as if he were asking if she’d seen something threatening.

  After stabling the horses and taking shelter in the only inn, the group gathered together at a large table in the common area. Despite the time of year, the storm had brought with it a drop in temperature, and the innkeepers lit a fire to keep the room warm.

  Thunder boomed, shaking the windows. Grant scanned the room, taking in every corner, every space, as if on the hunt for a lost item. When his gaze finally fell on her, he seemed to calm, taking a breath and leaning back as a maid brought a tray of ale.

  She was quite uncomfortable, however—her exposed back to the open room and door to the outside sent shivers down her spine. She’d have to trust in the men with her that they would be vigilant. It felt odd putting her safety in others’ hands, a little freeing and a lot terrifying.

  Taking a sip of the warm amber liquid, she relaxed into the chair and studied the wall behind her husband. For her plan, she had to come up with an excuse to get over to that church.

  Would he let her go? And would he follow?

  Confession.

  He couldn’t follow her there, giving her just enough time alone with the priest.

  “How’s yer head today?” Annis, who was seated next to her, peered across the table to Ian.

  “’Tis much better. The stabbing pain in it has finally gone away.”

  Taking another sip of ale, she noticed her hands had started to heal, although the ache in her side still bothered her when she mounted the horse or made awkward movements. And the bruise on her face had been barely noticeable this morning when she’d looked in the mirror.

  “I still dinnae ken how ye took all three of them, lass.” Ian shook his head.

  “I’ve never seen a lass, much less a man, take on so many at one time.” Owen, who was by Grant’s side, gave her an appreciative nod, raising his glass to salute her.

  “’Twas only because there was nae choice. And because they didnae think I was a threat until ’twas too late and Annis distracted them.”

  Looking down, she wasn’t sure if she felt embarrassed, proud, or pleased with what she’d accomplished. The conflicting emotions gave her the excuse she needed.

  “Grant, I noticed a church no’ too far away. My conscience would feel better if I could go to confession.”

  He studied her with hardened suspicion, and her shoulders drooped, but then his gaze softened, as if he worried he’d hurt her feelings. “After we eat, I’ll take ye over.”

  “Thank ye.” She had the oddest urge to lean over the table and plant a kiss on his lips. Although they’d barely spoken the last few days, she enjoyed the sight of him laughing with his friends or his dark hair blowing back from his face as they trotted onward and he watched the shadows around them.

  The fact he trusted her endeared him to her. To tell the truth, she’d found herself growing fond of him for some time. She’d never thought she would enjoy married life, but now that she was a wife, she could think of no better husband than the man who sat across from her. He might have been reading her thoughts, because his mouth twisted up in a wry grin.

  After a meal of roasted meat with vegetables and stewed apples, Grant stepped across to where she was seated and took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers, an intimate touch they’d only shared at night. “The rain has lessened. I’ll take ye now.”

  “Aye. I remember now, ye dinnae like the rain.” She, on the other hand, loved the feel of the drops cleansing away false security that came with the beautiful weather.

  They took off, running through the rain, fingers still entwined. It didn’t take them long to reach the small church, but they were soaked. Stopping in the doorway, Grant’s gaze slipped to the rise and fall of her chest then back up to her mouth. Under his scrutiny, her core heated and her mouth parted mere seconds before his lips brushed hers.

  His warmth mingling with the cool droplets of rain sliding off his dark hair onto her neck made her feel alive, made her feel wanted, told her that she was a woman to be desired.

  He deepened the connection. As his tongue swept over hers, the doubts of the last few days faded. In the embrace she felt more than wanted, she felt cherished. She was lost in that kiss, lost to her husband, and…

  A throat clearing caught her attention and Grant pulled back. Not only had she forgotten herself and possible dangers, but their surroundings. They were at the entrance to God’s house.

  Knowing the man would recognize her and welcome her, she asked, “Father, will ye hear my confession?”

  “Aye, ’tis good to see ye, Isobel. And looks to be I should be listening to the sins of this one as well.” She cringed when the priest acknowledged he knew her. She felt a pang of regret for not telling Grant about her ties to the church and the network of intelligence gathering that happened through these men of God. But the priests trusted her and she couldn’t betray that faith.

  Grant stiffened. “I’m her husband.” His deep burr rolled over her in possessive waves, and there was a new edge to it—he was probably wondering how the priest knew her name.

  The priest ushered them in and shut the door. “All right then, lass. This way.” The man motioned Grant to a bench. “Ye can wait here.”

  Grant took a seat and his gaze pinned her with accusation. She had no doubt he’d be questioning her as soon as they were out of earshot of the holy man. Gulping, she wished the sweet man hadn’t acknowledged their past
acquaintance. It was going to be hard to explain away.

  Shielding her embarrassment from Grant, she swirled to follow the priest.

  “Married now are ye, lass?”

  “Aye.” She couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder as they made their way to the large wooden enclosure toward the side of the building. Grant was on the edge of the seat and listening intently, pinning her with an angry gaze that spoke of heated words to come.

  “’Tis glad I am to see ye have found a man.” Father John rubbed at his head, just where the balding patch on top hit his graying hair.

  She started to confess she hadn’t wanted this union, but she could no longer say it in truth—she’d come to care for her husband a great deal. But that was the problem. He mattered now, and people close to her always got hurt.

  “I hope ye are truly here to confess. A wedded woman shouldnae be roaming the countryside with a group of renegades.” His eyebrows, also flecked with silver, rose in question while he held a red curtain back from a booth.

  “I just have one more thing to do and I can leave that all behind, but I need yer help.” She entered once he drew the curtain, darkness enveloping her. She knelt, the cool dampness of the day and the old building invading her bones.

  “Why are ye here today?” he asked after the curtain swung closed behind him. She peeked through hers to make sure Grant had not followed, but he still sat on the bench, glaring.

  “Information.” She leaned in, whispering into the screen.

  “Aye.” The skepticism in his voice signaled he didn’t believe she would leave the Resistance.

  “Torsten Campbell kens who I am. If he comes for me, I’m afraid he will hurt someone in my new clan.” Saying the words sent renewed dread twisting through her.

  “And have ye talked to yer husband or Alex about this?” The reproach in his voice was gentle but stern.

  “Aye, but ’tis my place to protect them. ’Tis my fault I was recognized.”

  She was met with silence.

  “Please, Father. I cannae let Torsten hurt anyone because of me.”