“So we may part friends.”
“Aye.” Campbell wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. “There was a time I had wished for more. I hope ye will forgive me for making advances that, in hindsight, were unworthy of ye.”
A tingling warmth spread from the weight of his arm around her and filled her core with the heat of remembrance and a longing for more. “Perhaps we did what we should not, but your actions were always worthy of me. I never knew it could be like that.” Isabelle bowed her head to hide her blush.
“The truth is I would never have slept wi’ ye had I known ye were married, but I canna bring myself to feel one drop of regret. I shall remember ye all my days, Isabelle.” David’s voice was gentle.
A lump started to form in Isabelle’s throat. “That is why I left that morning in the inn. I wanted so much to accept your offer and leave all the problems of my life behind. Being with you was like a glimpse of heaven.”
Campbell held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. “’Tis a shame. Ye were meant to be loved.”
“Unfortunately my husband disagrees.”
“He is a fool.”
“That and more. I wish we could—” Isabelle stopped short. There was no “we” in their future. He was betrothed to another and she was still married to one of the most ruthless men in England. She must return to her people, and he to his.
“Forgive me for wasting the little time we had together with my foolish anger. I underestimated ye and judged ye wrongly. I confess I was hurt when ye ran away.” David pulled her closer.
“I am sorry too. I should have trusted you enough to tell you the truth.”
They embraced each other tightly, holding close against the thick blanket of fog engulfing them. Cocooned in the silent mist, it was easy to pretend she and Campbell were alone in the world. Alone and together.
“I must go,” David’s voice wavered. “Would that I could stay.” He held her closer and gently massaged the back of her neck in a manner that made her melt into him.
Isabelle groaned softly. “Forgive me.” Isabelle pulled back. “That was quite unladylike.”
“Ye make it hard on a man to leave ye, Isabelle.”
“Sorry.”
“I wish we…” David broke off from idle wishing. He must also have realized the hopelessness of their situation. “What shall ye do now?”
“Stay here I suppose, and hope the Church can advocate for an annulment for me. Can I trust the abbot?”
“I dinna know him well, but from all accounts he is no kind man. I warrant he would do what he thought would bring him gold. For a share of inheritance, he should be willing to help.”
Isabelle nodded. “So this is good-bye?”
“I have no right, but I would ask for one last boon before I leave. I would ask for one last kiss to say good-bye.”
A shiver of excitement coursed through her. “I will accept your request, sir knight.” Isabelle leaned close to his inviting lips, but with a pinch of mischief changed course slightly and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek.
“Edna…” he growled.
Isabelle laughed and gave him a proper kiss on the lips.
“’Tis a shame I canna stay to further yer education on the art of kissing, for if anyone needs it, ’tis ye,” said David.
“I am getting chilled waiting for you to stop whining and start impressing me with your kissing arts.”
“Whining? A Highlander never whines.”
“Still waiting.”
“We grunt and growl and scratch ourselves in inappropriate places, but never, ever whine.”
“And I am still waiting.”
“Now begging may occasionally occur. But only for the company of a lass, ye ken, never for any trifling thing like mercy from torture.”
“I am about to start begging.”
“Torture means naught to a true Highlander.”
“You are torturing me!”
A smile gleamed in David’s eye. “I remember the time—”
“Oh, be quiet!” Isabelle reached for his face with both hands and kissed him openmouthed, running her tongue along his lips. His growled response was instantaneous. He swept her up onto his lap and deepened the kiss until everything else around them faded away and Isabelle felt weightless, like she was riding a gust of wind. With a sudden flash of insight, she knew this was the man she would love till the end of her days.
Forever in love, yet forever apart.
Isabelle held on to Campbell, slivers of emotion slicing through her, an intoxicating mixture of joy and pain. She wished the moment would never end, and had it not been for a burning desire to breathe she would never have let go. Isabelle broke the kiss with a gasp for air.
“Have mercy.” Campbell held her close, wrapping his large arms around her and leaning his head against hers. “That is one kiss I’ll never forget.”
“Still wish to teach me kissing lessons?”
“Nay, I wish ye’d teach me some.”
Isabelle breathed in his warm scent, all man. “When I am near you I hear bells.”
“Me too. But I fear it is the bells of the chapel ringing the hours. I must go.”
“No.” Isabelle held him tighter.
“I dinna wish to leave ye. Ever. But my clan is on the road wi’ my sister and her abductor. I canna tarry any longer.” He kissed her forehead.
“I understand,” mumbled Isabelle. It was not what she wished to say.
David Campbell stood up with her still in his arms and slowly lowered her to her feet. She held on to his shoulders until her shaky knees could hold her.
“I will never forget you, Isabelle. In the long winter’s night when all is cold and dark, the memory of ye will keep me warm.”
Tears sprung to Isabelle’s eyes. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, and she knew Campbell was not one to throw away a compliment. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Campbell pressed her hands in his. They stood silent, the gray mist thick around them like a shield. It could not protect them from the world. Campbell, she knew, must go.
“Fare-thee-well.” Campbell released her hands and stepped away into the fog.
“And also to you,” said Isabelle, but Campbell had disappeared into the thick fog.
“I…” Campbell’s voice floated to her from the mist, but he spoke so softly she could not make out exactly what he had said. Isabelle played the muffled sound over in her mind, trying to determine his words. She drew a sharp breath of cool, moist air. Had he said he loved her?
Should she say she loved him too? Isabelle froze, her heart pounding, until she realized the moment was over and he was gone. What had he said? She would never know. Nor would he ever know how she truly felt.
Isabelle slumped back down on the bench, noticing for the first time the cold stones. She stared out into the pale void, surrounded by nothing. She was truly alone now. The only warmth in her life was the streaks of her tears on her face.
Twenty-Five
Isabelle stared at the place into which Campbell had disappeared, forcing herself not to call out for his return. Eventually her tears ran dry, the sharp pain of loss replaced by an aching hole in her heart. Soon, the cold pressed in and she stood up and stepped into the gray abyss of mist, hoping to find the building that housed her small cell. It was time to find her bed.
After wandering aimlessly for a while, the fog looked a little rosier to her left and she turned her course to that direction. Drawing nearer, the faint outline of a building and the warm flicker of a candle through an open window became visible.
“Please, ye must help me save my brother,” said a male voice she did not recognize.
“And why should I trouble myself with your concerns? You who have refused to follow my simple instructions,” said a voice Isabelle recognized as t
he abbot.
“What ye ask o’ me is hardly simple.”
“But of course it is. Really, McNab, must I do everything by myself? What exactly do I pay you for, I wonder? Why, did you know that a wealthy English countess is wandering about? Campbell tried to ransom her, and I had to take possession of her myself. This is something you should be doing for me.”
“An English countess?” asked McNab.
“Yes, wife of the Earl of Tynsdale. She wanted me to appeal for an annulment from her husband or some such nonsense. In the morn I will send word to Tynsdale to demand a contribution to the building fund for the return of his wandering wife.”
Isabelle gasped and clamped her own hand over her mouth. Why that double-crossing priest! There was silence for a few agonizing moments, and Isabelle fretted that she had been heard.
“Please, I need yer support,” begged the man called McNab. “I found tracks from where Andrew was taken that led me here. Is Andrew here now? Refuse to let Campbell take him, or tell me where Andrew is being held, I’ll do the rest.”
Isabelle backed away slowly on tip toe. She must get away.
“Your brother is not here. Campbell will no doubt take him back to his land for a fair trial before having him hung.” The abbot made a laughing sort of sound, which sounded too cold and cynical to have any resemblance to true laughter. “Now do not despair, my ill-fated one. I may yet be able to intervene, but you know what you must do first.”
The voices of the men trailed off into the night and Isabelle walked more swiftly away. Tears stung her eyes for the second time that night. How could she have been so stupid to have thought any man would wish to help her? No, that wretched abbot only considered how much money he could glean from her predicament. At least Campbell had never lied to her or pretended to offer assistance while secretly plotting her demise. If only he was still here.
She wrapped her arms around herself against the cold and damp. She was very much alone. And once again she needed to escape.
***
“But why do ye want him dead?” McNab asked Abbot Barrick, almost pleading.
“’Tis not for you to question me! Who do you think you are?” Barrick glared at him like he was filth. “I remind you that you are nothing. With the merest word I can have all your land revoked and your people removed from their homes. Though you have so little, perhaps you consider this no big loss.”
“Forgive me, ye ken how much I appreciate yer support.” McNab was not beyond groveling if it would get the abbot to help him. All that mattered now was saving Andrew.
“And if I ask you to do things from time to time, what is it to you?”
“But… but, I canna kill him.” Archie had done many a rotten thing in his life, but to take the life of a bishop? Nay, that was going too far.
“’Tis a fine time for you to grow moralistic now, with your brother’s life hanging in the balance. How many men have you killed, McNab? Why worry yourself over one more?”
“I’ve killed in battle aye, but no’ like this. He is the bishop!”
“And what of it?” The abbot’s voice was steely and cold. “He will bleed and die just like anyone else, I guarantee it.”
“But I canna murder a bishop. I’d be no better than the murderers of Becket. I’d doom myself to hell eternal.”
“Afraid of hell, are you? Well, of course you are going to hell, you have damned yourself a hundred times over. Very little I can do for you at this point. Do not shirk this little task I’ve given you for thinking that you will somehow avoid perdition. You are quite well damned, I promise you that.”
An eerie silence fell. The dense fog hung still and silent, even the crickets and the frogs held their lively song. Something inside McNab broke. It was his last vestige of hope, his last remaining shred of belief that he could do something to win back prosperity for the clan and the favor of God. Archie put his hand over his eyes. He was damned. Nothing could help him now. Nothing mattered but saving Andrew.
“Will ye guarantee ye will save my brother?”
“I cannot. But I will intercede in your behalf if I am pleased with your work. I would not waste time. I warrant your brother has very few breaths left on this Earth.”
“But ye will act as soon as…”
“As soon as I get word the bishop is dead I will go directly to Campbell to intercede. Now go, and take your foul stench with you.”
***
Isabelle scurried through the thick mist, trying to find her way back to the stables. She needed to escape, but couldn’t find her way around. She knew she must still be on the convent grounds, but all she could see was the mist surrounding her.
“Now what am I to do?” she muttered.
“Come and pray,” said an elderly female voice.
“Who’s there?” Isabelle spun around, searching the dark gray mist.
“’Tis Mother Enid, my child.” An elderly nun with sparkling blue eyes appeared before her. “Come, help me to the chapel.” Mother Enid reached out a gnarled hand and Isabelle took it. She helped Mother Enid, who had considerable difficulty walking, until they reached the chapel.
Isabelle glanced around, not wanting to escort the nun farther. She needed to escape, yet Isabelle was not sure if this nun would raise an alarm to the abbot if she should run off, so Isabelle sighed and continued to help the nun into the chapel and down the main aisle.
Mother Enid reached the front pew and sat down with a soft grunt. “What do you pray for this eve?”
Silence crept through the chapel on padded feet. Isabelle’s mind spun, trying to decipher what kind of threat Mother Enid posed. Isabelle had trusted the abbot with the truth and that had brought her nothing but more trouble. No, she would not trust this nun.
“Forgive me, but it seems my prayers have left me,” said Isabelle, eyeing the door.
“Come then and sit beside me and we can pray together.” Mother Enid gave her a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her bright blue eyes. “Now tell me what burdens you.”
Isabelle gave another furtive glance at the door, yet she did not wish to give the nun reason to fear she was running away. So Isabelle sat, hoping to quickly appease the old woman and be on her way.
“I am well. I thank you for your concern.”
“You are having difficulty praying?” Mother Enid continued to smile, though Isabelle had the distinct impression she was not fooled by her denials.
“I do not know. I do not pray as I should, I suppose.”
“And why is that, do you think?”
Isabelle took a deep breath against the rising irritation. Could this nun not see she had no interest in a discussion? “Truth is, I have never seen much point in praying. What will happen, will happen. What is the point of prayer?”
“Sometimes God does not always answer our prayers the way we wish.”
“Forgive me, sister, but if a person prays and it comes to pass, they say God answered the prayer. If it does not come to pass, they say God had some other plan. Either way, God wins. What is the difference between that and simple fate?”
“You do not believe God answers prayers.”
“I have been told to have faith that God will protect me, but how can I believe that? Bad things happen to people all the time.” Isabelle’s heart beat faster and she spoke with feeling. “My family died in the plague, but I did not. Did God protect me and not my family? To my mind things happen by chance, sometimes good, sometimes bad. Having faith will not protect you from being hurt or killed or betrayed… so what is the purpose?”
“The Bible does warn us that we will suffer.”
“So we suffer. God must be pleased.” Isabelle’s words sounded bitter, even to her ears.
Mother Enid leaned back against the wooden pew. Three candles flickered on the altar, casting orange, dancing circles. “You remind me of myself,
when I was your age,” she murmured.
“Forgive me, Mother Enid, but rarely in my life have I been mistaken for a nun.” It was time to go. Isabelle cast another glance backward toward the door and sat forward on the edge of the wooden pew.
“I hardly resembled a nun either back when I was a wealthy man’s mistress.”
Isabelle’s head snapped back to the nun. “You were what?”
“You would not know it now, for time has delivered me from the burden of beauty, but there was a day when my company was much sought. In due course, though, I was called upon to pay my wages of sin, and I found the price to be more than I could bear.”
The smile that had played on Mother Enid’s lips faded, leaving a pair of gleaming eyes. “I became with child and was in ill health. I was taken in by a holy community and received care until my time had come. I was very scared of childbirth, and though I brought a living babe into the world I became dreadfully ill afterward. I felt my soul slipping away; I knew I would die. It wasn’t until I had nothing left to lose that I started to pray. I begged the Lord to save me, promising to become a nun if I should recover.”
“You survived.”
“Yes. Now I ask you, did God save me, or would I have recovered on my own anyway?”
Isabelle said nothing. How could she answer?
“I choose to believe my prayer did move the Lord to spare my life,” continued Mother Enid. “But you may choose to look at it differently. Whether or not you believe that God answers prayer, I know one thing for certain. Prayer changed me. Whether it saved my life, I’ll leave for you to answer. But I am not the same woman. Prayer changed me.” The smile returned to Mother Enid. “Pour out your complaint to God, but be aware that whether or not God changes your circumstances, he will almost certainly change you.”
Isabelle leaned back in the pew, a new way of thinking turning in her mind. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Godspeed, Lady Tynsdale.”
“Where am I going?”
“You are leaving the convent, no? Let me tell you how to reach the stables.”
Isabelle followed the directions Mother Enid had given her to return to the stables. It was almost as if Mother Enid knew exactly what she must do. Perhaps… perhaps, she had found a friend.
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