Directly ahead of her were the stables. Isabelle smiled. She might survive after all. She ran inside and stopped short at the sight of another man in the stables. There certainly were a lot of men around here for a convent.
“Who are ye?” demanded the man. It was the one called McNab who had been speaking to the abbot. “Ye dinna look like a nun to me.”
“I am Lady Tynsdale,” Isabelle answered without thinking and internally cringed. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?
“Ye should no’ be wandering off, my lady. Ye could come to harm.”
“I just went for a walk and got lost in the fog.” Isabelle edged toward the door of the stable. She had no idea if he was friend of foe.
McNab nodded and went back to work saddling a horse. Isabelle backed out of the stables.
“Wait, Lady Tynsdale.” McNab called after her and strode to the door of the stable. “I am no’ sure why I tell ye this, but ye should know the abbot plans to trade ye to Lord Tynsdale for a donation to his building fund.”
Isabelle froze and stared at him. Was he trying to help her? “Thank you for telling me. I fear the abbot lied to me.”
“I fear ’tis no’ his greatest sin, m’lady.”
“Do you know where I can go that will be safe?”
McNab shook his head. “Ye’re asking the wrong man. I canna keep anyone safe.”
“Will you help me escape the convent?” asked Isabelle. She hated to press this man, but he had shown himself to be a friend, and she had precious few of those at this point.
“Nay, I have my own worries. Campbell has my brother. No doubt he plans to execute him.”
“Why would he do that?” Isabelle gasped.
“Because he got caught wi’ Cait Campbell.”
“He abducted her?”
“Nay, Andrew is innocent. I need to rescue him before it’s too late.”
“’Tis a shame you did not see Campbell when he was here.”
“Campbell was here?” McNab took a step toward her, his eyes gleaming with intensity.
“Yes, about an hour ago.”
“An hour ago! Are ye sure?”
Isabelle nodded.
McNab rubbed his chin and studied Isabelle. “Perhaps there is a way we can help each other. I am going to the Bishop of Glasgow, care to join me?”
“Oh, yes, very much.” Isabelle’s heart soared. Finally someone was going to help her. At least it was a chance. More than what she would get if she stayed here.
“I need to talk to the bishop about intervening in Andrew’s behalf. Perhaps ye could tell him how I helped ye?”
“Yes, I can do that.” Get her to the bishop and Isabelle would swear he was a prince.
McNab nodded, his mouth a tight line. “Let us move quickly. The abbot will no’ be pleased to find ye gone.”
McNab finished saddling his horse and soon they were on their way.
“I have few talents, my lady, but I know these woods, and I know all the short cuts. Our road will be rough tonight, but we will get where we are going fast.”
“Fast is good for me.” Isabelle rode behind him, holding on tight, McNab rode like his life depended on it, down winding paths and across open fields. Finally, in the early dawn the horse was blown and Isabelle wanted nothing more than to stop and rest.
They came to a spot in the road where there were large boulders, one on each side. McNab pushed Isabelle down and hid behind the large rock formation. Isabelle tried to ask what he was doing but a strong hand covered her mouth. This was not right at all. Was she being abducted once again? Truly these men needed to find a better occupation.
Soon a galloping horse approached. The sound grew closer and closer until McNab jumped up in front of the horse and rider, pulling Isabelle with him.
“Halt!” commanded McNab. “Give me my brother and I will return the Lady Tynsdale.”
Isabelle looked up at the rider and gasped.
It was Campbell.
Twenty-Six
“You lying piece of—” Isabelle’s words stopped short when she felt the sharp prick of a blade at her throat.
Campbell regarded them with cold eyes. His face was expressionless. “Good morn to ye, McNab.”
The world went silent. Even her heart refused to beat.
“I have sent my prisoner on ahead to Innis Chonnel. He is not here,” continued Campbell in no apparent hurry. “I’m afraid I am unable to make such a trade as you suggest.”
“Get Andrew. Now,” demanded McNab. His grasp on her arm slackened and he began to tremble. She doubted he anticipated Andrew would not be with Campbell.
“Nay, I dinna think so. The lady ye hold is more aggravating than any lass has a right to be and has a verra bad habit of finding trouble where’er she goes.” He looked directly at Isabelle when he said this.
Isabelle gasped. Did he not even care that her throat might be sliced at any second? He hardly looked concerned that someone was threatening her life. Well that was enough of that.
Isabelle stomped down hard on McNab’s foot and gave him an elbow under his rib cage. McNab stumbled in surprise and Isabelle broke free. She ran but stumbled on her gown and went down. A loud cry shattered her ears and Campbell charged forward, his sword in hand, his face twisted into something from the gates of hell.
McNab was quick and flew to his mount and galloped away down the road. Campbell rushed back past Isabelle, grabbed the reins of his horse and jumped up even as the horse started to run. He galloped past her in close pursuit of the fleeing McNab.
Isabelle stared at the swirling mist where the two men had galloped away. She put a hand to her chest to see if her heart still beat. With such a fearsome battle cry, she was sure Campbell’s opponents must die of fright before he even reached them.
All around her was a white blanket of fog. It must be close to dawn since the mist had taken on a lighter gray hue, but she could still see nothing. She wondered what she should do now.
“Laird Campbell?” she called into the misty abyss, but received no answer. The air was cold and moist, the chill creeping through her cloak like a bony hand. She shivered, both from the cold and from being left alone in the night on the road.
Isabelle set off down the road in the direction the men had gone, hoping to find Campbell. The longer she walked the more she considered his words. She thought they had become friends, more than friends, perhaps, if fate had allowed it. And yet he had chided her like an errant child. Perhaps it would be better to try to find the Bishop of Glasgow on her own.
Presently, she came to a fork in the road. Isabelle sighed. Where to now? She looked at the road, trying to find tracks, but the muddy road was full of hoof prints going either direction.
“Campbell?” she called again. She folded her arms across her chest. Rather unkind of him to leave her alone in the near dark with no provisions or clue as to her whereabouts. Would he even come back for her?
Doubt and uncertainty crept in her mind. His last words had been intentionally cruel. Perhaps he was angry with her once more and had abandoned her. She could see no more than a few feet before her in the oppressive fog surrounding her, and yet impossible to touch. She had a sudden, sweeping desire to escape the ethereal blanket around her and find someplace more tangible.
She picked the road to her right, hoping it was indeed the right road, and walked along, to where she could not say. She trudged on and hoped for the best. It was simply impossible to have nothing but bad luck. Everyone had ups and downs. It must certainly be her turn for an up moment. Yes, she was certainly due for good luck.
The fog rolled in thicker, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. She walked through the gray nothingness. The longer she walked, the more she felt as if she was staying in one place. There were no landmarks, nothing to show that she had moved. She
was alone in the misty abyss. Could she have stepped into a fairy ring by mistake? Had she been transported into some distant land of nothing? An icy wind blew on the back of her neck, making her shudder.
Isabelle stopped for a moment and shook her head. It was just the dense fog playing tricks on her. She needed to think about something else, something comforting. She continued trudging in an upward direction and considered the words of Mother Enid. It was calming to believe that even if she had no idea where she was, there was one who could see her, who knew who she was, and who cared for her. Isabelle was not convinced Mother Enid was correct, but alone in the mist, she wanted to believe.
Gradually, the mist took on a different sort of feeling. Instead of cold and spooky, it began to feel close and comforting. It was as if the presence of God was in the cloud and the cloud was walking with her, guiding her path. Isabelle felt a peace that was as unfamiliar as it was soothing.
Isabelle walked along for hours, not seeing anything but a few feet of road before her, but was relaxed and at ease. She had been steadily climbing up and as she rounded a bend, the mist took on a rosy hue. A few steps more and bright sunlight broke through the top of the mist. Isabelle blinked at the brightness. She had walked above the clouds. Around her and below her was a puffy, white blanket. Isabelle smiled in delight. She was on top of the world.
Isabelle sat on a large, flat rock to enjoy her accomplishment and to rest. Fatigue of the hard night and the long walk finally seeped into her bones, and she curled up on the rock and fell asleep, a smile still on her face.
***
Campbell raced after McNab with murderous intent. He was going to hack that kidnapping whoreson into bloody pieces. For abducting Cait, for threatening Isabelle, and for the good of society, that bastard needed to die. Campbell followed the man’s desperate ride through the woods with determination, but McNab was wily and quick. Several times he veered out of sight and disappeared into the mist and Campbell had to backtrack to find his trail. Campbell had no doubt in his ability to track McNab, but since he had not been able to catch him in the early sprint, it was going to take some time.
Campbell considered Isabelle alone on the road and wondered what type of mischief she could find. It was a lonely road, rarely traveled, particularly in this fog and this early in the morn. Yet Isabelle had an amazing penchant for making trouble where none should be. Still, Campbell pressed after McNab. He would not let that bastard escape. Never.
Soon, however, it was clear he needed to make a choice. Either he could track McNab and enjoy the infinite pleasure of killing him and hanging his body out for the birds to eat, or he could go back and make sure Isabelle had not come to harm.
With a mouthful of curses, Campbell turned around and headed back to where he had left Isabelle. If she had any sense at all she would have remained there, waiting for his return. He was not at all surprised to find her not where he left her. Indeed, the lass had no sense whatsoever. Campbell dismounted and looked for her tracks. The memory of her being held by McNab, a knife to her throat, flooded back.
Campbell rubbed his forehead in an attempt to dispel the image. It had twisted his insides to see her so. And it should not have been. He had left her safe at the convent. How had she fallen in with McNab? When he found her, he was going to beat some sense into her. Again, for the good of society. He was nothing if not a dutiful servant of the higher good.
Campbell found her tracks and followed them up and into a mountain pass. The early morning mist dissipated, leaving bright sunny skies and a clear view of his surroundings. None of which included the figure of Lady Tynsdale. She had climbed far, and Campbell became concerned that she might have fallen off of the side of the path. The trail narrowed in places and was precarious, with steep falls if one should lose his footing.
Campbell hugged the side of the mountain. Once he looked over the edge to make sure he did not see her broken body. A rush of dizziness staggered him back to the relative safety of the cliff wall. Despite it being a cool morning, he broke into a sweat. Damn, but he hated traveling over the pass. This is why he always chose to go the water route back home.
Campbell continued up the winding path, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him, not daring to look to the side where the void threatened to suck him down. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He would do this. He had to do this. And if Isabelle wasn’t already dead when he found her, he was going to kill her for making him do this.
He held the reins of his horse with a death grip and walked up the path, his right shoulder hugging the side of the cliff. He rounded a bend and found himself close to the top, which meant leaving the safety of having at least one solid wall. He breathed hard and wiped the sweat from his face. He forced his legs to move him forward, up to the top of the mountain pass. He grabbed the halter of the horse and walked close to his beast, feeling better to have at least something in hand.
Moving with slow caution, Campbell reached the peak of the mountain pass. The wind was brisk but the sun was bright. Had he looked, he could have seen around him for miles, but he kept his eyes on the trail ahead. He did not wish to think of how far up he had climbed. The drop if one stepped off the path would be bone-crushingly, brain-splatteringly fatal. Campbell focused on the path before him, hoping it would lead him off of this mountain and down somewhere safe.
A patch of odd color to his left caught his eye—it was Lady Tynsdale! Campbell gasped and froze in his tracks. She lay unconscious on a rocky ledge, balanced precariously on the edge of the cliff. One slight movement and she would fall to her death.
“Isabelle,” he whispered, unable to move.
She moved not. Campbell closed his eyes and bowed his head. He was too late. She was already dead.
Twenty-Seven
Campbell stared at the lifeless body of Isabelle. She was so close to the edge. There was nothing he could do for her now. He considered for a moment just leaving her, but that would be the act of a coward. He straightened his shoulders. He would have to drag the body off the rocks, without falling to his own death. He was loath to step toward the rocky overhang, but he could not leave her body as carrion for the vultures.
He took the reins, wrapped one end around his left hand, and edged toward her, reaching out with his right hand. It was no use, he could not reach. His heart pounded in his ears, his vision became hazy around the edges, but he slowly unwound his left hand. Dropping his lifeline with a shudder, Campbell inched his way toward Isabelle. If he could grab her hand, he could drag her back to the safety of the trail.
Campbell’s boots scuffed across the loose rocks, sending pebbles over the edge of the cliff. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to get off the ledge, but he kept inching forward. He was almost close enough to touch her hand. He reached forward, stretching out to her.
Dirt and pebbles rushed under his feet, rocks ground on each other, making a wrenching sound. The ledge was starting to collapse!
Campbell launched forward, grabbed her hand and flung himself back to the path, scrambling up the loose, falling rocks and debris. He kept his grip on Isabelle; he would not drop her. The large rock she had lain on slid off the ledge and smashed below, taking trees and other boulders with it.
Campbell struggled forward, dragging Isabelle’s body behind him and landed on the solid surface of the trail. Campbell lay with his face in the dirt, breathing in the wondrous, earthy smell of solid ground. His body shook uncontrollably and he gasped for breath.
When his heart slowed down and the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he became aware of another sound. Something like a woman screaming. He opened his eyes and saw Isabelle yelling at him and rubbing the back of her head.
She was alive!
Campbell stood up and hauled her up too. She looked to be in reasonably good shape. Nothing looked broken, and she was not bleeding anywhere that looked life-threatening. Her gown was ripped and she wa
s covered in small cuts and scratches, but those would heal soon enough. He hugged her tight in relief. Finally, her words began to float into his consciousness.
“Let me go, you big oaf! What are you trying to do? Kill me? Go bedevil someone else and leave me alone!”
The shock of his near-fatal fall from the cliff snapped away, and bubbling up in its place was hot, seething anger. Isabelle had caused all this trouble and now she was complaining about him saving her life. Campbell, not generally a man who lost his temper, swore at her in his native tongue, then a bit more in English just to make sure she understood.
Isabelle glared at him with eyes blazing, hands on her hips, flushed and angry as a harpy. Probably because he had just referred to her mother in the most unflattering of terms. He felt a twinge of guilt; going after another person’s mother was beneath him. She brought him to this; it was all her fault.
“Thank you, sir knight, for fulfilling my request to teach me how to swear.” Isabelle’s eyes flashed. “I fully understand your low opinion of me. You need not elaborate further on that account. And you needn’t drag me across the rocks just to show your displeasure.”
“I was no’ dragging ye for my own amusement, I was saving yer life,” Campbell yelled in return.
“Saving me from what? A life-threatening nap?”
“Look!” Campbell pointed to the ledge where she had been sleeping.
Isabelle was quiet for a moment. “The view is lovely,” she said in an awed voice. “I could not see it when I first climbed up here.” She admired the vantage a little longer, then frowned. “What happened to the rock I was sleeping on?”
***
Isabelle glared at the back of Campbell’s head as she followed him down the path. It had been a trying day. Campbell had dragged her down the other side of the mountain, never letting go of her for a moment. When they finally got beneath the tree line he seemed to relax a little, but that just made him vocal.
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