Highlander's Heart

by Amanda Forester

  Campbell had explained in a calm voice that did little to hide his irritation how little he thought of her for running away from the convent, for taking up with the likes of McNab, and for leaving where he left her on the road. He blamed her for letting McNab get away. Worse yet, he had not wanted to hear anything she had to say. Finally, she stopped trying to defend herself and he stopped talking altogether. Whatever connection they had shared now appeared to be irrevocably shattered. The loss of his affection pained Isabelle the most.

  Campbell stopped and turned back to her. “The trail is safe enough for us to ride now.”

  Isabelle narrowed her eyes to intensify her menacing glare, determined he should not know how much she wanted to cry at his hateful words. If Campbell noticed, he did a good impression of someone who did not care. Isabelle scowled harder at the man, but only succeeded in giving herself a headache. Isabelle gave up and rubbed her forehead.

  “Ye done wi’ glaring at me then?” asked Campbell.

  “Yes,” replied Isabelle as haughtily as she could manage. “I’ve moved on to visualizing your demise.”

  “Ah, I hope it brings ye great amusement.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I have some, the way ye’ve been giving me the evil eye,” muttered Campbell.

  So he had noticed! Isabelle smiled in triumph. Campbell caught her eye and smiled tentatively in return. Isabelle scowled at him and his smile faded.

  “I need to ask for yer pardon, Isabelle. I said some things I regret. I spoke out o’ anger, which is ne’er wise.” Campbell sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Ye have no idea how I felt… how scared I was seeing ye wi’ McNab’s knife at yer throat. Why, for the love o’ the saints, did ye leave St. Margaret’s wi’ McNab?”

  “I overheard the abbot saying he was going to ransom me back to my husband. I needed to escape, and McNab offered to help. I did not know he was the one who abducted Cait. I thought you said you caught the man.”

  “Aye, but I doubt he acted alone.”

  “How was I to know that?”

  “Ye… well… everyone knows no’ to trust a McNab.”

  “Yes, thank you ever so much for all your warnings in that regard. Quite helpful.” Isabelle let the sarcasm drip from her voice in a manner that would have won her sharp disapproval from her nurse.

  “Why did ye run off after I went after McNab? Ye should o’ stayed where I left ye like a sensible lass.”

  “Stay on an unknown road in the dark by myself without having the slightest notion whether you would return? I was trying to follow you at least.”

  “Ye took a wrong turn. Why did ye go up through the pass?”

  “I came to the fork in the road and guessed.”

  “Why no’ follow the tracks?”

  “Many tracks were on the ground leading both directions.”

  “Can ye no’ tell the difference between old and fresh tracks?”

  Isabelle put her hands in the air. “I shall have to inform my tutor that he wasted his time teaching me Latin and philosophy. I should have been learning the science of the hunt.”

  It was Campbell’s turn to glare at her. “I thought someone had attacked ye and left ye for dead, lying on that rock like that.”

  “I was sleeping,” said Isabelle with indignation. “I did not realize how close to a cliff I was. Why did you drag me off the rock if you thought I was dead?”

  “I could no’ leave yer body for the birds.”

  Isabelle shuddered. Not a pleasant thought. And yet, it was kind of him to put himself at risk to retrieve her body. Isabelle sighed. She did not wish to give up her anger so easily, especially with how he treated her, and yet he had prevented her from falling to her death.

  “Thank you for saving my life,” mumbled Isabelle begrudgingly.

  “Will ye forgive my words?”

  Isabelle bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “After all we shared, your words were so cruel. I understand you being upset, but I do not understand how, how mean you were to me.”

  Campbell avoided her eyes. “I was scared. I dinna like being scared. I was furious at ye for making me feel such fear.”

  “Oh.” Isabelle exhaled, and with it drained her anger and hurt. He did not make the confession easily. “I am sorry to scare you,” said Isabelle, though inside she was cheering that her situation had affected him so deeply.

  “And I am sorry for my words.”

  They stood silently in the forest in the early morning. Birds chirped a merry song, melting away the last of Isabelle’s anger. She wanted to reach out to him, but somehow was unable to bridge the distance.

  “We should go,” said Campbell. “I must get back and check to make sure my kin traveled safely home.”

  “I need to get to a place where I can ask for sanctuary. McNab had agreed to take me to the Bishop of Glasgow.”

  “Now ye ought no’ be trusting any man that comes around promising ye this or that.”

  “Certainly not one of those Highlanders,” agreed Isabelle.

  Campbell narrowed his eyes. “Especially one of those Highlanders.”

  “I hear they are barbarians.”

  “True every word.”

  “Shall I scream and run away?”

  “I would only track ye down and drag ye back to my castle by yer hair,” said Campbell with a faint smile.

  “Then I suggest we get going,” said Isabelle with a smile. It was good to jest with him again.

  “Good,” said Campbell. “To be frank I have little time for a merry chase today.”

  “Only, I must know this.” Isabelle’s smile faded. “Will you help me to claim sanctuary with the Church or will you give me back in ransom to my husband?”

  Campbell paused a moment and took a great breath, letting it out slowly. “I ne’er thought I’d step between a man and his wife, but I’ll help ye. At least I can see ye safe to Glasgow after I settle some matters at home.”

  “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much. You are the only one I can trust.” Isabelle threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him in a tight embrace. “Thank you. Thank you on behalf of myself and my people.”

  “Damn it, Isabelle,” cursed Campbell. “’Twas hard enough to say good-bye to ye the first time, now I am going to have to do it again.” Campbell pressed her close and claimed her mouth with his.

  Isabelle was momentarily shocked by the suddenness of his kiss. He was not slow or gentle, no, this time she feared he might devour her. Her body responded with a powerful rush of pure, animal lust. Memories of their time together in the inn rushed back, and she wanted more. And she wanted it now.

  Emboldened by his kiss, Isabelle ran one hand through his hair, pressing his face closer to hers, as if such a thing were possible. With the other she cupped his backside.

  Campbell growled in response, kissing along her neckline and pulling down the rough fabric to kiss some more. Isabelle gasped and arched toward him, offering herself to him fully. Her knees gave way and she would have fallen had he not caught her.

  Campbell held her close and panted for breath. “This canna be right… Whatever am I to do wi’ ye?”

  It felt mighty right to Isabelle, but her head was spinning too fast for intelligible speech.

  “I need to get back to Innis Chonnel. I canna tarry, no matter how much… how desperately I would rather stay.”

  Isabelle nodded and turned away to straighten her gown.

  “I’d like to get back inside the castle walls before dark. Wolves, ye ken.”

  “Wolves?” Isabelle eyes snapped to his. “I am glad I did not know about that when I was creeping through the forest trying to escape the castle.”

  Campbell shook his head and looked to the heavens. “Ask Mairi to give ye the lecture on wolves. Ye require so much scolding, I have none le
ft for ye.”

  Campbell swung himself into the saddle and reached down to pull her up behind him. She held on tight as he spurred the horse to a gallop. Despite her circumstances, she felt she was back where she belonged.

  His kiss had claimed her. Whether it would be for good or ill, she did not know, but she would be forever his.

  Twenty-Eight

  Campbell rode hard back to Innis Chonnel. He could not risk spending a night alone with Isabelle. He knew what he would do. He knew what he had almost done. She was no help at all, the little vixen. She had wanted all he had given her, and more. It was true she wanted to be released from her husband, but that didn’t make her any less married. Or him any less betrothed. He needed to get her back to Innis Chonnel and put her into Mairi’s care. If anyone could chill ardor into ice, it was his sister.

  Finding Isabelle again made his life complicated at a time when it was bloody well tangled enough as it was. He had shared too much when he thought it was farewell forever. How could he go back to being acquaintances now? He tried to block her from his mind. But how could he with her arms wrapped around his chest and her thighs pressed against his? She should have stayed in the convent, not come back to bedevil him with her bright eyes, smooth skin, and silky, black hair. It was too maddening for words!

  Campbell chose a challenging route home, overland, high in the hills. The terrain was rocky and there were treacherous bogs that could swallow a horse whole. No road went through these parts, only the smallest trail, but Campbell found it and raced along as fast as he dared. The benefits to this route were to arrive home before dark and, more importantly, use the risk of certain death to keep his mind focused on the trail ahead, not the lady clinging behind. By midday he had descended north of Loch Fyne. The terrain became less steep and dangerous and soon he met the main road to Innis Chonnel.

  Two miles from home, the faint sound of singing floated through the trees. He rode forward cautiously, and found the minstrel he had met in Glasgow, walking down the road before him, playing his lyre and singing a jaunty tune.

  “Why it’s Jacques le Chanteur!” exclaimed Isabelle behind him.

  The minstrel stopped playing and turned to face them. He was dressed in a yellow tunic, red surcoat, and bright blue trews. A dark brown, tattered traveling cloak and red cap protected him from the elements, and on his back was slung a leather bag and his lyre. Campbell dismounted and Jacques swept him a polished bow.

  “Greetings to you, my lord, my lady,” said the minstrel in a smooth, French accent. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise to meet you on the road.”

  “You are well met,” said Campbell. “What brings you to the Highlands?”

  “Your kind invitation to Innis Chonnel has tempted me to brave the journey.”

  “Ye are indeed most welcome. My sisters especially will be well pleased if I return home with a minstrel.”

  Jacques gave him a wide smile. “I shall do everything I can to please your family, my lord.”

  Campbell nodded but wondered what the minstrel meant by pleasing his family. He had heard rumors of philandering musicians, and he would tolerate none of that nonsense in his household.

  “Indeed, it will be delightful to have a musician of your talent to play for us,” said Isabelle. Her eyes shone at the minstrel in a manner that displeased Campbell.

  Campbell helped Isabelle off the horse, standing between her and Jacques. She hardly gave him a glance before walking around him to be near the traveling musician. They exchanged a warm greeting and the minstrel gave her another one of his courtly bows and dazzling smiles.

  Campbell was beginning to take a dislike to the itinerant minstrel. The musician was a poor-looking character, scrawny and ill-favored. Isabelle laughed. Campbell’s mouth tightened into a thin line. Apparently Isabelle found him pleasing enough.

  “Such a delightful surprise to see you here. I am all anticipation to hear you play,” said Isabelle with animation.

  “Come now,” said Campbell, walking between them. “We are not far from Innis Chonnel. If we step lively, we should make it to the castle by the evening meal.”

  “Ah, for that I am grateful,” said Jacques. “My stomach has been complaining this age that I have not fed it as well as it would have liked.”

  “Ah, you poor dear. Let us make haste to the castle and see you tended to,” said Isabelle with warmth in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

  Campbell ground his teeth and wondered how fast he could get rid of the minstrel.

  ***

  Isabelle was thrilled to have met Jacques on the road. He had been her rescuer in the Glasgow inn and was a pleasant, charming fellow, unlike her taciturn, brooding Highlander. The minstrel was a tall, lanky lad, with trim black hair and bright blue eyes. A smile often played on his lips as if he was laughing at some secret joke, yet his eyes were kind and his manners pleasing.

  The minstrel’s countenance was well favored, though in truth she preferred Campbell’s more rugged features, especially when he smiled. A glance at Campbell told her she would not be seeing an elusive smile any time soon. He was brooding silently again over goodness knows what. Jacques, however, was charming and talkative, a welcome change.

  Isabelle chatted with the minstrel as they walked along, straining to see around Campbell, who walked like a brick wall between them. The company of the minstrel had done nothing to lift Campbell’s mood, and instead he looked even more irritable than before, if such a thing was possible. She swore she even heard his teeth grind. What was wrong with this man?

  They walked on at a fast clip set by Campbell. Several times, Isabelle found she needed to run a few steps to catch up. She considered asking him to ease the pace, but remembering the minstrel’s hunger, she silenced her complaint and trotted along. On a hill above them were the remains of an old motte and bailey castle, probably several hundred years old. It had obviously been abandoned for many years; the original stone wall had fallen down and many of its stones had been pilfered for other building projects. Part of a wall of the inner ward stood attached to a partially crumbled tower.

  “Campbell!” called a young voice across the wind. “Hey, David, look at me!”

  Rabbie was perched high on the tower wall. Isabelle gasped.

  “Rabbie!” shouted Campbell, his eyes wide. “Get down from there. Now!” He sprinted up the hill to the remains of the castle, Isabelle and Jacques following behind.

  “There’s Lady Tynsdale. Did ye take my boat? I canna find it, so I thought I’d go looking for ye to ask. Do ye have my boat?”

  “Yes, yes, Rabbie,” Isabelle answered. “Just come down carefully, and I’ll show you where.”

  Rabbie seemed oblivious to the danger he was in. “I told myself if I climbed the tower, maybe I would see where the boat was at. And I did and I found ye!” Rabbie’s delight was evident.

  Campbell ran into the tower and Isabelle hoped he could make it to Rabbie before something terrible happened.

  “Please, Rabbie, climb down,” cried Isabelle, straining her neck to look up to him. He was quite high.

  Rabbie smiled. “I’ll come down now, dinna worrit yerself.” The lad scrambled over some of the castle wall, then turned and began to lower himself down on the other side of the wall inside the tower.

  Suddenly the rock wall crumbled under the weight and Rabbie pitched forward with several large pieces of the rock wall.

  Isabelle screamed.

  The minstrel rushed forward and collapsed to the ground as Rabbie and debris fell on top of him.

  “Rabbie! Jacques!” Isabelle rushed forward and began pulling away rocks and debris. The minstrel stirred and slowly sat up. He was bleeding from his lip and held a limp Rabbie in his arms.

  “Rabbie?” said Isabelle softly. Rabbie did not move. For once he was quiet and still. Blood ran from a cut on the back of his head, onto Jacques’s
arm, and dripped to the ground.

  The minstrel laid him gently on the ground, his eyes wide. Isabelle’s chest was heavy. It was hard to breathe, hard to swallow.

  “Rabbie?” It was Campbell, kneeling beside them. He spoke words of an unknown language, but Isabelle knew it to be a desperate prayer.

  “I’ll get Mairi, she is a healer.” Campbell put a hand on Isabelle’s shoulder, his green eyes blazing with intensity. “Watch over him. Dinna leave him.”

  Isabelle put her hand over his. “I will care for him. Go, bring Mairi.”

  Campbell ran to his horse and was gone, nothing but dust in his wake. Isabelle hoped Mairi was not only a healer but a miracle worker. The wound was bad. Very bad.

  The pool of blood under Rabbie’s head was growing. Isabelle hiked up her gown and tore off a strip of her linen chemise. She folded it into a compress and held it against the cut to try to stop the flow of blood. The compress was soon soaked in blood so she ripped a larger piece. The blood slowed its rate but continued to flow. Isabelle knew it must be stopped.

  The minstrel sat beside her, gray-faced and grim. “Hold this to the wound,” said Isabelle. “I am going to try to find a plant I know of that may help stop the bleeding.”

  The minstrel nodded and took her place holding the compress to Rabbie’s head.

  Isabelle ran down the hill and toward a grove of trees. She searched the forest floor for a particular plant her nurse had shown her. She did not even know if it grew in the Highlands, or where to begin to look. It was hopeless. Remembering the words of Mother Enid, Isabelle said a silent prayer that she could quickly find this plant. She was not sure she believed all of what Mother Enid had said, but she could use all the help she could get.

  Isabelle took three more steps and found it. She stared at it for a moment, unbelieving. Had God actually answered her prayer? She grabbed what she needed of the little, green-leafed plant and breathed a word of thanks in case something divine had led her to where she needed to be.

  Isabelle struggled back up the steep hill to the ruined castle. When she reached the top, the minstrel kneeled over the child’s body and made the sign of the cross. Isabelle froze, icy fingers of fear running down her back. The minstrel was softly chanting in Latin.