“Laird Campbell, if ye please!” Someone called from the back of the chapel.
“Aye?” Campbell stood up.
“’Tis Rabbie. He’s awake!”
Thirty
Campbell ran for the castle completely forgetting that he had tied Isabelle to him. He swung open the main door and raced through only to be stopped by a sudden yank on his belt. Confused, he saw he was being held back by the rope tied to his belt leading straight to the closed door behind him. Isabelle!
He opened the door and found Isabelle standing there, holding her nose.
“Ow,” she said.
“I beg yer pardon, my lady. Will ye please keep up!” Campbell grabbed Isabelle’s hand and took off running again, pulling her behind him.
When they reached the room it was crowded with Campbell’s family, packed with siblings. They spoke in hushed tones, all eyes on the spare boy in the bed. Campbell pushed his way through, dragging Isabelle behind.
“Rabbie, Rabbie lad,” he spoke softly to his youngest brother and knelt beside the bed.
Rabbie’s eyes fluttered and then opened. He blinked several times as if trying to focus, then smiled.
“Lady Tynsdale,” said Rabbie in a soft voice.
Isabelle felt all eyes in the room turn to her. “Rabbie. Are ye well?” Isabelle asked.
“’Course I am. Do ye know where my boat is?”
“Yes, ’tis on the other side of the loch, in some rushes.”
“Did ye take it o’er the loch? Mairi winna let me do that. Did she sail well?”
Isabelle kept her focus on Rabbie, but it was getting unbearably hot in this tiny little room with all these silent, hostile Campbells staring at her. She smiled at Rabbie’s innocent face, so happy he was awake, so wishing he would be quiet.
“Yes, very well. Laird Campbell has been worried about you. Do you not wish to speak to him?”
“Hullo, David. Sorry I fell off the tower. I suppose ye’ll be making me cut ye a switch.”
“Nay, lad. Ye’ve been punished enough.”
“Thanks, David, that’s right nice o’ ye. Isabelle, did she take on water? Did ye have to bail?”
Isabelle felt the eyes turn back on her again. Would he please stop talking about how she stole his little boat? “No, no, it was quite well made.”
“I wish I could o’ seen it,” said Rabbie more slowly, his eyelids heavy.
“Time to sleep now,” said Mairi.
“Aw, Mairi, I’m no’ tired.” But Rabbie’s eyes were already closed. “Isabelle?” He held out his hand, and she kneeled beside his bed and took it. His breathing became slow and steady, a peaceful sleep.
Campbell bowed his head and led the group in a quiet prayer of thanks for Rabbie’s recovery.
“Out now, all o’ ye,” whispered Mairi and hustled her siblings out of the sickroom. Isabelle started to stand, but Mairi waved her back down. “Nay, Rabbie wants ye, and ye’re staying till he says otherwise.”
Isabelle went back to her knees and continued to hold the boy’s hand. He was a sweet lad. When he woke, she hoped they would be alone so she could ask him not to prattle on about her taking his boat. She wondered if these Highlanders would ever forget it. Probably not.
***
Isabelle woke hours later, still kneeling by the bed. Rabbie had let go of her hand and rolled over in sleep. At some point in the night, Campbell had unbound her hand, so she was no longer tethered to him. She tried to stand but her legs were asleep and stiff. She sat back and slowly unbent her knees, wincing at the effort. She rubbed her legs, a thousand pinpricks stabbing her as feeling gradually and painfully returned. Trying to stand, she pulled herself up the bed and then tried to put her weight on one of her legs.
Pain shot up her leg like a cursed dagger. She cried out and stumbled back to the floor. Two hands grabbed her around her waist and she was lifted off her feet.
“Good morn to ye, Laird Campbell,” Isabelle said wearily.
“Good morn to ye, Lady Tynsdale. Let’s get ye to bed.”
She nodded her head against his shoulder. He sat her briefly on the bed and shook Mairi, who was sleeping on a pallet on the floor. Mairi nodded and got up, taking his place in the chair beside Rabbie’s bed. Campbell reached back for Isabelle and put his hand around her waist, pinning her to his body and half carrying her from the room.
“Ow, this hurts,” whimpered Isabelle halfway down the hall.
“I imagine it does. Perhaps I should have brought ye a chair, but I warrant I was still a wee bit angry at ye for stealing Rabbie’s little boat.”
Isabelle sighed. She wished Rabbie had not chatted on about that boat. Rabbie may not hold a grudge, but the rest of the clan did. “Are ye still angry wi’ me then?”
“Nay. Ye stayed wi’ him. Ye dinna complain. I ken ye dinna mean to harm him. Mairi says the compress ye made stopped the flow o’ blood. Ye may have saved his life, Isabelle, and for that I thank ye.”
Isabelle exhaled in relief. “Thank, ow, you. Ow, ow, ow.”
Campbell let her bear more of her own weight and it hurt something fierce. “Sorry, Isabelle, but ye need to get the feeling back.” Campbell half supported her as they walked down the corridor and out into the courtyard of the inner ward. It was in the wee hours of night and not another soul was awake in the pale light of the moon.
“I recall once I got stuck in a tight place and both my legs went numb,” said Campbell. “When I tried to walk again it hurt like blazes. ’Course it was my own fault for hiding there.”
“This was your fault for not bringing me a chair,” Isabelle blurted. The comment was woefully impolite, but pain had turned all her words sharp, so she had limited options from which to choose. She gritted her teeth. “I beg your pardon. Please, go on. Why were you hiding?”
“I hid in a small cupboard in my father’s chambers. He was having a meeting with the Douglas, and I verra much wanted to hear what was said.”
“You fit in a cupboard?” Isabelle could not get beyond that statement without astonishment.
Campbell laughed. “Aye, at twelve I was a scrawny thing. Dinna look too promising to tell ye the truth. My father was talking to the Douglas about my fostering with him. I supposed he hoped it would make a man o’ me.”
“So you hid in a cupboard for that?”
“Nay. I hid because they were also going to negotiate the betrothal between me and one of Douglas’s daughters. I was verra interested, or perhaps I should say terrified, wi’ the prospect of getting married.”
“Seems you have done an admirable job of avoiding the married state. So you are betrothed to Douglas’s daughter?”
“Aye and nay,” said Campbell. Isabelle waited to see if he would explain. She took another step with an involuntary whimper.
“My sire was always close with Douglas. Fought wi’ him against the English bastards, forgive the phrase.” Campbell added. “I fostered wi’ him for several years as a lad. He taught me to fight as a knight. Taught me to fight to win too. The two being no’ always the same, ye ken. My father wanted me to form an alliance wi’ the Douglas clan, but my mother had other plans. She wanted me to form an alliance wi’ her kin, the Stewarts. Ye ken that Stewart is currently the Steward of Scotland in the absence of King David who was captured by your king?”
Isabelle nodded.
“Well, because my parents could not agree, the betrothal was ne’er formalized wi’ the Church. It remains a more informal agreement between my sire and the Douglas.”
“And you are also pledged to the granddaughter of the steward.”
Campbell looked down at her with a sharp eye. “How do ye ken that?”
Isabelle swallowed hard. “Ye told me just now.”
“Nay, I dinna speak of his granddaughter. How do ye ken about the steward?” Campbell stopped and released her w
aist, forcing her to stand on her own legs.
Isabelle cried out and reached to him for support. “I… I…”
Even in the dim light, Isabelle could identify the moment of realization on his face.
“Ye were on the ledge long. Ye heard my conversation wi’ the steward in Glasgow.” It was not a question.
“Aye, ow!” said Isabelle, wondering at the strange word coming out of her mouth. She was even starting to sound like one of them. She grabbed his arm and he put it around her once more, supporting her legs, drawing her close.
“’Twas not a conversation meant for anyone else’s ears.” His voice was low with warning.
“I did not intend to overhear anything. I just wanted to get away.”
“And instead ye landed in my bed.”
Isabelle inhaled sharply. Pressed against him, her skin turned hot.
He continued on. “We discussed things which could prove dangerous to yer health were ye ever to reveal them, ye ken?”
“I will be discreet as always.” Isabelle attempted to change the subject. “Tell me, how did you come to be so entangled with two ladies?”
“My father arranged an informal betrothal with Douglas, everyone knows that. Trouble is, my mother secretly made arrangements with the steward for me to wed his granddaughter, leaving me wi’ two brides.”
“That is awkward,” said Isabelle. It was all starting to make more sense. “Should not your father’s wishes take precedence?”
Campbell snorted and began to stroll around the courtyard with Isabelle once more. “Ye clearly ne’er met my mother. Aye, perhaps my father’s wishes should be considered first, but both the Douglas and Stewart clans are powerful and both expect me to form an alliance with their clan.”
“So you need to choose a side.”
“Aye, but how to do so without starting a clan war? With King David captured, both the Douglas and Stewart fight for control of Scotland. Whoever I choose may tip the balance in their favor.”
“Is one cause more just?”
“I fostered wi’ Douglas. I would stand wi’ him in any battle. Yet I fear he has become greedy for power, and may be tempted to make an unholy alliance wi’ the English king in order to gain power and land. Yet Stewart also seeks power, and I ken he has verra little desire to see our King David return.”
“What will you do?”
Campbell looked up at the stars that covered the sky. A dense cluster of stars formed a gleaming path across the black night sky. “It would be easier if the correct choice was laid out before me so I could discern the right path, but I dinna ken which clan to choose, and I sorely wish I did.”
“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice when the time comes,” said Isabelle with true conviction. She was confident he would always do the right thing.
“Thank ye. I would ask for yer discretion, the choice before me is no’ widely known.”
Isabelle nodded.
“How are yer legs feeling?”
At that moment Isabelle realized she was walking on her own, her arm linked with his. He had distracted her through the process and she was able to walk without pain. She also realized that he had shared something personal, something which left him vulnerable. It was a gift. Something in return for the pain he had caused her. She smiled at him.
“Thank you, Laird Campbell. I am well again.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her closer than he needed to, and walked back into the keep.
Isabelle was at peace. Rabbie had recovered. Campbell had forgiven her. All would be well. Her stomach rumbled a loud protest that all was not entirely well.
“How long has it been since we last ate?” asked Campbell. He led her quietly into the great hall, the servants still sleeping on their makeshift pallets on the floor and tables.
Isabelle honestly could not remember. “We have fasted long.”
Campbell’s stomach rumbled in reply. “Aye, time to break our fast, and get some rest.”
Isabelle smiled as he led her to the kitchens. She was ravenous. Sitting at a long, wooden table in the kitchen, worn smooth from use over the years, Isabelle was eager for whatever Campbell could find.
He dropped some day-old wheat trenchers and a jug of ale on the table. Isabelle grabbed the bread and stuffed it into her mouth. Never had an old trencher tasted so good. Campbell followed and ate much. Neither spoke as they filled their empty bellies.
Isabelle sighed with contentment. “I should like to get some sleep now, unless you feel you must bind me to a post for the safety of your clan.”
Campbell averted his eyes and had the decency to look sheepish. “I confess my reasons for binding ye were no’ entirely to protect the clan.”
“No?”
Campbell sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I wanted ye near.” His eyes met hers. “I needed ye near.”
Something warm melted through Isabelle, taking all rational thought with her. She should be furious. She chose to be flattered. “’Twas very wrong of you.” Her chastisement might have carried more weight had the smile not gave away her truer feelings.
“I most humbly apologize.”
“Will you agree to help plead my case to the bishop as a sign of contrition?”
“Aye, when I have settled things here.”
Isabelle lunged across the table and hugged Campbell around the neck. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Now I do not have to try to escape again.”
“Escape again?” Campbell disentangled himself and walked around the table toward her, pulling her up by her shoulders and holding her at arm’s length. “Now dinna ye be causing any more trouble here.”
“Me? Trouble?” Isabelle slowly wrapped her arms around Campbell again and sighed with contentment as he wrapped his large arms around her. She breathed in deep and laid her head against his chest. He smelled of wood smoke and a musky scent that was all his own. It was intoxicating. She breathed deep again and closed her eyes, fatigue claiming her.
Campbell patted her gently on the back. “Naught but trouble. I knew it the instant I realized ye were English.”
He picked up the sleeping form of Lady Tynsdale in his arms and took her upstairs. He paused at the door that led to the ladies’ sleeping quarters. He should put her in there somewhere. Except, he rationalized, if he did he would wake all the ladies and they certainly must need their sleep. Surely it would be best to take her upstairs to bed.
His bed.
Thirty-One
Isabelle drifted somewhere between dreaming and waking. A sense of comfort she had never before experienced wrapped her with its warmth, seeping into her very bones. Every muscle relaxed, leaving her like jelly. Happy, warm jelly.
“Isabelle,” whispered a familiar voice.
Isabelle’s eyes flew open. Where was she? She brushed aside some soft fur blankets and propped herself up on one elbow. David Campbell murmured, snuggled closer to her, and continued to sleep.
“David?” She was in bed with David Campbell? She sat upright. Pale sunlight filtered through linen drapes, revealing the undeniable truth. On one wall of the bedchamber was the large family crest. On the opposite wall was an impressive arsenal of weapons hanging from brackets. His large claymore was there, along with many other sharp implements, all looking more deadly than the next. Charming. She sat farther up in the bed, piled high with soft fur pelts. She was in bed with David Campbell!
What had happened? How had she got here? She remembered nothing. Did they… ? Surely they had not… It was not possible to sleep through that, was it? Was it?
“David?” she whispered.
His breathing was slow and steady. His face, for once, was relaxed, no frown lines marring his appearance. He was simply beautiful in the morning light, a promise of a smile on his inviting lips.
“David.” She gave him a little nudge.
Nothing happened so she gave him a proper shake.
David grunted, rolled over, and began to snore. Isabelle rolled her eyes. So much for romantic.
What should she do now? Should she stay? Memories of their night in the inn rushed through her with a hot wave of desire. He snored louder. She waited for him to wake. He started to drool.
He was certainly exhausted. Had they…? Isabelle jumped from the bed and fanned herself with her hand, trying to cool down a sudden hot flash. She found she was still fully dressed. So they probably had not… except skirts are rather easy to lift… but surely she would remember…
“Bother!” She still didn’t have the right words for the occasion. She found her shoes on the floor and stomped to the door, half expecting to find herself locked in. She was not. She opened the door, walked through and slammed it shut behind her. She made herself jump at the sound. He must be awake now. He must. Should she run?
Slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, she opened the heavy oak door and peeked inside the room. He still slept. She took a deep breath and closed the door, placing her hand on the cool stones on the castle wall, then placed her hand on her forehead, trying to cool down.
He was an impossible man. He had her all hot and flustered and he was not even awake! She was pathetic.
Isabelle slunk down to the women’s quarters. No one was in the room except Cait, who sat on the window seat, her head bent over her embroidery. She was different from the last time Isabelle had seen her, smaller, her shoulders more rounded, her eyes swollen and red.
“Ye have returned,” said Cait, without looking up.
“Er… I was… Rabbie and the chapel and…”
“We thought ye had gone back to England.”
“Oh, yes! I did try. My plans went a bit awry.”
Cait gave her a half smile that did not reach her eyes. “Me too.”
“Are you… well, Cait?” Isabelle took a few tentative steps toward her.
Cait shook her head. “David is holding Andrew and he winna listen to me. Andrew dinna abduct me. He is innocent and David is going to kill him.” Fresh tears spilled down well-worn tracks on Cait’s face.
Highlander's Heart Page 23