The Highlander’s Heart

by Forester, Amanda

  “And who sits on the throne o’ Scotland?” Campbell asked, wary.

  “Our King David would reign until his death, then the son o’ the king of England would be elevated.”

  “Never!”

  “Wheesht! I understand yer feelings. I, too, would rather die than see an English monarch on our throne, but I intend no’ to let that happen. In this deal, my land will be increased and I will be able to raise the kind of army I need.”

  “Army for what?”

  Douglas sat back in his chair and watched Campbell closely, noting every movement, every expression. “I would rather die than see an English monarch on our throne,” repeated Douglas.

  Campbell exhaled quickly as if someone had smacked him in the gut. “Ye mean to take the throne.”

  Douglas smiled and raised his glass. “Ye always were a smart lad.”

  ***

  Isabelle and Cait sat in the back of the solar having a secret conversation while trying to appear like they were not having a secret conversation. The solar was packed that afternoon with Campbell ladies. Sisters, wives, and cousins were in abundance, with Mairi at its center. Isabelle and Cait sat on a bench in the corner, their heads bent over a piece of embroidery that neither cared a whit about.

  Isabelle had learned much of Cait’s audience with Andrew. Cait’s emotional state vacillated like a clock pendulum, one minute in raptures over her newfound love, the next minute in the throes of despair considering the danger he faced.

  “What are we to do?” asked Cait in a mournful whisper. “David is meeting with the elders today. What if they sentence him to death?”

  “Let’s hope it does not come to that,” said Isabelle.

  “At least I know he still loves me. He loves me, Isabelle, truly he does.” Cait stared dreamily off into the distance.

  “Forgive me, Cait, but could it be possible that he declared his love to you to get your support in being freed?” Isabelle hated to bring up the obvious, but the stakes were high now. Cait needed to look at the truth.

  “Nay! I know his feelings for me are true. He wants to marry me, and I him!”

  “Hush now, not so loud,” whispered Isabelle, randomly stabbing the piece of embroidery. “But, Cait, even if his affections are honest and true, the best we can hope for is that Campbell will release him. You must know that your brother would never consent to your marriage, especially when you are betrothed to another.”

  “’Tis so unfair.” Cait bent down over the embroidery and wiped away a surreptitious tear. “Please, Isabelle. Please help me. I need to escape with Andrew.”

  “Cait, there is no way…”

  “Please, Isabelle. Ye escaped from here before.”

  “And I am right back here as you can see.”

  “Did ye no’ once tell me we should be free to choose our own marriage partners?”

  “Did I?” It was ironic her previous conversation with Cait now seemed like it had occurred during a simpler time.

  “Isabelle.” Something in the way Cait said her name caught her attention. Cait took her hand and gently squeezed it. “I canna bear to be another man’s wife. No’ when I love Andrew. To be taken to another man’s bed, to be forced to…” Cait swallowed hard in an attempt to control her emotions. “I canna do it. Ye dinna understand. I canna do it.”

  But Isabelle did understand. Memories she had meticulously shoved away came flooding back. Her wedding night. Lord Tynsdale came to her that night, his round, watery eyes gleaming. Isabelle closed her eyes and could almost smell his fetid breath hot on her neck, his icy hands crawling over her body, the shock of intimacy that had made her cry out. He had laughed and told her to get used to it. She had thought she had survived the worst of it, but later that night he returned like a fiend from hell. Isabelle rubbed her forehead, her fingers tracing along the scar she would forever carry to remind her of her husband’s murderous rage.

  “Please help me,” whispered Cait.

  Isabelle doubted Andrew McNab was an eligible marriage prospect. She could do little to change the situation, but she nodded. “Yes, I’ll try to help.” Isabelle could not let Cait suffer as she had on her wedding night.

  Cait hugged her tight, the smile returning to her face. “Thank you, Isabelle!”

  The door of the solar flew open, and in swept the Lady Eileen Douglas. She cast a critical eye across the inhabitants of the ladies’ solar. Isabelle nearly gasped. Lady Eileen’s gown was fine silk, and the gold embroidery of her deep red surcoat was exquisite. Eileen’s headpiece was ornate, her dark brown hair swept up into a veil, which showed off her fashionably high forehead. Her figure was attractive and she held herself like royalty. Two ladies-in-waiting followed her into the room. Isabelle was impressed.

  “Lady Eileen,” said Mairi, rising and walking toward her. “Let me welcome ye to our home. Ye are verra welcome here and we hope yer stay will be comfortable and to yer liking.” Campbell’s sisters all stood and gave their curtsies. Isabelle did too, though she was not sure she was required. Still, it was the least she could do to acknowledge such fine craft as what Lady Eileen wore. Perhaps if Isabelle was kind, Eileen might let her know how she could commission such fine work for herself.

  Lady Eileen nodded her head in return. “’Tis as I thought, no’ much here is there?” Eileen strode over to the fireplace where the rather pregnant Fiona was standing beside the chair she just vacated. Lady Eileen sat down in it. “Yer brother must no’ give much thought to yer comfort. I’ll change that when I am mistress here.”

  Isabelle blinked. How could anyone wearing such beautiful embroidery be so ill tempered?

  “We are quite comfortable, I assure ye,” said Mairi in an even voice. She was too experienced to rise to easy bait. “If ye require anything for yer comfort after such a long journey I will request it at once.”

  “Nay, I shall request what I need when I need it. The servants must understand who will be their new mistress. Who has been serving as chatelaine in the absence of a proper lady of the castle?”

  “That would be me, Lady Eileen,” said Mairi in the same smooth voice.

  “And what is yer name?”

  “I am Mairi, Laird Campbell’s eldest sister.”

  “Ah yes, there are so many sisters it is difficult to keep track. Why are ye all here anyway? Should ye no’ be married? Campbell has neglected ye. I shall have ye all married and gone. Fewer names to remember that way.” Eileen laughed as though she had said a joke. Her ladies-in-waiting joined the merriment.

  Eileen’s maids carried bundles in their arms and got to work in the area in front of the fireplace that Eileen had chosen. The women worked quickly, throwing colorful throws over Eileen’s chair and rolling out a bright tapestry at her feet. A table was taken from another part of the room, and an ornate cloth was draped over it and placed next to Eileen. A golden pitcher and goblet were placed on the table and Eileen took a few sips of the wine her maids poured. None was offered to the Campbell sisters.

  Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut to prevent them from rolling back into her head. It was a throne room with Lady Eileen sitting as their queen.

  “Several of my sisters are married and their husbands serve with Campbell. I assure ye, he has no’ neglected us,” said Mairi.

  “And ye, Mairi? Are ye married?”

  “Nay, my husband died,” said Mairi softly, a subtle warning ringing in her voice. But Eileen was not one to notice subtle cues.

  “Well, ye must have another husband. But ye must no’ leave before ye give me yer full report o’ the castle. Mind ye, I will be checking to make sure the accounts are in order. And I winna tolerate any o’ ye helping yerselves to the castle goods when ye leave. I’ll be making sure everything stays where it should, so dinna even bother trying to sneak anything out.”

  Isabelle gasped and her jaw dropped.

  “And who are ye to stare at me in such rude a fashion?” Eileen turned her critical eye on Isabelle.

  Isabelle shut h
er mouth and cringed inwardly. She had not meant to call attention to herself. “I am Lady Tynsdale.” Isabelle gave the lady no curtsy. She deserved none for speaking with disrespect to Campbell’s sisters.

  Eileen looked at Isabelle as if she was something she had scraped off her shoe. “Aye, the English hostage. Should she no’ be locked in a tower or a pit somewhere? I assure ye, there will be many changes when I am the Lady Campbell.” Eileen turned to speak to one of her maids, though she did not bother to lower her voice. “I suppose I canna blame them. They can hardly ken better being raised in the Highlands.” The maids twittered in response.

  “Mairi!” Eileen called out her name as if she would beckon a servant. “After I wed Campbell, I think it best for ye to live elsewhere. I dinna wish for the servants to feel mixed in their loyalties. Ye can understand that, I’m sure. If we canna find ye some man to marry, I’m sure Campbell has someplace else ye can live.” Eileen gave her a broad, false smile. “I’m sure ye can understand the necessity for a fresh start.”

  Mairi remained silent, her face giving nothing away. Eileen went back to speaking with her own maids, utterly ignoring the other women in the room. The rest of the room was silent, watching them. Mairi’s face was passive, but in her eyes was a glint that Isabelle had seen on Campbell before.

  Lady Eileen was in grave danger.

  ***

  Isabelle had been pondering the question of how to help free Andrew. Of course, she had not had the best luck in trying to escape Campbell herself. She also had some doubts whether Andrew McNab made a particularly wise marriage alliance. But she had promised to help Cait. Besides, Cait was in raptures over him, so he could not be all bad.

  “Do not fear, Cait, I’ve got a plan,” said Isabelle. They walked behind the group of women heading to the great hall for supper.

  Cait walked slower, her eyes filled with the trusting anticipation of a puppy.

  “I was taught a few things about herbs,” said Isabelle. “There is one that, when swallowed, gives the victim the appearance of death. Andrew could take this drug and then the guards will think he is expired and take him out for burial. You could also take this medicine and then when he wakes in the crypt, you will be there too.”

  Cait stared at her in disbelief. “That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard of in my life! Where’er did ye get such a terrible idea?”

  “Well,” said Isabelle, feeling rather unappreciated. “It was only a thought.”

  A gillie brushed past them with a hasty bow on his way to give Mairi a message.

  Mairi bore the report that Lady Eileen was indisposed, and too ill to come to the table, with equanimity. It was whispered by some of Campbell’s younger sisters that Eileen was not able to be parted from her chamber pot at present.

  “I shall see what I can do to help,” said Mairi, and went back down the corridor toward Isabelle.

  “Go to the table, Cait, I’ll see if I can help Mairi,” said Isabelle and followed Mairi to a small room of drying herbs.

  “Can I help you minister to the Lady Eileen?” asked Isabelle, skirting around what she really wanted to say.

  “Nay, thank ye, Lady Tynsdale.”

  “I am surprised you did not kill her.”

  Mairi looked up sharply and studied Isabelle with grave eyes. “She is the daughter o’ the Douglas. I feared in death she would prove more irksome than in life.”

  “Hardly seems possible,” said Isabelle.

  “She is also betrothed to my brother.”

  “You are all charity.”

  Mairi gave a wicked smile. “I doubt Lady Eileen would agree wi’ ye.” Mairi swept out of the room, the picture of serenity.

  Thirty-Five

  “Nay,” said Campbell without looking up. He swept the sharpening stone over his blade with an easy, fluid movement, the early morning sun glinting off the blade.

  “I promise you I will not run away.” Isabelle flashed her prettiest smile. It was getting her nowhere, especially since Campbell refused to look at her. The Campbell sisters were planning an excursion to the small village across the loch from Innis Chonnel that morning, to visit with a group of traveling merchants. Though Isabelle had not yet figured a way to free Andrew, she wished to be among the party. Even Cait was planning to go, the arrival of merchants this far in the Highlands being reason for some excitement.

  “Again,” said Campbell.

  “Pardon?”

  “You promise not to run away again.”

  “Well, yes, except that I never promised not to run away before, so this would be the first time.”

  “How many times have you run on me? Four? Five?”

  “That you know of,” muttered Isabelle.

  “What’s that?” Campbell finally glanced up at her.

  Isabelle gave him a winning smile. One she hoped conveyed how trustworthy and delightful she could be.

  “Nay,” Campbell repeated.

  So much for the smile. “But we are only going to the village, in sight of the castle. I’ll be with your sisters the whole time. And I promise not to run away.”

  “Nay.”

  “I just want to see the beautiful sights of the far bank.” This was not true.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Cait says there are traveling silk merchants, and I want to convince your sisters to beggar you by buying more than they ought.”

  Campbell smiled. “The truth at last.”

  “So I can go?”

  “Nay.”

  “You are a cruel man, David Campbell.”

  “Aye.” He did not appear at all displeased with the prospect.

  “David, David!” Rabbie raced up to him.

  Campbell’s body tensed and he stood, ready for battle. “What be the matter? Are ye well?”

  “Fine, I’m fine. The sisters are forever asking me that. Dinna ye be all worrit too.”

  Campbell relaxed. “What do ye want? Ye’re disturbing me.” But Isabelle could see the lad had his brother’s full attention.

  “We’re going to the village and I’m going to show Isa—Lady Tynsdale the specimens I found.”

  “She is no’ going anywhere,” said Campbell.

  “Specimens?” asked Isabelle.

  “Why can she no’ come wi’ us? ’Tis only to the village.”

  “She canna be trusted outside the gates wi’out a guard,” said Campbell.

  “I will guard her,” said Rabbie proudly. He stood tall and jutted out his chin.

  “I dinna ken…”

  “Ye said I was better. Ye said I was a man now,” said Rabbie accusingly.

  Campbell glared at Rabbie, then Isabelle, with weary eyes. He made a sick, growling sound and Isabelle knew she had won. “Verra well. But keep a close eye on her. She’s a slippery eel and no mistake.”

  “I can do it. Just wait until ye see the huge insects I’ve found.” Rabbie flashed Isabelle a smile and ran across the courtyard to the keep. Isabelle waited to shudder until he was out of sight.

  “Ye’ve made yerself a friend for life if ye take an interest in those vermin o’ his.”

  “Perhaps you are right. I should stay here.”

  Campbell smiled. “Thank ye for yer kindness to Rabbie. He is fond o’ ye. Dinna make me regret this.”

  Isabelle saw both the sincerity and the warning in his eyes. He took her hand and kissed it. Before she could think of something clever to say in response, he turned and disappeared around the side of the building.

  Isabelle slowly followed his path and peered around the building. It opened onto the lists, where men trained to be warriors. Isabelle put a hand to the rough stones and kept herself mostly hidden behind the corner of the wall as she watched Campbell. He walked forward toward his men with an easy confidence and was greeted with good-natured enthusiasm.

  Many of his brothers were there and they insulted him for his lateness. Isabelle was shocked for a moment, but Campbell insulted them in return and drew his sword. Three attacked him
at once, which was rather unfair, but soon she could see that this was his younger brothers’ only chance. Campbell not only held his own but took the time to be instructional as they fought.

  “Parry quick, Hamish. Nay, too slow!” Campbell struck down and knocked the sword from Hamish’s hands, he swore and lunged to retrieve it. Other Campbell men took up the fight, but Campbell only laughed. Isabelle smiled, watching him. He was enjoying himself, laughing and goading his men while they whacked at each other with giant, deadly swords. This was not a safe game, but he played it well.

  “He is a verra braw man, my brother,” said a female voice behind Isabelle.

  Isabelle nearly jumped out of her shoes. She turned to see Mairi regarding her carefully, her arms folded across her chest. Isabelle blushed down to her toes. She tried to think of some legitimate reason to be hovering around corners watching the men at the lists, but her mind went treacherously blank. Stupid brain. It always abandoned her when she needed it most.

  “I was…” Isabelle hoped something clever would pop into her mouth if she just got started. Nothing came to mind.

  “Ye were gawking at my brother like a starving man staring at a side o’ beef.”

  Well, there was that. Denials were pointless, so Isabelle just closed her mouth and waited for Mairi to get to the point.

  “Do ye have no respect for yer husband?”

  “No,” answered Isabelle quickly. That, at least, was an easy question.

  “No love for him.”

  “None.” Another easy one.

  “And what then do ye feel for my brother?”

  Isabelle drew a sharp breath. This was not such an easy question.

  “I will no’ mince words wi’ ye.” Mairi gave her a withering stare. “I see the way he looks at ye and ye at him. But take care to recall that his betrothed is here within these walls.”

  Isabelle raised an eyebrow. “You support Lady Eileen?” Surely Mairi would not defend the woman who insulted everyone she met, and whom Mairi poisoned last night in revenge. Though Eileen had indeed recovered and was as irritable as ever this morn.

  “I expect David to marry her, and shortly. He has called for a priest to do the last rites and to perform a wedding. If ye were unwed it may be different, but ye are married to our enemy. David must marry the Douglas harpy and ye must return to your husband, though it pleases few, it must be.” Mairi gave her a clear look of warning. “I will prevent anyone from interfering with this marriage. Do we have a clear understanding on this?”