“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know, but I guess I’ll have a husband who will figure that out.”
Lily’s expression was close to fear. “Where will I go?”
Isobel took Lily in her arms and hugged her. If Lily was indeed Rosalyn’s daughter, she could live with her at the palatial castle. But, not knowing this for certain, Isobel said, “I would never allow you to be homeless, I promise.”
The day had begun sunnily, but the breeze that accompanied the warmth promised rain and wind. Ian was at home, having spent much of the past week at the castle with his cousins. He did appear a bit down in the mouth about having to stay close to home, but to Isobel his discontent was normal. It didn’t make her happy, but she understood.
Meanwhile, she had a meeting with Mr. Geddes and Duncan at the law office. She’d coaxed Delilah into coming with her for moral support. After telling Lily that Ian was outside somewhere, Isobel and Delilah set off to complete the sale of her precious home. As they walked, Isobel noticed the darkening of the sky. It sent shivers through her. She hated storms; she always had.
• • •
“Why are we stopping here?” Rosalyn asked, surprised that he’d halted the carriage in front of the old brothel. “It’s raining and blowing, Fletcher, and I’m not entirely excited about stepping out into it. Can’t I just wait here for you?”
“Just for a moment, Rosalyn. If you’re quick, you won’t get wet,” he promised as he took her hand and hurried to the door. She sidestepped puddles and dashed with him.
Once inside, Fletcher found no one about. He called for Isobel and got no answer.
Rosalyn shook out her gown, sprinkling the floor with droplets of water. “Really, darling, what are we doing here?”
“Go over by the fire and wait for me. I’ll be right back.”
He found no one, not even in the schoolroom. But he heard the teacher’s dog yapping wildly outside. He opened the door to the back, spying the dog on the water’s edge, still barking feverishly. The rain came down in sheets, almost sideways, and he had to cup his hands around his eyes to see over the water.
“My God!” He tore off his boots, stripped off his jacket, and raced into the churning river, taking huge strokes to get to the little boat. When he reached it, he found Ian clinging to the side. He went to grab the lad, but with halting breath, Ian stuttered, “L-L-Lily! S-s-she just disappeared under the w-w-water.” His teeth were chattering.
“Keep hanging on, Ian. Good lad!” Fletcher dove beneath the surface and tried to see what was beneath. But with so little light and so much turmoil on the surface of the water, it was difficult to see anything at all.
He suddenly saw a wide wisp of cloth and swam to it; Lily appeared lifeless. Grabbing the girl around her waist, he swam to the surface quickly. He was grateful to see Duncan on the shore.
Duncan raced into the water, swam to the boat, and pulled Ian into his arms. They made it to the shore easily, just as Fletcher was running into the house with Lily. She was limp. Rosalyn appeared at the door.
Fletcher laid Lily on the box bed in the corner of the kitchen and bent to see if she was breathing. Her chest rose and fell slightly, and he let out a huge sigh of relief. At that moment, Isobel rushed in, Henry and Delilah loping along behind her.
“What’s happened?”
“A little accident. Can someone get that fire going?” Fletcher asked.
“Henry, use the coal.”
Henry hesitated. “But Miss Isobel—”
“Hang the cost, Henry, we need a good fire. Now go.”
“I’ll get blankets and some dry clothing.” Delilah quickly left the room.
Rosalyn, always good in a crisis, went to Lily’s side and, when she started coughing, helped her sit up and gently rubbed her back. “You poor dear,” she cooed. Turning toward Fletcher, she asked, “Is this the teacher?”
Fletcher nodded, not trusting his voice as Isobel put a kettle on and Delilah rushed into the room with a pile of clothing and some blankets. They all exchanged worried glances.
Duncan came in with a sodden Ian, bringing Isobel to a swift stop. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure, but perhaps our son here can enlighten us?” He put the boy down by the fireplace and wrapped him in a blanket. With the addition of a fair amount of coal, the fire blazed hot.
While the women tended to Lily, both Fletcher and Duncan waited for Ian’s explanation. He had warmed up enough that his teeth were no longer chattering. “I was bored,” he began, a spark of defiance in his tone. “I thought I could catch something for dinner, so I took my pole and the boat and pushed out into the water.” He gave Duncan a look of pleading. “It hadn’t been blowing or raining when I started, honest.”
“And you lost the oars in the wind?” Duncan asked.
“Aye. And then the wind started blowing me about and I didn’t know what to do. Then Lily appeared on the shore and jumped right in; she didn’t even take off her shoes! She would’ve been all right if a wave hadn’t pushed her against the boat and made her hit her head.”
Fletcher and Duncan looked at one another. There would be time enough for punishment, if it was needed. Duncan took the boy by the hand. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes.” They disappeared up the stairs.
Fletcher turned away as Isobel and Rosalyn got the patient into dry bedclothes. Isobel was speaking to Lily in a low, calm voice, but she hadn’t yet opened her eyes. Rosalyn had been curiously silent. The dog was curled up at the end of the bed, clearly guarding her mistress. Delilah and Isobel went to the stove to prepare tea.
Fletcher stepped to the bed. “Rosalyn?” She looked up at him, a peculiar expression on her face. When Isobel returned to the bedside, Rosalyn stepped away and she and Fletcher went into the next room.
Fletcher hardly dared breathe. “What’s the matter?”
Rosalyn pressed her hands to her chest, her fingers nervously rubbing the locket Fletcher had given her years before. “I don’t know. I just have the strangest feeling when I look at the girl, Fletcher.” She raised her gaze to his. “A feeling like I have never had before.”
He wondered if he should tell her what he, Fen, and Geddes suspected. He decided to wait. “Explain it to me.”
She paced in front of him. “It’s like I’ve been hit in the stomach, yet I feel no pain, only anguish. It’s like looking at someone for the first time and thinking you’ve seen them before and you know them as well as you know yourself,” she finished with an uncertain laugh.
Isobel called to her from the kitchen and Rosalyn hurried away. Fletcher followed her.
“She’s coming around, Rosalyn. I have to run up and check on Ian, would you mind sitting with her so she isn’t frightened when she wakes?”
Again, Isobel and Fletcher exchanged glances, and then she was gone. Delilah, who had been advised of the circumstances by Isobel, hovered nearby.
Rosalyn took a seat by the bed; Fletcher stood beside her. She was quiet, but she stroked the girl’s brow gently, singing a song Fletcher had heard her sing to the twins when they were babes.
The girl made a noise in her throat and opened her eyes, blinking into the light. She smiled at Rosalyn. “I know that song,” she whispered. When the dog saw she was awake, she nosed Lily’s hand. “Good girl, Fifi,” Lily said. “Good girl.”
Momentarily startled at the name of the dog, Rosalyn asked, “Your pup is named Fifi?”
Lily nodded. “It’s a name I remember from before.”
“From before?” Rosalyn asked.
“It must be from before I was found by the river. I don’t remember much else…”
Rosalyn looked up and found Fletcher’s gaze. Her own was incredulous. She took Lily’s hand and asked, “Do you know who I am?”
Lily studied her and smiled, closing her eyes briefly. “I dream of you every night. You used to sing that song to me. You are my mother.”
Rosalyn collapsed on the bed, her body covering
that of her long lost daughter, and she wept while her daughter stroked her hair.
• • •
Isobel stepped into Ian’s room. Ian was in his nightclothes and Duncan sat with him on the bed.
“I’m sorry, Mam, I didn’t mean to get into so much trouble. And I hope Lily is all right, because it’s my fault if she isn’t.” His expression was enough to melt her heart.
“Lily is going to be fine, thank God.” She sat down across from Duncan on the bed and traced her son’s chin with her finger. “I should be very angry with you, my wee lad. But right now I’m so relieved that everyone is all right, I just want to hug you and never let you go.”
Ian moved his head away. “Aw, Mam. I’m getting too old for that.”
Isobel clasped his hands in hers and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. “Never. Never will you be too old for my squeezes, laddie.” She gave Duncan a quick look, trying to blink away her tears. “And you. I can’t thank you enough for being in the right place at the right time.”
They studied one another. Duncan held her gaze. “My life is just beginning with the two of you.” He turned to Ian. “I won’t lose you now that I’ve found you.”
• • •
With the cannery deal concluded and signed, Duncan was anxious to start working on demolishing the building. That meant relocating everyone. It should have been a reasonably easy task, but for Isobel it was not. She feared she knew where they would go, and she was very uncomfortable with it. Castle Sheiling.
“Izzy,” Duncan had said to her, “it’s the only solution that makes sense. And it won’t be for that long. Where else would there be room enough for all of us?”
“But the castle? I couldn’t put all of this on Rosalyn. It’s just not fair.”
“She has plenty of help. She has a housekeeper who lives there, a number of girls from the village who come in daily, and with you and Delilah, she’ll have that much more.” He gave her a warm smile, that blasted dimple winking at her. “Don’t let your pride get in the way, Izzy. And a wedding at the castle solves a multitude of problems.”
A rush of heat spread through her. Lord, for her it was just one big drama after another.
“Nae, not the castle.”
He gave her a quick glance. “Why not?”
“Because the little kirk that I’ve attended my whole life is where I want to be wed, whether the roof is done or not.”
“Then I’ll tell Reverend Fleming of the change. We’ll do it right after sheep shearing.”
Isobel looked at him, noting his warm brown eyes, his carved cheekbones, and his inky hair, which he still wore a bit long. She was head over heels. “You’ve taken this all upon yourself.”
He gave her a mock scolding look. “If I didn’t, I’m wondering if we’d ever get the deed done.”
She had the decency to blush and look away. She’d fallen in love with her son’s father. Shouldn’t that make things perfect? Not for Isobel. She still had questions, but she was reluctant to speak of them. ’Twas easier just to let them fester inside her. Perhaps because she didn’t wish to hear the answers.
Chapter Thirteen
Sheep shearing day dawned warm and dry. Duncan and Ian had gotten up early and met Fletcher, the twins and the crofters at the meadow where the fank, or stone pen, was standing, waiting for the commotion.
Rosalyn came by in her gig and picked up Isobel; they rode out to the meadow together, baskets of food and jugs of tea stacked in the back. They both knew that ale would flow, but hopefully it would be consumed after the work was done.
“I asked Fletcher how long he’d kept his suspicions about Fiona from me.” Reins in hand, Rosalyn studied the rutted road ahead.
“It wasn’t long. Then Lil—she had to leave for Ayr, so it was better to wait until she returned.”
“I know. And that’s another thing. She’s been Lily for most of her life; I don’t know if I can get used to that.”
“Seems a small matter, wouldn’t you say? Ye can always call her your wee lassie, little dumpling, darlin’ girl, or some such thing,” Isobel suggested, albeit not seriously.
“She’s all of those things to me.” Rosalyn teared up.
“It is such a miracle.” Isobel brushed a wild curl from her face and tucked it under her bonnet. In the bright sky a hawk circled lazily above them.
“Aye, it is that. But all those years…” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t dwell on that, can I? It’s in the past; we have the future together, and I’m so joyful I may shed tears of happiness every day for the rest of my life.”
After her rescue, Lily had caught a terrible chill and fever. Isobel wanted to keep the girl at the house, but she knew better than to argue with Rosalyn, who insisted she be transported to Castle Sheiling so Mrs. Gordon and Dr. Mac could tend to her there. Isobel understood; now that Rosalyn was reunited with her daughter, she would do anything to keep her close. She was still recovering, and although she wanted to join the festivities, both Mrs. Gordon and Rosalyn flatly refused to let her.
The shearing had already started when they arrived at the site. The sheep had been brought to the fank by the collies, which placed themselves at the entrance so none of the imprisoned sheep could escape.
Isobel and Rosalyn joined Fergie the Burn’s wife, Birgit, and Donnie the Digger’s wife, Elizabeth, on a small hillock overlooking the activity. Both Birgit and Elizabeth had young daughters who played together near their mothers. Other children ran about noisily. A long-beaked curlew screeched in the distance, perhaps having found lunch in the marshes below.
“We hear there be a weddin’ soon,” Birgit spoke, all smiles.
Isobel drew in a deep sigh. “Aye, there will be, but don’t ask me when.”
Elizabeth gave her a sly grin. “With a buck like that, and ye haven’t tied him down, yet? Ye best watch out or some lassie will ferry him away to her own bed, believe it.”
Isobel blushed but didn’t respond. She looked for Duncan. He and Fletcher were working side by side, each handling a sheep, deftly working the large, metal shaped shears through the fleece. They were shirtless, and among the healthy-looking yet pale Scotsmen, they looked dangerous and almost feral, their black hair blowing in the breeze, their skin brown and their muscles chiseled in stone.
Isobel’s mouth went dry. She had never imagined Duncan could look so untamed. It thrilled her. She’d seen a few half-dressed men in her day—Hamish for one, who was big, bulky, and so white he was almost blue.
But by the holy, Duncan MacNeil was splendid. Magnificent. Now and then someone said something that made him laugh, and he threw his head back, allowing Isobel a look at his chest and his throat. There was nothing more beautiful to her than his body. Ten years ago she had thought she could look at him every day for the rest of her life and not get tired of it. She still remembered that very moment. And now he was going to marry her. And he promised to leave her alone. She wanted that, didn’t she? Looking at the miracle of his body, she seriously began to wonder.
Rosalyn stepped up beside her. “I know.”
Isobel swallowed, her throat dry, and turned abruptly. “What?”
“I know how it feels to see him this way for the first time. It was the same for me.”
Isobel couldn’t even respond. She just nodded, not taking her eyes off the father of her son. When she finally spoke, her voice was raw. “I had no idea.”
“Aye,” Rosalyn said, putting her arm around Isobel’s shoulders. “And trust me, you’ll never take it for granted, I promise you that.”
She wanted to confide in someone; she needed to. How would she feel when she learned he’d slept elsewhere, and not in her bed? How would she feel when gossiping fishwives snickered and sneaked behind her, telling the stories of where he had spent the night?
“Isobel, if you ever need to talk, I’m always ready to listen. I may not be in your exact situation, but I also had many, many issues marrying a man I barely knew.”
Oh, Isobel tho
ught, it would be so good to just let it all out! But something still held her back. The only confidants she had ever had were her aunt and Delilah. Even Hamish didn’t know her deepest, darkest secrets and desires, and now he never would.
“When can we expect you to come stay with us?” Rosalyn’s question broke into Isobel’s thoughts, but she was grateful for the disruption.
“Oh, Rosalyn, that’s such a wonderful invitation, but how can we possibly impose on you? We have no idea how long this entire situation will go on. It could be months, maybe even a year.”
Rosalyn squeezed Isobel’s shoulders. “Then we’ll really get to know one another, won’t we?”
A shout alerted them to company. “Ah, Duncan,” Fletcher said, wiping his face with his forearm, “there are our maidens now, ready to give us food and drink and whatever else we deserve for all our hard work.”
“Ocht, you rascal,” Rosalyn said with a wide smile. “You’ll get your food and drink and nothing more.” She tossed him a large bath sheet so he could wipe himself down.
Duncan’s gaze fell on Isobel, and she managed a smile, although inside she was all aflutter. She handed him a bath sheet as well, and he began to dry himself. Sweat ran in rivulets down his hard, wide, brown chest, saturating the already-wet work pants he wore. His skin was smooth, his nipples dark brown. A puckered scar up toward his left shoulder was the only thing that marred the beauty of his skin. There was a small strip of black hair that ran from his navel and disappeared beneath his clothes. There were times, like now, when the evening she spent with him all those years ago came back crystal clear. She remembered the hard length of him as he’d held her close; she remembered vividly cupping it through his clothing. She still remembered the brief bite of pain when he entered her and the pleasure he brought her…
She shook herself and went to help Rosalyn with the food.
The brothers settled beneath a tree, allowing the women to wait on them. Fergie and Donnie climbed to the rise, their wives having settled by a nearby oak.
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