John was sitting at his desk surrounded by papers and broken quills. He shielded his eyes from the light streaming through the small window, and winced with pain. His hair was tangled and his eyes were bleary and underlined by violet shadows.
“Hell of a headache,” he explained as Rory took a seat opposite him.
John continued to sit in silence and rub his temples.
“Ye wanted me, John?” he prompted.
“Aye. My wife is going to Grant to attend her mother, who is ill. Ye are to accompany her. My father forbade me to talk politics at the wedding, but he’s no longer around to tell me how to conduct myself. I think that the Grants support our cause, but I dinnae ken for sure. Ye are to protect Lady Isobel, and sway the Grants to our side. It won’t be long now, Rory. We must be ready.” With that he waved Rory out of the room and called for a servant to attend him.
Rory stopped by his room to get a change of clothes, threw in the book of poetry, and made his way to the stables. He was glad of an opportunity to spend time with Isobel, but they wouldn’t be alone, and he had to be careful not to arouse suspicion. He’d spoken to Malcolm Grant briefly after the wedding, and had his job cut out for him. The Grants were supporters of King James and his son, so he was going to friendly territory. The boy from Grant was already waiting by the stables with a bundle of food and a trace of a milk moustache on his hairless upper lip. Rory introduced himself, and called for a stable boy to saddle his horse.
Chapter 26
Mary seemed so happy that Isobel felt a pang of guilt. The lass was homesick, that was all; no wonder she’d been so miserable. She probably missed her mother and sister dreadfully and didn’t want to burden her mistress. This trip would be good for her too.
Mary had packed a few changes of clothes for both of them, and cook gave them a pack full of food for the journey. Castle Grant was a day’s ride from Kilmaron, and they would need to stop and rest on the way. Isobel put on her cloak and headed toward the stables. Mary was scampering behind her with her bundles, one of them whimpering and heaving. Isobel gave her a questioning look.
“I am nae leaving Matty; she’ll be lonely without us.” Isobel reached out and took the puppy without breaking her stride. She was eager to be gone. Her mare was already saddled, and the stable boy was leading her outside with Mary’s mule. She was surprised to see Rory emerging from the stable with his own gelding.
“I’m to accompany ye to Grant,” he informed her with a happy smile. “Laird’s orders.”
“Why ye?” Isobel was suspicious. Why would John send Rory of all men to accompany her on her journey?
“He has his reasons, nay doubt. I am to keep ye safe and do an errand for John.” Rory gave her a meaningful look implying that he wasn’t about to question this gift from fate. They should just take this opportunity to spend time together, and not question it too much. Isobel was only too happy not to worry, and allowed herself to be helped into the saddle. She felt her heart lifting as they rode through the gates and headed for the open road.
Mary and Billy had fallen into a conversation behind them, so Isobel and Rory were able to speak privately. Isobel hated what she must do, but she saw no other way out.
“What happened last night must nae happen again,” she said quietly.
“Am I really such a terrible kisser?”
“Rory, please dinna joke about this. Ye ken how I feel about ye, but I canna let this go on. I married John willingly afore God, and I have to honor those vows. To give in to my feelings for ye would be a mortal sin, and would put us both in danger.” She hoped that Rory could see her anguish. She’d always been the kind of girl to follow her heart, and to deny herself something that she wanted more than life itself was torment. Even as she was saying the words, she was hoping that he’d protest and swear to love her despite her resolve. She longed for him to yearn for her the way she yearned for him and not accept her decision.
“I’ll respect yer wishes, Isobel.” He looked so miserable that Isobel wanted to reach over and throw her arms around him, and tell him that she didn’t mean a word of it, but she couldn’t. She had to do the honorable thing even if it tore them both apart. Rory would eventually forget her and marry another lass. She would spend the rest of her days married to John. The prospect made her want to jump off a cliff, but that really wasn’t an option.
They stopped to rest at midday, and Mary handed out sausage rolls and bottles of cider as they sat down in the shade of a leafy tree. Isobel was tired and heartsick, and just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. She stuffed the rest of her roll into her mouth, and got up before she even finished chewing. She was eager to get going, and the rest of them had no choice but to finish their hasty meal and mount their horses.
Isobel and Rory spent the rest of the way talking of trivial things, and trying to hide the inner turmoil they were both feeling. He asked polite questions about the castle and her family, and Isobel was thrilled to finally see the solid walls of her childhood home come into view. Her mare barely had a chance to stop before she jumped off and ran inside straight to her mother’s bedchamber.
Her mother was lying in bed looking frail and weak. The fire was burning in the grate despite the July heat, and she was covered by several blankets; the room was stifling and smelled of illness. Isobel fell to her knees beside the bed. Her mother looked very happy to see her, and sent the maid away in a feeble voice that Isobel had never heard before. Her mother reached out her arms and enfolded her in an embrace, kissing the top of her head and holding her tight.
“How long have ye been ill, Mam? Why dinna ye send for me sooner? What if I’d been too late?” Isobel was crying into her mother’s bosom.
“Oh, my poor girl. I’m sorry to cause you so much distress. Can ye keep a secret?” she whispered. Isobel looked at her with suspicion. “What secret?”
“I got soaked in the rain, and caught a terrible chill a fortnight ago. I was fevered for days and I coughed so hard I thought my ribs would crack, and then I thought that there is only one thing in the world that would make me feel better — the sight of my Isobel. I missed ye so desperately that I made your father write that letter and send for ye. I’ll begin my miraculous recovery tomorrow.” Her mother looked terribly pleased with herself and Isobel laughed quietly. “And I am so glad ye did. Now I can enjoy being here without worrying about ye dying. I missed ye all so very much.”
“Now open the window afore I suffocate. They think they need to keep me warm in order to cure me. I’m nearly cooked.”
Isobel saw her mother’s gaze travel to her belly as she walked to the window.
“No, Mam. I am nae.”
“Dinnae worry, it will come in time. Is he good to ye?” her mother asked anxiously. Isobel didn’t want to lie, so she said the only thing that was true.
“He doesn’t beat me.”
“Is that the best thing you can say about yer husband? He must be worse than I thought.” Her mother looked distressed, and Isobel was quick to reassure her that everything was well and John was the perfect spouse.
“Who is that lad that came with ye? I saw him through the window.”
“He is a kinsman, Mam. He escorted me here, and he has some business with father.”
“Why dinnae ye go wash up and have some supper. We’ll talk tomorrow. Our news will keep. Yer sister is waiting for ye in yer old room, but say hello to yer father first. He’s feeling a trifle guilty for luring ye away from yer husband.”
Her mother kicked off several blankets, settled back into her pillows and adjusted her cap, getting back into her role of the invalid. Isobel kissed her cheek and went out in search of her father.
Chapter 27
Over the next week Isobel hardly saw Rory; he was a guest and was kept occupied by the men. Her father organized a hunting party in his honor, and the men were gone for several days. Isobel kept hoping for a glimpse of him, but he was hardly around. He’d told her on the way to Grant that John wanted him to talk
to her father and brother about the Jacobite cause, and try to win their support for the young king. Isobel wasn’t sure what her father’s political views were, but she knew it was a dangerous task. Admitting to being a Jacobite was treason against the Crown and punishable by death. Now she understood why her husband had chosen Rory to accompany her.
She spent her days with her mother, who was on the mend, her sister Margaret and the other women whom she’d known all her life. Mary was reunited with her family, and she seemed happier than she’d been since going off with Isobel in October. If only they didn’t have to go back.
Isobel lay in bed at night tormented by her feelings for Rory. She replayed their kiss in her mind a hundred times, and each time it left her weak with longing. She would wake up in the morning with dried tears on her cheeks, and even the joy of her mother’s and sister’s company couldn’t silence the prayer in her heart that somehow she and Rory would find a way to be together.
**
Being with Margaret was a joy. They had always shared a close bond, and they were back to whispering and giggling half the night. Margaret wanted to know all about Kilmaron and the brother-in-law she’d never met. Isobel didn’t have the heart to tell her that her husband wasn’t the romantic figure of her sister’s imagination.
Isobel suspected that Margaret had a secret, but it took her a few days to get her to finally confess. At fifteen, she fancied herself a woman ready to be wed, and was enjoying the bittersweet pangs of first love. The object of her desire was a young tacksman to the Grants. He was a handsome lad with warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. He wasn’t always at the castle, which fanned the flames of her sister’s passion even more. She pined for him when he was gone, and their reunions were that much sweeter.
David was twenty-one and ready to settle down, but they both knew that her father wouldn’t accept his suit. As the daughter of the Laird she would be expected to make a more advantageous match, like Isobel. Margaret, however, had her own ideas and she wanted her older sister’s advice. She hadn’t allowed David to do more than kiss her, although she wasn’t averse to the idea, especially if it got her with child. Their father would be forced to let her marry the lad, and Margaret would get her heart’s desire.
Isobel had serious reservations about that plan. Their father was no fool, and would be furious at being manipulated by his fifteen-year-old daughter. He might banish David for good and force her to wed someone else, or let her suffer the shame and humiliation of being an unwed mother. Margaret seemed sufficiently worried about losing David to reconsider her scheme.
Isobel lay in bed next to Margaret watching her sleep. Her face was sweet and childlike. When would Isobel see her again? She’d been awake half the night dreading the day of departure. She glanced at the window judging it to be about an hour before dawn. She slid out of bed, threw a cloak over her nightdress, and left the room.
Chapter 28
Rory heard stealthy footsteps outside his door and set down his book going to investigate. He quietly opened the door just in time to see Isobel’s bright hair disappear around a corner. Mumbling a curse, he pulled on his boots, and followed her out of the castle. He watched her cloaked figure tiptoe past the snoozing sentry and disappear behind the wall.
Rory followed, but couldn’t help kicking the sentry as he passed, hissing “Wake up, man.” The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, and he could see Isobel’s shadow moving among the trees. He walked softly, without making a noise. Where was she going at this time of the morning? Was she meeting someone? They were due to leave Grant later this morning, maybe this was her last chance for a rendezvous. He walked for about half an hour before he heard the sound of rushing water. Isobel climbed a rock shelf overlooking a small waterfall, and sat down with her back to the craggy rock. She threw off her hood, and leaned back closing her eyes.
Ribbons of pink and gold were beginning to streak the sky as Rory silently sat down next to her on the rock. She gasped in fear.
“What are ye doing here?” She tried to sound annoyed, but he could see she was glad it was him.
“I followed ye to make sure ye were safe. And what are ye doing here?” He looked around. Crimson arrows of light were beginning to pierce the shadows between the branches of the trees, as the blood-red sun began its ascent into the morning sky. Birds erupted in song, the mist from the waterfall rising into the air around them and giving the place a mystical quality.
“I just wanted to be alone for a while,” Isobel said, her face turned to the sun.
Rory could sense her misery. Back at Kilmaron, he saw a lonely girl who needed protection and love. At Castle Grant, he saw a different Isobel who was mischievous and full of life. He saw her laughing and whispering with Margaret, mercilessly teasing her brother, and basking in the warmth of her parents’ love. She didn’t want to leave and she came to this place to say goodbye, not knowing when she would be back again.
Without realizing what she was doing, Isobel laid her head on Rory’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close. They sat in silence for a few minutes lost in thought.
“I dinnae want to go, Rory.”
“I ken that, lass. I dinna either.” She looked up at him surprised.
“Why dinnae ye want to go?”
“There’s nothing waiting for me there, because everything I want is right here.” He leaned down and kissed her upturned face. Her lips were soft and willing, and he pulled her closer deepening the kiss. He slid his tongue inside her mouth and she didn’t resist, allowing him to explore her. Rory’s hand cupped her breast through the thin nightdress under her cloak, and he brushed his thumb against her nipple feeing it harden and rise under his palm. Isobel suddenly realized what he was doing and pushed him away.
“I canna Rory, I just canna.” She sprang to her feet and ran through the forest toward the castle. Rory stood up cursing himself for spooking her, and followed her back. What did he think he was doing? Even if she’d been willing, any relationship between them was impossible. He couldn’t carry on with John’s wife right under his nose, and expect no one to notice. As much as he disliked John, Rory was an honorable man, and to cuckold another wasn’t his style. Isobel, on the other hand, was married, and would be committing a mortal sin. He had no right to ask that of her. Rory sighed and walked through the gates of the castle going to his room to pack.
Chapter 29
Too soon it was time to leave, and Isobel packed her belongings with a heavy heart. She kissed the top of Matty’s head and put the little dog in its basket. Rory was already in the courtyard saying goodbye to the men, and waiting for her and Mary. Suddenly, Margaret came running into their room.
“Isobel, come quick. Mary is screaming like a banshee and refusing to leave. She is in such a state.”
Isobel followed Margaret down into the kitchens where Mary was supposed to be getting food for the journey. Mary was hunched in the corner with her apron hiding her face. She was sobbing, and refusing to get up. Isobel’s mother was standing over her trying to talk sense into the girl.
“She willna talk to anyone but ye. Says she willna go back and would rather die,” said her mother. Isobel could see she was annoyed with the girl, having no patience for her hysterics.
Isobel knelt next to Mary. “What is it Mary? Ye dinnae want to leave yer family?”
Mary shook her head and wailed louder. Isobel looked at her more closely. Her eyes were swollen with weeping, her face blotchy and pale. With her apron pulled up she could see her belly, and it looked full. Was it really possible? Whose could it be? Mary didn’t have a sweetheart and had never been seen in a company of a boy.
“Mary, are ye with child?” she asked incredulously. Mary nodded miserably, and sniffled into her apron.
“Dinna worry, lass. We will set it right. I’ll speak to my husband and he will see ye safely wed afore anyone notices. Who is the lad?”
Mary looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. “I wouldna wed him even
if I could. He forced me over and over; he hurt me, and said he’d kill me if I told anyone.”
“I’ll tell the Laird; he’ll see justice done. Who did this to ye?” Mary raised her eyes to meet Isobel’s, and all of a sudden she knew without being told.
“It was yer husband that did it,” said Mary, her voice flat, and resigned to the consequences of her situation. “He also bade me to watch ye and Rory, and report any impropriety. He has a mind to get rid of ye both so that he can marry that witch Joan.”
Isobel felt like she couldn’t breathe. She had to get outside. Her heart was hammering in her chest and the fury that was building within her was frightening her. If John had been standing in front of her at that moment, she would have killed him with her bare hands. What kind of monster raped a fourteen-year-old girl, while plotting to marry another woman? Poor Mary must have been so frightened. She’d been carrying this horrible burden alone afraid to speak to her mistress, and now she was carrying his child.
**
Isobel stormed out of the castle and swung into the saddle. Rory watched in surprise as she took off through the gates, and jumped on his horse to follow. Isobel galloped, her hair streaming behind her until lightning split the sky, and the horizon turned the color of a particularly nasty bruise. Fat rain drops began to fall on her head, and she finally slowed down, turning to face Rory.
He didn’t ask what happened, just motioned for her to follow. By the time they got to the abandoned cottage they were soaked through, and Isobel sat on some straw against the wall, while Rory broke up an old chair to use for firewood and built a fire in the chipped fireplace. Parts of the roof had rotted away, and wind was howling through the broken windows, but at least it was shelter.
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