When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4)

by Julie Johnstone

  As darkness claimed the sky and the moon came out to offer light to guide them, guilt gnawed at him. Despite the fact that he knew she would have a better life because he had taken her, he had also taken away her choice, and that bothered him. He could remember feeling as if he had no choices of his own when he was younger and his mother assigned him as Lena’s watcher, refusing to allow him to hunt with the men because she’d said he was not a good enough hunter yet. The anger that had sprung from that situation had nearly destroyed him and caused him to destroy others. He did not want Isobel to feel that way, daughter of his enemy or not.

  She wiggled again, pressing her bottom firmly against his staff, and he abruptly whistled, pulled back on Dante’s reins, and called, “Halt! We rest here for the night.”

  He had to get off his horse and put space between himself and Isobel before he forgot himself.

  Isobel awoke to a black sky, hard ground, and murmured voices. She blinked up at the moon as she inhaled the smell of dirt and something distinctly male. Her heart lurched as she glanced to her right, fearing she had been sleeping beside Graham, but she could see him not too far away, sitting in a circle with his men, a small fire burning in the center. He was talking, his face glowing in the firelight, and his brows were drawn together as if in ire.

  She started to sit up, but a hand clamped her shoulder. She would have screamed but Marsaili said, “’Tis me. I’m listening and if ye sit up, they’ll ken we’re awake and we’ll nae learn anything.”

  Isobel smirked at Marsaili. “Have ye been lying again?” she muttered, unable to keep the resentment out of her tone. When Marsaili’s eyes narrowed, Isobel felt her own irritation spike. “Are ye trying to decide who to betray next?” she growled, knowing she sounded churlish but not caring.

  Marsaili arched her eyebrows. “Nay. I was trying to learn what they intend to do with ye so I could decide whether I should help ye escape or nae, but now I’m wondering if I should nae leave ye to them.”

  Hope began to spark in Isobel. “I thought delivering me to them was part of the bargain ye made.”

  Marsaili shook her head. “I made no bargain, Isobel. I simply let them ken ye would be coming, as I ken verra well they would nae have come to rescue me for just me, even if I am their half sister,” Marsaili finished in a wounded, derisive tone.

  Begrudgingly, Isobel recognized pity and understanding simmering within her. It was strange, but she sensed Marsaili felt exactly as she did—unwanted. Brigid was what everyone wanted, not Isobel herself. She was the bothersome woman that came with the castle. She did not feel she could tell Marsaili her plan, but mayhap she could get the information she needed from her half sister.

  “Do you have any notion where Father is? He made mention of Oban last he visited,” she lied. “Could he be there?”

  Marsaili shook her head. “Nay. I overheard Findlay say Father would be returning to Innis Chonnell within a sennight, and he said he would be coming from the west. Oban is south. We will pass it on the way to Dunvegan.”

  Isobel’s insides clenched with more hope. “Oh,” she replied, trying to instill a dejected note in her voice.

  Marsaili sighed. “I ken why ye dunnae trust me, and I dunnae blame ye, but I vow, I did nae ever intend to let ye be used. I will help ye escape if ye dunnae wish to go to the king, but hear me, Sister. Ye are a great prize, and ye may find yerself married to a man like Jamie MacLeod as Father wishes, who certainly must be worse than any man the king would choose for ye.”

  “Says ye,” Isobel said stubbornly, though she feared the same.

  Marsaili opened her mouth as if to argue when a shout came from the group of men. Isobel looked toward them, and one of them stood. She thought she had heard the man called Rory Mac bellow, “An eye for an eye!” and a chorus of ayes went up around him.

  “’Tis nae an eye for an eye,” Cameron growled. “They took our sister from us for twelve long years. We have only just taken the Campbell’s daughter.”

  Isobel cringed. They were speaking of her! Marsaili’s hand came to her shoulder and squeezed.

  Cameron stood next and glanced down at the group. “It is nae a true repayment for what the Campbells and Jamie did to Lena and Bridgette, but it is a start.”

  Rage exploded inside Isobel even as she heard Graham say, “Sit down and shut yer mouth, Cameron.”

  Cameron was slow to obey, and she could sense his vexation at Graham. Her insides coiled as she remembered what Graham had said was done to his sister and his brother’s woman, and Cameron sounded as if he wished the same fate for Isobel.

  Her heart beat hard as she curled her hands by her side. She would not go as a lamb to the slaughter. She had to escape until she had more facts or maybe even some position to bargain for her own future. Currently her grandmother held the castle in Isobel’s name with the help of her estranged husband, the MacKinnon’s, warriors. She had no notion if her grandmother would aid her in bargaining with the king, but she was a possible ally to remember.

  “Why do ye order me to silence, Brother?” Cameron growled. “Has the comely Isobel made ye forget that her father conspires against King David to put his nephew, the High Steward of Scotland, on the throne? Will ye forego allegiance to yer king and family to join with the traitor’s daughter? Has the dark-haired ban-druidh bewitched ye, then?”

  Isobel shook in anger at Cameron’s words. He’d besmirched her name and called her ban-druidh. She was not a witch! She kicked the plaid away from her and lay on her back on the ground. She glared up at the sky, cursing Cameron, the MacLeods, and even Graham, who had not said a word to defend her, with the few foul words she knew. She really had to learn more words to properly damn her enemies in her mind.

  Graham spoke then, and she glanced his way. He had stood and was looming over his brother. “Careful, Cameron. I ken yer anger. I have it in me, too, but Isobel Campbell is nae ban-druidh, nor is she to blame for the sins of her family.”

  “Ye did nae believe that before ye met her,” Cameron spat.

  Isobel tensed in expectation of Graham’s response.

  “I did nae, ye are correct,” he said. “But I was wrong. I see now that she is innocent.”

  For a moment, she warmed at his words and the small comfort they offered, and then Cameron spoke again. “Are ye saying ye will nae fulfill yer vow to the king?”

  “Nay. I will fulfill it,” Graham replied. “She will be in less peril with the king than with her father or another.”

  “Ye almost sound as if ye are championing her,” Cameron snarled.

  She drew a quick breath of utter astonishment. Was Graham championing her? Was he truly trying to protect her?

  Chapter Six

  “I’ve said what I wish,” Graham snapped, not liking that Cameron was trying to force him to say more, to say that which could rip their family apart if no one understood Graham’s point about Isobel.

  The tension between them pulsed in the air, and Graham knew his men could feel it. They shifted in their spots, and they all wore uncomfortable expressions. Graham locked gazes with Rory Mac, who winked at him and stood. “If I was nae married,” he said, “I’d be happy to champion the lass as long as she paid me in favors.”

  This drew rounds of laughter from the men, and though it irritated Graham for Rory Mac to refer to Isobel in a lewd manner, he knew his friend had been striving to break the tension, and he was grateful.

  Cameron eventually joined in the laughter. “She is bonny,” he admitted. “Of course, she’d have to be tamed. She’s got a sharp tongue, but a sound smack on the bottom would curtail her biting words.”

  Graham could not help but laugh at his brother’s boastful and woefully ignorant words, but once his laughter died, he gripped Cameron by the shoulder. “’Tis always good to discover, Brother, that there is a bigger fool when it comes to women than me.”

  Cameron scowled at him. “How do ye consider me a bigger clot-heid than ye?”

  “Well,” Graham said,
striving for patience, “women are like kittens, aye?”

  “Ye need rest,” Cameron grumbled. “Ye are speaking nonsense.”

  Several of the men chuckled, but Rory Mac nodded his agreement. “I’ve been married now five years, Cameron, and yer brother speaks the God’s truth. A woman is like a kitten. Ye pet it, give it attention, and show it kindness, and then the kitten wants to do what ye wish. Ye say, ‘Here, kitty, kitty,’ and the kitten comes running. But if ye are cruel to the kitten, then it will try to scratch and bite ye.”

  “Or run away,” Graham added, looking swiftly toward where Isobel and Marsaili slept.

  “So ye are saying Isobel Campbell is like a kitten?” Cameron asked.

  “All women are like kittens,” Rory Mac repeated.

  Graham’s mind, however, was already turning to more important matters. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I spoke a partial truth to Isobel,” he said, wanting to enlighten his men to what Cameron and Rory Mac already knew. The time had come for them to understand the entire plan that the king, his brother Iain, and the rest of the council had set in motion.

  “What do ye mean that ye spoke a partial truth?” asked one of the men.

  “The king did approve of us destroying Innis Chonnell Castle, but he’ll nae openly say so. David kens that he has nae yet uncovered the identities of all the nobles who wish to see him toppled because he dunnae submit to their wishes. If he openly fights against the Campbells, the king kens those who are plotting with them will become even more careful and he may not learn who they are until it is too late to keep his throne. But he dunnae wish to deny us our vengeance and make enemies of our clan.”

  “He offers us vengeance but he will nae publicly support us,” Cameron spat, voicing the same vexation he had shown when the plan had been created.

  “Aye,” Graham agreed in a hushed tone. He understood his brother’s anger because he’d felt the same until Iain had spoken to him privately and Iain reminded Graham that it behooved them just as much as it did the king to learn the king’s enemies, as they were the MacLeod’s enemies as well. Graham set a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. He glanced at each of his men as he spoke. “We will appear to have defied the king for destroying the castle and taking Isobel Campbell.”

  Cameron scrambled to his feet. “How do we ken vengeance will remain ours? Dunnae ye get the feeling the king will do what he must to get what he wants? What if he demands we give back what we have taken in the name of vengeance? Will we do so, or will we defy our king?”

  Graham scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’ll nae do such a thing. He has given us his vow.”

  “Oh, aye,” Cameron growled. “But since King David’s return from captivity, we have all seen that he gives and takes away at his will and his will alone.”

  Graham’s patience was growing thin. “Nae a thing in life is certain, Brother, except for the truth that we MacLeods will defend one another.” He thought briefly of how he had striven to create problems between Lachlan and Bridgette when his anger and jealousy were still so great toward Lachlan; he’d wanted to strike at him by taking Bridgette from him. Yet for all his crimes against his brother, Lachlan had still protected him. His throat tightened with remorse and regret, and he had to swallow hard to speak. “As for our king, we must trust in him until he gives us a reason nae to.”

  “Does that satisfy ye?” Rory Mac asked, his eyes flashing in the moonlight. “Perchance Isobel Campbell will wish to marry ye, and then our vengeance will be sealed. Ye do have a pretty face. Could be that she’s so grateful to ye for saving her from Jamie that she’ll be begging ye to make her yers,” he teased.

  An image of Isobel laid out on his plaid, asking him to make her his, flashed in his mind, and heated his blood. The woman was a temptress, and she did not even know it. “’Tis more likely,” he said lazily, “that Isobel would put a dagger in my back than take me for husband.”

  “Ye speak the truth now, Brother,” Cameron said with a laugh. “Though ye claim she is innocent, she idolizes her father. And I say with that blind adoration, she’s doubtless plotting our deaths at this moment.”

  Graham could not help but glance again to where Isobel was lying. It was more likely she was planning how to escape. He could not imagine that gentle creature planning anyone’s death. His brother’s dislike of Isobel was even more obvious than before, and Graham feared would create animosity between them as he sought to aid her with the king.

  Still, now was not the time to sit and worry over that which could not be changed presently. Instead, Graham quickly dismissed the men and told them to rest. They would take shifts to stand guard, and he, Cameron, and Rory Mac had the first shift.

  Once the others had departed, Graham, wishing to be certain he was not somehow unwittingly allowing desire to cloud his judgment, asked Rory Mac, “Do ye dislike Isobel as much as Cameron does?”

  Rory Mac cleared his throat. “I dunnae trust her, but only because I believe she’ll try to escape and I ken we need her. I dunnae believe she’d deliberately mean to do us harm, though.”

  Graham nodded. He didn’t believe she would do anything deliberate, either. It was the accidental harm she might do that concerned him.

  He looked to see where his men were resting and, thus, where they needed to stand guard. He smiled at the sight that greeted him. His men had formed a circle around Isobel and Marsaili, though he knew they held no love for either woman.

  “Ye have taught them well,” Rory Mac commented.

  Graham shook his head. “Nay. Lachlan had their training in the beginning. He taught them.”

  Rory Mac chuckled. “’Tis good to see ye properly modest, Graham. God’s truth, it is. There was a time I was certain yer boastfulness would explode yer head.”

  Graham scowled, but since it was likely true, he did not protest.

  Rory Mac rocked on his heels, a grin on his face. Graham would take the good-natured ribbing from Rory Mac but only because they were lifelong friends. “’Tis amusing, is it nae,” Rory Mac said, “that ye’re modest now that ye have actually become such a fierce warrior and commanding leader, but when ye were a scrap of a man all filled with piss and anger, ye were nae modest?”

  “’Tis verra amusing,” Graham retorted, wishing he could change his past but knowing well he could not.

  “Why do ye think ye are modest now?” Rory Mac prodded, and his tone told Graham he was truly wondering.

  Graham thought about his friend’s question for a moment. “When Bridgette was taken by the Campbells and Lachlan turned to me for help and showed me complete forgiveness for trying to keep her from him, I kenned in that moment I was nae the man I wanted to be. I was a shadow of a man, longing to be someone I was nae, when what I needed to do was to find out who I was inside. I hope I found humility, honor, and above all, fealty to my family because that is the sort of man I wish to be.”

  “Ye are that sort of man,” Rory Mac said as Cameron stood silent. With the scowl on his face, he was obviously still stewing from their disagreement.

  Graham shifted, uncomfortable with the praise, which was truly amusing. There had been a time he longed to hear such praise, a time when he desperately needed it. But now he was more certain of himself and he no longer sought it. “Let us spread out and take watch. I’ve an uneasy feeling.”

  “Aye,” Cameron agreed, “I do, too. Jamie will be in pursuit, as well as Findlay.”

  “We had a lead on them, and they would need to stop,” Rory Mac pointed out.

  “Nae as long as us,” Graham replied. “We stopped for this length of time because I feared pushing the women any harder. Isobel looked verra weary.”

  Cameron made a derisive noise in his throat, but Graham did not comment. They moved to their spots to guard the camp, and much later, when Rory Mac complained that he would fall down if he did not sit for a bit, Graham called for a changing of the guard. He considered keeping watch with the other men while Rory Mac and Cameron slept, but when he
went to see to Isobel and Marsaili, he found Isobel shivering almost violently in her sleep.

  He secured a blanket to throw over her for another layer of warmth, but when she continued to tremble, he lay beside her simply to warm her. He did not want her taking a chill and catching her death. He pulled her into his arms and against his chest, half expecting her to protest in her sleep and fight him, but she sighed contentedly and nestled close to him.

  Yearning pulsed with each breath he took. Her scent of heather and honey swirled around him enticingly and made him want to taste her lips to see if honey lingered there, too. He lay as still as possible, reminding himself that he was only offering her warmth and that if she were awake, she’d not welcome his embrace in the least.

  Just as he closed his eyes, she twisted to face him, pressed her cheek to his chest, and threw one leg over his legs and wrapped her arm around his waist. Holding her so close and her embracing him in return felt so strangely right and natural that he frowned in bewilderment. Why did this woman he barely knew affect him so? Not only did she despise him but she soon would be married to another, so even if she had been attracted to him as he was undeniably attracted to her, they would never be in a position to act upon their yearnings. Mayhap it was simply that she was the first woman he had been this close to since he let go of his foolish idea that Bridgette was meant for him.

  He glanced down at Isobel’s face, wishing to bury the memory, and he was struck breathless by her delicate beauty. His heart pounded heavily as he studied her features. She had a straight nose; full, very red lips that almost appeared to be in a pout; and thick, dark lashes that lay heavy against the top of her cheeks. Her flawless skin was the color of snow, and her hair lay in thick waves over his arm and her shoulder.