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

by Julie Johnstone

  Isobel would not look for love or friendship where there was none to be found. When a spell passed without anyone tugging or pulling on Isobel’s hair, she reluctantly glanced up, astounded to find Marion and Marsaili staring at her contemplatively in the looking glass. A small smile tugged at Marion’s lips, and Marsaili grinned.

  “We’ve finished,” Marion said.

  “Do you like it?” Marsaili asked with obvious hope.

  Isobel looked at her reflection, and she could not stop the pleased smile. They had twisted her hair into a side-swept braid that curved around the base of her head and then hung over her right shoulder. Isobel reached up and traced a finger over the flowers that had been deftly weaved in and out of the heavy braid. Her eyes moved to the top of her head where a circle of white flowers was lying.

  “It’s lovely,” Isobel said, “but ye two need nae have gone to such effort.”

  Marsaili and Marion exchanged a quick look, and then Marion asked, “And why not? This is your wedding day. You should look special for Graham.”

  “Ye need nae feign the truth,” Isobel said, her gut twisting. “We both ken Graham is marrying me for Brigid.”

  “Oh, Isobel!” Marsaili cried out. “I dunnae believe that to be the only reason.”

  “It is,” Isobel said stubbornly, choosing to ignore that he likely desired her body as proven by his kiss.

  With a sigh, Marion set down the brush she had been using and then walked to the corner of the room and pulled a chair to face Isobel. Marsaili quickly did the same. Marion set her hands on her knees and then spoke. “I’ll not try to convince you that is false because I see in your face and hear in your voice that you firmly believe it. But I don’t believe that Graham would marry merely for revenge and gain.”

  “I dunnae, either,” Marsaili added. “He has a look for ye.”

  “Aye,” Isobel rebuffed. “And that look be one of retribution.”

  “Isobel,” Marsaili started.

  “It is so,” Isobel grumbled, realizing Marsaili wanted to believe good things were happening for Isobel, which touched her greatly. “I heard him say so with my own ears.”

  “Oh.” Marion wrinkled her nose, then sucked in her lower lip and stared at Isobel for a long moment, clearly contemplating the information. “Well,” she said slowly, “maybe you misunderstood.”

  “Aye,” Marsaili added hopefully.

  Isobel shook her head. She dearly wished she had misunderstood, but she’d not lie to herself now. “I did nae misunderstand. He spoke clearly and said he would accept what his revenge had brought him.”

  Marsaili sank deep into her seat, and Marion nibbled on her lower lip. “Those words could mean a great number of things, Isobel.”

  Isobel sighed. “Nay. They mean only one. Lachlan also said Graham could not have plotted their revenge better.”

  Marion’s and Marsaili’s jaws dropped as Isobel continued. “Lachlan also said Graham’s marriage would enable them to destroy their enemies.” She fell silent, refusing to repeat the part about Graham needing to make their marriage true as quickly as possible.

  “Heavens,” Marion said softly. “That does sound bad.”

  “Aye,” Marsaili said dejectedly. “I must agree.”

  Marion smiled halfheartedly. “I can tell you my own marriage did not start as love, either, but it surely is love now.”

  Despite the fact that Isobel had promised herself not to wish for friendship from anyone, the hope sprang forth, and she found herself leaning closer to Marion, who had thus far been nicer to her than any of the other MacLeods besides Graham, Cameron, and eventually Rory Mac.

  “How did ye come to marry the laird?” Isobel asked, noting Marsaili was looking just as interested.

  Marion gave a short laugh, and her cheeks grew rosy. “By edict of our kings.” Her eyes seemed to shine with the memory.

  Isobel startled at the similarity to her own situation, and Marion reached out and grasped her hand. “You see, Isobel, you are not the first to feel as if you are all alone.”

  Isobel’s throat tightened with thick emotion, made even greater when Marsaili reached across the space dividing them and gave Isobel a quick hug.

  Marion patted Isobel’s hand before drawing away. “In actuality, my king ordered my marriage, but I likely would have tried to escape the marriage if Iain had not told me again—rather rudely, too—that my other choice was the horrid, evil English knight my father intended to bind me to for his own gain. Iain had no qualms pointing out I would likely end up married to that man if I refused him.” Marion grinned. “I decided of my choices, Iain was the least terrible.”

  “Very sensible,” Marsaili said.

  A sob escaped Isobel, but she quickly tried to muffle it. Their situations were even more similar than she’d thought mere moments before. When Marion wrapped her arm around Isobel and Marsaili took her hand, she could not hold back her pain. “Fathers are supposed to love their daughters,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Marion said in a gentle, soothing voice. “But they do not always do as they are supposed to.”

  “We ken that well,” Marsaili added, her voice angry.

  Marion sighed. “I am so sorry for both of you that your father sounds so very much like my own, but I vow to you, Isobel, no matter why Graham comes to this marriage, I know this man, and he will treat you with kindness and caring.”

  Isobel sniffed. “I suppose it is the most I can hope for.”

  “Oh no,” Marion replied. “It is the very least you can hope for, Isobel. I have only just met you and I see already that you are a woman of honor with a huge heart.”

  “Aye, she is,” Marsaili said with such conviction that Isobel began to sob again.

  “Graham will come to see it, too,” Marion said. “Your warm heart will be good for him.”

  Isobel rubbed at her aching temples. “Yer husband, Lachlan, Bridgette, Lena, and many others in yer clan seem to distrust me at best, despise me at worse.”

  “Together,” Marion said, grasping Marsaili’s and Isobel’s hands, “we will sway them to you.”

  Marsaili nodded her agreement, but Isobel was still a tad wary. “Why are ye being so nice to me?”

  “I see myself in you,” Marion replied. “It breaks my heart to know what you are going through. You have just as good a chance as I did that your marriage will be wonderful. I had Bridgette to help me, and now you have me and Marsaili.”

  “I thank ye both, but yer husband did nae marry ye for revenge, Marion, so there was nae dislike in his heart for ye from the start.” Not to mention, she did not believe desire was something that could truly grow a marriage, not on its own.

  Marion smirked at Isobel. “My husband was still in love with his dead wife when he married me out of duty.” She raised her eyebrows in a high arch, as if to imply Isobel could not challenge that start, either. “He told me moments before we wed that he would never love me, that he had no desire to love me, and that all his love was for his first wife.”

  “That’s terrible,” Marsaili said, her tone indignant for Marion.

  Marion smiled at Marsaili. “It was, but—” There was distinct triumph in her voice “—it is also why I believe Graham could come to love Isobel as Iain did me.”

  It was utter foolishness to long for Graham to love her or even care for her, yet, what if… No.

  “Ye fill my head with nonsense,” she grumbled.

  “A little nonsense is good for the soul,” Marion said, matter of fact.

  “I do believe I’d like a dose of nonsense, as well,” Marsaili added in a wistful tone.

  Isobel frowned with the realization of how selfish she was being. She had not truly gotten to talk privately with Marsaili and learn how she was faring with the rest of the MacLeod clan, though from what she had seen, the MacLeods did not glare at Marsaili as they did Isobel, so that was something.

  “Has it been difficult for you with the MacLeods, Sister?” Isobel inquired.

&
nbsp; Marsaili smiled brightly but cut her gaze to Marion, and Isobel thought she understood that Marsaili preferred not to speak her grievances about the MacLeods in front of Marion. Isobel understood.

  “Nay. ’Tis fine,” Marsaili said. “It will just take time, I am certain.”

  Marion nodded as she cast her gaze to Marsaili and then back to Isobel. “Tell me, do you care for Graham?”

  “Of course nae!” Isobel denied. “It would be foolish to care for a man I ken dunnae care for me.”

  Marion patted her hand. “I didn’t think you did. Of course—” she tapped her chin “—I did wonder a bit when you went to such effort to convince Cameron and Rory Mac to come to me with your most excellent advice about battling fevers, but when I heard you were somewhat of a healer yourself, I rightly presumed that it was your love of the healing arts that drove you to intervene.”

  “It was,” Isobel agreed, relived for the excuse.

  “Since you have such a passion for healing, I wonder if you would share your knowledge with me in the days to come before you and Graham leave for Brigid?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Isobel said, happy that someone for once was interested in her for something other than Brigid.

  “I’d like to learn the healing arts, too,” Marsaili said hopefully.

  Marion grinned. “Then you shall!” she announced, just as someone knocked on the door. “Enter,” she bid.

  The door squeaked open, and Cameron stuck his head into the room. “Iain sends word that they are ready for Isobel.”

  Isobel’s stomach tightened. She was about to be married to a man who may desire her—as she could not forget their kiss—but certainly did not love her. Nor she him. There would be no gentle look when she came to stand before him to exchange their vows. There would be no words of love spoken before or after the wedding between them, and the joining—a thing she feared mightily given the way the nuns had spoken of the act as something meant to punish women for Eve leading Adam to eat of the apple—put a cold chill in Isobel.

  She grasped Marion’s hand and then Marsaili’s. “Will ye both please come with me?”

  Marsaili nodded eagerly. “Ye dunnae need to ask. We are sisters.”

  Isobel’s heart swelled with warmth, and then Marion nodded and gave Isobel a gentle smile. “Of course. We are friends, and I’d not dare miss your marrying Graham.”

  Friends? A lump formed in Isobel’s throat. She was not entirely sure that Marion was not simply trying to comfort her with kindness, but at this moment, she was happy to accept it, and even allow the smallest amount of hope that they really had just begun a friendship. Isobel rose and quietly followed Marion and Marsaili out of the bedchamber door.

  Cameron and Rory Mac stood on either side of the door. Both men had donned fresh léines and braies, and wore their plaids. When they jostled each other to be the one to take her arm, Isobel smiled gratefully.

  Cameron shoved Rory Mac out of the way with a grin. “As Isobel is about to marry my brother, I’ll take the duty of seeing her safely to the chapel.”

  She frowned at Cameron’s words, reminded sharply that Lena would likely be out for her own revenge when she learned of the king’s orders. Rory Mac took Marsaili’s arm and fell into step behind them, and Marion went to Cameron’s other side. As they walked down the stairs and past the great hall, a low murmur of voices that sounded much like a bevy of bees reached Isobel, and her fear of Lena’s reaction gave way to her fear of her vows. She paused at the door to the courtyard and looked questioningly at Cameron.

  “The clan has gathered as word of Graham’s marriage spread fast as fire,” he said.

  “Aye,” Rory Mac added from behind her. “Many are astounded that he’d willingly marry the sister of his greatest enemy.”

  Cameron glared at Rory Mac, and Marion said, “Rory Mac, you really must learn to think before you speak.”

  “Aye,” Marsaili agreed.

  Rory Mac made a derisive noise from deep in his throat. “I dunnae mean any harm by my comment,” the Scot assured her. “I’m nae astounded. Ye’re bonny and ye’re the heiress of Brigid, after all.”

  Isobel winced as Marion shook her head. “Do stop talking,” she scolded and motioned for Cameron to continue walking, but as they moved outside, Rory Mac’s words stayed with Isobel and made her steps even slower. Graham’s entire clan would know this marriage was not of love but of gain, and she had no wish to face all the staring eyes. Yet, she must. She took a deep breath, but as the clan came into view, the sheer number of people packed onto either side of the courtyard with a clear pathway in the middle that led to the chapel made her hesitate.

  Her legs began to shake and she felt as if a thousand hostile eyes rested on her, but finally she squared her shoulders, lifted her head, and took one step and then another, until she was walking without trembling down the path. The talking immediately stopped and thick silence surrounded her, broken only by the hard beat of her own heart.

  As they neared the small chapel, she saw Lena standing by the door, and Isobel had no doubt that the woman was waiting for her. Isobel extracted her arm from Cameron’s hold, feeling sure it would somehow anger Lena. As Lena moved to block Isobel’s way, the chapel door opened and Graham appeared behind his sister with a fierce scowl.

  “Lena, step aside,” he commanded.

  “Nae until I’ve said my peace,” she hissed.

  “Lena,” Graham warned.

  The woman tensed even as her chin jutted forward in determination.

  “Let her say what she wishes to me,” Isobel said, hoping maybe if Lena could have her peace that would be better than if they tried to silence her. When Graham looked as if he would argue, Isobel added, “Please.”

  “Be quick, Lena,” Graham said in a clipped yet gentle tone.

  Lena shoved her hair, which Isobel noted still looked as if it needed a very good brushing, out of her face. “My brother marries ye for revenge and for yer castle. Dunnae ever forget that, Isobel,” she hissed.

  “Lena!” Graham snapped, but he did not deny his sister’s words.

  Humiliation burned Isobel’s cheeks. Her tongue felt suddenly too big to form words, but she managed to somehow. “I ken well why yer brother marries me,” Isobel replied, her words made terse by the terrible sense of bitterness assaulting her.

  “Good!” Lena spat. “Ye may well be a MacLeod after this night, but ye will nae ever be part of this family! Ye’re nae wanted! My brothers will nae forget what was done to me. They will nae forget me!” she cried, her voice growing so loud that Isobel was sure the people standing all the way back by the castle door had heard.

  Yet, Isobel also heard fear and desperation in the woman’s voice, and she wondered if Lena had been told the news that the king had demanded she be sent back to Findlay. Surely, they had also told her that they planned to hide her, but what if they had not for some reason? Sympathy filled Isobel for the woman’s plight, and she had the urge to tell her she understood Lena’s anger, but the gesture would likely only enrage the woman more.

  “That is enough, Lena,” Graham growled. His voice was low but so powerful that Isobel shivered. He set his sister aside with one quick motion, reached out, and then took Isobel’s hand in his.

  His burning eyes held her still for a moment, and she stilled at the tenderness she thought she beheld there, but when he flicked his gaze to his sister, Isobel understood clearly that the tenderness was for Lena.

  “Dunnae fash yerself, Lena,” Graham said in a gentle tone. “I will nae ever forget what was done to ye. I vow it.”

  Isobel bit her lip to keep from crying. She feared that Graham’s anger at what had been done to Lena would be a thick, permanent wall between them, among the many other walls.

  “Come,” he said to Isobel, without a trace of the tenderness his voice had held for his sister. He tugged on her hand. “The king and Father Murdock await within to marry us, and I’m impatient to see the deed done.”

  His w
ords sparked such anger within her that her sadness disappeared. She gritted her teeth against her retort. It would not do at all to get in an argument with her future husband mere moments before her wedding, but as soon as the vows were exchanged and they were alone, she was going to inform this brutish man that she was not simply a deed to be done. She was a person with feelings, and he could treat her with a modicum of kindness and strive not to embarrass her in front of others. He could pretend to care for her at the very least!

  Graham tried to keep his gaze off his wife—his wife—but it kept straying to her concerned face as she spoke with Marsaili and then her lovely smile as Cameron approached her and asked her to dance. Graham felt a smile come to his own face as he watched her move, gracefully as an eagle soaring in the sky, when she joined Cameron in a circle dance with some other members of the clan. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew rosy, and he found himself struggling to stay in his seat and continue to listen to Iain, who was speaking about the king’s proclamation that he’d decided to depart after the wedding to go tell Gowan the news rather than send a messenger.

  Graham was so pleased to see Isobel finally smiling. She had looked so fearful during their wedding and she had barely spoken or eaten afterward at the meal, but now she looked so much more cheerful. He suspected Lena’s words had upset her greatly. He’d thought about quieting Lena once she had started to spew her hatred, but he’d hoped if she got some of it out, it would lessen the burning anger within her. He feared it had not and what she might attempt to do next. Yet, as he thought about how Lena had looked as she had raged, he realized her eyes had been clear and her gaze focused, which was much different from the dazed expression she normally wore. Mayhap the anger would turn to a determination to survive, but he’d take a care to watch over Isobel until he saw a larger change in Lena.