She inhaled a few more times until she had enough air to speak. Still, she had to do so in bursts. “If I had known what I was missing all these years, Laird MacAlister, I would ne’er have tried to dump you in manure.”
Twenty-Three
“You ne’er told me if you’d done it before,” Kerr said to Isobel quietly as they crouched at the edge of the tree line, observing the farm. They’d been watching for signs of Una and the lads—or anyone else, for that matter—for the last ten minutes. The sun had already dipped over the horizon, but he couldn’t hear any noise coming from the cottage, which was unusual for his brothers.
“Done what?” Isobel asked, matching his whisper.
“What were your words, exactly? You can eat me.”
She turned her head to him and then huffed out a soft laugh. “Have you been sitting here the whole time stewing about whether I’ve been intimate in that way with someone besides you, husband?”
“Nay…not the whole time.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Izzy. You doona have to explain yourself to me.”
I just want you to.
She grinned and made a motion with her hand for him to continue.
“Unless you want to,” he added, aloud this time.
She clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter. When she had her mirth under control, she sighed and whispered, “You did surprise me. I ne’er imagined doing what we did last night. I thought it would be more along the lines of what we did this morning.”
He grunted as the sight of her spread before him on his plaid floated through his mind. The sky had started to lighten, and he’d wanted to continue on their journey, but he couldn’t resist loving her in that way first. Or touching her intimately as she sat in front of him on Diabhla. Or taking the extra time to tup her properly when they’d stopped to eat. The patch of grass they’d found had been soft and the ground beneath it smooth.
“You still havenae answered my question,” he said.
“Dearest, I am well-informed about carnal intimacy. Most of which I want to try with you…for the first time.”
“And how have you come to be so informed?”
She shrugged. “People talk when they think no one is listening.”
“And you’re always listening?”
“Aye.”
Feeling settled now on that issue at least, and interested in exploring later what else she’d heard, he returned his attention to the cottage.
Where are Una, Andy, and Aulay?
Smoke came from the chimney, and the windows were open, but he couldn’t hear any voices or laughter. Unease began to bubble through his gut.
“You’re worried,” Isobel whispered.
“A little.”
“Is it possible the man from the beach beat us here?”
“Anything is possible, but ’tis unlikely. Why come here and not go to the castle or to the village first? We know he’s placed spies and traitors there.”
“To get to your brothers and Una, maybe?”
“Aye, but…this is not the place to take power. ’Tis not strategic for him to come here.”
“Then why did we come? Other than to see your family, of course.”
“I need people I can trust, and the lads are excellent marksmen, as good as any of my foster brothers. They’ve been trying to best each other for years.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, wondering how to bring up the next reason. “And there’s one more thing…”
She swiveled her head toward him, obviously having heard something in his voice she didn’t like. He glanced over and saw her eyes had narrowed on him.
“Nay,” she said. “I willna stay here.”
“Isobel, ’tis too dangerous for you to go with me. You could—”
“Nay. If there is a battle, I will do as you say, but until then I will strategize with you and help unite our clan. My presence is a boon to you, husband. A reminder of the alliance between Clan MacAlister, Clan MacKinnon, and the others. As well as a reminder that you are a powerful laird worthy of a lass like me.”
She said the last in a queenly fashion, and he had to agree. It heartened him that Isobel knew her worth, but better than that, she knew how other people perceived her worth, and she was smart enough to make it work for her—and for them.
She had evolved from a trickster lass into a formidable woman. A queen among queens. And his wife.
Still…
“We doona know yet who is behind this conspiracy. It could be anyone. Gregor and the rest of us have been wracking our brains trying to figure it out, but we have few leads. Is the man on the beach the same man who planned the attack at the cathedral and rode away after Deirdre brought the roof down on them? My gut is telling me yes, but does it end there? Or is someone else holding the reins?”
“You mean like the Campbells. Did you speak to Branon Campbell after he threatened me at the stable? Could he be part of it?”
“We did. And yes, I think he is part of it, especially now that we can tie him to the man on the beach—thanks to you. We brought an artist in to record his face, and we’ll be tracing his steps in Edinburgh last winter, but that will take time. He says he didn’t return to the Highlands until last month. If that’s true, then he canna be the man who led the attack on your clan last spring.”
“Why was he in Edinburgh?” she asked, and then she gasped in horror. “Do you think the crown’s involved?”
He weighed her question. “Nay, I doona think so. These attacks, the drive behind them to keep going after so many failures, feels personal to me.”
“Against you and Clan MacAlister?”
“Aye. Or maybe against Gregor.”
“Why you or Gregor? Why not Gavin or one of your other brothers?”
“Because they’ve all been attacked, the attacks failed, and the conspirator moved on to attack someone else. If it was personal toward one of them, why not attack them again? And why leave Gregor and me until the end? Nay, this has to do with the attack on Gregor led by my father all those years ago that ended up with me and my brothers fostered to him.”
She looked back to the farm, and he could almost see her brilliant mind working behind all that soft, silky blond hair. After a moment, she said, “Well, it canna be your father.”
“Not unless he’s come back from the dead. I stabbed him through the heart and then burned his body.”
“Could it be anyone else in your family? We know of at least one traitor in the clan.”
He pressed his lips together, the shame he felt over killing his family mixed with the grim knowledge that he’d had to do it and intense relief that Isobel had still wanted him, loved him, despite knowing that truth.
He picked up her hand and squeezed it. Thank God he hadn’t had to give her up.
“No one is left alive except my uncle Dùghlas, Andy, and Aulay—that I know of. The others attacked in waves over several days—my uncles, my cousins, several high-ranking warriors in the clan, and the men they commanded.”
“How did you survive?”
“Gregor had trained me well. He knew my father would try to kill me, and he’d prepared me for it. He’d also placed several key people within the castle to help me when the time came.” Kerr recalled the sudden onslaught of violence that day…and the relief when he discovered he wasn’t alone—but also the grief upon finding his mother, gutted, in the middle of the Great Hall, left there for the dogs to gnaw upon while the warriors supped around her.
He cleared his throat. “My mother was a huge help too.”
Her brow rose. “Your mother? I thought your father killed her before you came home?”
“He did. Hours before. What I meant was her kindness to the clan over the years—a clan she was not born into—rallied them to my side. Warriors, farmers, villagers. She’d made an impact on people, and while they’d been too afraid
to fight for her when she was alive, her death at my father’s hands, and then his death at my hands, propelled them into action and they stood with me shoulder to shoulder against the others. We razed the devils to the ground and pledged peace, aid, and prosperity.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she cupped his cheek with her hand. “That’s what we’ll remind them of—and this usurper, whoever he or they are, will not be able to get his hands around their throats.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Tell me again.”
“Tell you what?” she asked, but she was smiling, and he knew that she knew what he wanted.
“Tell me you love me, wife. I want to hear it at least five times a day for all the hardships you’ve put me through the last four years.”
Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she leaned toward him. “I love you,” she said just before their lips touched.
A snicker—a double snicker—broke out behind them, and Kerr sprang up and twisted around at the same time as he pushed Isobel against his back and drew his sword.
Then two balls of fury streaked through the trees toward them, yelling Highland war cries. Kerr raced to meet them, noting how they broke rank and attacked him separately rather than together. The wee idiots.
He growled with dissatisfaction. Their greatest advantage was to act as a team, and instead they were trying to beat each other to him.
No time like the present to show them their mistake.
He chose the attacker in the lead, hitting his blade with such force it spun the assailant around, and then Kerr booted him in the arse. The lad fell forward into his brother, and his blade flew from his hand. Kerr caught it—a weapon he’d bestowed upon Andy for his thirteenth birthday—as the lads tumbled to the ground together.
Behind him, he heard a door slam. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Una standing on the cabin’s porch. “Andy! Aulay!” she cried.
“They’re here, Una!” Kerr yelled back.
“Ma! Kerr’s brought a lass with him!” Aulay said from beneath his brother.
“And he was kissing her!” Andy added, mashing his brother’s face into the ground as he stood.
“Kerr’s here?”
“Aye!” the lads said together.
“Well, come in, all of you, before it’s dark.”
Kerr heard the door shut again, and he assumed Una had reentered the cottage. Right now he had to keep his eyes on his brothers. They were still likely to attack.
He sheathed his sword and forced a scowl. “You broke rank. Again. Your greatest strength against an enemy is your togetherness. If you had attacked at the same time, using the positions I showed you, I would have had a difficult time choosing whom to fight. Use that hesitancy against your enemy and attack together. Always.”
“We were going to trick you,” Aulay said, rising now too, “but Andy was supposed to fall back and let me dart in.”
“Nay! ’Twas me who was supposed to dart in,” Andy said.
“Then it wouldnae have been a trick!”
Kerr couldn’t help grinning. The boys’ argument brought back memories of arguments he and his foster brothers had all had with Callum when they were lads, especially Lachlan.
Now, Kerr would stick to any plan Callum made, even if it killed him. His brother had a mind like one of Isobel’s brilliant traps.
Suddenly, the lads stopped arguing, their words petering out as if they’d lost their breath. Their gazes shifted from him to a point on his right, and Kerr didn’t need to look to know that Isobel had moved out from behind him and stood there.
He took advantage of their distraction, and this time he attacked first, tossing Andy’s sword aside and using his long reach and greater height and weight to tackle the lads to the forest floor.
They yelled and fought back. When they both got their feet up on Kerr’s chest and shoved, he let them topple him over backward. Another good lesson in working as a team. They jumped on top, and he wrestled with them, letting them win—which was getting harder to do every time. He reckoned they would be as big as him when they were fully grown.
Looking up past their young, fierce, identical faces, he saw both Isobel and Diabhla had moved closer and were staring down at them. The sight made him laugh. The twins easily pinned him after that and cheered triumphantly. They jumped up and broke into a victory dance that resembled a cross between a Highland Fling, a Sword Dance, and a headless chicken running around the farmyard.
Kerr rose, too, and grabbed Isobel around the waist. He spun her in a circle, making her laugh, and then he leaned in and claimed the kiss he’d been denied. When he pulled back, he looked over and saw his brothers watching them, their faces screwed up into identical masks of disgust and fascination.
“Lads, this is Isobel, my wife—and now your sister. She is Gavin’s sister too—by blood, of course—and I’ve been pining for her for four long years, but finally last night…” Isobel elbowed him in the gut, and he laughed, but also winced. His wife had sharp elbows and she knew how to use them. “Izzy, this is Aulay and Andy.”
“Good day to you, Andy and Aulay,” she said. “I think we’re going to be great friends. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” they asked in unison, looking skeptical.
“Because I like to build traps, traps to catch people in, like your brother.” Their faces brightened with interest, and she stepped toward them, linked her arms through theirs, and led them to the cottage. “The last one was a hole I dug in the ground that I filled with manure. He almost fell in. I was originally building it for Gavin, but Kerr can be annoying, doona you think? He deserved it more. Also, I am friends with a giant wolf named Siv, and I know an even bigger and fiercer warrior than Kerr. Maybe one day I’ll introduce you to him.”
Kerr sighed, knowing he deserved it.
They’d completely forgotten about him and left him to pick up the mess. Both lads had abandoned their specially made swords on the ground, and he had to hunt around for their scabbards. When he came back, it was to see his wife and his brothers almost at the cottage door with Diabhla at their heels.
Now that hurt. “Diabhla!” he yelled. “Not you too!”
***
Isobel scooped up the lamb stew from her bowl, trying not to eat like one of Farmer Busby’s hogs but hunger gnawed at her, and the meal was delicious. Using her spoon, she plopped a chunk of meat and onion on her bread and took a big bite.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she savored her food. When she finished, she took another bite, and then glanced across at Una, who sat on the other side of the table beside Kerr. They couldn’t have looked more different, Una being slight and fair-skinned with freckles, red hair, and pale blue eyes, and Kerr resembling a dark avenging angel.
My angel.
And of course Una’s scar, which Kerr had warned her about. The white, jagged line ran down the left side of her face from the corner of her eye to her chin. The sight brought tears to Isobel’s eyes—not for how it looked but because she couldn’t imagine how frightened, and in how much pain, Una must have been when Madadh MacAlister had carved it there.
Taking another bite, she deliberately redirected her thoughts to Aulay and Andy, who sat on either side of her, crowding in because they had no sense of personal space…perhaps because they were twins and always together. They looked nothing like their mother. Instead, they resembled Kerr but with chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes.
She wondered if her children with Kerr would look similar, but maybe with her blue-green eyes.
She swallowed and took a sip of her ale. “Una, this may be the best stew I’ve e’er tasted.”
“Thank you,” the woman said a little shyly. She’d barely touched her meal and had an air of nervousness about her that made Isobel even more determined to win her over. She’d also glanced several times at the door, as if she wanted to
escape.
“Kerr taught me how to make rabbit stew. It was good, too, but this…” She took another bite. “Mmmmm.”
“Mine was as good,” Kerr protested as he shoveled another spoonful into his mouth.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t good, but we’ve had two full days of eating apples, berries, and cheese. Verily, roasted squirrel would have tasted divine at this point.” She laughed, and Una gave her a strange smile.
“Ma makes the best roast squirrel,” Aulay said.
“Aye, she roasts it in a pan with honey,” Andy added.
Isobel’s cheeks heated as she glanced across at Una. “Oh…that sounds…delicious. I doona think I’ve e’er had squirrel.”
“’Twas my mother’s recipe,” Una said softly. “She used to make it for me before…when I lived at home. I had a knack for catching squirrels, and sometimes ’twas all we had.”
Regret and shame swirled through Isobel like a growing storm. Her appetite disappeared, and she laid down her spoon, feeling like an overprivileged fool—she’d grown up eating whatever she wanted, not to mention she called a castle her home. And until yesterday, she’d never known any real danger.
Compared to many Highland women, she’d led a charmed life.
Now she was married to a powerful laird who made her squeal and sigh in the dark, while Una had suffered at the hands of a devil and raised her sons alone, away from her clan—afraid and ashamed.
Una leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. “Please eat, my lady. I am not offended. I have been more than blessed these past fourteen years. Your husband has made sure of that.”
Isobel nodded and picked up her spoon, but she’d lost her enjoyment of the meal. “I will eat, Una, as long as you call me Isobel. Or Izzy, if you prefer. ’Tis what Kerr often calls me. We are family now. I wouldnae have it any other way.”
Dimples appeared in Una’s cheeks as she smiled. “I would be honored, Izzy.”
Kerr winked at her approvingly, and she felt as if she’d redeemed herself somewhat.
“Would anyone like more to drink?” Una picked up the pitcher and refilled Kerr’s cup. She glanced at the door again as she did it. Had Kerr noticed?
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