Page 36 of The Laird's Dangerous Prize
"Thank ye, Elspeth." Isolde turned back to her task, carefully placing the gown down on the bed, mindful of its delicate fabric.
Elspeth set the clothes on the bed, her gaze falling to the dressing table where the pearl necklace and earrings from last night's garden ball still lay scattered. She moved to them, picking them up with gentle fingers.
"Such beautiful pieces," she said, placing the jewelry in a pouch and turning it to Isolde. "The laird says ye're tae keep them."
Isolde's hands stilled. "I need nay charity."
"'Tis nae charity tae give a gift tae someone ye care fer," Elspeth replied softly.
Isolde turned, eyes burning with fire, and exclaimed. "Is that what he thinks? That a few trinkets will ease his conscience?"
"I’m certain our laird gave them tae ye because he thinks ye deserve beautiful things," Elspeth said, her voice steady. "Regardless of yer clan."
Isolde turned away, shoulders rigid against the tears threatening to fall. "Me clan may have fallen on hard times, but we still have our pride."
“’Tis true, the MacAlpins were great once. Me grandmaither used tae tell tales of yer ancestors. But… pride can keep ye warm on cold nights, can it?" Elspeth retorted.
"We were great and now we're objects of pity." Isolde picked up her tattered riding cloak—the one she'd worn the night Ciaran found her.
"When will I be leaving?" she asked, carefully folding the worn garment.
"The laird is with the council now." Elspeth placed the retrieved jewelry in a small pouch. "I expect shortly afterward."
Elspeth paused, watching as Isolde methodically packed her few belongings. "Yer sisters—they must be worried fer ye."
Isolde's hands trembled slightly. "They helped me leave. They covered fer me with Faither. But they surely havenae been able tae maintain the deception for so long..." She thought of fierce Rhona, artistic Lorna, daring Isla, and gentle Aileen. "Rhona especially. She's never been able to hold her tongue when Faither presses her."
"How many are ye, then?" Elspeth asked, moving to help fold a shawl.
"Five. All daughters." Isolde smiled faintly. "Faither's disappointment."
"Nay, lass. His legacy." Elspeth's weathered fingers brushed against Isolde's as they worked. "Ye speak of them with such love."
As Isolde described her sisters, Elspeth listened, nodding and asking questions that drew more details from her—Rhona's falconry, Lorna's paintings, Isla's knack for finding trouble, Aileen's quiet wisdom beyond her years.
When they finished packing, Elspeth placed the jewelry pouch atop the folded clothes. "Take them," she said gently. "Nae as charity, but as a memory of a place where ye were valued."
Isolde hesitated, then nodded once, unable to speak.
Elspeth paused, her weathered hands. "What were ye daeing out that night, lass? When the laird found ye?"
Isolde paused. She could lie, as she had to Ciaran, but something in the older woman's eyes invited truth.
"I just wanted tae see him one more time," she confessed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The great Laird MacCraith. I kent it was foolish, that nothing could ever come of it."
Elspeth nodded with understanding, reaching to squeeze her hand. "The heart daesnae always follow where reason leads, m'lady."
Something in Elspeth's tone made Isolde wonder if the older woman had once harbored similar feelings for someone beyond her reach. The thought created an unexpected bridge between them—two women separated by age.
Elspeth took her hand, squeezing it with surprising strength. "We'll miss ye around here, lass. The castle's been brighter with ye in it." Her eyes glistened. "Perhaps ye'll return someday, under happier circumstances."
"Perhaps," Isolde whispered, though she knew better.
Elspeth pulled her into a quick, fierce embrace. "Safe journey home, Lady MacAlpin. And ken ye leave friends behind at Castle MacCraith."
When the door closed behind Elspeth, Isolde moved to the window. Below, the MacCraith clan went about their daily business—women carrying baskets of bread from the bakehouse, warriors training in the yard, children racing between the buildings. In just days, the hustle and rhythm of the castle had become familiar.
She would miss this life of quiet luxury. The well-stocked kitchens, the sumptuous chambers, the sense of security that came with stone walls manned by trained warriors. At home, the rafters leaked when it rained, and they hadn't enough men to patrol their lands properly.
