Page 62 of The Laird's Dangerous Prize
Lorna reached for Isolde's hand, her grip painfully tight. "Rhona never returned, Isolde. And two days ago, we found her horse, riderless and wild-eyed, at the edge of Wallace lands."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Wallace." Isolde sank into the window seat, the news of Rhona's disappearance striking her like a physical blow. "If Rhona crossed into his territory..."
Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her face, breathing deeply to steady herself. The room fell silent, her sisters watching her with expressions ranging from concern to fear.
"And how have ye explained me absence tae Faither? And Rhona’s?" Isolde asked, her mind racing. "Daes he ken I've been gone these weeks?"
The three sisters exchanged glances before Isla spoke. "Nay. We told him ye'd fallen ill with fever the morning after ye left. That ye needed isolation tae prevent the spread. And we now told him that Rhona has fallen ill too, with tyer ailment."
"Ye've been 'resting' in yer chamber and now, so is Rhona," Aileen added, her young face surprisingly composed for the deception. "We take meals tae yer empty rooms and bring them back later. The few servants have been helpin’ us maintain the secret."
Isolde stared at them, grudgingly impressed by their resourcefulness. "And Faither believed this? Fer this long?"
"He's been very concerned about ye, Isolde... and now about Rhona as well, but we told him it was best fer his weak health that he nae come close tae ye. And he has been distracted with clan matters," Lorna explained, her practical nature evident in her steady tone. "The Wallace incursions along the border have increased."
"He sent fer Margot, the village healer," Aileen added. " But we explained tae her, and thankfully she’s been helping us cover fer ye, telling Faither that ye just need rest and quiet. But she's been so worried, yesterday she threatened tae tell faither the truth if ye didnae return soon. Thank the gods ye're back. What happened? We have been sick with worry!!"
Isolde stood, pacing the small sitting room as she processed everything. She decided the best approach was to tell her sisters only what they needed to know.
"I've been with Laird MacCraith," she said suddenly, turning to face her sisters. "Ciaran. He saved me from Wallace's men the night of the ball, and we've been..." She hesitated, unsure howto describe what had transpired between them. "We've become allies against Wallace."
Three pairs of eyes widened in perfect unison.
"Laird MacCraith?" Isla gasped, ever the romantic.
"The very one whose name ye used tae doodle in the margins of yer Latin lessons?" Aileen added with a ghost of her usual mischief, despite the gravity of the situation.
Lorna, however, focused on practicalities. "And he's where now?"
"Camping in the woods beyond the eastern ridge," Isolde replied. "He'll approach the castle formally tomorrow, as a visiting laird. He has resources, men. He'll make sure Rhona is returned safely."
"A MacCraith helping a MacAlpin?" Lorna's skepticism was evident. "What daes he gain from this alliance?"
Isolde hesitated, unwilling to voice the complex emotions that had grown between her and Ciaran. "Wallace threatens his borders too," she said instead. "And unlike us, the MacCraiths have the strength to fight back."
Isla studied her face carefully. "There's more than that, isn't there? Between ye and him?"
Before Isolde could respond, Lorna rose decisively. "Whatever the nature of this... arrangement... we need tae focus on the immediate problem. Ye need to 'recover' from yer illness before Faither summons the healer."
"Aye," Isolde agreed, grateful for the shift in topic. "What exactly am I supposed to have suffered from?"
"A lingering fever with chills and weakness," Aileen recited. "Occasional delirium, loss of appetite, sensitivity to light."
"We've told Cook ye could only manage broth fer nearly a fortnight," Isla added. "Oh! And ye've developed a slight cough in the past three days."
Despite everything, Isolde couldn't help a small smile at their thoroughness. "And how will I miraculously recover?"
"Gradually," Lorna replied, already plotting. "Starting tonight, ye'll begin to 'improve.' Ye'll appear weak but coherent when Aileen brings yer evening meal, and without any fever. Faither will likely visit then—he always asks after ye after his supper."
"By morning, ye'll be well enough tae manage some porridge," Isla continued.
"Perhaps even recovered enough to leave yer chamber briefly, though still pale and requiring rest," Aileen finished.
Isolde nodded, impressed by their strategic thinking. "That gives me a day to meet with Ciaran and determine how tae search fer Rhona."
"And the scratches on yer hands?" Lorna asked, pragmatic as ever as she gestured to the marks from the brambles.
