Page 2 of When a Highlander Loses His Heart
Beyond that, she knew her father would not marry her to a man who threatened to beat her. She had to think no further than the memory of Sister Beatrice, whom he’d sent from the nunnery after learning of her abuse toward Isobel. She’d been afraid to tell him for many years, as Sister Beatrice had sworn it was Isobel’s penance for being sinful, but when she had turned eight and her father had visited, he had seen the fresh cuts and Isobel had divulged the truth. Sister Beatrice had been sent away that very day. Father was her greatest defender. No, it could not be his wish for her to marry this man.
Mayhap her stepmother was trying to make an allegiance with this MacLeod to thwart Father somehow. Isobel did not know. What she did understand was that Father had told her time and again to trust only him and her half brothers because all others would attempt to use her.
She stiffened her spine and notched up her chin. “I will nae agree to marry this night.”
A low growl came from Lord MacLeod. Out of the corner of her eye, Isobel saw the priest cross himself, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
Lord MacLeod clutched her arm in an unforgiving vise. “It will bring me great pleasure to gain yer agreement, Isobel.”
Fear raced across her skin as he squeezed her arm with such force that she had to bite her cheek to keep from whimpering. She glanced toward the window and out at the dark night. She swallowed hard. Bad things happened at night. Her mother had died at night. Her father had always departed from their visits when the sky was black. Colin, her oldest and favorite brother, had told her on his most recent visit with Father that the MacLeods had defeated them in an important battle on a night when the moon had refused to shine.
Her heart pounded as she scanned the small room for something to offer her reprieve. Her eyes met the piercing blue ones of her half sister, Marsaili. Colin and Findlay had said the girl was dim-witted, yet her eyes looked clear to Isobel. Judging by the woman’s unkempt appearance, she needed a rescuer from Jean, too. Clearly, the horrid woman did not properly care for her daughter when Father was not in residence.
Isobel’s heart twisted for the young woman, and then an idea came to her. She hated to use Marsaili, but she was desperate and the woman would not be hurt. Isobel placed a hand on Lord MacLeod’s arm and forced herself to smile up at him. “My lord, forgive me. I am sorry for moments ago. If I’m to be married, please may I have my sister Marsaili by my side—washed of the dirt covering her, of course.”
Lord MacLeod stared down at Isobel with an implacable gaze that made her stomach tighten. He was going to refute her request; she simply knew it.
“Ye wish the half-wit to be yer witness?” he asked incredulously as he released her.
“I do, my lord,” she replied, struggling to control her anger at his referring to Marsaili as a half-wit. Isobel looked at Marsaili, who, much to her surprise, appeared to be scrutinizing Isobel. She smiled at Marsaili, hoping to ease her fears should there be any.
And that’s when all hell unleashed.
The motto of the MacLeod clan,Hold fast, strummed a relentless beat through Graham MacLeod’s head as he stood in the pitch-black woods that surrounded Innis Chonnell Castle. Revenge was not far off; all he had to do was wait. He stared into the night methodically, recalling what he and his men had learned of their enemy’s routine in the two days since arriving on the island and hiding in the thick woods.
By now, all the Campbells had long been to bed. There were five guards spaced evenly apart on each of the north, south, east, and west walls that surrounded the castle, yet not a one of them had seen Graham or his men as they had swum through the loch to reach the island, made camp in the woods, and even scaled the fortress wall in rehearsal for their revenge. The Campbell men who had been left to guard Innis Chonnell were not very observant. This both surprised and pleased him.
He was here for two reasons: to destroy their castle, and to take Isobel Campbell, the laird’s daughter and the new heiress to Brigid Castle. That castle was a key holding for the king and for the MacLeods who would be protecting him from their enemies. He pictured Brigid in his mind, sitting dauntingly between Skye and the mainland. All ships had to pass by that castle to get to Skye, and they had to have the permission of the keeper of Brigid to do so. Currently, that keeper was Isobel Campbell’s grandmother. His mouth tugged at the corners in a respectful smile. The older woman was cunning. She had cleverly orchestrated a system in which her men placed a chain in the water that ran from the shores of Brigid to the shores of the mainland, and she ordered that chain raised against those ships she did not want to let pass. The ships would then have to turn back and attempt the stormy passages of the Minch to reach their destinations.
King David would be well pleased to marry Isobel to someone of his choosing, someone who would hold Brigid Castle and strengthen the king’s ability to maintain his rightful position as King of Scots, and Graham was well pleased to deliver her to the king as promised and take a step toward the destruction of the Campbells for their many crimes against his family.
Harnessing the anger the mere thought of the Campbells always brought, Graham repeatedly squeezed his hands into tight fists and released them until they prickled and burned, warding off the numbness trying to set in from the cold as he also took deep breaths of freezing air to keep his mind sharp. It would not be long now, and he needed to be ready. Isobel had arrived at the castle hours earlier, exactly as their informant had told them a sennight before that she would. Soon the informant would signal them to attack.
With a glance toward the forest, where he knew his men attempted to rest before battle, he listened. He could not see his men, but their even breathing filled the silence with a blanketingwhooshthat told him they were near and in clusters. Snores punctuated the rhythmic inhalations and exhalations. He envied them. He could never settle his mind enough to sleep before a battle.
Gripping his sword, each muscle rippled down the length of his arm in response. Physically, he was ready. He had never been in better condition in his life. He shifted his weight to the leg that he had injured over a year earlier when he’d fought against English knights trying to seize his eldest brother Iain’s wife, Marion. The only pain Graham felt now was from the tightness of muscles needing warmth. He smiled grimly. Relentless, excruciating training had rid him of every trace of the limp the near-fatal wound had plagued him with for many months following. He had the strength of a warrior to match the best.
It wasn’t boastful, just a fact he had proven by testing himself against both his older brothers, Iain and Lachlan, who were legendary fighters. Finally, he had honed his body into that of a combatant equal to both his brothers. Gratitude filled him. While the attempt had begun as a result of jealousy toward Lachlan and a need to best him, that desire no longer plagued him. He prayed now that his strength in mind was as great as that of his sword arm, for tonight he would need both.
Feeling restless, Graham signaled to his younger brother, Cameron. “I’m going to run through the course of attack once more,” he said in a low whisper so as not to disturb the sleeping men.
“Again?” Cameron replied with a snort. “Do ye nae believe the forty times before committed the course to yer memory?”
“There is always opportunity to improve,” Graham replied, smiling into the darkness and choosing not to scold his brother for his impertinent tone. He was glad to have Cameron with him for this battle, impertinence and all. He trusted no one in this world more than Cameron, who Graham was closer to than he was to Iain or Lachlan. Though Graham would die to protect any of them, Cameron had always been his confidant. Iain, as laird of the clan, had always kept himself somewhat distant, and Graham’s relationship with Lachlan had been strained for many years due to his own folly. But he did not want to dwell now on how foolish he had been. He would have the rest of his life—he hoped—to try to make amends for that.
“We kinnae afford an error, Brother. If we make one, dunnae fool yerself into believing we will get this chance again. The Campbell will nae be so foolish as to leave Innis Chonnell guarded by so few of his men whilst the rest are away fighting, and Isobel Campbell will be married to our enemy before we can even escape this island.”
“Ye’re right, Brother. Do ye want me to make the sweep with ye?” Cameron asked in hushed tones.
“Nay. Ye take respite. I’ll go alone and whistle if I see trouble.”
“Ye’re certain?”
Graham could hear the weariness in his brother’s tone. “Aye. I’m certain. I’ll nae be long.” He didn’t wait for Cameron to respond this time. He merely turned and plodded through the thick snow, listening to the howling wolves that prowled the woods. His fatigued legs burned as he walked. He was weary. They all were. They’d ridden at a relentless pace from their home on the Isle of Skye to Loch Awe, but it had been necessary to arrive here, where they knew Isobel was being brought to marry his and Cameron’s uncle Jamie, the traitor.
Burning rage warmed him at the thought of his uncle. Graham smirked into the darkness. It would give him great pleasure to snatch Isobel Campbell from his uncle. Graham’s informant had told him that Jamie was to marry the heiress, and Graham felt sure Jamie thought to use marriage to Isobel to assure the Campbell’s continued aid in his attempt to steal the lairdship of the MacLeod clan from Iain. And the Campbell thought to use the marriage of his daughter to Jamie to assure Jamie oversaw Brigid as the Campbell himself wished, which meant using the castle to help them control the Isles and seize the throne from King David. Destroying Innis Chonnell tonight and taking Isobel would obliterate much of the enemy’s plan.
A sudden howling nearby drew Graham’s attention back to his surroundings. So far they had not had to contend with the wolves, and he said a quick prayer that their luck held, preferably for the duration of their time on the island. But if God was not feeling so very generous this night, hopefully the wolves would at least stay away until after Graham and his men stormed the castle and had seized Isobel Campbell. The best way to fight off the wolves was fire, but if he could see the castle wall from where they were, then the Campbell men would surely be able to see a fire, so such an approach would be impossible.
