Page 51 of When a Highlander Loses His Heart
“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.
