Page 58 of When a Highlander Loses His Heart
Isobel cringed as Rhona banged her way out of the great hall. “I wish ye would nae have asked her to bring me food.”
Cameron frowned. “Why the devil nae? She’s a serving woman.”
“She despises me,” Isobel muttered. “I doubt being ordered to serve me will help with that.”
“’Tis exactly why ye need a guard,” Cameron replied.
Isobel glared at him. “Graham kinnae guard me from every MacLeod who may despise me because I was a Campbell. Besides,” she continued on a quick breath when Cameron appeared as if he would argue, “do ye truly believe one of yer own would raise the hand of revenge against me now? I am yer brother’s wife. I am a MacLeod.”
Out of the corner of her eye, two tables over, she saw Father Murdock gulping down a large glass of ale. He set his cup down with a bang, wiped his hand across his mouth, and stood. She hurried to stand to catch him, and as she did, Cameron’s eyes widened and he grabbed her arm.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” he exclaimed, and she realized he thought their conversation had upset her. “I agree with ye. I told Graham as much, but he was unreasonable this morning. I vow I’ll speak with him on yer behalf again.”
“That’s nae necessary,” she hurriedly replied, watching Father Murdock make his way to the great hall door. “I’ll speak with Graham myself when ye take me to him. Might I have a moment of solitude to speak with Father Murdock?”
Cameron glanced toward the priest in surprise. “What for?”
“It’s a private matter,” she replied, her words stiff.
He smirked at her. “Ye feel the need to make a confession?”
Likely, she should. She had helped to end Jamie MacLeod’s life, but she had saved another man’s in the process. “Aye,” she fibbed.
“Father Murdock,” Cameron roared so suddenly, she flinched.
The priest who had just left the great hall appeared once more. “What is it?” he asked, his words sounding slightly slurred to Isobel. Clearly, Father Murdock loved his ale. Mayhap, that would loosen his tongue about Graham’s past.
Cameron waved a hand at Isobel. “Graham’s wife wishes to speak with ye.”
“I have a name,” she muttered under her breath. “Besides, Father Murdock married me. He kens I’m yer brother’s wife.”
Cameron chuckled. “I’d nae be certain,” he whispered as the priest walked toward them. “Father Murdock loves his ale above all else.”
Isobel wrinkled her nose at the strong scent of alcohol that came from the priest. As he neared, she noted his bulbous rosy nose and reddened eyes. He was most definitely sodded, and he had an air of melancholy about him. Pity rose in her. Clearly, the priest was not happy. Father Murdock bowed to her. “Pleased to meet ye.”
When the man appeared as if he would tip over with his bow, Cameron grunted and grabbed the priest’s elbow. “Ye’ve drunk too much ale again, Father. Ye’ve met Isobel. Ye married her,” Cameron finished, and then released the priest who eyed her with one brown eye open and one shut.
“So I did,” Father Murdock finally crowed.
Cameron shook his head. “Isobel wishes to speak with ye alone. I’ll be directly outside the great hall door,” he said, with a glance to Isobel and then a censoring look at Father Murdock. “Remember yerself, Father.”
Isobel didn’t know what that comment was about, but she wished to hurry Cameron out of the room while no one else was around. “It would be perfect if ye waited outside the door, thank ye for the offer,” she replied encouragingly to Cameron.
Once he had departed the room, she helped a muttering Father Murdock to his seat.
“Remember myself,” the man mumbled under his breath. “’Tis they who need well remember, I’m still the priest!”
“Certainly ye are,” Isobel said, smiling sweetly. “I imagine as the priest ye ken a great deal about yer flock.”
“Nae so verra much anymore. The laird’s wife is the only one who believes she needs my counsel,” he said with a hiccup and a fierce scowl. “She’s a fine lass, and likely the only MacLeod who will nae go to Hell.”
“About the MacLeods,” Isobel said, hoping to steer the conversation back to Graham. “I—” She cleared her throat, suddenly wary to admit she hardly knew her husband. “Ye may have heard some talk about how Graham and I came to be wed.”
The priest gave her a smile and patted her on the hand, as he looked at her. “Dunnae fash yerself, lass. He may have taken ye as wife with the sin of revenge in his heart, but ye have bewitched him.”
At the moment the priest said those last four words, Rhona entered the room. Her mouth parted, and she dropped the trencher of food she had been holding. “Yeban-druidh!” she hissed.
“Nay!” Isobel hurriedly denied and scrambled up to help the woman, but when she stepped toward Rhona, she rushed out the door, nearly colliding with Cameron, who was entering. She barreled past him, casting a fearful look over her shoulder as she went.
