She dragged Effie down to the kitchens and ordered the cook to boil water. Effie cried, straining to escape her mother, but Mairi held her daughter’s wrist in a vise-like grip.
“We’ll get that smell out, just you see.”
Isobel pushed it away, not wanting to see any more. She was back in the candlelit bed, Philip watching her intently. Isobel set the towel aside with trembling hands. Suddenly everything made sense.
Philip looked from the discarded towel to Isobel. “What did you see?”
“You didn’t lose your sister, Philip. She ran away.”
Philip stared at her blankly for a long moment, unable to believe what he was hearing. “What?”
“She didn’t intend to—not that day at least, though she’d been entertaining the idea for some time. She dreamed of it, actually, being away, somewhere she could eat what she wanted, to playand be dirty. Somewhere no one expected her to be the perfect child. She dreamed of having a mother who looked at her with approval and love rather than disappointment.”
Philip just shook his head. None of this made sense. He hadn’t been aware that Effie had felt that way. “Lots of children have such fantasies. Hell, I know I did—but they dinna really run away!”
Isobel sighed. “I know, and Effie might never have either.”
“I’m listening.”
She took up the towel again. “That day in Edinburgh, while in the apothecary, she stole a piece of marchpane. She was not a thief, so please don’t think poorly of her, but her mother would not let her have candy and comfits, and she so wanted one. But she knew if her mother found out, she would be severely punished. She became scared. Mairi was a nightmare when she was angry—and she was often angry with Effie. Once, after she’d gone fishing with you, Mairi made her wash her hands until they were raw.”
Philip was speechless. He’d been so much older than his sister. He’d not been aware that these things occurred. But he did recall now that she had refused to fish with him for a time. Of course, he’d had other things on his mind—lassies and friends, fighting and hunting, learning to be a chieftain, and didn’t always notice her.
His heart was sick. He rolled onto his back and stared at the low ceiling. “So she ran away.”
“Well…not exactly. She did run, but soon enough came to her senses and realized she had naught but a piece of marchpane. She became frightened and tried to find you—but by then she was well and lost.” Isobel paused, her eyes faraway. “Your sister grew up happy, with people who loved her. A kind woman who’d lost her husband and daughter in a fire found her. She meant to find Effie’s family, but she fell in love with your sister and from some of the things Effie told her came to believe her home life had been a veryunhappy one. So she told Effie her mother had given her away. Effie believed her. After all, Mairi had always looked at her with disappointment and punished her harshly—it made sense to Effie that her mother had finally gotten sick of her and given her away. She was very sad for a time—and yes, she missed you and Sgor Dubh—and even Mairi—the only mother she’d known…but soon she grew to love her new family, for they treated her very well. And then she just…forgot. Her new mother took her away and married a wealthy barrister—a man who accepted Effie as his own. She was well loved, Philip. The day she ran away was the best day of her life.”
“She just forgot.” Philip laughed humorlessly. “I canna believe this.”
“She never blamed you.”
“Why didn’t she come to me for help?”
“I don’t know. She was a small child—her mother ruled her whole life, seemed all-powerful. I don’t think six-year-olds think very logically. And you were young, occupied with whatever things young men think on—lassies and war, most likely. Perhaps she thought you wouldn’t believe her. Mairi made her think she was a very bad child.”
“I should have seen. I should have stopped it.”
Isobel leaned over him, planting her palms on either side of his head. Her hair spilled down around them, a curtain of burnished red-gold curls. “Stop it. You said you wanted to know, to understand. Now you do. You did not lose her—she ran away. Stop searching for something else to blame yourself for. You were just a lad.”
He thought of all the years he’d spent searching for a sister who did not want to be found—a sister who was better off lost. And thanked God he’d never found her. Thanked God for Isobel and hergift. He knew, had she not told him all this, he wouldn’t have given up on Effie and one day might have forced her to acknowledge him, or worse, told Mairi her daughter was alive.
“But that’s not all,” Isobel said softly, her eyes intense, a secret smile on her face.
“What?” Philip asked, his chest tight, afraid to hear any more.
“Your sudden appearance has caused Effie no small amount of distress. She is remembering a great deal about her childhood. Some of it is giving her nightmares.”
“Wonderful,” Philip said acerbically.
“And some of it makes her very sad and wistful.” Isobel placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She is sorry for how she treated you—but she’s not yet ready to behave any differently.” Isobel paused, looking deeply into his eyes. “But if you wait, Philip, she will be ready, one day.” She looked down at the towel, and said, “I’ll tell you when.”
Philip closed his burning eyes as emotion washed over him. His slid his hand beneath the fall of warm, heavy curls to the soft nape of Isobel’s neck, and drew her against him, holding her tightly.
“Do ye know how bonny you are?” he whispered, his voice uneven.
He pulled back to look at her face. He stroked at the velvety skin, drawing her closer to his mouth. He saw her small, impish grin just before he kissed her.
Philip and Isobel were married before a pastor in Wyndyburgh so Stephen could be present—though both knew their fathers wouldbe displeased. Then they traveled to Lochlaire to return Gillian and face Alan.
