“Sir Philip Kilpatrick. I seek Mistress MacDonell.”
After a moment the door opened a crack, and the old woman’s face peeked out. “She ain’t here.”
“May I come in?”
The woman hesitated. “Why? I told you she ain’t here.”
Philip put his hand on the door and pushed. “I’d like to have a look, if ye dinna mind.”
The woman clearly did mind, but seeing he meant to enter, she relented, swinging the door wide. “See? No one here but me and my cats.”
Philip went straight to the blanket hung at the back of the cottage. The woman began to protest, but Philip pulled it aside. Isobel MacDonell sat cross-legged on the narrow cot, gazing up at him with wide green eyes.
The tension drained out of him, replaced with anger. How careless she was! A woman of gentle birth should not wander about the woods unattended. How could the Attmores allow this?
Isobel seemed to recover herself and gave him a smile. “SirPhilip! Why…you’re up early this morn—”
She yelped as he grabbed her arm and hauled her off the bed. “What do you mean by running off and telling no one where you are?”
“What?” She tried her jerk her arm away, but he dragged her to the door. “I don’t have to tell you where I go!”
“Oh dear,” the old woman moaned, trailing after them. “She didn’t do aught, sir. She was just coming to say good-bye to an old woman.”
“Sir Philip! Release me at once!”
He released her arm, but only to push her in front of him. “Move. We should have been gone by now.”
She whirled around, arms crossed under her breasts, and stared at him in disbelief. “I’m not finished saying good-bye to Ceri!”
He moved aside, and when she tried to walk past him, he caught her arm again. “Wave.”
She huffed up at him.
“And get it over with—I havena time for this.”
She exhaled through her nose, like a bull readying to charge. “Good-bye, Ceri! I shall miss you!”
The old woman dabbed her eyes with her apron and waved.
When Philip urged her forward she stumbled dramatically as if he’d pushed her.
“Ruffian!” She shrugged away from him.
Philip followed silently, amused by her behavior. But his amusement quickly died at the memory of her running off alone. Anything could have happened—then what would he tell Alan? Just imagining facing someone he so respected and telling him he had lost his daughter made him sick with anger. He wouldneverdo that again.
“From now on you will not leave my presence unless you are accompanied by Fergus or Stephen.”
Her steps slowed a fraction, but she said nothing, keeping her back stiff.
“Do you understand?”
“Oh, I understand.”
Philip didn’t like being so harsh, but it was necessary. She was obviously reckless about her person, so he must take precautions. His anger slowly melted away on their return walk to Attmore Manor.
He watched how the sun streaming through the branches in shafts caught the coppery strands in her hair, glinting like metal. It hung loose down her back but for the narrow plaits at the side of her head, pulling it away from her face. Perhaps it was her age that led the Attmores to allow such behavior. After all, she was a full-grown woman—most lasses her age would have children by now. Alan had done her a disservice by leaving her a maid so long. A husband would have worked out all the kinks in her behavior long ago. She was probably set in her ways and would prove a most difficult companion. Philip was thankful that was someone else’s problem. He only had to deal with her for a week, so long as the weather cooperated.
Of course, it was spring, not a terribly cooperative time of year. Though Philip was not averse to traveling in the rain, unfortunately he couldn’t risk his charge’s health. But all was cleartoday, and they should cover a lot of distance before nightfall.
