“I understand, Stephen.”
He nodded. “Anyway, from what I’ve heard, Effie could be a…difficult bairn. Mairi was in the apothecary—Philip was following her about, I dinna know why, as I cannot see them off about town together, but it seems they got on well back then—she’s his mother, after all. Effie was grabbing bottles off the shelves and touching things—just being a bairn—but Mairi wasna so tolerant of childish behavior and told Philip to take her somewhere else so she could shop in peace.
“So he did. Things were going fine, until a lass caught Philip’s eye, and he set to work on her. All thoughts of his wee sister apparently fled and when he did recall her, she was nowhere to be found.”
Stephen shook his head. “It was a quarter day, so the streets were packed with servants itching to spend their money. A bad time to lose a child. Fergus says Philip didn’t sleep for days—wouldn’t leave Edinburgh, even when Dougal had given the child up for dead. He walked the streets, calling for her.”
“He was seventeen?”
“Aye.” He gave her a sideways look. “She was six—old enough to know better than to run away, or leave with someone she didna know—to my way of thinking. He’s too hard on himself.” Then he raised a shoulder, as if conceding a point. “But Fergus also tells me Effie did try to get his attention—no one knows for what purpose—because he became irritated with her for bothering him and spoke harshly.”
“What does Mairi say?” Isobel asked softly.
Stephen stood. “I wouldna repeat some of the things that woman said to anyone…and doubt Philip would want me to.” Before Isobel could press him further, he was heading for the door. “Come on, I’m starving.”
The hall was warm and fragrant from fresh, herbed rushes, roast meat, and the press of bodies. Stephen led her to the head table. Philip was already there, beside his father and opposite his stepmother. Colin sat beside Mairi, and there was an empty space on the bench beside Philip. Stephen led her to it and after she’d slid in, he squeezed in beside her, pressing her close to Philip’s side.
But he didn’t seem to notice. He was drinking something from a square wooden tankard. His plate was empty. Platters filled thecenter of the table, but Isobel didn’t have a plate. Everyone was engaged in loud conversation—in Gaelic—no one taking notice of her dilemma. Stephen didn’t have a plate either, but he simply ate directly from the platters.
Isobel tapped Philip’s arm, then gestured to the empty table in front of her. He shoved his plate at her.
“I don’t want to take your plate,” she said hastily. “We can share.”
“I’m not hungry.” He grabbed a bottle and refilled his tankard with amber liquid. Whisky. It seemed he was drinking his dinner. Isobel looked up to see Mairi watching him with narrowed eyes and thinned lips.
She turned her sharp gaze on Isobel. “So, you are MacDonell of Glen Laire’s daughter? Colin tells me you’re promised to the earl of Kincreag.”
Isobel’s cheeks burned, remembering the scene Mairi had interrupted—and knowing she was remembering it, too.
“Yes.”
Mairi smiled, her gazing darting to Philip. “Amazing Philip found time to stop by before taking you to your father and betrothed. Surely Lord Kincreag is eager to proceed with the nuptials. He is still without an heir.”
Isobel glanced at Philip for help.
He was looking at his stepmother oddly. “I don’t know why I came. I shouldn’t have. I’m…sorry.”
“Colin says it was for a horse. Do you remember now?”
“Aye,” Philip said tightly, and stared into his tankard.
Mairi cut a piece of meat. “When I heard you’d arrived, I thought perhaps you had welcome news.”
The muscles in Philip’s jaw bulged. “It’s been a long time. It’s not likely I’ll ever have welcome news.”
Mairi put her knife down purposefully. “That is what you keep telling me. But then I see how much it really means to you, don’t I, when you desecrate her memory as you did today. I don’t believe you’re looking at all anymore. Perhaps you’ve never looked.”
Philip’s gaze was locked on his tankard. His chest rose and fell with emotion, but he spoke not a word in his own defense.
“That was my fault,” Isobel said suddenly. Colin and Dougal were still talking over them. In fact, no one paid any attention to Mairi and Philip’s conversation. Perhaps these scenes were common. This saddened Isobel. She lowered her voice. “I’ve been known to…find things. I offered to help. I’m sorry I could not. The rest…what you saw. That was all my doing.”
Mairi looked her up and down, then turned her stony blue gaze on Philip. “Is this true?”
Philip shook his head wearily. “No.”
“Philip?” Isobel said, confused.
“That’s what I thought,” Mairi said. “Don’t waste your time trying to protect him, Mistress MacDonell. He’ll only repay you with heartbreak.”
