The light followed her, alerting her he was behind her. “I won’t touch you if ye dinna wish it, Isobel.”
Isobel clasped her hands, staring blindly at the chest. “I know it—you are not to blame. It’s my fault…I feel wanton with you. And before…when it was just kisses, I thought mayhap there was noharm in it—though I admit now I was wrong…. And you did warn me. But now…now I know I’ve done wrong. I must think of my father and Lord Kincreag. And I should not wish for you to come to any harm because of this.”
“Kincreag.” His voice was strange.
Isobel still couldn’t look at him. “Yes. To continue on like this…well, it’s just not fair to him.” She finally turned and gave him a beseeching look. “I do not go into this union expecting great love and happiness; however, I do hope for it, as we grow to know one another. But with this…whatever it is, between you and me…I fear it will poison my life with Kincreag, and that’s not fair to him.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment, and her heart beat into the silence, its pulse in her ears. Did her words hurt him? She didn’t want that. She suddenly wished she could take it all back—her words, their kisses—anything to end this misery.
Then his lips curled into a bitter smile, unpleasant and empty. “You’re such an innocent,” he said quietly. “Everyone is poisoned. The whole world. You put too much weight on something of little significance. Your virtue is intact. And I’ll wager my life Kincreag has done what we have and more. So lay your tortured conscience to rest. You’ve done nothing wrong—yet.”
Her chest was tight. She’d not expected him to scorn what she felt—what she’d thought they both felt. “Yet?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.
“You’re far too bold in your innocence. I warned you—don’t blame me if you got burned.” He lifted one shoulder and looked away as if bored with the conversation. “These…wanton feelings of yours. Save them for your husband and spare me your regrets, aye?”
Isobel’s face did burn, with shame and anger. Why was it so difficult to hear him say this? Her eyes stung, and she blinkedrapidly, mortified that she was about to cry. When she thought of life before him, it seemed empty—and life after? Without him? Joyless.But it wouldn’t be.She must take heed of what he said to her. This would fade. It was nothing to him. And she’d never even met her betrothed. It could be this powerful with Lord Kincreag.It could.She must believe that or she would die inside.
His gaze slanted back to her, but his face was shadowed, his expression hidden. As she fought to control her emotions, to save herself a shred of dignity, his head tilted, looking at something behind her, his brow creasing. He walked past her, setting the lantern down beside the chest and dropping to his knees.
Isobel was even more hurt by this, and irritated, too. She’d never guessed she meant so little to him. She’d assumed, by his manner on the beach and the things she’d seen when touching his belongings, that he was as affected by their liaison as she was, but apparently not if he suddenly had an urge to rummage about in an old chest.
He held the lantern out to her. “Hold this, would you? I can’t see what I’m doing.”
Isobel took the lantern and held it over his head, contemplating dropping it. This was important to her. She was hurting. And now she felt foolish. That he could dismiss her and her feelings so easily cut deep, carving a hollow in her chest.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an odd, shuddering breath from Philip. “It’s here.” His voice was a whisper.
Isobel caught the urgency and knelt beside him. “What is?”
“Everything—the hooks, the line, the creels—Effie and I used them to fish. They look as if they haven’t been touched in years.”
He started to lift a wicker creel out of the trunk, but Isobel said, “Don’t touch it.”
Her despair was replaced with excitement, and when he looked at her, she saw it reflected in his eyes. The hope was back—along with fear that this, too, would come to naught.
“These might not even be the same ones,” she cautioned, though something inside told her they were. “It’s been twelve years—surely others fish.”
Philip shook his head. “No. Fishermen fish. The Kilpatricks are not fishermen—at least not the ones who live in Sgor Dubh.”
“What about servants?”
“They would have their own gear. No—this is it.Ibrought this chest down here—so we’d have a place to store our things. Taking Effie to fish was an indulgence—one Mairi forbade. So it was a secret between Effie and me. We had to keep these things somewhere Mairi wouldn’t look, and she never came down here. No one has moved it since Effie disappeared.”
“Well then,” Isobel said, her voice slightly breathless. She set the lantern on the floor beside her. “Shall I give it a go?” She surveyed the contents of the chest. “The creels are made from wood—so they won’t be too helpful. What of the hooks?”
“Bone.”
Isobel nodded. “Good. Give me one.”
Philip selected one with an unsteady hand. Isobel had slipped her gloves on in the boat, so she pulled them off and tucked them into the garter at her waist.
He held the hook away from her, frowning at the sharp curve. “You behaved oddly last time. I fear you’ll hurt yourself with this.”
Isobel didn’t mention that in the past she’d hurt herself. It waspart of what she did, and she accepted that. She kept her hand facing downward so he didn’t see the narrow silver scar that slashed across both palms. She’d grasped the blade of a warrior’s sword to determine for his grieving father how he’d died. It happened sometimes. Her mother had said it was a price that must be paid. She couldn’t deny aid to people because she was frightened she might wound herself. Lillian MacDonell’s own hands had been crisscrossed with scars; a testament to her unselfish nature.
“It will be fine. Give it to me.” When he still hesitated, she said, “This could be our last chance to discover what happened to Effie. When you deliver me to my father, I may never see you again, so even if you did find something else of hers, it wouldn’t matter.” She reached for the hook that he held away from her. “Give it to me, Philip.”
He did not hand it to her, but when her fingers closed over it and drew it from his grasp, he let her take it.
