He looked at them meaningfully, copper brows raised. “I see ye still wear the gloves.”
“Aye—I must.”
He smiled, his own dark blue eyes bright with tears. He slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side, and turned to Philip and Stephen, who had dismounted and turned the horses over to the stable hand.
“Sir Philip, ye brought her home in one piece. We canna thank ye enough.” He looked down at Isobel again, giving her a quick squeeze. “I hiv no children of my own—yet—so I’ve taken Alan’s to heart and have missed these lassies sorely.”
Philip’s smile was thin. “It was my pleasure, Roderick. How is Alan?”
Isobel looked up at her uncle. Why was her father not there to greet her? She’d been so happy to see her uncle, she’d not even thought of it.
Roderick glanced down at Isobel, his expression grim. He tilted his head toward the shore, where several boats were beached. “Why dinna ye come see for yourself.”
The only means to Lochlaire was by boat and so Roderick and Philip set to the oars, rowing them across the loch. Isobel shivered, worried about her father. It must be bad if he couldn’t come to greet her.
They had traveled in silence for a time when Roderick turned to her, and said, “Guess who awaits you?”
“Who?”
“The earl of Kincreag waits within Lochlaire’s walls. Alan sent him word right after Sir Philip left to fetch you, and the earl answered by coming personally.” He glanced apologetically at Stephen. “You’ll have to bed down with Sir Philip tonight, the earl brought a score of men with him. We found rooms for the most important, but Lochlaire is not so grand as Castle Kincreag, and many have made do with the hall.” He winked at Isobel. “The girls’ room is safe, of course, as is yours, Sir Philip.”
Isobel was frozen, a polite smile of interest nailed on her face. Her betrothed was there. It was upon her already, and she was not ready. She was ready to be with her family, but not to let Philip go, and accept this strange new man. Her gaze was drawn to Philip. He pulled savagely on the oars, his stare fixed on the approaching castle. When she looked back at her uncle he had been watching the two of them, a speculative gleam in his eye. But once Isobel’s gaze was on him again, he smiled the familiar smile she remembered, comforting and friendly. The girls had always loved him dearly. He’d always sought to amuse them and loved to play games, sing, and dance—things Alan and Lillian MacDonell had little time for.
“God, it’s good to see ye Isobel! Yer sisters wait most impatiently for you.”
Isobel gasped. “They’re here already?”
“Aye—Rose has been here a sennight, but Gillian arrived yesterday.”
The tears welled in her eyes again—she could not help it. It had been so many years since she’d had sisters that she barely remembered what they had looked like. Both of her sisters were witches—just like her. They’d been sent away for the same reason Isobel had—to protect them. She would never be alone again, not with her sisters there. She only hoped their marriages did not takethem far away. But even if that happened, at least now they’d be able to write each other and visit.
A metal gate yawned before them, the bottom dripping dark water as they passed beneath it. “Where have ye been these twelve years?” Roderick asked as he pulled on the oars. “Ye dinna speak the Gaelic, and yer own tongue sounds a bit strange, like a sassenach.”
“Da did not tell you?” Isobel asked, surprised. She’d assumed that Uncle Roderick knew, even if no one else did.
Her uncle shook his head gravely. “Och, no, my dear. Yer father told no one. He wouldn’t chance anyone slipping up and revealing yer whereabouts.”
“Not evenyou?”
Roderick leaned forward, an eyebrow raised. “Not even me.” Then he grinned, settling back into the rowing. “I’m the heir remember? What if I sought to eliminate any possible contenders?”
“That’s absurd!”
Her uncle shook his head sagely. “No, it’s being careful, lass, and I canna say I blame him. Not that I ever would, mind ye, but Earl Kincreag is a verra powerful man, and if he decided to push the claim to Glen Laire—as well as Alan’s holdings that came throughmymother—he could be named chieftain. The king favors him, after all. It all goes to him through you anyway if I die withoot issue—as it seemed likely I would for some time. Three wives I’ve had and every damn one of them barren, till Tira. She is finally with child. I wilna let that woman leave her bed—they’ll be no more miscarriages!”
“Three wives?” Isobel asked, aghast.
“Aye, I finally found something fertile to plow, thank the saints, which is more luck than yer father has had.”
“What do you mean? He has three daughters.”
“Och—Lillian was a childbearer, make no mistake—but she didn’t give him any sons, and Alan still tried for them. He remarried, but she, too, died in childbirth. It seems we MacDonell men are cursed.”
This information was such a shock to Isobel she could not form an adequate response. She’d never known her father had remarried.
“Why did he never tell me?”
Roderick shrugged. “God knows he loved yer mother to his very bones—it nearly killed him to lose her. And then to have to send you girls away…she was naught to him—he likely didna think to mention her.”
