Philip pressed his mouth against her forehead, and whispered, “I know.”
She sighed, relieved to have told someone, but also anxious that her story had changed things between them. “Philip? Does this bother you? That I cannot fix some of the things I see? Sometimes it’s not the future I see, but the present or past—and I don’t always know that immediately…I wish it was always clear—”
He hushed her with a soft kiss. “You are not to blame. The Attmores are like my stepmother. She canna look at me without remembering what I did. But you aren’t deserving of it, as I am. You tried to help, and they have to live with the knowledge that they dismissed your aid and lost their son for it.” She still stared at the dark hairs scattered across his chest. He touched her chin, lifting it so she had to look at him. “They are angry with themselves—but if they admitted that they had a hand in their son’s death, they might not be able to live with themselves. You were a convenient scapegoat. Just because you have this gift, doesna mean you shouldna be loved or well treated.”
Isobel kissed him then, her arms going around his neck. She didn’t know how she would ever be able to say good-bye to him. But somehow it was enough to know that he felt this way about her, that he was somewhere in the world, caring about her.
The kiss deepened, and his arms came around her, enfolding her in his strength. He made love to her, softly, sweetly, and afterward, Isobel continued to fight the satiated fatigue that possessed her limbs, but finally gave in to sleep.
When she opened her eyes again, she was alone among the furs. Faint light spilled through the window.
Panic surged through her. She sat up, clutching the sheet and furs to her body, and searched frantically for her nightrail. Why had he not awakened her? They might be discovered! What if someone was looking for her—or him! What if someone became suspicious that they were both missing at the same time! She’d asked her sisters to cover for her—though she didn’t tell them why, she knew they suspected it was a tryst of some sort—and they had readily agreed. Still, it was morning and her betrothed wasin the castle!How could she be so foolish? She might ruin everything. If her father found out…
Dread twisted her gut. That could not happen. She would not have him die in disappointment, thinking her a faithless whore.
Isobel spotted the filmy puddle of lawn at the end of the bed and snatched it up, pulling it quickly over her head. She parted the curtains and put her feet out, only to pull them back when they encountered cold wood.
She scanned the room for her slippers and froze when her gaze passed the fireplace. Philip was there. He sat on a bench before the fire. But it wasn’t his presence that shocked her into immobility, but what he wore and what he did. A plaid was wrapped about him, pleated expertly and flung over his shoulder, secured with a brooch that glinted topaz. He wore leather boots, laced up to his knee, with a dirk hilt peeking from the top of one.
At the moment, he was shaving. He’d secured a polished silver mirror to the fireplace and currently scraped the whiskers from his face with a wicked-looking blade. Isobel watched, transfixed, as the clean line of chin and jaw was exposed.
He set the blade aside, wiped his face off with a damp rag, then turned to her, grinning. Her breath caught. She had always thought him handsome, but the absence of the whiskers exposedthe clean cut of chin and jaw, strong and square, and set with determination. He looked a true Highlander. What had brought on this transformation?
He straightened and came to her, grabbing up her slippers and ariasad on the way. Kneeling before her, he slid her slippers on her bare feet, and all the while, she could not take her eyes from him.
When her slippers were on, his hands slid up to cup her calves. He tilted his head from his position kneeling below her and cocked a brow. “Well?”
Isobel was speechless. She put out a hand to touch his face, to trace the dimples that ran beside his mouth. “You are the perfect Highlander. But…why?”
He took her hands and stared down at them. The hair at the top of his head was slightly wet, and she caught the scent of sandalwood soap. “If I’m to ask yer father for yer hand, I must look like a proper Highlander.”
Isobel’s heart lodged painfully in her chest. The air seemed to leave her as her eyes blurred with tears. Surely she had heard him wrong—he could not have said what she thought she’d heard. She pulled her hands away and covered her mouth in horror—but it was mixed with the bittersweet happiness that hewantedto marry her, that he had done this for her.
He looked up at her, smiling still. “Ye didn’t think I’d do right by you, after last night?”
She shook her head slowly. No, she had not thought he would. Had not dreamed he would do such a thing. Had never imagined he’d even want to—or thought it could possibly be. And if she had suspected he meant to do something like this, she’d have never come to him last night.
“Philip—” she began, but he moved to the bed beside her.
“Alan will not be happy…at first, but what we did canna be undone—he’ll see that we did not do it lightly. And he respects and trusts me. He’ll come to see that this is good—”
“It can be undone…It must be undone…I cannot marry you.”
The way he looked at her—puzzled by her words, ripped at her heart. She had thought for certain he understood what this was, that he had no wish to ever wed, and that even if he did, it could never be Isobel MacDonell. She’d truly thought heunderstood.
“What?” he finally said.
“Imustmarry Lord Kincreag. My father is dying, and it’s what he wishes. I have to honor his dying wishes. I couldn’t live with myself if he died disappointed with me.”
He looked away from her, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Listen to me—my sisters and I are witches—and he is an earl. Not just any earl, either, but one in the king’s favor. The only thing the king hates more than Highlanders are witches. WeneedKincreag—the protection his name and title will afford us. If it were only me, I would marry you, but it’s not, there are others I must consider. My union to Kincreag is important.”
The gaze he turned on her was like an icy blade. “What we didcannotbe undone. Why did you come to me last night?”
The tears she’d kept banked began to fall. “Because I love you, because I wanted one fine memory to hold close.”
He looked so angry; she was desperate to make him understand. The last thing she’d ever wanted was to hurt him.
