Isobel was speechless. Her sister was right. Why should she miss a chance to change her fate just because Isobel was afraid to change her own? And the only reason Philip said nothing was because she’d made it clear to him she didn’t want him to—that she was determined to do her father’s will—regardless of the cost to them both.
Isobel’s gaze turned on her sister, who stared at her expectantly.
“What about Kincreag?” Isobel whispered, excitement edging her voice.
“What about him? He’s a fine-looking man—powerful and rich—he’ll not suffer just because a MacDonell lass jilted him.”
Isobel grabbed Gillian’s arm urgently. “No—that’s not what I mean! Why don’t you marry Kincreag? He told me he didn’t care which of us he wed. He’s doing it for Father.”
Gillian’s gray eyes widened, and her hand fluttered on her breast. “Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. Mmmm—yes, I’d like that.”
Isobel tilted her head, observing the flush that rose in her sister’s cheeks with fascination. “Youlikehim!”
Gillian shrugged casually. “I certainly like the look of him. And I think he’s all gruff and growl, really. Beneath that scowl is a decent man. I’m sure of it.”
“What about the rumors that he killed his wife?” At that thought Isobel wondered if perhaps it was a bad idea to send sweet Gillian into the dragon’s lair. “Mayhap this a bad idea.”
“No!” Gillian gripped her arm back. “It’s a perfect idea. It behooves us to go to Da with a plan. As for the rumors—that’s all they are. It’s foolish to give them more weight than they deserve. Perhaps that’s why he’s so sour—because everyone believes the worst of him.”
“I don’t know,” Isobel said uncertainly.
“You don’t have to. Iknowwhat I want. Do you?”
Isobel nodded, Philip’s ring clutched in her gloved hand. She was happy suddenly. If Philip hated her, he would not have sent her his ring. She would not ruin the gift of a second chance. “Yes. I love him, Gillian. I don’t know how I would go on without him.”
Gillian smiled. “Then don’t.”
Chapter 20
Isobel spent the day with her sisters, trying to decide how best to approach their father. It wasn’t that they feared his anger. He’d never raised a hand against any of them or spoken harshly to them. They feared upsetting the delicate state of his health with unhappy news. Rose was especially uneasy about it as she felt their father was finally showing some improvement.
“Can’t this wait until he’s stronger?” Rose asked again, frowning stubbornly.
They were closed up in their chamber, the door bolted. Earlier, Rose had removed her bodice and rolled up the sleeves of her linen shift to mix a philter for their father. She hadn’t bothered to dress herself again and paced the floor half-dressed. Gillian sat calmly before the fire, sewing, not a fold of her emerald silk gown or a glossy sable curl out of place.
Isobel slouched on the hearth, dressed, but still struggling to work a comb through her hair. “How much longer?” she asked. “I’m to marry Earl Kincreag in a sennight!”
Rose sighed. “Can’t we stall the wedding? You don’t understand how ill Father was when I arrived just a sennight ago. He looked as if he were ready to die at any moment, and now…now there’s some hope. What if he doesn’t take this news well?”
Gillian made an exasperated sound. “That’s what we’re trying to do—to make it sound good. It will be a bit of a shock to him, but it’s not the end of the world. One of us is still marrying the earl, and that really is what he wants, after all.”
Rose shook her head. “No—it will not play out so perfectly.”
“How do you know?” Isobel asked, throwing down the comb in disgust. Her arm ached, and her hair only seemed to be becoming more tangled. She’d have to get Gillian to comb it for her later. Rose would no doubt rip her hair out by the roots if she tried.
“Because,” Rose said, “these things never do. Let’s just consider for a moment the foul temper of the earl.” She pinned Isobel with a hard look. “You spent a great deal of time practically alone with Sir Philip—no lady’s maid or any other type of proper accompaniment. Now you want to marry him. It looks to me as if you are damaged goods—and it’s going to look to Kincreag as if he’s been cuckolded.”
“But we’re not married!” Isobel cried.
“But a technicality. That betrothal contract makes you as good as married, and he will be sore vexed. Will he even want Gillian after such a game? He might not trust any of us if he discovers we are all in on it.”
Isobel looked at Gillian hopelessly. Rose made too many good points.
“So what do you suggest I do? That I marry him anyway? Iamdamaged goods!”
Rose shook her head, irritated. She looked fierce as a Viking, her long sleek auburn hair spilling about her shoulders and her midnight eyes flashing. “Think, you two ninnies! Stall the earl! Gillian, charm him—make him think he wants you, rather than Isobel. Isobel, be a shrew. Make yourself undesirable.”
Gillian and Isobel exchanged a dubious look.
