“Ye’ll no’ hear me complain.”
She cocked her head to the side and gave him a look that said she thought him a liar. “A miracle, that.”
There was a note of mocking in her tone, mayhap a reminder to him that she never complained. Not about the hard miles, meager meals, or indignities of the road that would have sent most gently bred ladies into protest. She had taken it all in stride—the cold, the hunger, even the necessity of seeking privacy behind a bush—with a composure that both surprised and unsettled him. Much like the way she’d handled his wound and his stubbornness from the start.
Lady Isabel was stronger than most would notice at first glance.
Isabel turned from side to side, studying the landscape with an awareness that seemed too deliberate for idle curiosity. Was it possible she had overheard his exchange with his men about the body on the road?
“What have ye got up your sleeve?” Lachlan asked, taking note that she kept fiddling with her wrist.
“Oh.” Isabel licked her lips, taking a second too long to reply.
Was she going to lie to him?
Then she flicked back the cuff and showed him the brown leather bracer at her wrist, and he caught the gleam of a blade. “Just a wee sgian dubh.”
Lachlan had expected to escort a dainty lady. To play nursemaid. Instead, he found himself riding in a caravan with a lass who adapted easily to uncertainty, and who, he suspected, noticed far more than she ever chose to say, and now to top it off, was armed. What had she endured up to this point that made her the way she was? All he knew of her was that she was the Bruce’s niece, his ward, and that he wanted to keep her safe. But where had Lady Isabel come from?
“Who trained ye to use it?” He would not deign to offend her by suggesting she was incapable. One thing he’d learned in the brief time he’d been acquainted with her was to never underestimate the lady.
And on that note, he was fairly certain she’d eavesdropped on his conversation about the body on the road. She was too cunning not to.
“My father mostly. And then my uncle was kind enough to have one of his men continue my training.”
“Have ye ever had need to use it.”
“Only twice.”
“Twice is two times too many.”
She raised a brow at him. “Well, the first time I had cause to use it was actually to save a fawn.”
He imagined her lunging at a wolf.
“The wee thing had its leg caught in a snare, so I cut him loose.”
“And the second?”
“Well, I’m afraid that one was a bit more unsavory. A man, Angus, same as your man’s name, so deep in his cups that he was blinded by the ale, thought me to be his wife. Despite the fact that Wilma is twice my age, much heavier in the bosom and well, her bottom. We look nothing alike. Well, he was trying to drag me off, threatening to put a scold on me for being such a shrew, and I had to give him a little poke with my wee sgian dubh. His wife heard the commotion and his howl from inside their croft, came out and boxed his ears.”
“Was he punished beyond that?”
“Nay,” Isabel sighed. “Angus was harmless when he was sober. I promised no’ to tell my uncle of the unfortunate incident if he quit his cups, and guess what? He hasn’t had a drop since.”
“Well, I’m impressed, lass. I would have punished him something fierce, but ye took it upon yourself to give him a better life.”
She shrugged. “Dinna confuse my kindness for weakness. If I’d truly been in danger, I’d no’ hesitate to use my weapon for deadlier force.”
“I’ve no doubt.”
Isabel made a little tsking noise with her tongue, drew in a deep breath and then said, “Who do ye think turned on my uncle at Falkirk?”
It was unnerving and frustrating that they had no idea who the enemy was. “I dinna know whether ’twas an Englishman or a Scot’s. Maybe both. There are some who doubt it can be one of our own countrymen, but I’ve witnessed firsthand what happens when men grow greedy.”
“Aye.” There was a sadness to her tone. “There are always those who would bend the knee to Longshanks if it meant gain.”
“And some clansmen who dinna agree with the politics of Scotland. They trick themselves into believing England might bring them a prosperous bounty. That Robert the Bruce isn’t the right man to lead this country, as if they have any right to grant or deny his position.” Lachlan’s jaw tightened. To consign their kin to death? He shook his head. That was pure evil.
