“The postponement has ceased.”
Isabel’s throat bobbed and her delicate fingers raked through the end of her braid. “Does he say who?”
Lachlan nodded, the taste of the man’s name sour on his tongue. “Alistair Comyn.”
“The very person that we’re going to see at Inverlochy Castle?” Isabel’s hands fisted at her side, and he had the notion that if her uncle or Comyn had been there in the room right then, she would have boxed their ears.
“The very same,” Lachlan said.
“Is that why he’s sending me there? To be wed?”
Lachlan shook his head. “No. He wanted ye to be aware as Comyn is likely to mention it. The nuptials willna take place until spring.”
Isabel sighed, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Well, at least I can rest assured that I will no’ be wed in the next few days.” These words were muttered and mostly to herself.
Lachlan watched a strange expression cross her face. He did not know whether she was disappointed that she would not be wed, or relieved that she would not be put in such an awkward situation as to marry a stranger. Even more bizarre was his own relief that she’d been offered a reprieve, and he wouldn’t have to witness her being bound to another man. That however was something he tossed quickly from his mind.
“Does my uncle say that I am to stay at Inverlochy while ye go on to Skye?”
“Nay. We are to continue on. This will be but a brief respite, my lady.”
Despite the Bruce’s edict, Lachlan wasn’t entirely certain that would remain the same. For all he knew, Comyn was lobbying for Isabel to stay. What would be the point of sending them on to Skye when the Bruce knew that this was the man who had originally been meant to wed Isabel? Why not let her betrothed protect her?
While Lachlan couldn’t decipher the answer now, there was something off about the plan. Not to mention that he didn’t trust Comyn as far as he could throw him, which was likely a few feet at least.
Lady Isabel’s cheeks reddened as she stared at him, an indiscernible expression on her face. Her lips parted and for the briefest moment it looked as if she was going to speak. But then she clamped her lips closed, shook her head. And he couldn’t help but wonder if what she’d been about to say, was what he was thinking—that he didn’t want her to be with Comyn at all.
Lachlan nodded, folding the rest of the letter and sticking it into his pocket, leaving out the last line of what the Bruce had written. He swallowed down the guilt of not exactly lying to her but omitting the truth.
“It’s only just occurred to me—something that I recalled from downstairs,” Isabel said. “The men were talking to ye about the English soldiers asking questions. That they’ve been asking questions for days. Weeks even, prior to Falkirk.”
Lachlan nodded, wondering if she was exaggerating her confusion. “Aye. The English had been gathering information for quite some time.”
“If there had been a traitor amongst our midst, that would’ve contributed to their questioning.”
“Aye and only proves it further.”
Isabel nodded, the expression on her face showing that she was deep in thought and contemplating the situation. If only he could get a peek inside her mind to see just what she was thinking.
“Who would want to do that to my uncle? To ye? Who would want to betray their country?”
The very question he’d been asking himself since the moment he’d realized the reinforcements weren’t coming. “Ye’d be surprised what men will do for a heavy coin purse and a new plot of land. Greed brings out the devil in men and reveals those who are willing to betray their loved ones—and those who are no’.”
“Perhaps it will surprise ye to find out, Lachlan, that I would no’ be surprised at all.”
After leaving Isabel in the room, Lachlan made his way downstairs to check with his men, unable to stop thinking about what she’d said. He was and he wasn’t surprised.
At his approach, Finley and Duncan jogged up to meet him. “James and Padraig have gone out on patrol, my laird.”
“Good. I’ll take first watch. The lot of ye get some rest.” Though they would not rest easy until Longshanks and his men had been sent back to the bowels of English hell.
Angus approached, a scowl on his face. “My laird, there was a rumor that several English riders were spotted nearby. Also, James and Padraig have no’ yet returned.”
Lachlan cursed under his breath, thinking of the lone body they’d buried on the side of the road. Though he believed his men could outmaneuver any Englishman they came across, two against twenty was a different story. “How many?”
“Five or six. No’ a full patrol, but they are scanning and searching for someone specific. My guess is the lady.”
Lachlan grimaced. “And do they still roam?”
