When she entered, Robert felt almost as much of a shock as he had at seeing the boy’s face. Though he’d had no idea of exactly what he had thought this mystery woman would look like, the creature that made her way up the aisle now was certainly not anywhere in the realm of his expectations.
Wild red hair, looking as if it had never been tamed or even washed, surrounded her, curling wetly down her shoulders like a filthy cape. It hung in clumps in front of her face, hiding her features from all but those who might venture close. Her clothing hung from her, and—Good lord!Was that blood smeared down the front of her dress?
Even the brazen MacDowylt took a backward step as she passed by, ignoring him completely as if he didn’t exist. She strode determinedly up to the dais, stopping only when she reached the boy’s side. She placed her hands on the table and leaned in toward the old MacGahan laird.
“State the reason for yer summons and let me be on my way.” Though she spoke quietly, her voice sounded wholly at odds with her appearance.
To Robert’s ear, the sound was soft and melodious, as compelling as a cool breeze wafting down on a warm day. As if unable to help himself, he took another step closer to the dais.
The MacGahan’s coloring had returned to normal and he again seated himself in the chair a servant had quickly righted for him. He lifted his tankard toward the warriors’ table, a grim smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
“This is the woman you’ve awaited. The woman you say you’d have for yer bride, MacDowylt. Allow me to present my granddaughter, Isabella MacGahan.”
Robert felt as if his stomach had plunged to his feet. This bedraggled creature was Isabella? This was the result of his failure to keep his oath to Thomas? Worse yet, it appeared that the MacDowylt was here determined to force a marriage to her.
Oh, he’d been wrong. Very wrong. It suddenly appeared he had a quarrel with the MacDowylt after all.
Bride?
Isa glared first at her grandfather and then at the stranger standing six paces behind her. Did they mean this as some sort of mocking gesture? Surely her grandfather knew better than to think she’d allow him to simply give her in marriage to some complete stranger.
“Ha!” she yelled, working to stifle the smile she felt threatening when the stranger jumped. “My answer is no. Discussion’s over and done. Is that it? Am I free to go now?” She turned to face the table again, waiting to see her laird’s reaction.
“So be it.” The old laird spoke quietly, holding her eyes with his own before shifting his gaze to his visitor. “I warned you she’d no be agreeable to yer offer, did I no?”
Isa barely had time to register the surprise she felt in reaction to her grandfather’s response before the air around her shifted and she felt movement behind her. The stranger—MacDowylt, her grandfather had called him—apparently didn’t care for her answer. Or her grandfather’s.
“You’d allow this...”—MacDowylt cast a look of contempt in her direction—“this crazed offspring of yers to determine the fate of yer people?”
“Isa,” the laird cautioned, his hand visibly tightening on the tankard in front of him.
The warning floated to her on barely more than breath, obviously meant only for her ears. As she fought to rein in her temper, she looked back to his face and recognized the fear in his eyes. This felt more familiar, more along the lines of what she knew as normal. Fear was, after all, the expression she had grown to expect from her grandfather. Fear and loathing. Those were the emotions that had driven her out of this place that had never felt like a home.
Her thoughts sickened her, squeezing at her heart as much as her innards. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to be in her own little house, far away from this castle and these people.
Away from the fear in her grandfather’s eyes.
She turned from him, surveying the hall from behind the soggy curtain of her hair. Were there any here who still remembered her childhood? Any who, like her grandfather, had been there that awful day she’d learned of her father’s death? Unlikely. Long ago, her grandfather had sent away all witnesses to that frightening display. All save one.
Only Auld Annie had approached her that day. Only Annie had pressed on through the howling winds and destruction to scoop up the devastated child Isa had been and hold her close. Only Annie had tried to ease the unimaginable pain of her loss.
But Auld Annie was nowhere in this hall. The eyes fixed on her now were those of people she barely knew. Eyes filled with disgust, contempt, perhaps even pity.
None of these people mattered to her in the least. Neither they nor their opinions. She didn’t care one whit what any single one of them thought of her. And she certainly didn’t want their pity.
Jamie waited silently at her side, his face blanketed in the innocence of childhood. One look at the lad and she remembered her vow to speak with Roland, her grandfather’s second in command.
He sat to the right of the MacGahan laird, his lips drawn back in that arrogantly impassive sneer he always wore. How her grandfather tolerated the beastly man was beyond her. That she could be related to such as him by even the most distant drop of blood annoyed her greatly.
To her grandfather’s left sat Roland’s daughter, Agneys. That was a change from her last visit. Agneys was moving up in the world. Or at least she was moving up at the table. Agneys had always been perfect. Hadn’t her grandfather held the girl’s name up often enough over the years? Why must you be so difficult, Isabella? Why can’t behave as a lady, like Agneys?
Well, the perfect Agneys could have her place at the table, right at the MacGahan’s elbow. Be the perfect lady. Isa didn’t care. Not one little bit. Though her curiosity was piqued as to what had brought about the new seating arrangement.
MacDowylt cleared his throat, jolting her back to the problem at hand. She took in a deep breath before facing him. The delay had done its work. She was in full control of her emotions once again. For the moment, both her curiosity about Agneys and her talk with Roland would have to wait. She had more important issues to deal with now.
The warrior remained several paces away, his fists braced on his hips. When she turned her gaze to him, he flexed the fingers of one hand and openly caressed the dagger at his belt.
The fool thought to intimidate her? Obviously he knew nothing of her beyond her blood relationship to the laird of the MacGahan.
