Looking at Marsaili, she said, “I’m certain ye can see why I wish to keep it my secret.”
“I do. And until my dying day, I will feel the stab of guilt for my betrayal. I am sorry.”
Tears pricked Isobel’s eyes. Marsaili sounded so sincere, and Isobel felt some of her anger and her distrust slipping away. She squeezed her sister in a hug and whispered in her ear. “I must go now. Ye will nae raise an alarm, will ye?”
“Of course nae,” Marsaili replied. “I will nae betray ye again, even if I believe it’s for yer own good.” Marsaili hugged Isobel more tightly. “May God go with ye, Isobel. Make haste and keep hidden until ye ken ye have reached someone ye can trust.”
A lump formed in Isobel’s throat. She had just met her half sister, and only now, when she was leaving, did she understand that she may never see Marsaili again. Isobel gripped Marsaili’s hands as tears came to her eyes. “I forgive ye, so forgive yerself. I believe ye did nae mean me harm but only to help.”
With those words, Isobel rushed toward the narrow passage between the two large boulders at their backs. Before she dove between the rocks, she glanced back, not bothering to deny why. She was looking for him—Graham. She could not say why, but she knew she was. In the confusion of the battle she did not see him, though, and she did not have time to tarry.
The space between the rocks was so small that she barely fit, and when she came out the other side, a black destrier stood there. It was then that it occurred to her that she should take a horse rather than go on foot. She glanced up toward the sky and silently thanked God for the gift of the horse. For good measure, she added a prayer that whomever it belonged to be it one of Findlay’s men, or if he were Graham’s, that he was not dead. She could not stand the thought that she had this animal now because a man had died this day fighting to defend her.
That was wrong, she decided, feeling rather cross and bleak at the same time. These men did not fight over her because they wantedher. They wanted her castle. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the horse by the reins and attempted to swing into the saddle as she had seen Graham do, but the animal whinnied and pranced about, making it impossible for her to mount it.
She had to make haste. “Stand still,” she commanded, only to have the horse give her a wild-eyed look. Panic blossomed in her belly, made greater when the clank of swords resounded nearby, followed by men grunting with the effort of battle. She scrambled toward the horse once again, grasped the reins and half swung, half pulled herself onto the beast. He danced around and tossed his head, but she leaned forward and whispered soothing words in his ear, and he finally settled. Her heart was thudding hard, but just as she decided to try to tap the destrier to make it ride, Cameron and Lord MacLeod moved into her direct view.
Lord MacLeod had his back to Isobel, so Cameron was facing her. Lines of tension and strain creased his forehead as he battled his uncle, who appeared to be the superior and stronger fighter. Fear lodged in her throat as Lord MacLeod launched a ferocious attack against Cameron. Cameron’s uncle delivered continuous blows that Cameron was barely able to deflect. Her blood roared in her ears as Lord MacLeod caught Cameron’s weapon with his own and then used his body weight to sweep it out of Cameron’s hands.
Cameron’s eyes went wide, and she felt her own do the same. She glanced wildly around the open space, looking for someone to save him because she was quite certain he was going to die. There was no one. No one but her… Where was Graham? Her heart raced as Lord MacLeod pulled Cameron’s arm back to plunge his sword into his nephew.
Before she knew what she was truly doing, she scrambled off her horse, vaguely registering that Lord MacLeod was speaking to his nephew. Cameron’s sword lay behind his uncle in the grass very near the rock she was using for cover. She moved as quietly and as quickly as she could around the rock toward the sword.
“Kneel and swear yer allegiance, or die,” Lord MacLeod said to Cameron.
Her legs trembled as she walked toward the sword, fearful that Lord MacLeod would turn and see her there. Luckily, his attention seemed entirely and foolishly focused on his nephew.
“I’d rather die than swear allegiance to ye,” Cameron said in a stubbornly prideful tone.
Men!She gritted her teeth. She understood pride. She had plenty of it herself. Mayhap too much, but she thought not. Pride had kept her alive when loneliness threatened to destroy her. But if she were faced with someone intending to kill her, she’d swear allegiance to him while asking God’s forgiveness for the lie. As she kneeled and grasped the sword, she flicked her gaze to Cameron.
He must see her, yet he gave absolutely no indication that he did, which was a very good thing. Mayhap, she’d not swear allegiance even if faced with death, she thought as she struggled to lift the heavy sword. Her arms trembled violently, and she fretted that even if she got it in the proper position, she would not be able to wield it. She’d had no idea a sword was so heavy!
“So be it,” Lord MacLeod said.
Isobel could taste her fear as she hoisted the sword to her hip and grasped it. She had no notion if Cameron had any sort of plan to save himself, but seeing as he was defenseless, she could not imagine what that might be.
“God speed to Hell, Nephew,” Lord MacLeod snarled.
As his elbow thrust back, Isobel lurched forward and thrust the sword forward as hard as she could. The blade sliced into Lord MacLeod’s back, causing bile to rise in her throat. Lord MacLeod let out a roar and twisted toward her with his weapon raised, and sheer black terror froze her immobile as he swung his weapon at her.
But at the last possible second, when she was sure she was going to be killed, Cameron knocked his uncle aside, and turned the sword lodged in Lord MacLeod’s back all the way in. The man fell to his knees, gurgling with impending death.
Cameron, with a dark stain of blood spreading across his chest, stepped toward his uncle. Looking down at him, Cameron said, “God speed toye.” With that, he kicked out, his foot connecting with his uncle’s chest, and shoved the man to the ground.
She could do no more than stand and stare as the man she had almost been forced to marry fell hard upon the earth to his death. The sound of thunder pierced her horror, and as she forced herself to look away from the fallen body of Graham’s uncle, something hit her hard in the back. Or rather, she realized with renewed terror that she’d been grabbed. For one moment, she dangled in the air, the ground passing by in a blur, and then she was delivered hard onto a saddle.
“I’ve got ye, Sister Dear. Dunnae fash yerself,” Findlay snarled in her ear.
Instinctively, she clawed at the arm locked around her waist, but it was no use. He was far stronger than she was. As the horse rode away from the battleground, she ceased struggling. Even if she managed to free herself now, jumping could perchance kill her. At least the threat of having to marry Jamie MacLeod was no longer lingering over her head. The horrid thought made her cringe in shame. She had taken a man’s life, though he was an evil man.
“We ride for Innis Chonnel and Father,” he shouted before he whistled a loud command to his destrier, who increased the pace so quickly that Isobel’s teeth clanked together. Not long ago, happiness would have filled her at the news she was being taken to her father. Now, fear and uncertainty claimed her. She glanced over her shoulder, and in the distance, she saw riders pursuing with a lone one far ahead in the lead.Graham!Somehow she knew it to be him, though she could not see his face. Her chest tightened, but not in fear of him. She honestly did not know what to make of that.
“Get low!” Findlay roared, pushing hard against her head until her cheek brushed the neck of his horse.
The horse’s muscles tightened beneath her as the beast raced across the countryside. Vibrations from the destrier’s hooves tingled her fingertips, and cold air sliced across her back. She stayed hunched for what seemed like hours, watching the landscape blur by and the sky grow light with day. Her back throbbed from her crouched state, and she finally had to sit up. When she did, a blast of icy wind smacked her in the face as a chill coursed through her.
“When will we stop?” she shouted.
