Maria nodded. “’Tis wise to hold yer tongue until ye ken ye can trust someone, but ye can trust me. I’m nae a friend to yer father, yer stepmother, or yer brothers.”
“Then why are ye here?” Isobel demanded.
“Why areyehere?” Maria shot back, giving Isobel an exasperated look.
“Because I’m a woman blown about by a man’s commands,” Isobel muttered, her anger stirring.
“Aye,” Maria said with a nod. “Ye may have noticed that I, too, am a woman,” she said in a sarcastic tone.
Isobel laughed despite how tense she felt. “How did ye end up here? I take it ye’re nae a Campbell.”
“I am by marriage,” Maria said darkly. “Or I was. Yer father had my husband killed when he refused to put out some women whose husbands had died in the raid on Dunvegan Castle.”
Isobel frowned. “What do ye mean ‘put out’?”
“I mean,” Maria said with a deep breath, “that yer father no longer wished to provide the women and their children homes since their husbands are gone and will nae be serving yer father anymore.”
“But that’s awful!” Isobel exclaimed, feeling sick to her stomach.
Maria suddenly grabbed Isobel’s forearm. “That is but a small example of the atrocities yer father has committed.”
Sadness overwhelmed Isobel. It felt as if her father had died, yet he lived. She stared at the forthright woman before her and made the decision to trust her, which she prayed she did not regret. “Marsaili should be to Dunvegan now. She travels with Graham MacLeod, his brother, and their fighters, and they seem as if they are good men.”
“Then if I were ye, I’d leave here tonight and make yer way to them.”
Isobel shook her head. “I kinnae. They wish to use me as all men I ken do.”
Maria sighed. “’Tis the plight of a woman, especially one such as yerself who is the heiress of a castle that is the key to great power. Ye say the MacLeods seem to be good men, and that is far better than what can be said of the man yer father means for ye to marry. James of Dunbar dunnae even like women. His taste runs for men, and I have heard he’s wickedly cruel to women.”
“I dunnae doubt it,” Isobel replied, remembering what James had said to her. “He sent me here to get a potion to ensure I dunnae get with a bairn once he weds me and takes my innocence.”
“Clot-heid,” Maria muttered but then gave Isobel a sharp look. “Are ye here for such a potion?”
“Nay!” Isobel said with a scoff. “I ken well how to mix potions myself. A nun at Iona taught me. I’m here for information.”
“What sort of information?”
“I wish to get to Oban. I ken it’s south, but I wish to learn the fastest way there,” she admitted.
“I can tell ye how, but it’s nae safe to travel alone. There are ferocious wolves in the woods, but worse than the wolves are the men who would ravish ye, torment ye, and kill ye. Ye need to travel with someone who can keep ye safe.”
Isobel shook her head. “I dunnae have a man I can trust.” Yet when the words left her mouth, she thought of Graham. He had won a bit of her trust, though he had intended to use her. At least he had been honest about it. And he had not denied his brother’s claim of being her champion. The problem was, she had no notion of how much sway Graham had with King David, if any.
Realizing Maria was staring expectantly at her, Isobel said, “I will be ravished and tormented if I stay. Nae killed, of course, because then my father would nae get my castle,” she bit out, bitterness welling in her chest. “I’d rather risk death than have a life married to James of Dunbar. If I can get to Oban, I have someone there I hope can help me get a message to my grandmother and see if she is amiable to my picking my husband or if she will try to force me as my father and the king.” Saying it aloud made her feel even more sure that was what she needed to do.
Maria’s eyes rounded. “Women dunnae get to pick who they marry, Isobel.”
“Perchance it’s nae traditional for women to pick their husbands, but that dunnae mean it never happens.”
“When has it ever happened?” Maria asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.
Isobel thought of all the books she’d read at Iona, which was one of the things that kept her sane. “Empress Theodora of Byzantium picked the man she knew she wanted to wed, and after a time, his father changed a law to allow the marriage.”
“I’ve never heard of Empress Theodora,” Maria said, giving Isobel a disbelieving look.
Isobel was not shocked. Most women were not learned or encouraged to read. “Brunhilde, who was Queen of Austria long ago, chose her husband, and Queen Margaret—” They both crossed themselves at the mention of the deceased queen who was now a saint. “And Queen Eleanor decided upon her second husband after her first marriage was annulled.”
Maria’s brow wrinkled. “How do ye ken all this?”
