“Reading. There were many scrolls where I lived.”
“And this was all in these scrolls?” Maria asked.
“Aye. Well most of it,” Isobel added. “One of the nuns’ great-grandmothers served Queen Eleanor, and that story was passed down by word of mouth, but Sister Charlotte swore by it.”
Maria nodded, as if that was good enough for her. “I admire yer wish, but I fear it will nae be as simple as ye hope.”
“Possibly nae,” Isobel admitted, realizing that even if her grandmother was amenable to Isobel’s desire, she had no notion who to marry. She didn’t really know any men, except—Well, she now knew the MacLeods. For a moment, she remembered the way she had felt so safe in Graham’s arms, but she shoved the fantasy away and focused her thoughts on truths. “Still, I will try. Will ye tell me the best route? Or better yet, do ye wish to travel with me?”
“I would travel with ye,” Maria said, “but my sister is also here, and she will nae leave. Her husband is a Campbell, and she thinks him good. Only time will tell, and I must stay to watch over her as best I can.”
Isobel nodded, a lump forming in her throat at her own lack of family, but then she thought of Marsaili. Perchance, if given a chance, they could be close. But the likelihood of them ever having the opportunity to be together again was not great.
“Come,” Maria said, motioning Isobel to follow her to the other side of the room. Isobel stood behind Maria as she bent down to retrieve something. When she came up, she was holding a dagger. She offered it to Isobel. “Take this for protection.”
“I dunnae ken how to use a dagger.”
Maria grinned. “I do. My husband taught me,” the woman said quietly. For a moment, Isobel was sure Maria was going to cry. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away and sniffed loudly. Her voice shook as she continued. “I loved him, and he loved me. ’Tis something to be loved, heart and soul, by a man.”
Isobel simply nodded. She’d never been loved by any man, not even her own father, and even if a man professed to love her in the future, how would she know the truth of his heart? How would she know he was not trying to gain her castle? She feared she may not be able to tell, and it scared her to think she might willingly commit herself in marriage to a man who would then treat her terribly. But that was a problem for another day. Today, she needed to escape.
After Maria gave Isobel a few quick lessons on how to throw a dagger, Isobel said, “Tell me quickly how to make my way to Oban. I will go at nightfall.”
“The wolves come out at night,” Maria warned, fright tingeing her voice.
“Better the wolf I can see than the one in disguise,” Isobel muttered.
When only the beam of the moon lit the night sky and silence blanketed the tower, Isobel crept toward the door of the room in which she had been ordered to stay. She’d been a prisoner all her life but no more. The cell may have been different—made of loneliness or wood or stone—but they had all trapped her. She’d not wait like a foolishly obedient daughter to be fetched at dawn by her depraved husband-to-be. She’d not wait for love from her father that was never coming. And she’d not wait to be rescued because there was no one who cared enough to make the effort.
A picture of Graham seared itself in her mind, but she ruthlessly shoved it away. She tiptoed down the stairs with her heart thudding in her chest and her stomach tight. Though she knew she was making the right decision, tears stung her eyes and her insides felt like churned butter. All her life she had dreamed of being united with her father and hearing him say he loved her, and though she now knew that would never happen, it did not make fleeing any easier. In her darkest hours at Iona, she had clung to the belief that her father and brothers loved her, and one day she would live in a happy home. Now, she had nothing to which to cling.
It was true that her grandmother was alive, but she had never met the woman. Isobel could not picture her, nor could she imagine that the woman cared for her at all since she had never once come to visit Isobel at Iona. Mayhap, she had been forbidden? Or mayhap she had been lied to by Father…
Isobel didn’t know, and that was the problem. She knew too little about everyone, having been sheltered from the world for so long. She didn’t even have any notion if King David was a good king. If she knew for certain that he was, she might possibly relent and go to him and submit to his wishes. Yet, she feared such blind submission again. Too long had she not seen what was in front of her face.
As she neared the foot of the stairs, the front door swung open and men’s voices filled the silence. Her heart was racing as she scurried down the last step and into the closest shadowy alcove. Her veins were pulsing with fear and her blood was humming in her ears as the men walked past the alcove. She hovered near the back, breath held and a prayer running through her mind that they did not see her.
When the men passed by, she slumped in relief, but then they paused and she realized with a start that it was her father and Lord March.
“Once we have Brigid under our control, we can tighten the binds around David until he acts as we please,” Lord March said.
Her father nodded. “Aye. If the damned MacKinnon had nae been so weak, he would nae have lost the castle to Isobel’s grandmother Margaret and her father’s men.”
“The MacKinnon was nae only defeated because of weakness,” Lord March said. “He feared his wife because of the curse she put on him.”
Her father made a derisive noise in his throat. “I ken well why the man fears her, but I dunnae believe she is truly a witch who has cursed him with ill luck until the day his granddaughter takes the castle with her new husband.”
“I’m nae so certain,” Lord March argued. “He has had ill luck since the day yer wife perished and Margaret cursed him.”
“As I was saying,” her father continued, exasperation evident by the strain of impatience in his voice, “I’d have taken Brigid Castle years ago, and we would have the control we need over David if it weren’t for the MacKinnon and his witch wife.”
“Aye. It must chafe to have to rely on yer daughter to gain the castle.”
Isobel tensed, knowing what she was about to hear would hurt her, but also unable to turn away”
“Ye kinnae ken how it irks me. For years, I have bided my time and gone to the girl to ensure her care is well enough to keep her alive and healthy because I kinnae take the castle if she is nae both, and I could nae take it by force. Thrice I tried,” he said with a growl.
Isobel grasped her stomach, which roiled with pain from his words.
