She turned to Cameron, and as she did, she saw the tall red-haired woman and the one with the russet-colored hair approaching rapidly. A woman with curly brown hair stopped the woman with red hair and handed her a bairn. She drew the bundle into the crook of her arms, and Isobel noticed that her belly was swollen with a coming child.
The women were in front of Isobel before she could even ask who they were. Neither woman looked particularly friendly. The flame-haired woman spoke first. “Cameron, it is good to see ye returned home healthy.”
Cameron smiled. “It is good to see ye back at Dunvegan, as well, Bridgette.” He motioned to her belly. “I see my brother and ye have had good fortune.”
The woman, Bridgette, grinned and glanced briefly down at her belly. “Aye. We should have a wee bairn come the summer.” A dark look suddenly crossed her face, and she grumbled. “Lachlan says I kinnae fight in any more battles until the bairn has arrived.”
Cameron chuckled. “Lachlan is a wise man. I hear that ye chased down and felled four of my uncle’s men.”
She winked. “Aye. I did. Lachlan only felled three.” Her face grew serious once more. “What of Jamie? Any new findings?”
Cameron nodded. “I killed him.” It was not said boastfully or with pride, but as a simple statement. He motioned to Isobel. “She helped me. This is Isobel Campbell.”
“We suspected,” Bridgette said, her obvious dislike of Isobel apparent in her tone. Isobel stiffened her spine and refused to cower when Bridgette turned a glacial glare upon her. “Stay away from my husband,” she hissed.
“Bridgette!” Cameron chided. “She is nae like her sister Helena.”
Bridgette snorted. “She’s beguiled ye with her beauty.”
“I’m nae beguiled,” Cameron protested. “Neither Isobel nor Marsaili”—he motioned to Marsaili, who had thus far stood silently—“are like their father or yer husband, Lena.”
Isobel’s hand fluttered to her throat in horror. So this was Lena MacLeod—or rather, Lena Campbell.
Isobel’s gaze inadvertently drew first to Lena’s wrist and then Bridgette’s. She gaped when she saw the brandings on both women. “I kinnae believe Findlay would do such a thing,” she said, her heart heavy. The brother she had known could never have hurt someone so.
Bridgette did not react, but Lena screeched in rage and lunged for Isobel. When Marsaili moved to step in front of her to protect her, Isobel shoved her sister aside. Marsaili may be the only person who would ever truly care for her, and she was not about to let Lena hurt her. Beyond that, she knew Lena was angry because of what had been done to her, and she must have misunderstood Isobel’s words.
When the woman went to grab Isobel’s hair, Cameron clutched his sister before Isobel could react. “Lena,” he bit out. “Calm yerself!”
“Calm myself!” Lena screeched. “I’ll kill her!” She turned wild eyes upon Isobel that sent fright swirling inside her. “Yer spawned from the devil; therefore, ye are the devil, as well!”
“I’m sorry,” Isobel blurted. “I’m sorry for what Findlay did to ye,” she said hurriedly, glancing at Bridgette. “I—” she gulped “—did nae mean to imply that I dunnae believe he had done this to ye, but that I am horrified by what he has done.”
Lena writhed and kicked in Cameron’s arms, either not hearing Isobel’s explanation or not caring. Several of the nearby clansmen looked over at the frenzy Lena was causing. “Go about yer business,” Cameron barked. The area around them immediately cleared.
“My sister,” Marsaili said in a steely tone, “Was nae raised with my family. If ye want to lunge at someone, lunge at me.”
“Ye,” Lena spat, “are simpleminded, so we have heard, though ye dunnae sound so. Still… We make allowances for ye.”
Without thought, Isobel stepped forward and slapped the woman hard across the face. Tense silence immediately fell as the they glared at each other. “Marsaili is nae simpleminded,” Isobel growled. “I imagine it amused my brothers and sister, Helena, to say so, but Marsaili is nae simpleminded.” She wanted to tell the woman then and there that Marsaili was her half sister, but she feared it would only enrage Lena more, especially given the circumstances of Marsaili’s birth. From the pained look on Marsaili’s face, Isobel suspected she wished the truth was known, too, but felt keeping the secret was best for now.
To Lena’s credit, shame trickled across her face as she glanced at Marsaili. “I—” She turned her face away, unable to do so with her body as her brother still held her arms. “Findlay said ye were simpleminded, and I should nae have believed him.” She whipped her head back around and glanced between Isobel and Marsaili. “Is Findlay dead?” she asked. The hope in her voice was undeniable.
Isobel and Marsaili both shook their heads, and Isobel’s heart twisted when Lena slumped in her brother’s arms. He immediately released her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Dunnae fret, Sister. Ye will nae ever have to go back to him.”
“So ye say. But if the king seeks peace with the Campbells, I may well be one of the means to attain it. They have already requested the king order Iain to return me, and nae because Findlay loves me,” she said bitterly. “It pleases him to torment the sister of the MacLeod.”
Cameron shook his head. “We will nae return ye. Ever,” he vowed. “And once Brigid Castle is securely in the control of those we can trust, Dunvegan will be safer than ever before.”
All eyes rested upon Isobel. No one said it, but she knew: she was the means to either forge peace or start war between the king and the men who sought to topple him. Before anyone could say anything else, Iain came out of nowhere like a shadow.
He had a fierce look on his face as he swept his gaze around the group. “Quit lingering,” he ordered Cameron. “Take Isobel to the guest room down the passage from my own and set guards to the doors.”
“But Iain—” Cameron started to protest but fell immediately silent when his brother’s face grew dangerously dark. “Aye,” Cameron quickly agreed.
Iain flicked his gaze to Bridgette. “Marion needs ye to help tend—” He cut his words off, as if not wishing to say more in front of Isobel and Marsaili. “Give me my son,” he said, the ferocious warrior suddenly gentling his tone and softening his face as he held his arms out for the bairn.
Bridgette complied without hesitation, and Isobel watched as Iain’s dark expression became one of love and light. Her heart twisted as he cooed to the baby, who he called Royce. This man clearly held a great love for his child, and all Isobel’s yearning for love from her own father surged inside her once more. She would never have his love. Even if he had possessed any kindness to give, which he did not, she had betrayed him by running from him and the duty he demanded of her.
