Marsaili gaped at her for a moment but finally answered. “Aye. Come with me.”
Isobel looked around the courtyard, which was splintered with early-morning light, a haze of smoke having replaced the oppressive darkness. One glance toward the castle confirmed what she had suspected: it was on fire.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she stared at Marsaili’s outstretched hand. “Why are these men burning our father’s castle?”
When Marsaili opened and shut her mouth as if she did not know what to say, Isobel’s uneasiness grew. “Who are these men?” she tried.
Instead of answering, Marsaili grabbed Isobel’s arm and began to tug her along the wall. Isobel dug in her heels and yanked back, but Marsaili was a head taller and a bit heavier.
“Marsaili!” Isobel yelled over the noise of battle. “Who are these men?” she asked again.
Marsaili stopped at the beginning of a narrow path that led to a small door built into the wall. The passage was blocked by Lord MacLeod, who was fighting the large man who had asked if she was Isobel Campbell. A strangled cry came from Marsaili as she glanced between the path and the melee they had left behind them in the courtyard.
Gripping Isobel hard, Marsaili stared at her. “Ye have been deceived, Isobel.”
The desperate, pleading look on her face shocked Isobel. “By whom?” she whispered, her thoughts spinning. “Ye or someone else?”
Tears filled Marsaili’s eyes. “By Father, by Findlay, and by Colin, when he was alive.”
“What?” Isobel moaned, twisting her wrist to try to escape, but Marsaili held her more tightly. “Colin is dead? Our brother is dead?”
“Aye… And by me,” Marsaili sobbed.
Fright swept over Isobel, and she yanked her wrist away from Marsaili. “Ye killed our brother?”
“Nay!” Marsaili cried out as tears flowed down her face. “I havedeceivedye, but I vow it was to help ye. And now we are trapped.” She motioned to Lord MacLeod and the other man. “We must get around them somehow!”
“I’m nae going anywhere with ye,” Isobel replied, scrambling backward to ensure she was out of Marsaili’s reach. But her half sister did not make a move to grab for her.
Marsaili swiped at the tears wetting her cheeks. “I dunnae blame ye for nae trusting me, but if ye stay, ye will be married to Lord MacLeod. Do ye wish that?”
Icy fear twisted through her. “Nay,” she whispered.
Marsaili held out her hand. “There are enemies all around ye, Isobel, but I’m nae one of them.”
Isobel’s stomach clenched as she looked past Marsaili to the two men blocking the path. They circled each other, and then their swords met in a wide arc over their heads. The larger man’s forearms and biceps seemed to strain against his skin as he fought Lord MacLeod. With a roar that made gooseflesh rise on Isobel’s arms, he pushed Lord MacLeod’s sword down and out of his hands, and shoved the man backward. Lord MacLeod stumbled to his knees.
“Come!” Marsaili shouted, already moving past the men.
Not seeing any choice but to follow, Isobel stepped forward, but the men’s plaids caught her attention and she froze. They were identical!
But that would mean they were from the same clan…
Her heart pounded furiously. The bigger man swung his sword down to deliver a blow to Lord MacLeod. Isobel watched in horror as Marsaili started back for her, and at the same time, Lord MacLeod sprang up and jerked Marsaili in front of him as the shining steel blade came down.
“Nay!” Isobel shouted, and the tall, muscled warrior pulled his blade back just enough that only its tip met with Marsaili’s clothing. Her gown parted, but her skin was untouched. Before Isobel could release a breath of relief, Lord MacLeod whipped out a dagger and dug the point into Marsaili’s throat. A drop of crimson immediately appeared, dread tightening Isobel’s chest. Lord MacLeod was a bad, bad man.
As if to prove her right and stoke the flame of her tension, he said, “Set down yer weapon, Nephew, or I’ll kill this dim-witted wench here and now.”
Nephew!Isobel gaped at the stranger, who she could now see clearly in the light of day. He had warm, golden-brown eyes and wavy, gleaming, chestnut hair that just grazed the top of his shoulders. He wore a mask of indifference, but a vein beat a rapid pulse at his neck. She could hardly believe a man who belonged to the clan of her family’s greatest enemy would set down his weapon to save a Campbell, but his gaze flicked from his uncle to Marsaili to the dagger.
A slow, menacing smile pulled at his lips. “Ye may take me captive if I set down my weapon, but ye will nae save the castle. It burns even as we stand here, and ye and the Campbell will nae be able to use it to provide shelter for the men ye train for evil any longer.”
Isobel’s breath caught.Evil!Her father would never train men for evil purposes! This man was mistaken.
“I’ll nae need it,” Lord MacLeod responded and glanced at Isobel. “Ye may congratulate me, Nephew. I’m to marry Isobel Campbell here, and her inheritance, Brigid Castle, will be mine.”
Isobel seethed. “I’d rather be dead than married to a MacLeod,” she spat.
