Lord MacLeod narrowed his eyes upon her and gave her a look that told her he’d be all too happy to kill her once he had her castle. The other man, Lord MacLeod’s nephew, offered an amused smile.
“Graham!” yelled a voice from a distance. “Two Campbell ships approach!”
Hope swelled in Isobel’s chest. Perchance her father or brother was arriving!
“We must away,” the man in the distance called. “The main keep burns steady, and the enemy has been felled. Deal quickly with our treacherous uncle. Our work here is done. I’ve sent the rest of the men on.”
Confusion battered Isobel. The MacLeods were apparently a clan at war with itself, but Lord MacLeod seemed the evil one with his dagger still pressed to Marsaili’s neck, and the other man—thisGraham—seemed to be the one with a sense of honor.
“Dunnae listen to yer brother, my nephew, and set down yer weapon!” Lord MacLeod boomed and then ran his blade across Marsaili’s neck just hard enough to draw a line of blood. Marsaili whimpered, and Isobel had to bite hard on her lip so she would not cry out, too. Her gut told her that Graham was Marsaili’s only hope. Even if it was her father or Findlay approaching, she feared they would not reach them in time to help.
Isobel watched in astonishment as Graham set down his sword and stood with his arms spread wide. “Release the woman, ye coward, and face me like a man.”
“Graham!” his brother called from the distance again.
“Go, Cameron!” Graham shouted in reply. “I’ll meet ye where we arrived, and if I dunnae and the sun is high in the sky, leave me until the bird calls once again in the night.”
Isobel could not believe this stranger before her. Either he was mad or he had no doubt he could cut down his uncle. He had his gaze trained in the distance and, after a moment, tension seeped from Graham’s face. She suspected it was because his brother had departed safely. She inhaled a startled breath to see such a display of caring from her family’s enemy. Her father and brothers had described them as beasts, but this man was showing nothing but bravery and honor. He had bid his brother to leave him in order to ensure his safety and willingly faced his uncle without aid to protect Marsaili. Isobel could not help but admire his selflessness, but at the same time, she felt as if she was betraying her father and brother.
She focused on Lord MacLeod just as he shoved Marsaili away from him and toward Graham, who caught her as she started to fall and drew her up to her feet. Before Isobel could discern what Lord MacLeod was conspiring to achieve, the dagger flew from his hands and straight toward Marsaili.
Isobel screamed a warning, but there was no need. Graham pushed Marsaili out of the way, and the dagger hit him in his sword arm. He winced, then reached up and ripped the dagger from his flesh as Lord MacLeod started toward him with his own sword now in hand.
By the burning hatred in Graham’s eyes, Isobel didn’t doubt that he would defeat Lord MacLeod, even wounded and weaponless, but suddenly shouts filled the courtyard and the ground beneath her vibrated from the thunderous sound of running men. Glancing behind her to see who was approaching, her heart leaped at the sea of men wearing her father’s plaid as they rushed toward her.
“’Tis Findlay!” Marsaili shouted, but the absence of relief and presence of fear made Isobel frown.
An almost-inhuman roar came from Graham, and he barreled past Lord MacLeod, elbowing his uncle in the face as he went, then charged full force at Findlay. But from the left and the right, her father’s men swarmed toward Graham.
“Dunnae kill him!” Lord MacLeod shouted, his voice gurgling from the blood pouring from his nose. “He is mine to deal with!”
Isobel’s thoughts raced and spun as she stared, stupefied and half in fear for the warrior who had saved Marsaili’s life. Even with one of her father’s men grasping his left arm now and another holding his right, Graham continued to move toward Findlay with astonishing strength, dragging her father’s men with him. Findlay, sword in hand with a shockingly cruel smile twisting his lips, strode toward Graham. “How is yer sister, MacLeod? How is my bonny bride?”
Isobel gulped a breath of utter astonishment. Findlay was married to a MacLeod? She frowned. She did not understand. Then Marsaili’s words echoed in Isobel’s head:Ye have been deceived.Surely she could trust her brother, couldn’t she?
Findlay sent the hilt of his sword into Graham’s forehead, and the man slumped forward, unconscious. Isobel trembled as she watched his sudden dead weight cause the men clutching him to stagger and almost fall. Graham had sacrificed himself honorably to save Marsaili, and in truth, Isobel felt numb and confused rather than relieved.
Marsaili took Isobel’s hand. “The devil’s come home,” she whispered, her wide gaze fixed on Findlay.
Before Isobel could question her half sister’s comment, Lord MacLeod jerked her away from Marsaili and toward him. “Time for us to marry, Isobel.”
Isobel looked to Findlay. “Brother, surely Father dunnae wish me to marry a MacLeod?”
The look of contempt he gave her felt like a slap across the face. “Ye dunnae ken a thing, Isobel, and ye nae ever have. Father wished it that way. Ye will do as ye’re told and marry Jamie MacLeod this night.”
“I will nae!” she exclaimed, flinching when Findlay strode toward her, his face twisted with rage. She half expected Marsaili to abandon her grip on Isobel and move out of Findlay’s reach, but he closed the distance between them in a breath, shoved Marsaili away, and gripped Isobel hard by the arms. “Ye will do as ye’re told,” he growled again.
“Findlay, please,” she said on a rush of fear. “Ye’re hurting me.”
“Let her go!” Marsaili cried out, thrashing at Findlay’s arm.
When Findlay backhanded Marsaili and she fell to her knees, Isobel flinched and tried to help her. Findlay jerked Isobel back. “Leave her,” he demanded. “She’s nae worthy of yer pity.”
Disbelief struck Isobel momentarily mute. This was a side of her brother she had never seen. He had never been as warm to her as Father or Colin had, but he had never seemedcruel. Pity twisted inside her chest and made her eyes fill with tears as she looked at Marsaili, who was struggling to stand. When Isobel focused on Findlay once more, he smirked at her as if he understood something, but she could not imagine what.
“It seems ye inherited yer mother’s weakness of compassion, Isobel. ’Tis a shame for ye, but a good thing for me. Listen well. Ye will marry Lord MacLeod this night, or Marsaili will suffer for it. I may nae be able to touch ye, per Father’s orders, but Iwillbeat Marsaili to her death if ye dunnae do as I say.”
With that, Findlay roared, “Bring the damned priest out here now!”
