Both brothers nodded, but he could see their relief that he had agreed to that much. In truth, he didn’t want to ask Isobel because he knew damn well his wife would gladly put herself in harm’s way to aid Lena, even though Lena so clearly hated her.
Growling to himself he started away, only to have Iain call to him. Graham glanced over his shoulder. “Aye?”
“Will ye speak to her today?”
“Aye,” Graham snapped. “I’ll give ye my answer at supper.”
After going to talk to Father Murdock and learning the priest had been called to his sick sister’s bedside and it was unknown when he’d return, Isobel paced Graham’s bedchamber with worry. She’d passed Rhona on the way up the stairs, and the woman had made the sign of the cross when she saw Isobel. Trouble was thick in the air, and she needed Father Murdock to put out the flames that he had started. This talk could not continue or the MacLeod clan would never accept her.
Just as she sat down on the bed, the chamber door opened and Graham stalked in, looking just as troubled as she felt. “What’s ailing ye?” she asked, certain he would not open up to her but just as sure that she had to try.
When he came to sit beside her, he stared at her for a long moment, filling her with hope that he was going to actually confide something in her.
“Iain thinks ye can help Lena,” Graham bit out, sounding none too happy about it.
Isobel fought back her surprise and the happy smile tugging at her lips. “I presume,” she said slowly, “that he told ye this, and that ye have a reason for telling me?”
“Aye,” he growled. “Iain wishes me to ask ye if ye would be willing to try to help her.”
“Aye,” Isobel immediately responded.
Graham scowled. “I kenned ye would say that. Ye’ve nae a care for yer safety.”
Isobel had to clench her teeth to keep from grinning. Iain had to trust her at least a little to ask for her help with their sister, and that was a huge step forward. “Ye have a care for my safety, so I need nae fash,” she said sweetly.
Graham snorted. “Honeyed words to soothe me.”
She pressed her lips together, but the smile came anyway. “Possibly. Did they work?”
“Nay,” he retorted, but she could see the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.
“Well,” she said, choosing her words with care, “will ye allow me to aid yer sister anyway?”
“I dunnae believe I have a choice,” Graham muttered. “I kinnae verra well sit and nae try anything as Lena withdraws more every day.”
Impulsively, Isobel placed her hand on Graham’s arm, but when she felt him tense she withdrew it. Her heart twisted painfully, and she sighed. “What does Iain wish me to do?”
Graham stood, and she suspected it was to distance himself from her. Her stomach twisted along with her heart. It seemed she was making progress with his brothers but not him.
“I dunnae ken for certain. He says we all treat her like an egg that may break because we kinnae stand to make her face what she must do to heal. He believes ye could, though, as ye were separated from yer family as she was.”
Isobel nodded, thinking now on Lena. “Aye, I was.” She had wondered why they let Lena go around filthy and acting so horribly, and now she knew that guilt restrained them from acting. She had no such guilt. She was not sure what she could offer Lena besides a good scrubbing of the body and the ear of someone who may just let out her heart when anger makes her forget to guard it. “I will do what I can. When shall I start?”
“I dunnae ken, but I’ll tell ye as soon as I do.”
She watched as Graham strode swiftly and purposely toward the door without a backward glance. It struck her then that he had been running from her. She scared her husband. That could be good or bad, she supposed, but time would certainly tell which it truly was.
With a huff, she rose and walked out of the bedchamber intent on seeing Marion, as planned, to try to learn more of Graham’s past.
She made her way to the healing room, where one of the servants had told her Marion was working. The door was ajar, so Isobel entered and called out to Marion. The room smelled strongly of incense and herbs, and was littered with pottery and small bottles, but no Marion. Then a small, nearly hidden door creaked open and Marion, Bridgette, and Marsaili suddenly appeared.
Marion and Marsaili smiled warmly at Isobel, and when Marion nudged Bridgette in the side, Bridgette, to Isobel’s utter shock, gave her a small smile.
Bridgette was the first to come to her. She paused directly in front of Isobel. “I am nae one to admit I have been wrong.”
Isobel froze. Was the woman speaking of her? If so, she would do her best to aid Bridgette along the road to friendship. “I too am like that,” Isobel offered.
Bridgette arched her eyebrows. “Marion and Marsaili are correct. Ye have a kind heart, nae the heart of a Campbell.”
