Marion and Bridgette both shook their heads. “Nay,” Marion said.
“He dunnae,” Bridgette added.
“Likely he’s given himself some foolish reason why he cannot love you,” Marion ventured, looking suddenly thoughtful. “Perchance he has told himself you will make him vulnerable somehow.”
“Aye,” Bridgette agreed. “Only God above kens truly the workings of men’s minds.” She cocked her head. “Perchance he has told himself he should nae love ye because of what yer family did to his sister and to me. Perchance we—myself, Iain, Lachlan, Lena, and others in the clan—have added to the guilt he already carried with our initial and ongoing hostility toward ye.” Bridgette traced a finger over the branded initials on her skin, and Isobel’s heart squeezed painfully.
“I’m so verra sorry,” Isobel offered again, unable to look away from the permanent marking on the beautiful woman.
Bridgette raised her startling green eyes to Isobel’s. “As am I, Isobel, but dunnae fash yerself anymore. This”—she pointed to the marking—“brought me closer to Lachlan and gave me a deeper understanding of my love for him and his indestructible love for me, something I may nae have possessed if I had nae suffered what I did. I am verra sorry for how cold and harsh I was to ye. Ye are nae a Campbell but a MacLeod.”
The way Bridgette had conquered what had happened to her and found something good that had come from it left Isobel in awe. “I wish I were as strong as ye,” she whispered.
Bridgette patted Isobel’s hand. “I dunnae believe any of us ken our true strength until we are forced to reach for it deep within us. Now,” Bridgette said, glancing at Marsaili then back to Isobel, “let me tell ye of Graham’s mother—Er, yer mother, as well, Marsaili. I believe she haunts Graham even in her death.”
Isobel’s and Marsaili’s gazes locked, and then Isobel grasped Marsaili’s hand as they both leaned forward.
“When the MacLeod children were young,” Bridgette started, “their mother took ill.”
Marion clucked her tongue as if in disapproval. “Their mother brought them to her bedside, thinking she was dying, and made each of them vow to watch over the sibling younger than them. Except Cameron, as he was the youngest. Graham was to watch over Lena.”
Bridgette nodded. “Lady MacLeod recovered, but she kept the vows in place. She was a fierce warrior in her own right”—Bridgette looked to Marsaili—“but I’m sorry to say nae a verra gentle woman. She placed skills as a warrior above all else.”
Marion drew in a long breath. “She was particularly hard on Graham. Iain says he believes it’s because she saw Graham’s potential as a warrior and felt he was not achieving it.”
Isobel’s stomach clenched at this news, and Marsaili shifted beside her.
Bridgette’s expression grew grave. “She made it apparent that Lachlan was much favored over Graham in her eyes because Lachlan grew into his skills as a warrior verra early. She nurtured jealously in Graham when it came to Lachlan until eventually Graham started to resent his brother.”
“That’s horrid!” Isobel cried even as Marsaili hissed her distress.
“She dunnae sound much better than Jean,” Marsaili muttered.
“I kinnae say,” Bridgette replied, “as I dunnae ken Jean, but what yer mother did had terrible rippling effects for many years. One day when Graham was supposed to be watching Lena, he went to chase a rabbit instead, and while he was gone, she was stolen by Jamie with the help of yer father,” she said, offering a look of apology to Isobel and Marsaili, though none was needed for the truth that had been spoken.
“I ken. Graham told me,” Isobel said. Still, her heart squeezed once again at the treachery. “What happened after everyone thought Lena drowned?”
“Lady MacLeod blamed Graham,” Bridgette said quietly. “She told him that if she had appointed Lachlan to watch over Lena as she swam, then Lena would nae have died. This destroyed whatever belief Graham still had in himself, and it planted his jealousy of Lachlan like a thorny vine inside of his heart. Graham had already spent years trying to win his mother’s approval, and she died never giving it.”
“Dear God,” Isobel murmured. “Ye spoke the truth earlier, I fear. He dunnae feel worthy of love.”
Bridgette and Marion nodded, and Marsaili squeezed Isobel’s hand.
Isobel bit on her bottom lip as she thought of what they had told her. “And to struggle so hard to obtain love from someone and never receive it makes ye feel verra vulnerable. A man like Graham would nae wish to feel that vulnerable again.” She’d not wished it after the way her heart had been crushed by her discoveries about her father and siblings, but she had never lived with them. She had not grown up being made to feel unworthy or belittled as Graham had and, she realized, glancing at Marsaili, as her half sister had.
“There’s something else,” Bridgette added, drawing Isobel’s attention once more.
“Aye?” Isobel encouraged.
“Even though Graham kens Lena did nae drown, he still blames himself for what happened to her. And I believe he blames himself for what happened to me, though he should nae,” she said fiercely. “I was taken for the simple reason that yer father and Jamie wanted to force an allegiance with my brother by marrying me to Colin. That had naught to do with Graham.”
“Yet Graham blames himself,” Marion said in agreement. “And Iain confided to me that he once overheard Lady MacLeod berating Graham for being so needy. He apparently followed her around like a pup. She knew he longed for her love, but she thought to make him a legend.”
Marion paused and Bridgette spoke. “She wanted all her sons to be legends, so she told Graham it was a wicked weakness in him that made him need anything but a sword and the ability to conquer his enemies. I fear Graham believes desiring love means he is weak and wicked. Honestly,” Bridgette said with a sigh, “I believe ’tis why he pursued me. He did nae truly desire my love, so I was safe for him to pursue. Besides, it struck at Lachlan.”
An anguish unlike anything Isobel had ever felt gripped her and made her chest ache. “He will fight to his dying breath nae to give in to love, then.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and she quickly dashed them away.
“Ye must make it impossible for him to resist ye,” Marsaili suggested. “And then in an unguarded moment, love will break through.”
