“I’ll tell you what’s the matter,” Marion growled. “Your brother in all his infinite wisdom has decided he will live separately from his wife. He intends to leave Isobel here with us while he goes to make his home at Brigid!”
A splash of red wine hit Graham’s hand, and he twisted around to see Rhona gaping at him. “Dunnae fash yerself, Rhona,” he said while glaring at Marion. “And hold yer tongue, aye? I dunnae wish for idle gossip.”
Rhona surprised him by gripping him by the hand. “Dunnae despair, my lord. Nae a soul will be displeased with ye, if I may say—”
“Away with you!” Marion snapped, shocking Graham further for she never had a cross word for anyone.
Rhona scrambled off the dais without a backward glance.
“Marion,” Iain said in a warning tone as she speared Graham with an angry gaze.
“Iain MacLeod,” Marion growled, “if you wish to lie beside me tonight or any other in the near future, you will not stop me from speaking.”
Iain waved his hand to his wife in submission while his gaze moved to Graham. “I’m sorry, Brother, but I agree with what my wife says.”
Marion gave Iain a pleased smile, which made Graham grind his teeth. “Get on with it, then,” he growled.
“You are a clot-heid,” she snapped.
“Aye,” Bridgette agreed from her seat. “An eedjit to be certain. Ye will lose her if ye do this.”
He curled his hands into fists. “It is nae yer concern.”
“Brother,” Lachlan said, setting a hand on Graham’s shoulder, “it is all of our concern because ye are important to us.”
Graham rose up to leave at that, but Iain clamped a hand on his arm. “Sit.”
Isobel awoke to a knock. Sitting up in darkness, she rubbed her bleary eyes. “Enter,” she bid, sucking in sharp breath when Rhona came into the room.
“Isobel?” Rhona twisted her hands together. “I am so terribly sorry,” she cried out as tears leaked from the woman’s eyes.
Isobel scrambled off the bed and came to stand in front of the obviously distraught woman. She reached a hand out to her but then pulled it away, fearing her touch would only worsen matters. “What has occurred, Rhona?”
The woman wiped at her tears and sniffed. “I only just heard that yer husband is leaving ye here while he makes his home in Brigid.”
Isobel sank to the bed as her knees gave in shock. Graham had told his clan? Had he made an proclamation? Shame and rejection blanketed her. “Did he…did he tell ye this?”
Rhona nodded. “I feel so ashamed! I was certain ye wereban-druidh, but yer husband would nae leave ye if ye had cast a spell. I blamed ye for my own husband’s death because of yer family, but now I see ye are simply a…a pawn!”
Isobel rubbed at her chest. Her heart felt squeezed in a vise. “Dunnae fash yerself. Ye were beset with grief,” she said, her mind turning on how little Graham must care for her to announce to his clan he would be leaving her there while he made his home elsewhere.
“I’ve been sent to fetch ye by yer husband to make yer farewells,” Rhona said, giving Isobel a pitying look.
“My farewells?” Isobel murmured, her thoughts jumbled.
“Aye.” Rhona took her by the hand and led her to the door. “Yer husband departs soon. He has decided to sail out on the full moon. He is down at the water waiting to say farewell.”
Rhona led Isobel across the passage to the side stairs. “This way is faster, and he is impatient to depart.”
Isobel gave a bitter laugh. “Certainly. I must not keep my husband waiting,” she replied and followed the woman down the tiny set of steps that led directly to the courtyard. The moon was bright in the sky and shone down almost mockingly on Isobel as she moved toward the seagate stairs. When they arrived, Rhona moved the heavy bar and motioned Isobel ahead.
The wind had picked up from earlier, and as Isobel started to walk down the long, winding stairs, she grappled with her hair, which was being whipped into her eyes and obscuring her vision. She eventually caught her hair and looked down toward the loch in the distance. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight that she could see no birlinn awaiting departure.
She frowned. “Rhona,” she said, stopping.
“Death to ye,ban-druidh!” the woman snarled a second before Isobel was knocked over the head and all went dark.
“Ye will hear this, whether ye wish to or nae,” Iain said to Graham while still clutching his arm.
