Chapter 4 #2
Lucian shut the door and sat beside her on the bed. “It’s our mark, a mark that lets everyone know that our mates have truly been found. No matter how much you try to deny it, Isabelle, your soul knows the truth.”
Never had so much doubt filled her, not even when her grandparents died and left her alone.
There was no denying the mark on her arm.
It was as if her soul had branded her. And in a way, that's exactly what it had done.
She wasn't ready to believe Lucian, or believe in him, but apparently her soul did.
Had this happened to anyone else, she would have dismissed the mark, giving any number of explanations as to how it could have appeared.
But this was her body. She knew her body, and the mark, a series of intricate knots and spirals that raced up her arm to her shoulder, had never been there before she had given herself to Lucian.
Magic or not, she was most certainly branded.
The question was, did she want to put to the test the possibility that she would spend the rest of her life alone?
Though she might have told herself she had expected to be alone, after a night with Lucian, she knew she would never settle for a lonely life now.
He sat patiently waiting on her response. She knew what he wanted, but her apprehension stopped her from readily agreeing to go with him.
She opened her mouth to tell him just that when his head jerked up and his body stiffened.
“What is it?” she asked, but he held up a hand to halt her words.
Three heartbeats later, there was a light knock on her door. “Mr. MacDonald,” she exclaimed, and hurriedly pulled up her chemise and threw on her gown. “I was supposed to be at the tavern already.”
“Dress. I’ll get the door,” Lucian said and rose.
As Isabelle hurried to make herself presentable, she heard Lucian's deep voice as he opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“Ah…I'm looking for Isabelle,” Mr. MacDonald said, the uncertainty ringing loudly in his tone.
“She’ll be with us in just a moment,” Lucian said as he shut the door behind him and joined Mr. MacDonald outside.
Isabelle smiled as she ran her hands over her wild hair and hastened to put it into a braid to keep it out of her face. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she went to the window and peered at the men through the crack in the shutters.
“Is she all right?” Mr. MacDonald asked.
“She is.”
Mr. MacDonald's eyes narrowed. “You have no’ harmed her, have ye? I might be getting on up in years, but I can still take a man down if need be.”
To give Lucian credit, he didn't laugh. Instead he smiled. “I’ve in no way harmed Isabelle, and as soon as she comes outside, you’ll see that for yourself.”
And then Lucian looked right at her.
Isabelle jerked away from the window and blinked. How could he have known what she was doing? It troubled her more than the lie she knew she would have to tell Mr. MacDonald.
She walked to the door and found her hand shook as she reached for the handle. Mr. MacDonald's head swiveled to her as soon as she stepped outside. She gave him a smile and was relieved when he returned it.
“Isabelle, lass, we were worried about you,” he said as he came towards her.
“I'm sorry. I was just about to send word to you and Mrs. MacDonald.”
What few gray hairs he had on his head danced in the breeze. Though his face was wrinkled, his eyes still held an intelligent spark in them that said he could see past her lies.
“Just tell me that you're all right,” he said softly. “You're like a daughter to us, lass, and we worry over you.”
Isabelle looked over Mr. MacDonald's shoulder to Lucian, who stood petting Elad. She knew he heard every word. She wasn't afraid of Lucian, and if she asked, she knew he would leave.
She returned her gaze to Mr. MacDonald. “Forgive me. Will you and Mrs. MacDonald be able to handle the tavern today? I need some time to…think.”
He waved away her words. “Of course. We’ve little Timmy. We'll put him to work.”
Isabelle laughed as she thought of Timmy, the baker's son, who was always looking for something to do that would keep him away from the hot ovens. “Thank you.”
For a long moment Mr. MacDonald stared at her. “Be happy,” he said softly, and turned on his heel to walk away.
Isabelle watched him go. His parting remark echoed loudly in her head.
Happy. What would make her happy? Would staying here working and living in the tavern with the hope of finding a husband do it?
She didn't mind the hard work, it was part of life, but the loneliness ate away at her, and Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald were advanced in years.
It wouldn't be long before they too left her. Then where would she be?
Happiness. It was something she had always had as long as her grandparents had been there. Up until that moment she hadn't even thought of what would make her happy, and it was a hard question to answer.
Lucian would make you happy.
Would he?
She knew without a doubt that being in his arms and the passion that was so strong between them swayed her. Yet, was it enough for her to throw caution to the wind and leave with him? For all his words and their night together, he was still a stranger.