Chapter 12
Like proud roosters, they marched back and forth, Robbie and Jamie, admiring the fence they’d labored over the day before. They could well be father and son, those two.
Isa bit back a smile as she watched them through the opening in the door.
She couldn’t have imagined when she’d impulsively asked the big warrior to find a way to keep Jamie busy here that he would turn out to be such a kind and caring teacher for the boy.
Over the past day and a half the two of them had been inseparable, Robbie patiently taking the lead, with Jamie at his heels like a noonday shadow.
She’d never seen Jamie so happy, not even when he was eating.
If she weren’t so determined to make the man leave, she might just find herself wanting him to stay.
“Which is exactly why he has to go,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her.
The Fates had never been kind to her, but this—this taste of what other people have in their lives dangling in front of her—was the unkindest cut of all.
Their last few evenings together had been idyllic, as if they were the perfect family she’d always dreamed of.
“Dinna you go brainsick now, Isabella MacGahan,” she said aloud, needing the encouragement.
Time to put away the fantasies and face what life had actually dished out to her.
Even if a man like him did take a fancy to her, she was too dangerous to live among people. One unguarded flare of her temper and lightning could take them all down or they could drown in the rains she thoughtlessly provoked.
No, fantasy would have to be packed away like the treasures in her little wooden box.
For now, it was time to head to the castle. She’d finished her preparations.
Nervously she smoothed her hand down the front of her filthy dress, the action sending waves of foul odors swirling around her as she stepped outside.
“There she is,” Jamie called, running toward her. “Are we ready to go now?” He stopped a short distance away from her, the good side of his face wrinkling in distaste. “Lo, but that’s foul, Isa.”
Even she had to admit she might have overdone it a bit this time. Perhaps the goat droppings in her pockets were a little over the top. Still, it was a big event and a good chance to impress upon everyone the necessity of keeping their distance from her.
“What the hell have you done to yerself?” Robbie demanded, an angry frown creasing his handsome features. “You stink to high heaven!”
“This?” She tried to ask it innocently enough. “Only what I always do.”
“No. Yer no going about like that. No anymore.” Robbie crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head as if he could tell her what to do. “Go in the house and clean yerself up. We’ll wait right here for you.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” Was he witless? She’d carefully cultivated her disguise over the past eight years. She wasn’t about to ruin all that hard work. “I’m ready to go as I . . . urmph.”
The wind was knocked from her lungs when Robbie lifted her from her feet, tossing her over his shoulder and walking away.
“What do you think yer . . .”
Before she could even finish her sentence, she was flying through the air and landing with a splash, on her bottom, waist deep in the stream that ran beside her home. The only sound her brain could form was a scream of rage.
Thunder rolled and lightning streaked across the sky as a distant storm raced in their direction, but Robert seemed not to notice anything as he glared at her.
“Now climb yer pretty arse out of the water, get inside the house, and get yerself ready to go. I told you once before, you’ve no need to pretend to be anything other than yerself.
I’ll no have you humiliating yerself, yer father’s memory, and yer grandfather on his wedding day. He deserves better from you.”
“My grandfather?” She yelled at him, indignation filling every inch of her soaking wet frame. “What do you ken of my grandfather? Nothing! You ken nothing of my life or of what my grandfather deserves.”
One look at Jamie’s white face, peering at her from behind Robbie’s massive body, and she gasped for air, fighting to regain her control. Of all the things in the world she might want, frightening the lad was not one of them.
“I ken he was laird and father to my friend Thomas. And I ken that Thomas loved his father as he did his daughter. And though I may not understand the troubles between the two of you, I have enough care for Thomas’s memory that I’ll show his father respect.
And you’ll do the same as long as I’m here. ”
He reached out his hand to help her up and she stared at it a long moment before accepting his assistance. How dare he try to shame her into changing her behavior.
“Then perhaps you should get on yer big horse there and go, Robert MacQuarrie. I dinna want you to stay. I dinna need you to watch over me.”
For a second, she thought he might let go of her hand, plunging her back into the water. But then his expression hardened and he pulled her to her feet, though a bit more forcefully than necessary, to her way of thinking.
When she was on the bank, he released her hand and stepped back, holding out his arm as if he were a great gentleman inviting her to enter her own home.
“Dinna keep us waiting long, woman.” He crossed his arms in front of him, one eyebrow cocking imperiously.
“And for the record, Isa, whether you want me to stay or go is of no matter to me. I pledged my word to yer da to watch over you, and watch over you is what I intend to do. As long as yer here, I’m here, so you might just as well get that through yer stubborn little head. ”
It would do no good to argue. That much was plain to see. Swallowing her anger, she stomped off toward the cottage.
He knew nothing of the man her grandfather was. Nothing. How dare he throw her father’s feelings in her face.
Damn him. Damn the Fates for bringing him here.
Thunder rumbled again in the distance as she slammed the door closed behind her, still struggling to bring her roiling emotions back under her command.
She fought back the tears that clouded her vision and the tightening in her throat, refusing to even think about whether they came from rage or sorrow.
Had she thought the Fates were unkind earlier? She’d been absolutely wrong. They weren’t unkind. They were downright vindictive as hell.
So there was indeed a temper to match all that red hair.
Robert stared at the back of the retreating woman he’d just plucked from the waters.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman who bottled up her emotions as tightly as Isabella did.
She was going to blow one of these days, and when she did, heaven help whoever set her off.
“It’s because of her mother,” a quiet little voice said from behind him.
“What?”
Robert turned to find Jamie all but cowering a few feet away. The sight almost broke his heart. He strode over to the boy, and reached out to place his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. When the boy flinched, Robert felt a flush of guilt and dropped to his knees, facing the child.
“Isa would not like to have me tell you so, but it’s because of her mother that his lairdship wanted nothing to do with her when she was little.
Please dinna be angry with her. It’s no her fault.
” Though his chin quivered, he met Robert’s eyes with an oddly familiar piercing blue stare, his shoulders back like those of a little soldier.
“I’m no angry with Isa. Dinna you worry yerself about that, lad.” Robert forced a smile for Jamie’s sake, relieved to see the boy visibly relax. “How do you come to know about these things you say?”
Jamie shrugged. “My grandmother used to tell me stories about when Mistress Isa was a girl at the castle. She said his lairdship hated her mum because she’d up and left Master Thomas with a broken heart and that Isa was the very image of her mum.”
Robert nodded as he stood, ruffling Jamie’s hair with one hand. The backstairs grapevine always had been the best place to learn what went on in a keep.
“Come along with you, Jamie. Let’s get mounted and ready to go.
” He lifted the boy up onto the back of the old horse he’d ridden from the castle before climbing into his own saddle.
“Thank you for telling me about Isa and her grandfather. It helps me to know. I guess I can see how a father might resent the woman he thought had hurt his son. And if, as yer grandmother says, Isa looks so much like her mother, I suppose it would stir old feelings.”
The door to the cottage slammed again and Robert turned, watching as the Isa he’d come to know over the past few days made her way toward them.
“Aye,” Jamie agreed. “Between the way she looks and the terrible magic she inherited from her mum, she and his lairdship have had a hard time of it.”
“The what?” Robert swiveled his gaze back to the boy.
“Magic,” he answered innocently, waving as Isa approached. “Isa’s mum was a Faerie.”