Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Isobelle’s entire body shook as they neared Castle Ross just after midday. Her horse grew skittish as she could no longer control the trembling that increased with each step that brought her closer.
Home.
James insisted she see Castle Ross before moving on to where Monty, Morna, and Ivar awaited her.
She would have one last chance to touch the place of her nightly dreams before it was tucked back in with the rest of her memories.
But that’s all she’d dreamt of for nearly two years—one more chance to see it.
A wish about to be granted. She could ask for no more than that.
What would they say at the gate?
“Let me do the speaking, lass.” James gave her a wink and urged his horse to the fore.
When they reached the gate, a man waved to James, and before a word was said, the painfully familiar barrier swung open.
He looked over his shoulder as they neared the inner bailey.
“Ewan must have told them to watch for me, aye?”
Ewan. She was about to see Ewan!
They dismounted before the stables and she hurried inside to hide herself in the dimly lit out building.
Gaspar joined her. James sent the stable lad to fetch his laird, then stood just inside the wide doorway.
She’d kept the hood of her cloak far forward to hide her face, but now pushed it back a bit and peeked through a gap in the boards.
She thought the stable lad looked a great deal like Orie, the Smithy’s son, the one whose confession had been her doom. And she dearly wished she could show herself to the lad and share her secret—that she hadn’t died in the tomb after all—in case he thought himself to blame for her death.
Poor Orie. She’d thought about him often.
The number of men on the walls were double what she remembered. The bailey was full to bursting with folks she didn’t ken. It was not unlike the crowd when Scots from other clans had come to view her witch trial.
Two large shadows entered the stable, but she looked away before she might be recognized.
“Laird Ross,” James said quietly, “may I present Signore Gaspar Dragotti, and his companion, uh…uh…”
Isobelle turned and found a finer dressed version of the cousin who’d nearly drowned her in spirits when she’d escaped her tomb.
“Ewan!” She rushed forward and jumped into the outstretched arms of the new laird. “Oh, Ewan! Ye look so fine!”
“Isobelle,” he whispered. “Odin kens I would be pleased to see you on any day, but…”
She pushed out of his embrace and gave him a good frown. “Oh? Do tell, cousin.”
He rolled his eyes and scooped her up again.
“Doona be frowning at me first thing, Izzy. I was about to say that the chieftains of a dozen clans are in our home just now, and if it were another day, ye could have had free rein of the place. But now, no. The Gordon sent his wee son, Cinead, so there is at least one bastard who will recognize ye, if yer seen.”
He peeked over her shoulder and his eyes flew wide. Then he dropped her like she carried the Black Death and stepped back.
Isobelle turned to find a too-innocent Gaspar standing with his hands behind his back.
“Be nice,” she whispered.
“I am.” Gaspar and Ewan said it in unison and James laughed.
Ewan held out his hand. “Gaspar? Italian, are ye?”
“No. English.” And he folded his arms without looking at Ewan’s open hand.
Ewan turned a nasty look at Isobelle like she’d brought an Englishman just to vex him.
“He’s mine, Ewan. Ye’ll be nice to him. If ye must, tell yerself he’s The Pope for all I care. I’m keepin’ him.”
She grabbed her dragon by the arm and dragged him to her, then she pulled his head down until their lips met, giving him a kiss that was sure to make her cousin uncomfortable. Once that was accomplished, she growled against his lips.
“Shake his hand, Dragon. Or I’ll have ye kept in the dungeon for a time, aye?”
Gaspar’s hand shot past her toward the scraggly cousin. Then he grinned while Ewan tried to shut his mouth.
“I’m keeping her. Just so you know it.”
Ewan sighed, then shook the offered hand. “Just as bossy as e’er ye were, Izzy. And where is our Ossian, then?”
Isobelle opened her mouth to explain, but Gaspar stopped her with a hand on her arm. He took a shaky breath and looked into her eyes. “I hired Ossian as a crossbowman…and sent him to the New World…so I might get my hands on Isobelle.”
Isobelle reacted to the news without much thought. She simply pulled back and threw her fist into the man’s jaw. How dare he wait so long to confess such a thing?
Gaspar stumbled back, but James was there to catch him.
Ewan showed a lairdly amount of patience and manners by allowing the Englishman to get his balance before he dealt his own blow to the same abused jaw. Then he turned to Isobelle. “Instead of shaking his hand, I should have cut it off!”
James stood watch again while Isobelle and Ewan sat in a pile of fresh hay and waited for the dragon to stir.
“I’ll let Monty give ye the particulars, but I will tell ye that yer brother saw the error of his ways, ye might say, and helped Morna get free of her Gordon husband. Cinead believes Morna threw herself into the sea and drowned. But she was verra much alive when last I saw her.”
Gaspar woke with a start and she put a hand to his chest to reassure him.
Ewan grinned. “While ye slept, ye English bastard, we cut off those hands ye were speaking about.”
Horrified, Gaspar lifted his hands, wiggled his fingers, then sighed in relief. Ewan got to his feet laughing, then offered to pull the other man to his feet as well.
Gaspar grinned, then took Ewan’s hand. But instead of Gaspar rising, Ewan was pulled forward and with an Italian boot applied to his middle, he was tossed over, onto his back in the hay.
James helped Isobelle stand, then rolled his eyes at the other two. “One of the witches is coming, Laird Ross.”
Gaspar jumped to his feet and crossed himself. Ewan nodded, as if he thought crossing himself was a grand idea, and copied the movement.
Isobelle rolled her eyes, then took Gaspar’s hand in hers. “I have yet to forgive ye fer sendin’ Ossian away, mind, but ye look as if ye might faint.”
A figure slipped through the doorway and uncovered its head. It was Mhairi, and Isobelle would have gone to her and given her a hearty greeting if Gaspar’s fingers hadn’t squeezed hers so securely.
Mhairi waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadows, then hurried to join them. She looked worried when she recognized Isobelle.
“We saw a dragon,” she whispered.
Isobelle laughed. “Mhairi Muir, Gaspar Dragotti.” She nodded at each in turn. “My dragon.”
Mhairi smiled broadly. “That’s fine. That’s fine. I didna think we could fit a dragon into the tomb…”
Isobelle stiffened at the mention of the infernal thing. “What do you mean?”
Mhairi looked at James, then at Ewan. Both men looked sheepishly at their boots.
“Weel, now. This is a fine mess. And with no time to explain. The chieftains are restless, Ewan. They’ll not wait on ye much longer. And we canna leave her standing about, aye?”
James frowned, “Why do they wait?”
“For Ewan’s weddin’ to begin, of course.”
Ewan grimaced. “There was hardly time… Ye dinna ken her, Isobelle. And ye canna be introduced, aye?”
“He’s right.” Mhairi tugged on Ewan’s arm. “Go on and get marrit. Then meet us below for a proper fare thee well.”
Ewan kissed Isobelle on the cheek and hurried away. Then Isobelle turned to Mhairi, dread filling her limbs until she couldn’t feel them any longer. “Mhairi? What do ye mean, below?”
“Now, dinna fash. We’ll send ye off to be with Montgomery and Morna in no time at all.” The woman gave her a wink.
“Oh? And will ye promise before God that me brother and sister yet live?”
Mhairi looked taken aback by the question, then smiled. “Oh, aye. They live. And where they live is a wondrous place. Ye’ll be quite happy, I assure ye.”
Gaspar put his arm around Isobelle’s shoulders and gave Mhairi a look he may have given many a woman accused of witchcraft. “Just where does her family reside?”
The woman started to speak, but James waved her off. “They now live where I call home,” he said.
“And where is that?”
James grinned and gave Isobelle a wink before turning back to Gaspar. “Why, in the New World.”
Gaspar choked and sputtered, but Isobelle wasn’t worried. That wink had given James away. His winks were a bit less frightening than those from the witches.
She tilted her head and stared at the big man through narrowed eyes. “Ye must be jesting, James. There is something ye havena told us.”
The big man sighed. “Aye. There is. But I dinna want you to fret as yer bound to do. Ye see, the way to Montgomery and Morna… The way leads through yer tomb, lass.”
That numbness in her limbs came up to fill her head and the stable went dark, as if someone had doused the sun.