Chapter 7 #3
He knelt beside the water, shirtless. Water glistened on his broad back.
His damp hair was pushed from his face. His stared into the stream, his hands braced on his thighs, deep in thought.
His ring gleamed dully in the dying light.
Isobel was reminded of his kiss, and a sudden weakness overcame her.
Her eyes fluttered shut. She fought against these new and unwelcome feelings, trying to steel herself for a confrontation.
She opened her eyes. “Sir Philip?”
He turned, his dark eyes pinning her, then he stood, snagging his linen shirt off a patch of grass.
His chest was heavy with muscle and furred with dark hair.
Isobel couldn’t seem to find the angry words that had been ready to fall from her lips just moments before.
Sinew shifted and flowed beneath smooth skin.
She thought of how his body had felt, hard and solid against her, how she’d felt surrounded, protected.
When he’d finally donned his shirt she was able to meet his eyes. The knowing look he gave her scalded her cheeks. He stood expectantly, jack and vest dangling from his fingertips, and sword belt slung over his shoulder. “You had something to say? Or did you just come to look?”
The eloquent speech in her head dissolved into helpless anger. After a moment of useless sputtering, she burst out, “You should have told me about Lord Kincreag!”
Philip sighed. “It’s not my place.”
She rushed forward. “What is your place? Do you even have one?”
“Not with you. I canna involve myself in your life.”
“Why? You can’t even give me a warning? Do you not even care?”
Philip searched her face, his smooth brow creased with worry. “I didna want to frighten you. Can ye not forget this and give the man a chance? There’s no proof he did anything wrong. His wife probably killed herself.”
“Why? Because he was so horrible she chose death over marriage to him? She couldn’t bear to look in his evil eyes? He sounds like the horny himself!”
One whiskered cheek dimpled in a half smile. “Stephen’s tongue runs away with itself. Pay his tales no mind.”
“Why would he make such a thing up? His uncle is an earl—that makes him privy to things even you don’t know, Sir Philip.”
“There’s little Stephen knows that I don’t by now—whether I wish to know it or not.” He sighed wearily. “I dinna ken what happened to Lord Kincreag’s wife. I thought you didn’t care what anyone thought? You said you would judge him yourself.”
“That was before I heard he might be a murderer—or—or a man who drives his wives to fling themselves from cliffs to escape his evil stare!”
Philip dropped his jack and sword belt to the ground and covered his face with his hands.
“God’s bones,” came the muffled curse. He lowered his hands and considered her for a long moment.
“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything to you about Lord Kincreag, but you have a way of pricking my temper, lass. ”
“I want to know the rest.”
“What more is there to say? Stephen clearly left no ugly rumor untold.”
“I want to know about my father. There’s something wrong with him. I know it.”
He shook his head and grabbed up his sword belt and jack, pushing past her.
She caught his arm, stopping him. “Please.”
He held her gaze, his jaw rigid, then looked at the ground. He gave another hard shake of his head. “I canna.”
“Why? Have you promised someone?”
He said nothing for a long time, then, “I have.”
Isobel dropped her hand. “I see.” It was bad, whatever it was, if her father swore him to silence. And she knew now that Philip would not tell her. If he was anything, he was a man of his word.
She turned away from him.
His sword and jack dropped to the ground behind her. His hands cupped her shoulders. A shiver ran through her, settling at the nape of her neck. She turned and gazed up at him.
“Dinna look at me so. Your father only charged me with bringing you home. Nothing more.”
“And so you don’t care.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “I’m not supposed to care.”
“What do you mean? If you care, you’ll feel obligated to do something?”
“Isobel—you’re betrothed. There’s nothing I can do.”
Isobel laughed shakily. “What do you think I’m asking of you? I ask only for friendship. I’ve not asked you to intervene between Lord Kincreag and me. Regardless of what I’ve learned today, I still intend to marry him.”
He frowned deeply. “You do?”
Isobel smiled. “Of course. It’s what my father wishes. And though I must admit I’m rather…shaken by these tidings, my father thinks he will be a good husband, and that is good enough for me.”
Philip searched her face, still frowning slightly. “Good…that’s good. Just remember, no one knows for certain what happened to Lady Kincreag.”
Isobel nodded hesitantly, her belly tightening. “But you think he did it, don’t you? Why else would you not tell me and forbid the others to speak of it?”
She saw the concession to her logic in his face, but he continued to deny it.
“All I know is he’s…odd. Reclusive. And I wanted to avoid any unpleasantness—that’s why I didn’t tell you.
” He sighed, his hands sliding up her shoulders to her neck.
“I canna see you with someone like him…but that doesn’t mean it won’t work.
You’ll bring light into his life, and he’ll be glad for it.
” His hands cupped her neck warmly, holding her immobile.
She thought of kissing him again, and her heart snagged. Her lashes fluttered, though she fought to appear unaffected. She sensed he would retreat if he knew how she felt.
His hands stilled. “But what I spoke of before—your little games. I dinna believe they’ll amuse Lord Kincreag.”
She nodded jerkily. Nicholas Lyon was probably the kind of man who’d burn his own wife if he thought he had sufficient cause.
She smiled up at Philip, her lips trembling slightly.
She felt so odd, filled with miserable joy when he touched her.
It clawed at her heart, to look at him. Why could her father not marry her to Sir Philip?
He seemed torn, gazing down at her with obvious concern. Whatever he saw in her face made him pull her against him, his arms going around her, pressing her head to his shoulder. “It will be fine. You’ll see,” he murmured against her hair.
Isobel closed her eyes, her hands flexing like a cat against his chest. She breathed in the scent of him, the warmth of his body.
His heart beat strong and steady beneath her ear.
Mayhap it would be like this with Nicholas.
Stephen had said his first wife was horrid.
She would be a good wife, and he would love her and hold her as Philip held her now.
And perhaps she would even feel the same way in his arms.
As her palms rested against Philip’s shirt, she felt his earnest desire to protect her, and it warmed her. She wanted to do something for him, to help him somehow.
She noted the change in the tempo of his heart, beating faster, his breathing shallow. His hands were on her arms, setting her away from him. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and unfathomable.
“Philip,” she said hesitantly. “Is your sister dead? Because I feel that she’s not.”
He started, dropping his hands and stepping back from her. “What do you mean?”
“Stephen told me how you sometimes just know things. That you get…feelings.”
His eyes narrowed. “Aye.”
“Well, that happens to me…and I’ve had…feelings about your sister.
It was a long time ago, I know that, and yet, your…
unhappiness over her has not lessened. It’s as if you can’t say good-bye.
That happens sometimes when a loved one is lost, but that’s not what I feel either. It’s…a desperate, searching sort of—”
“Stop it, Isobel!”
She came at him, her hands out. “I want to help you. I can, if you’ll let me.”
His jaw was rigid, his eyes slightly wild. “You canna help me. Forget about it.”
“Can you not even tell me what happened to her? Is she dead?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged.
He leaned down, grabbing his jack and sword belt.
“I know not. It’s been twelve years since I lost her.
” He gave her a hard, angry look. “And when I say lost her, I am being specific. She was in my care, and I just lost her. A six-year-old child. Gone. Forever, it seems. My family believes she’s dead, and that I—that I am… ”
He glared at a tree trunk, then stalked past her. Isobel’s heart ached for him and she reached out as he passed, but he jerked away and disappeared into the trees.