Chapter 15 #3
“Da…” She ran to him and fell onto the bed, her face buried in the fur over his chest, unable to look at his face—a shadow of the Alan MacDonell she remembered. “Oh, Da, what has happened?”
“Isobel,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “Look at me, child.”
Isobel raised her head. His face was blurred from her tears, and he wiped them away. He was only eight-and-forty and yet his face was lined and pale-grayish above his beard. More silver threaded the rich auburn of his hair and beard. His eyes were still clover green, though, and they smiled at her.
“My beautiful Isobel. I have you all now. My strength,” he said, gripping Isobel’s hands in his and squeezing.
“My heart and my soul,” he said, nodding across the room.
Through her tears Isobel made out the figures of two women, clinging to each other, one dark and the other with hair as flaming auburn as her father’s had once been.
“All will be well now,” he said, his hands falling away, his eyes closing, as if those words and the strength of his emotion had exhausted him.
Isobel wiped her eyes and gazed down at him. “What ails you, Da? Why did you not tell me you were ill?”
He opened his eyes. “To what end? So you could fash the entire way here? Why would I wish that? And I know not what ails me. None of the healers know. I just waste away. Even Rose is at a loss.”
Isobel felt a presence behind her and turned to see that Philip had joined them. She fixed him with an accusing stare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He could not,” her father answered. “He vowed he would not tell you of my illness, and Sir Philip does not break his vows—that is why I sent him to fetch you. There are few I can trust. Philip, Hagan—” He nodded across the room at the enormous black-haired Irishman who’d been Alan MacDonell’s personal guard since Isobel was a small child.
“I sent Hagan for Gillian. And Davie MacLeod, who I sent for Rose.”
“Da,” Isobel cried. “There are more than three men you can trust! What of Uncle Roderick?”
Alan smiled. “Of course I trust my brother—but your mother never did, so I could not send him for my most priceless treasures. And you are right, there are others.” He smiled at someone behind her.
“Stephen, of course, but he rides with Philip, and so they are one. The earl of Kincreag—but a chieftain does not send an earl to do his bidding.”
At the mention of her betrothed’s name Isobel looked away from her father, down at the dog who snuffled at her and nudged her hand.
How odd that it was unafraid. It must have become accustomed to witches, with Rose and Gillian there.
Her father was fey, too, but never so much it troubled the animals.
Her mind turned back to her betrothed as she scratched absently at the dog. “Lord Kincreag is here?”
“Aye, and he waits for you. He wanted you to have time with me and your sisters, so said he would see you after dinner.” One of her father’s hands covered hers, and the other touched her chin, raising her face to look at him.
“I ken ye’re afraid. ’Tis a common thing for a lass to be anxious, but he is a good man and will care for you. ”
Isobel chewed her lip, then said, “What of the stories that he killed his wife?”
“Do you think I would wed you to a murderer?”
Isobel’s lips trembled as she shook her head. “But I’m a witch,” she whispered. “What if—”
He hushed her and shook his head. “He knows all that and is jaded as they come, my dear. He does not believe in magic or witches. You are safe with him, so long as you do as I have always urged you. He knows why I sent you away. I meant to marry you long before now, but then the king began burning witches like they were cheap candles, and I couldn’t risk it.
I’ve always wanted Lord Kincreag for you.
Only he can offer you true protection. As a countess, no one will question you.
And he has promised to speak for your sisters as well, should any harm befall them.
I have chosen good men for them, too, so there is naught to fear.
I leave my greatest treasures in good hands. ”
Isobel had known that her marriage to the earl was important, but she had not realized to what extent.
It was not just land and titles, but protection—and not just for herself, but for her sisters as well.
The importance of her responsibility weighed on her.
There were no excuses left. She looked over her shoulder at Philip.
He stared at the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.
As if he sensed her gaze, he looked up, his eyes resting briefly on her before moving to Alan.
“Philip, come,” Alan said.
Philip stepped forward and knelt beside the bed, his shoulder brushing against Isobel’s thigh. He tried to dislodge the dog, but it was stubborn and remained by its master’s bedside.
Alan searched Philip’s face, frowning slightly.
“You have never failed me, and you have done well in this. I thank you. How can I repay you? If there is anything I have that you desire, you know you have only to ask.”
Isobel stared at Philip’s profile, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. What would he ask for? She had a vision of him looking her father in the eye and saying, Your daughter is all I want.
He was silent for a long moment, staring down at the bed, his long dark lashes hiding his eyes. His jaw clenched, then he met Alan’s gaze. “You owe me naught, you should know that, but I would ask that you consider very carefully your daughter’s marriage to the earl.”
Isobel gasped. Though she’d longed to hear him say such a thing, she’d not really expected it.
Alan frowned thoughtfully. “Why do you say this?”
Philip inhaled deeply. “You say the earl is jaded, that he doesn’t believe in witches and magic. I’ve seen your daughter’s magic, and when he does, he’ll no longer doubt. Can you be certain of how he’ll react when he discovers the truth?”
Alan smiled slightly. “Your concern touches me, Philip, but as I know your heart, so I know Lord Kincreag’s. A man couldn’t ask for better friends than I have, and I’m proud to count Kincreag among them. He’ll protect my daughters with his life.”
Philip nodded, his jaw locked. Isobel’s heart sank. She’d hoped for something else, something more, but she should have known. If he hadn’t the courage to take the home he so obviously loved and wanted, why would he ask for her?
“I can see your concern is true,” Alan went on, “And so here is what we’ll do.” His gaze moved to Isobel. “Have you your mother’s charm?”
Isobel nodded and turned to Stephen, who quietly passed her the satchel. Isobel dug through it until she found the bone casket and removed her mother’s peridot.
“Now put it on,” Alan said.
Isobel looked from the charm to her father uncertainly. She didn’t know if she wanted it on at all times. Sensing her hesitance, Alan said, “That’s why you must wear it. It will be a constant reminder of your mother’s fate. Be sure you dinna repeat it.”
Isobel fumbled with the ribbon until Philip moved behind her and tied it at her nape.
His fingers were warm and sure, and her loins clenched, deep and painful.
She closed her eyes briefly. She must get through this somehow.
Her father was dying, and it was clear he wanted nothing more than Isobel married to the earl of Kincreag. She must do this.
When she opened her eyes Alan was smiling at her. He sighed deeply and sank back into the pile of pillows behind his head and shoulders. He looked drained and so frail he might blow away, but content.
His gaze cut across the room and he held out a hand that shook slightly. “Come Rose, Gillian. Help me welcome your sister.”