Chapter 24 #3
Philip was relieved and confused, stammering out some unintelligible response.
He exchanged a bemused glance with Isobel, who only shrugged and sat beside her father, apologizing profusely.
Philip looked over her head and saw Rose watching him knowingly.
She arched a dark auburn brow at him, and he understood who had smoothed his way with the chieftain of Glen Laire. He owed Rose a great deal.
“Where is Uncle Roderick?” Isobel asked.
“He’s out looking for you,” Alan said, giving Isobel a hard look, even as he held her hand so tight he must’ve been cutting off the blood flow; but Isobel didn’t complain.
“I canna wait until he returns,” Rose said. “He’ll not believe how much Father has improved just since he left.”
“Aye,” Alan said, grinning. “Lately I think I just might be out of this bed one day.” He directed his gaze at Isobel’s belly. “I hope, in time to see my grandson.”
Isobel looked up at Philip guiltily, then back at her father. “But Da, I’m not really pregnant—we just said that—”
“Are ye sure?”
“Well, no, we’re not sure…”
He winked at them both. “Well, I am.”
They arrived at Sgor Dubh a week later. Philip had written to his father, explaining he’d wed Isobel and was coming home to stay. The heavy wooden doors leading into the keep stood open, and Dougal was just inside, hands clasped behind back, waiting.
He looked stern and unforgiving as his gaze raked over them both. Philip had a sudden fear that he’d pushed his father too far the past twelve years, and he would not forgive him.
“This is for good, aye?” Dougal said skeptically.
“Aye,” Philip vowed solemnly. “You’ll not get rid of me this time.”
Dougal’s gaze flicked to Isobel and back. “So ye finally decided to listen to me.” He shook his head wearily. “It’s about damn time.”
Dougal had prepared a feast to celebrate their wedding and Philip’s homecoming.
Mairi sat stiffly on Dougal’s right, staring hatefully at Philip.
Isobel was excessively solicitous of him, and Philip knew she feared Mairi’s bitterness still hurt him.
But Philip was finally free of her. He felt nothing but pity for the sour old woman sitting across from him, and joy and relief that Effie had escaped her.
And hope, that one day soon his sister would be ready to welcome him back into her life.
“You’ll likely have to deal with Colin when he finally shows up,” Dougal warned. “He’ll be sore wroth when he hears of this.”
Philip and Isobel exchanged a secret look, and Philip replied that he wasn’t too worried about Colin’s ire. “I’m more concerned with Aidan and Niall—where are they?”
Dougal shook his head sadly. “Stupid culls—I canna believe they’re mine sometimes.
They came here, looking for Colin, complaining he’d deserted them in some wee village.
When I told them I hadn’t seen Colin in a week or more, they took off again.
Not a day later the earl of Irvine’s men arrived, looking for Aidan and Niall.
They shot Stephen in the back. The back!
God’s eyes.” He shook his head. “I ken ye already know this, and one day I hope to hear the whole story. Anyway, what could I do? We’ve been fostering that lad for years—he’s like one of my own—hell, better than one of my lads.
I’m just glad to hear the asses didn’t kill him.
So I just told Irvine’s men where to find the fools. I wash my hands of them.”
Mairi threw down her spoon and stood. “Aye, what care you now that Philip is back? God forbid anything should happen to Philip. You’d sacrifice every one of your children for him, as if he is Joseph, with his coat of many colors.
Do you wonder that his brothers hate him?
” She looked down her nose at Philip. “I know what you really are.” She turned and stalked from the hall.
“I have heard enough!” Dougal’s voice raised in an angry curse. He started to stand to go after her, but Philip placed a hand on his father’s arm. “It’s all right. I think that’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me—comparing me to Joseph.”
Dougal sat down but was not mollified. “It’s not all right, and I’m sick of the evil shrew. She’s going away, Philip. I have other houses—she doesna need to be here. And I’ll not hear another word about it.”
Philip shrugged. “If you insist.”
Dougal gave him an appraising look before turning his gaze to Isobel. “Well, good, then,” he said, set off-balance by Philip’s easy acquiescence.
Later, Philip saw his father take Isobel aside. They spoke softly, then Isobel rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. Dougal watched her return to Philip’s side before retiring to his chambers.
Philip took her hand and led her to their chambers. “What did he say to you?”
“He thanked me for giving him his son back.”
He pulled her into their chambers, shut the door, and pressed her up against it, so she was trapped between his body and the wood. “Now it’s my turn to thank you.”
She moved her hips against his, looking up at him suggestively beneath her lashes. “Thank me for what?”
“For giving me back my life.”
She smiled, her arms sliding slowly up his chest and around his neck, sending tremors of anticipation through him.
“I didn’t do that.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, loving the way her breath quickened, the way her lashes fluttered down, veiling the sage green of her eyes.
“Aye, ye did, my baobh le suil uaine.” His hand went to the pendant around her neck, the peridot her mother had worn.
Isobel looked down at the watery green stone he held. “You’re not afraid to be wed to a witch? It did not go well for my mother.”
“Afraid? Woman, do you never listen to me? I’ve told ye, I’m terrified of you.”
She smiled, pressing herself against him. “I can tell. You’re absolutely rigid with terror.”
“That I am.” He lowered his head to kiss her. “But I think it will go well for you.”