Chapter Twenty-One #2
He thought of Isabella serving up the stew she had cooked at Ember Hall. What had she said that he so readily dismissed?
“Perchance I would relish the chance to work and have purpose.”
He looked down at the fine array of roasted meats, glazed vegetables and glistening pies, and thought that he had never been less hungry in his life.
Instead of eating, he took another mouthful of wine.
Mirrie grimaced. “I had dared to hope he would not come.”
“You and I both.” Jonah spoke up for the first time.
Hamish realized that Lord Gaunt was ascending the steps to the dais. Inside the vast hall, with its high ceiling and majestic proportions, the English usurper looked smaller and scrawnier than ever. He wore a fur-trimmed cloak of deep scarlet, which Hamish hoped he would soon be sweating under.
As Gaunt walked proprietorially over to Isabella, Hamish felt his stomach begin to churn. The wine soured in his mouth and he thought, for a terrible moment, that he might retch. When Gaunt’s hand rested on Isabella’s shoulder, he knew that he could bear it no longer.
Apologizing to Mirrie and nodding to Lord Jonah, Hamish pushed his chair back from the table and left the hall as quickly and graciously as he could manage.
But upstairs, in the bedchamber set aside for him, Hamish’s thoughts still would not settle.
What can I possibly do to save both Isabella and Elena?
One answer presented itself.
God help him, if Tristan had not relieved him of his broadsword, Hamish thought he may well have acted upon it.
Removing Gaunt’s head from his scrawny neck would solve their problems in one fell swoop.
But Hamish could not kill a man simply by wishing it.
He paced over the thick rugs and reflected that there must be another way. If only he could think long enough and hard enough over it. As he passed the nightstand, he took another long drink of ale.
The door opened and closed, and there stood Isabella, resplendent in her sparkling jewels and fine gown.
“Thank goodness I have found you.”
Hamish put a hand to his aching head. “Ye didna have to leave the meal.”
She sniffed contemptuously. “There is dancing. And I had hoped to dance with you, Hamish. But you are up here.”
He sat heavily on the bed. “I canna think of dancing now.”
“And I cannot dance with Lord Gaunt, betrothal contract or no betrothal contract. And so here I am.” She sat beside him and linked her fingers with his, as if she had not a care in the world. Only a slight tremor in her voice revealed the depth of her emotions.
“Isabella.” He said her name like a prayer. “What are we to do?”
She hitched herself further up the bed and leaned back against the pillows. For the first time in the long, challenging days of their acquaintance, she looked weary.
“We are to do as we promised ourselves and spend one more night together. I will not think beyond that.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Do not make me.”
“I willna.” He felt as if his heart was being torn from his body. At the same time, the blood in his veins pulsated with frustration. As much as he wanted to lay down beside Isabella and take her in his arms, he needed to move, to pace, to act.
“You are agitated.” Isabella’s blue eyes followed him up and down the chamber.
“I am beyond that.”
“What can I do to help?”
Her words felled him. He sank to his knees and rested his head in her lap. Her fingers entwined in his hair and for a brief moment, he was at peace.
“Ye have already saved my sister. What can I ask more than that?” He sat up and took hold of her hands. “Nay, Isabella. ’Tis a failing on my part that I canna save ye from marrying that foul man.”
“I asked you not to speak of him. Nor of what will happen on the morrow.” She stroked the backs of his hands with her thumbs. “There is only now.”
“How can ye be so strong?” The words burst from him. For most of his life, Hamish had been the strong one. Now he felt as emotionally fragile as a young boy.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Isabella bit her bottom lip.
“All day, people have been telling me to not give up hope. My sister Esme e’en told me that love has the power to conquer all.
But all of this I have dismissed, however well intentioned.
Because how can things be made right between us?
If I refuse to marry Gaunt, he will take your poor sister in my stead.
And as the King’s judiciary, my father is powerless to move against him.
E’en Tristan, who has once or twice been reckless in the pursuit of justice, cannot risk our family’s name by turning on a peer of the realm.
” Isabella choked on her words and fell to silence.
She took a deep breath and continued. “But just now, I hear my mother’s words in my head. ”
Hamish pictured the elegant woman with silver strands in her hair, who had been seated near Isabella in the great hall. Her face had looked familiar to him, although he could not recall being properly introduced to her.
“What did your mother say?”
Isabella gave her head a small shake. “She has said naught of note about you and I. I have not given her the opportunity. But when we were children, whene’er things were tough, she would say fortune’s wheel never stops turning.”
Hamish considered this. “She is not wrong.” He sat back on his haunches and pushed his hair away from his face.
“I grew up the son of a laird and thought naught could ever change that. Then my own uncle moved against us, and for two long winters my family and all men loyal to us were forced to live in a cave.”
Isabella’s eyebrows rose up at this. “Elena too?”
“Nay. Elena and my mother were held captive by my Uncle Donald.” He found he had no wish to dwell on what came next.
“We successfully recovered the keep and I thought the hard times were behind us. E’en when my father passed on, I became laird in his stead and the harvest was good.
” He shrugged and smiled, despite the dark thoughts that threatened to intrude.
“And now?” Isabella left the question hanging.
“Now I am in love with Isabella de Neville. And forced to stand by while she marries my sworn enemy.”
“But don’t you see?” Isabella leaned forward so the glow of light from the wall torch framed her like a halo. “Things worked out in the past. Perchance they will now as well.”
He could not tear his eyes away from her. “Do ye really have such faith?”
If Isabella believed, then so would he. For he had lost what hope and faith he had once had. But for the sake of the woman he loved, he might find it again.
She pressed her lips together regretfully and shook her head. “Of all my family, I am the last person to speak of faith. I had so little faith in my future that I agreed to marry Lord Gaunt.” She swallowed painfully. “My mother is the one who sees spirits and meaning in all things.”
Even in the depths of his despair, her words caught his interest. “Your mother sees spirits?”
“’Tis the worst protected family secret. My sister, Frida, would oft converse with them in her youth. You see, we are not a conventional noble family.” She smiled half-heartedly.
Hamish wondered if he should admit to speaking with Brianne. ’Twas a secret he had never confided to anyone, not even Elena. But had Brianne ever been there? Or was she no more than a figment of his feverish imagination?
Or a consequence of his guilty conscience?
For he had let Brianne down, just as he was letting Isabella down.
Frustration pulsated inside him once again. He jumped to his feet, unable to stay still for a moment longer.
“Forgive me, Isabella. I am too out of sorts to stay indoors. I must go outside where I can breathe more easily.”
“But it is dark.” She sat up in alarm. “And fiercely cold.”
“I am a son of the highlands.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I dinna feel the cold like an Englishman would.”
She caught his hands and held them tight. “I want to wake up beside you in the morn. Do not deny me this.”
“I willna.” His fingers began to tremble as he perceived the depths of feeling in her gaze. “I promise ye that much.”
*
Hours later, Hamish crept back inside the keep, walking softly so as not to disturb the sleeping inhabitants of the chambers he passed.
The guards saw him; and the guards recognized him, but this could not be helped.
When he reached his own bedchamber, he paused, seized with fear that Isabella may have grown angry in his prolonged absence and turned the bolts against him.
He would not blame her if she had.
But when he turned the handle, the door opened easily, and he saw the chamber was still lit by the glow of the fire and several candles which had burned down low. Isabella was laid on the bed, under the covers. Her golden hair fanned out over the pillows and her breathing regular and even.
She slept the sleep of the innocent.
Hamish knew a deep pang of regret that he had not stayed with her. But he had returned, as promised. Isabella would wake up beside him.
He could not control what happened after that.