Chapter 18 #2
A quick perusal of the happy faces of the clansmen around her produced a satisfied smile.
All in all, the gathering was proceeding quite well, even with the arrival this morning of Clan Mackenzie.
Her duty of hospitality aside, she was grateful they had missed the feast last night.
She had been able to avoid confronting the Mackenzie chief, the father of Murdock, who was killed by Rory not too far from the clearing where the clansmen were now gathered for the stone toss.
“Enjoying the competition, niece? Your handfast husband is putting on quite a display.”
Ouch, the pain in her head just got much worse.
Isabel looked around for a graceful means of escape.
No luck. Sleat had cornered her in a perfect spot for private conversation.
Undoubtedly, he’d patiently bided his time for just such an opportune moment.
Thanks to her pounding headache, Isabel had lingered in the shade on the edge of the forest a short distance away from the contestants and other spectators.
Taking a deep breath to bolster her confidence for the harrowing conversation that was sure to come, she ignored his scornful tone and replied, “ ’Tis hardly unexpected.
The renowned strength and skill of Rory Mor are legendary throughout the Highlands.
And of course, the MacLeods are heavily favored this year, as they’ve won the last two gatherings in a row.
But I think you do not wish to discuss games, Uncle. ”
He raised a brow, surprised by her directness.
Lowering his voice, he issued a reprimand in the clipped timbre of a verbal slap.
“No, I do not want to discuss the games. I want to know why you have not seen fit to communicate your progress in locating a secret entrance or the flag.” He grabbed her arm, as he was wont to do, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh.
“I want to know why you have forsaken your duty to your clan.”
Her uncle’s words were a bitter reminder of her precariously wrought happiness.
Guilt swept over her, descending on her conscience like a dark cloud snuffing out the flaming sun.
But she reminded herself that if her plan was successful, she would not fail in her duty to her clan.
She refused to contemplate what she would do if it didn’t work.
She tried to shrug off his hold, but he held firm.
She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’ve not forsaken my clan. ”
“Have you found the entrance or the Fairy Flag?” he asked skeptically.
“No,” she admitted.
He lowered his head, locking his cold, unblinking eyes on hers.
“Or perhaps you have found it and have decided not to tell me where it is. Do not take me for a fool, Isabel MacDonald. Anyone can see the way you are traipsing about after the MacLeod like an adoring pup. Stupid chit! You have fallen in love with your husband. He was supposed to fall in love with you.” His blotched face turned crimson with rage.
She stepped back, instinctively retreating from the danger posed by her belligerent uncle.
His contorted features, unappealing at best, were positively ugly.
“No, you are wrong. I have not found the flag or an entrance, Uncle.” Though he was right about the rest. Forcing herself not to flinch, she drew on all the reserves of her pride to hold her back straight and not cower before him.
“You had better hope you find them soon. The only thing keeping the Mackenzies from Strome Castle is my forbearance. Do not deceive yourself. Without my help, your clan will suffer. Badly. And people will die. Ask the Mackenzie how easy it is to lose a son.”
Isabel blanched, and her blood ran cold.
She forced back the guilt. Her brothers would not lose their lives and her clan would not need to suffer, not if she could convince Rory.
Sleat was only trying to scare her with his threats.
Never mind that it was effective. “I know well the dire situation of our clan, you need not remind me.”
Sleat studied her with a calculating glare. “Yet I do not sense the urgency in your actions. Is he in love with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has the MacLeod spoken of marriage?”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed. “Does he suspect you?”
“Of course not. I’ve been very careful.” She tried to move farther away from him. But his hand was still gripping her arm, and he used his hold to propel her forcefully back toward him.
“I am not finished with you, Isabel. I won’t be finished with you until you have found what you came here for.
Do you comprehend the importance of this mission—the importance of what you were sent here to do?
I refuse to allow the future prominence of the MacDonalds in the Isles to be compromised by the whimsical heartstrings of a mere lass.
There is far too much at stake. Look over there—” He motioned to the clearing.
“See how your husband converses so intimately with Argyll, our clan’s most vile enemy.
Since the dissolution of the Lordship, Argyll has usurped our power in western Scotland.
Soon, Argyll and his Campbell clan will be nearly as powerful as the king.
We must act now, reclaim our Gaelic heritage for the MacDonalds, before it is too late.
You will do what you were sent to do, or you will live to regret your foolish decision.
” The corners of his mouth lifted in a sinister, yellow sneer.
“Perhaps MacLeod would be interested to learn of your traitorous purpose here?” He laughed cruelly at her expression of horror.
“I wonder what your adoring husband will make of your explanation—do you think he will forgive you for deceiving him? For spying on him?”
No! You can’t tell Rory. Panic gripped her, choking her ability to think rationally.
Would Rory understand that she’d had no choice?
Would it be enough that she had changed her mind?
Could she take the chance? She intended to confess when the time was right—when she could be sure of his affections and had all the parts of her plan in place—but the truth coming from her uncle would be disastrous.
She should have anticipated that her uncle would not let her get away without a fight.
“The MacLeod is a proud man,” Sleat taunted. “How will he react to having been duped by a MacDonald lass? At my bidding.”
Isabel forced a nonchalance to her expression that belied the fierce pounding of her heart.
“But if you tell him now, you lose all chance of my finding the flag and an entrance, if it exists. I do still have two and a half months left in the handfast period.” Ten weeks to find a solution, and then she could confess all to Rory—before her uncle.
He scowled at her as if he gleaned her true purpose for delay and wanted to refuse, but then he gave a curt nod.
“Very well, dear niece,” he said, smiling grimly.
“But as you now seem to be a reluctant spy in our family endeavor, we shall have a new codicil to our original arrangement. Bring me what I want within ten weeks and I will not tell the MacLeod the true purpose behind your handfast. Fate will decide the future of your marriage, as it will the future of the MacLeods. But if you fail, your handfast husband will learn your little secret.”
Isabel lost all pretense of composure. “You can’t even be sure there is a secret entrance. And what if I cannot find the flag by then? It must be well hidden. You can’t force me to find something that doesn’t exist or is impossible to find.”
“ ’Tis not my problem. Where you fail, others may succeed.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is not your concern. You should be concerned only with what you were handfasted to do. When you are ready, send me a letter; my man will find you. Do not think to trick me. My man is familiar with the flag.” He turned on his heel, abandoning her to the agony of her own introspection.
What am I going to do? Panic squeezed her chest. She’d thought she would have time to work it all out.
But if her uncle told Rory, it would ruin everything.
Now she had to find a way to satisfy her uncle, until she had convinced Rory not to repudiate the handfast and to support her father in the feud with the Mackenzies. But what if it didn’t work?
It had to work.
But in her heart she knew she could not betray Rory, whether he loved her or not. It was a staggering realization. Would her family ever forgive her failure?
Tears of frustration built behind her eyes and threatened to burst. She wanted to fall to her knees and bow her head in despair but knew she could not risk Rory finding her in such a state. There would be too many questions. Questions she dared not answer.
A sudden rustling noise behind a tree caught her attention, distracting her from the tumultuous quandary of her horrible predicament.
She held her breath and stared at the space.
Minutes passed before she dared exhale. She could see nothing out of the ordinary, and so returned to the agony of her own burdens.
But her uncle’s words came back to her. Was someone watching her? Had her uncle hid another spy in their midst?
Rory watched Isabel’s conversation with her uncle with marked interest and growing unease.
Isabel would never betray him. Of that he was certain.
She cared for him and his family. No one could be that accomplished an actor.
But something else was at work. He didn’t like the way Sleat was talking to her; he seemed to be threatening her.
When Sleat grabbed her arm, Rory decided he’d waited long enough.
It was well past time he found out what hold her uncle had on her.
He approached the edge of the clearing, where she stood under a canopy of trees. “Are you well, Isabel?”
She startled, her eyes jumping to his face. “I’m fine,” she said too quickly. “It’s too warm in the sun, that’s all.” She tried to smile, but it faltered.