Chapter 28
“Will you walk into my parlour?”
said a spider to a fly:
“’Tis the prettiest little parlour
that ever you did spy.”
—“The Spider and the Fly,” 1829
Mary Howitt (1799–1888)
English poet, author, and translator
As gently as a blown-out torch, the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The wind stirred in the trees, their lofty branches dark silhouettes against a darkening sky. And all around them was nothing but the clip-clop of hooves and the silence of the night.
It was almost midnight when they arrived at Duart Castle, standing proud and defiant on a crag like a sentinel guarding the Sound of Mull. Isobella looked at the steps leading to the gatehouse while Drust spoke to the guards inside. She waited, fighting the panic that rose to tighten like hands around her throat.
When he did not return, a strange sense of foreboding threatened her iron will, eroding the feeling that she had made the right decision to come here. Doubt filled her with despair. She longed for the familiar surroundings of Màrrach. She glanced at the pale face of Bradan, and although he did not show it, she knew the lad was scared. What have I done? She glanced around her. The brothers were quiet, but there was no hostility in their silence.
At last, Drust returned with two guards and they were escorted to the entrance of the castle. A hoof pawed at the cobblestones as Ronan helped her down. Bradan’s horse tossed its head, and the metal bit clanked as Drust lifted the lad and took him by the hand. Isobella hugged Colin, Gavin, and Grim, saddened that she would never see them again.
“My heart breaks,” was all she could manage, and then she pulled away and joined the others, drawing her cloak more closely about her as the four of them were escorted inside.
The evening meal was long past, and everyone was abed. The interior light was smoky and dim; the late night sounds strange, the scent unfamiliar. The loneliness that filled her quickly changed to fear as she listened to Drust and Ronan refusing to hand them over to anyone but Angus Maclean.
As they waited for the chief of Clan Maclean, her hands felt clammy and cold. Somewhere in the castle a door slammed. Footfalls echoed down passages. Imagined images of the Maclean swirled around in her head. She envisioned him as Blackbeard with lit cannon fuses in his hair, the ends of his pigtails smoking, pistols jammed in his bandoliers, and a bloody sword in his hand.
She heard voices close by, but only one that was gruff and authoritative. She swallowed a gulp of air. She glanced at the doorway and the black depths behind it. A candle appeared. Her gaze was frozen upon the frame of candlelight centered in the doorway. And then, a shadow appeared, growing larger and darker as it drew near.
Isobella watched, dry mouthed, as Angus Maclean walked into the room. He was the stuff of myths and fairy-tales, the quintessential monster. His face was expressionless, as if it had been carved from granite. His cheekbones were prominent and his brow broad, and she couldn’t decide if he looked like he had just stepped from the pages of mythology or a nightmare.
She was right to compare him with Blackbeard, for he did embody the pirate. He was tall, dark, and swarthy, with shaggy black hair and heavy-lidded, piercing black eyes that missed nothing. Upon first inspection, his gaze moved rapidly from Isobella to Bradan before it rested upon Drust and finally Ronan.
“And to what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Mackinnons at this hour?” the Maclean asked.
“I have brought Isobella Douglas, the sister of Elisabeth. She wishes to be united with her sister,” Drust said.
The Maclean looked Isobella over. She felt like a prisoner on the auction block. “Yer sister spoke the truth when she said she had a twin.” He smiled triumphantly and hooked his thumbs proudly in his belt. “’Twould seem I now have the complete set.”
That sent a cold shiver over her, and she glanced at Drust, who purposefully did not look at her.
“And the lad?”
“Bradan,” Drust said, and Isobella saw the muscle work in his jaw and saw, too, Ronan’s clenched fists.
The Maclean’s gaze rested upon Bradan for some time. Isobella was willing to bet that he had already figured out the lad was Alysandir’s son, but if he did, he did not mention it. Instead, he turned to the two guards at the door.
“Take the lass and the lad to the quarters of Elisabeth Douglas and see they are well cared for.”
She was sure everyone in the castle could hear the release of her long-held breath. When she glanced at Angus Maclean, she saw amusement gleaming in the depths of in his black eyes. She turned and hugged Drust and Ronan, and thanked Drust for at least the tenth time for bringing them here.
“I will never forget this. Never. I know I don’t need to tell you… all of you, how much I love you, but what you don’t know is that I will miss you every day of the rest of my life.”
And then she was hurrying up the stairs, wiping away tears as she held tightly to Bradan’s hand. They followed behind the two guards, and then they turned down a long, dark hallway.
Elisabeth’s room was at the far end, but that did not matter. Isobella felt like she was walking on air. The guard rapped swiftly upon the door with the hilt of his sword, so loudly that she was certain it echoed throughout the castle.
“Just a damn minute! Do you think I’m deaf?”
Isobella smiled. Elisabeth!
The door swung open. “You better have a good reason for… Oh, my God! Izzy!” She grabbed her sister in a bear hug. Isobella was not sure if she squeezed Elisabeth tighter or if it was the other way around. She would have said something, but Elisabeth beat her to the punch.
“I never thought this would happen. How did you get here? How did you know where I was? Come in!”
Isobella followed Elisabeth through the door, and Bradan accompanied her.
Elisabeth looked down at him. “Well, he cannot be yours, so where did you find him?”
“He is Alysandir’s son,” she whispered.
Her brows rose in unison with the sly smile. “And Alysandir is obviously someone important… to you, I take it?”
Isobella gave her a miserable half-smile. “Most of the time.”
Elisabeth laughed. “Oh my, I cannot wait to hear of it. Come, sit down and tell me everything that’s happened since we’ve been apart.” She looked at Bradan again and said, “Let me put down some bedding for the lad.” She had barely spoken the words when someone knocked on the door.
Elisabeth opened it, and in walked a servant with the things Isobella and Bradan had brought with them from Màrrach and a stack of bedding for Bradan. There were also a tray of cold food and a container of wine. Isobella wasn’t hungry, but they made a pallet for Bradan by the fire. They watched him eat while the two of them talked over a goblet of wine. Later, Isobella glanced at Bradan and saw he was asleep.
Elisabeth and Isobella sat in the bed talking.
“How have they treated you?” Isobella asked. “I was so happy to see you weren’t locked in the dungeon or the tower.”
“Oh, never that. Actually, they have treated me like one of the family. Angus explained his grievance was not against me, that I was…”
“A pawn.”
“Exactly.” Elisabeth’s brows rose questioningly. “You have also been free to come and go?”
“Yes, except for this trip. Alysandir’s brothers escorted us here, unbeknownst to him. They will not have an easy time of it.”
“And other than this trip, you were treated fairly?”
“Of course. I wasn’t allowed outside the castle gates without an escort, but I went anyway.”
Elisabeth laughed. “I do the same.”
Isobella smiled. “So, is there anyone special in your life?”
“No. I think Angus has ideas of a match between his son, Fergus, and myself, but that will never happen. But that is another story. Right now, I want to hear about Alysandir. Is he handsome?”
“Oh, Elisabeth, you have no idea.”
“Oh, my, you’re in love.”
Isobella sighed, “I’m afraid so.”
“Then why are you here?”
“It’s too long a story to go into tonight. Have you told them how we arrived here?” Isobella asked.
“You mean the time travel?”
“Yes.”
Elisabeth said, “Are you crazy? I don’t want to be burned at the stake.”
“No one quizzed you about our sudden appearance in the glen?”
“No, but I can tell that you were.”
“Yes,” Isobella said. “Alysandir is smart and very observant. He immediately began asking questions.” Then, she explained how things went until she told him the truth.
“You’re lucky you weren’t thrown in the dungeon, and braver than I,” Elisabeth said. “Although it has been difficult at times for me to keep my mouth shut. I’ve had some close calls when I referred to something in our time, but so far I’ve been able to charm my way out of it.”
“Have they commented on your strange speech?”
“Yes, I explained our father was a linguist who studied many different varieties of English spoken elsewhere. I said he devoted himself to reconstructing the evolution of English to a more pure form, that our vocabulary and pronunciation was different from everyone else.”
“My, you do excel at fabrication.”
Elisabeth nodded. “How about you? What did you use for an excuse?”
Isobella spoke of the shipwreck that never happened, and Elisabeth laughed. “Lord, if our parents only knew what a couple of creative liars they raised.”
Elisabeth shrugged. “At least our stories are similar. I didn’t know how long I would be here, but I didn’t want my head lopped off the moment I arrived. Necessity, as they say.” She put her hand on Isobella’s. “Do you think Douglas will always be evasive about our going back home?”
Isobella replied, “I feel we are caught in a battle between gods and mortals. Perhaps Douglas is a puppet on a string the same as we are.”
“Or he may be the one pulling our strings,” Elisabeth said. “Is he still being evasive?”
Isobella nodded. “Most of the time. Have you heard from him?”
Elisabeth smiled. “Just once. On the way here when he told me…”
“…Fear na ye?”
Elisabeth nodded. “How often do you talk to him?”
Isobella shrugged. “It varies. He has a way of popping up uninvited and then staying away when I summon him. He laughs one moment and jerks my chain the next. I am amazed to see such affected trickery in a ghost.” She paused a moment, then said, “You only heard him speak, but you haven’t seen him?”
“Not even a twinkle of one of his blue eyes. I don’t think he likes me. I wasn’t very nice to him that day in the glen.”
“He can be a bit strange sometimes,” Isobella replied.
“Everything about our coming here is strange,” Elisabeth said, “but what do you mean?”
“Just that I’m not always certain just whose side he is on.”
Suddenly Elisabeth hugged her. “Oh, Izzy, life has been lonely without you. I have missed you so much. You won’t believe it, but I’ve learned to be more patient, so that now I’m no longer saying that when I see you, ‘I’m going to poke both your eyes out for getting us into this bind.’”
Isobella laughed. “I must admit I wasn’t certain when the door opened if you would hug me or punch me flat out as you once said you wanted to do. I was afraid you would be angry or hate me for this.”
“Never,” Elisabeth said.
They talked until the sky was turning a pale grey. Isobella yawned and said, “Good night, Izzy.”
“Night, Lizzy,” Isobella said, using the pet name from their childhood before Elisabeth announced she never wanted to be called Lizzy again. When Elisabeth didn’t rebuke her, she thought her sister truly had changed. Isobella smiled and whispered, “I’m sorry I said you were the crabgrass in the lawn of my life.”
“When did you say that?”
“On our sixteenth birthday.”
Elisabeth burst out laughing. “Oh, Izzy, there will never be another you.”
The next two weeks were almost magical, with picnics and dances and boat rides. Elisabeth commented that it had not always been like that. “It’s because you’re here and he wants to make certain you remain.”
“He would let me leave if I wished?”
“You came of your own accord. You would leave the same way. There is a strange code of honor among these Scots.”
“Yes, Alysandir told me about it. I…” Isobella suddenly felt terribly nauseated. She barely made it to the chamber pot. When she felt a little better, Elisabeth made her lie down. She put a cold cloth on Izzy’s head. “How long has this been happening?”
“This is the first time. I’m just not accustomed to the food here.”
“What you aren’t accustomed to is being pregnant.”
Isobella gasped. “I can’t be pregnant.”
“You’ve had sex with Alysandir and more than once. Did you use the withdrawal method?”
Isobella’s face turned a ghastly white. “Maybe I have a bug.”
“That will grow into a full-blown baby in about nine months.”
“I don’t need a baby right now. I don’t have a husband.”
“Well, the baby doesn’t know that,” Elisabeth said.
Isobella walked to the window and stood watching Bradan and some children playing in the courtyard below. What would Alysandir think if he knew? Would he be furious? Would he marry me? Send me away? Ignore me, or replace me? Should I return to Màrrach? Should I remain here?
Elisabeth answered the question for her. “You have to return to Màrrach, Izzy. If Angus finds out, he may not let you leave. A child of Alysandir’s would be the ultimate pawn. It’s hard enough keeping Bradan’s parentage a secret. I don’t think we can hide the baby’s, too.”
The back of Isobella’s hand covered her mouth, and she fought against crying. She turned back to Elisabeth. “Oh, Lord! Not after what I’ve done. How can I go back?”
“How can you not? It’s his child. He has a right to know.”
“He may not take me back.”
Elisabeth gave her a look that said how stupid she thought that last comment was. “For a smart woman with two degrees, sometimes you are just plain stupid, Izzy. He did not send you away. You left. And stop wringing your hands. We can work through this. After all, it isn’t the first stupid thing you’ve done or the first child born out of wedlock.”
Isobella took a deep breath. “You’re right. So, who can we trust to ride to Màrrach and tell him?”
Elisabeth sat down to think about that. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we can come up with something. As a last resort, we could speak to the priest here.”
“Yes! Alysandir’s uncle Lachlan Mackinnon is the abbot at Iona. Surely the priest could get word to him.” She sighed. “How have I gotten myself into such a mess?”
“By being human?” Elisabeth’s countenance brightened. “You’re in a predicament but not an impossible one.”
“It seems that way to me. His brothers and sisters turned against him in helping us come here. His feelings toward me won’t ever be the same now. How can they be? How can I expect him to forgive me?”
“Don’t fret. We will work through this. Eventually, the tides will turn in your favor. Your life isn’t over. You’re simply having a life reassessment.”
Two more weeks of reassessments passed slowly for Isobella. Elisabeth said it was because she was plagued with bouts of morning sickness. “It usually goes away by the fourth month.”
“Arrrggghhh…”
Although the morning sickness didn’t disappear, it began to lessen enough that Isobella took a stroll outside. The garden at Duart was almost as beautiful as the one at Màrrach. She sat upon a stone bench with a furry grey kitten on her lap and watched the antics of six downy ducklings making squishy, rippling noises as they paddled in circles around a water-lilied pond.
Nearby, the song of birds quietly ushered in the evening and the gloaming settled softly about her while bees droned in innumerable trees; busy like mothers whose work was never done. She was thinking there was nothing lovelier than a sunny burst of golden daffodils growing among mossy stones.
As changeable as Mercury, her mood suddenly became deeply, sadly pensive. What was she going to do? Abandoned to her own fate, she had been in residence at Duart Castle for almost a month and she still did not know what the future held for her.
For every door that closes, lass, ten will open.
Suddenly, Sir James was standing by the fountain a few feet away.
“I’m not very happy with you or the way things are going. If this is your idea of playing matchmaker, you would be better off sticking to ghosting… or riding a broom. I feel like I am adrift in a leaky boat without oars, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She looked off and did not say anything for some time, and when she did look back at him, she thought he must have seen the forlorn expression on her face and the frown between her eyes.
“Ye are no’ the architect of yer future, Isobella, but dinna be distraught, fer ye are allowed to paint it with yer favorite colors and redecorate it now and then. Ye are feeling as if ye have been tossed into a maelstrom and fear ye are being swept away. But nothing remains the same and fortuitous circumstances shape lives as surely as calamity.”
“And are there fortuitous circumstances in my future?”
His features softened, and she wished he was mortal so she could give him a hug. “’Tis not my place to foretell yer future, only to help ye doon the right path until ye reach the crossroad.”
“And then what?”
“Ye must choose.”
“By myself?”
The musical chime of his laughter rang out in harmony with the gleam in his eye. “Aye, by yerself. But fear na ye, chance favors the prepared mind.”
“Bah! If there is anything I don’t feel it is mentally prepared.”
Up went his brows, and his words were spoken in a playfully mischievous way. “Ye will, in time.”
She put her hand to her head. “There is so much I don’t understand.”
“Ye can follow a course of action without understanding it, lass, just as ye can follow an unknown river knowing it will eventually lead to civilization. Be of good cheer. ’Tis no’ so gloomy as it appears.”
“I’ll try to remember that while groping around in the dark with no map and no destination in mind.”
“Understanding is a dark shadow that always looks darker, emptier, and further away than it really is. Ye are young, impulsive, ardent, and impatient. Those same qualities drove Adam and Eve out of Paradise.” His image faded, and the sound of his laughter fell around her like a million tinkling bells.
“Thanks, I feel ever so much better,” she said.
“Are you talking to yourself?”
Isobella gave a start. “No, I was giving our shimmering friend a hard time.”
Elisabeth sat down. “He is here.”
When she saw the expression on Elisabeth’s face, she knew. “Alysandir?”
“He wants a word with you.”
Isobella hated being separated and yearned to see him. She ached for his touch, but it was too soon. “I am just now at the point where I can go more than two hours without crying. I can’t see him. I’m afraid to.”
“You have important things to discuss, like your future, which isn’t just yours any longer. Tell him the truth about what has changed and how you feel about it. Say what you want. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know about.”
“I doubt he will fix it regardless. He has one child he does not want. The last thing he wants is another one.”
“That may be, but refusing to talk to him won’t settle anything. It’s your baby. That might make a difference. He has a right to know. Now, where would you like me to tell him to go?”
“To the devil!”
Elisabeth laughed. “I mean, where shall I send him to meet you?”
“Here, where it’s peaceful and private, yet in plain view, in case he decides to throttle me.”
Elisabeth stood and smoothed the skirts of her brown silk gown. “Be of good cheer, Izzy. Alysandir may be a blockhead, but he is a kind-hearted blockhead and he loves you, even if he doesn’t know it.”
Isobella turned to watch a peacock strutting toward her. The kitten in her lap arched its back, leaped to the ground, and darted into the lilies.
“They say they are two of the most useless things in the world—lilies and peacocks. I should have known you would choose the garden as the place to meet.”
And you always linger in the back of my mind, silent as a butterfly… She did not turn, but she heard his approach across the gravely ground. “I loved being in our garden when I was a child. My father always told us there were fairies living there, but I never saw them.”
Suddenly, he stood before her with a frown on his face, and her heart lurched. “Ye are thinner.”
“Yes.” It was true she lost weight grieving and suffering through morning sickness, but she was not going to tell him that.
“Are ye no eating?”
She looked down and smoothed her skirts. “Not very much.”
“And the reason for that?”
“I haven’t been hungry.”
“And the real reason?”
“I wrestle with demons that steal my appetite.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. She saw by the pain in his eyes that he had missed her, too. “Elisabeth said you wished to speak with me.”
“I have come to take ye back to Màrrach.”
“Why? You know why I left, and I have no desire to return under those circumstances. So you must give me a reason to return.”
“Because I want ye there.”
“Why?”
“I want ye. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“You want me. May I inquire as to in what capacity… your prisoner, a dalliance, your mistress, your wife?”
“I told ye that I will never marry again.”
“Yes, I remember all too well. Nothing has changed. I see no reason to return to the very thing I ran away from.”
“Not even if I agree to accept Bradan as my son?”
She studied his face. “You are asking me to become your paramour in exchange for Bradan’s rights as your son and rightful heir?”
“’Tis no’ so bad as it sounds.”
Her heart cracked and she turned her head away, not wanting him to see the disappointment, the aching pain, the utter devastation that she felt. She looked in the direction of the pond, not really focusing on anything, but doing so simply because she needed to have him out of her line of vision. She could not think clearly when she looked at him.
The silvered reflection of a spiderweb caught her eye… an unsuspecting fly, the ever-present spider, a wisp of gossamer, the struggle within the cocoon of death, and it was over. She could feel the wisp of gossamer tightening around her neck. Like the spider, Alysandir was sucking the life from her. She exhaled wearily, her mind not wanting to do this; her heart saying she had no choice.
As the ancient saying went, of two evils, the lesser is always chosen. Bottom line was that Alysandir would accept Bradan, and she hoped that would include her child. He would care for her, at least for as long as she pleased him.
What did it matter, really, for as S?ren Kierkegaard had said, “My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it—you will regret both.” She sighed resignedly, ready to have it over and done with.
“Come with me, and I will take the lad hunting for one week; just the two of us. Would that please ye?”
She nodded. “It would please me greatly, but it will please you even more.”
“I will inform the Maclean we are leaving. I will ask him to allow yer sister to accompany us, but do not get yer hopes up in that regard. Angus is a prideful and stubborn man, and he longs to have the upper hand. He gains nothing by letting her go.”
He must have seen the hurt in her eyes, for he continued, “My hands are tied, lass. I am on Maclean land. Your sister is their property by right of capture. I canna make demands, but I will try to persuade Angus. ’Tis a verra awkward position I am in, and the opposing faction has me over a barrel.”
As expected, Angus was steadfast in his determination to keep Elisabeth, unless Alysandir wanted to exchange her for Isobella. “I am feeling charitable, and as long as I have one of the two lassies, it matters naught which one it is.”
Alysandir declined and assured the sisters their separation wouldn’t be much longer.
Isobella, Bradan, and Alysandir departed and spread their plaids beneath the stars that night. The next morning, after tea and oatcakes, they mounted, and with an uneasy wind at their backs, they rode into the wilds of Mull. Isobella found it difficult to maintain her resolve. She was lonely and felt forgotten in a world that closed in around her, cold as the shoulders of Ben More.
It grew cooler, and Alysandir told Bradan to wrap himself in his plaid. He removed his own from his saddle pouch and wrapped it around himself and Isobella. The timing was perfect, for the sky loosened a torrent of rain. They threaded their way through massive boulders and sodden turf, climbing and then descending until the rain stopped and she could catch the scent of the sea. Before long, she would see the towers of Màrrach rising in the distance.
It wasn’t until they rode into the courtyard that she realized how tired she was, physically and emotionally, for the journey had taken much out of her. She felt some sense of happiness at arriving back at Màrrach, and she tried not to think about what lay ahead.
Alysandir handed her down from his horse, and Isobella found herself surrounded by his sisters, who greeted her with hugs and questions.
“We have missed ye!” Sybilla said. “’Tis no’ the same with ye gone.”
“Marion also chimed in, “I’m so verra happy ye are back!”
“Well, that doesna leave much for me to say,” Barbara said, and hugged her. “I ken ye are tired.”
“I passed tired hours ago,” Isobella said, smiling as she went into the castle, arm and arm with Barbara, so very happy to see things were back to normal between Alysandir and his sisters.
***
Their departure being something she did not want to miss, Isobella was up early the next morning to see Alysandir and Bradan off. She paused in the doorway and observed the quiet way they checked their packs carefully. Then Alysandir said, “Mount up.”
Bradan mounted, rode a few feet, drew rein, and waited for his father to take the lead. Bradan’s lip trembled, and she placed her hand over his, resting against the pommel. She understood his fear and dread and assured him that he had much to learn and gain from this outing.
“Be yourself, and he will see you are a son to be proud of. He will be proud of you one day, but for now, listen well to all he says. He is a good man, and no harm will come to you.”
Alysandir gave her a nod and rode toward the castle gates. Bradan fell in behind him, trailed by two deerhounds, Duff and Bran.
When the gates closed, Isobella went to the curtain wall and watched until they vanished in the mist. The week would be a long one, but if she was right, it would change their lives forever.