Chapter 35
“You’re certain?” Isolde stared at her friend.
The wall torch nearest the door had nearly extinguished, but flickered enough to cast a faint glow over Evelina’s face. And what Isolde saw there chilled her.
Evelina had never looked more worried.
“There can be no doubt, my lady.” Evelina pushed back the hood of her cloak to peer down the shadowy passage, empty and dark at this early hour.
With the MacLean returned to his cell, even Rory and Niels had taken themselves elsewhere. Like as not, they now slept peacefully on their pallets outside the entrance to the dungeons.
Isolde’s stomach knotted. “I will think of something.”
“I am so sorry.” Evelina sounded miserable. “I wish I had better tidings.”
“There’s no chance the ship belongs to someone else?”
“The approaching galley bears MacArthur’s banner.” The answer dashed Isolde’s last hope. “He is so near, and coming fast. The wind is with him.”
“I never dreamed he’d do this.” Isolde pressed a hand over her flat abdomen, tried to still the dread churning there.
“It is too soon,” she said, her heart sinking. “There hasn’t been time…” She let the words tail off, her eyes filling.
Dear heavens, she couldn’t abide tears.
Now…
“All may not be lost, but you must be wary. A journey worth taking is often most difficult near its end.” Evelina took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “The elders gather already,” she added with another glance over her shoulder. “They are in the hall, waiting for Balloch.”
“Of course.” Isolde felt near to breaking, willed her heart to stop thumping so hard. “They will be furious.”
“You must stand against them.” Evelina gripped her shoulders. “Above all, hold firm when he arrives. He will be in a rage, thinking you are-”
“How I wish I was.” Isolde couldn’t bear the pity on Evelina’s face. “But I am not yet with child. All I am is...” She paused to swipe at a rolling tear. “I have fallen in love with the MacLean.”
“I know.” Evelina’s own eyes glistened. “My dear, dear heart.”
“I cannot lose him.”
“You won’t.” Evelina touched her face. “I promise. The gods would not be so cruel.”
“I sometimes think they have abandoned me.”
“Never, do not even think it.” Evelina gave her a gentle smile. “They must love you greatly.”
Isolde wasn’t so sure.
Evelina glanced aside, again searching the corridor’s shadows. “I must go, my lady. I’ve an old debt to repay.”
Isolde nodded, unable to speak past the lump swelling in her throat.
Her friend grabbed her, holding her tight. “May the gods be with you,” she said, releasing Isolde and then disappearing into the shadows.
“Wait…” Isolde started after her. “Come back, please…”
But Evelina was already gone, even her footsteps were now silent, swallowed by the passage’s gloom.
Isolde stared into the darkness, a terrible cold spreading through her.
Donall came awake the moment one of his lady’s guards began fumbling with the cell door’s drawbar. Despite his wish to drift back to sleep, he couldn’t help smiling at their repeated attempts to lift the heavy bar.
The louts must’ve spent the night deep in their cups.
Amused, he scooted up against the wall and folded his arms behind his head as he waited for them to enter the cell.
He’d then annoy them with a welcoming smile.
But when the door opened, an angel slipped inside.
An angel of death.
Garbed completely in black, a deep cowl concealing all but a shadowy glimpse of her night-black hair and beautiful face, the angel glided forward, her movements fluid, graceful, and full of stealth.
She stopped at the foot of his pallet. “Good sir, I can see why she loves you so,” she said, looking down at him, not a herald of death, but a lovely woman.
Donall sprang to his feet. “Who are you?”
“Someone who wants to help you.”
“An angel?” Donall reconsidered.
The beauty smiled. “Far from that.”
Donall returned her smile, liking her. “Who loves me?”
“Lady Isolde,” she confirmed his hope. “She is the reason I am here.”
“Has something happened to her?” Dread iced his blood. “Is she ill? Hurt?”
“She is fine.” The woman glanced at Gavin, still sleeping deeply. “I just spoke with her.”
“Praise the gods,” Donall thanked her, but was unable to keep his brows from lowering. The hairs on his nape stood on end, the chills streaking down his spine.
Something was wrong.
“What is this about?” He felt his pulse quicken, a tightness in his chest. “You did no’ come here to speak of Lady Isolde’s heart. Who are you?”
“I am her friend,” she said simply. “But she does not know I am here.” She glanced again at Gavin. “I’ve come to repay a debt.”
“A debt?” Donall waited, not missing how her face softened as she watched Gavin.
“I did not know he had a lady,” he said, more than a little surprised.
“Gavin MacFie and I are friends, nothing else.” She returned her attention to Donall, gave a little sigh. “His father and I were more. Both men have done much for me, and I would repay their friendship this day.”
She stood straighter, clasped her hands before her. “Laird MacLean, I mean to lead you from here, but we must hurry.”
“What the-” Gavin stirred, a smile spreading across his face when he spied the dark-haired angel. “Evelina! What are you doing here?”
Donall reached down and grabbed his friend’s arm, hauling him to his feet. “Lady Evelina is here to help us escape.”
“Lady?” Gavin blinked, looking between them.
“So I said.” Donall didn’t care for the ill ease that flickered in the beauty’s eyes, or Gavin’s seeming confusion.
“Ah, well.” Gavin shrugged, his smile returning. “Evelina.” He came forward to embrace her. “I have ne’er been more pleased to see you.”
“We must hurry.” She slipped from his arms and went to the door. “I can only accompany you part of the way,” she said, already stepping into the dimly lit corridor. “Then you will be on your own, but hopefully not for long.”
“Who will be joining us?” Donall wanted to know, but she’d already moved deeper into the passage.
“Who cares?” Gavin tossed Donall a grin and hurried after her down the murky, low-ceilinged corridor.
Donall stared after them from the cell’s threshold. When he didn’t join them, they came back.
Lady Evelina spoke first. “You serve her better by leaving,” she said, rightly guessing the reason for his hesitation. “She is strong. She will stand tall until you return for her.”
Donall frowned. “So she is in danger?”
“I pray not.” She grasped his hand, tried to tug him away from the cell. “But if she is, my lord, then the need for you to gather your men is all the more dire.”
“Speak plain, lady.” Donall pulled his hand from hers. He folded his arms and braced his legs apart. “What is this about?”
“There isn’t time.” She glanced up and down the passage, looking worried. “You must go now.”
Donall didn’t budge. “No’ until I hear why my men are needed.”
Gavin muttered under his breath as he closed and barred the cell door.
Ignoring him, Donall kept his attention on Evelina. “Tell me, lady, or I shall stand here until I grow roots.”
Evelina pushed back her cowl and ran a hand through her dark, unbound tresses.
“Sir…” She cast another glance over her shoulder. “All is not as it seems here. If you fetch your warriors, you can set things right - if need be.”
Donall shook his head. “If Lady Isolde is threatened, I will see to the matter here and now.”
Before she could argue, he turned and hurried off in the opposite direction, making for the stairs to the hall.
Gavin ran after him. “Come, Donall, you’re unarmed. What can we do without our swords? We dinnae even have dirks.”
“Since when do we need arms to face a parcel of doddering graybeards?” Donall kept on toward the hall stairs. “Sakes, we could topple the lot of them with one hot breath!”
Gavin grabbed his arm, halting him. “What of the red-haired giant and his sour-faced companion? Niels and Rory? They aren’t feeble and have plenty of steel hanging from their belts?”
“We’ve both fought men twice their size with nothing but our fists.” He glared at Gavin. “When did you turn coward?”
“Perhaps about the same time you lost your good sense.”
Donall lunged at him. “This is about my lady’s safety,” he snarled, hauling Gavin up by the front of his tunic. “What is senseless in that?”
“Stop, both of you!” Evelina rushed between them.
Donall swore, and thrust Gavin aside.
Brushing at his tunic, Gavin smiled at Evelina. “Love brings out the best in a MacLean,” he said. “Their temper.”
Donall scowled at him. “I say we stay.” Turning to Evelina, he said, “Now tell me why you are troubled.”
“A ship will soon land here,” she said, a guarded look entering her eyes. “I cannot reveal why, for doing so would break my lady’s trust. But I can say that I fear for her safety once those onboard make their tidings known.”
Donall glanced at Gavin. “All the more reason we cannae leave.” He turned back to Evelina. “You know who is aboard this ship?”
She nodded. “Balloch MacArthur,” she said. “The man her clan elder’s would see her wed.”
“Ye gods!” Gavin’s eyes rounded.
“She’s betrothed?” The words tasted like dirt on Donall’s tongue. “To MacArthur?”
“Nae, my lord.” Evelina glanced at the nearby stair tower, lowering her voice. “She is to be betrothed to him, or was.”
Donall folded his arms. “Which is it?”
Evelina lowered her head.
“Lady.” Donall tipped her face to his. “I admire your daring. Dinnae disappoint me now. What is with MacArthur? What tidings can he bring that could cause such grief?”
Evelina’s brows drew together. “He is surely coming to break the betrothal agreement because…”
“Go on,” Donall urged when she hesitated.
“My lady sent him word she carries another man’s child,” Evelina said in a rush. “Yours, sir. Or so she hopes.”
Donall stared at her. Shock and triumph whipped through him. “Why did she send such tidings?”
“She is not yet with child, sir.” Evelina held his gaze. “She hoped by claiming so, she’d rid herself of Balloch. I warned her otherwise, but she refused to listen. Now his ship is bearing down on us and he will reveal what my lady has done. The elders will be furious, their wrath great.”
“No’ as great as mine had they wed her to that blowhard,” Donall vowed, his mind reeling.
He turned to Gavin. “You go, fetch Iain and my men,” he said. “I will speak with MacArthur.”
“He willnae care. He’s a known thick-skull.”
“Nae bother.” Donall smiled, his plan more appealing the longer he considered it. “I will say Lady Isolde does carry my child and that her council erred in allowing him to believe a betrothal could take place. I will swear she is already promised to me.”
Gavin snorted. “You are a prisoner here. If you stay, you’ll be dragged back to the sea dungeon before you can spout one word of such nonsense.”
“It is a better plan than yours.” Donall tried reason. “We’d need two days to reach Baldoon by foot. A few more to rally our men and ride back.” He shook his head. “We cannae afford the time.”
“You may not need it, my lord. Your men should soon be here,” Evelina spoke up, surprising them.
“My men, here?” Donall glanced at Gavin, and then back to her. “How is that possible?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you…” She drew a breath. “I do not want to give you false hope. But I sent Lugh to fetch your men some days ago. I pray he made the journey safely.”
“Lugh?” Gavin glanced between them.
“The dark-haired lad who spooks about the dungeon gathering cobwebs and what-not,” Donall said. “I heard Niels and Rory call him so.”
“He is Devorgilla’s grandson. Not in the true sense, but she calls him so,” Evelina told them.
“You owe your escape to him, for he is the one who told me of the tunnel that opens off the sacred spring’s well shaft.
He discovered the tunnel while fetching frogs from the stagnant water at the bottom of the well.
He’s explored the passage and says it leads to the high moors. ”
Donall understood. “The moorland that stretches between here and Baldoon?”
“So he claims.”
“I thought the lad couldn’t speak?”
“He talks to me,” she said, a trace of sadness in her voice. “Men always do, even young ones like Lugh.” She met his gaze, her dark eyes knowing. “He will speak to your people when he reaches Baldoon. I’ve told him it’s important.”
Donall glanced at Gavin, then back to her. “You believe my men will be waiting on the other side of this tunnel?”
She nodded. “Your men, and your steeds,” she said. “If Lugh was able to lead the two horses there as he’d meant to do. And, of course, if he reached your stronghold.”
“Come, man.” Gavin grinned and seized his arm. “Of a sudden, I have a fierce craving to see a swarm of ugly MacLean faces smiling at me.”
And this time, when Evelina and Gavin hurried down the passage, Donall went with them, a smile of his own spreading across his face.
Isolde stood in the shadows of the stair tower and stared across the hall at the gathering of her council, a disaster unfolding before her eyes. The unraveling of her carefully wrought plans.
The ruination of her life.
If she allowed the elders to damn her. Something she did not intend to do.
So she drew a great breath and pulled back her shoulders.
It was time to face what she’d done. That everyone knew seemed clear.
The smoke-hazed hall rang with angry shouts, some so loud she wondered the walls weren’t shaking.
She did shake, hearing the hurled accusations.
Taunts and slurs raised by her own kinsmen and Balloch MacArthur’s men.
Trembling or no, she had her pride.
She’d keep her chin raised, her eyes free of tears.
Searching the crowd, she found Lorne and started toward him. Of all those present, only he appeared calm. He didn’t rant and shout like the others, so many of them red-faced with rage. The battle-worn knight simply stood to the side, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
Niels and Rory were in the midst of the storm, their faces dark with anger. But the din around them made it hard to catch their words. She could only hope their voices were raised in support of her.
Silently, she counted her faithfuls as she made her way through the hall.
Lorne.
Her cousin and Rory.
Bodo.
Her hopes rested on them. The few souls she trusted to stand beside her. Nothing else weighed in her favor save her decision to leave Bodo in the safety of her bedchamber, well away from the vengeful reach of Balloch MacArthur.
If only she could hide from him as well.
But she’d have to face him if she hoped to be rid of him.
So she glanced about, searching for him as she neared the gathering. But he was nowhere to be seen. Only his captain, and a party of MacArthur warriors.
Both she and Evelina had been wrong.
Evelina, because Balloch had not come himself as she’d predicted.
Herself, because even though he’d stayed away, his pride hadn’t held his tongue.
Her secret tidings to him, her deceit, everything, was being bandied about by those present. All save Lorne, and to her dismay, she no longer saw him either.
Isolde’s heart sank.
The old knight, her last hope in this sea of angry faces, had left the hall.