Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Isabelle felt a strange warmth bloom in her chest at Declan’s vow to defend her, even as a small, cruel voice whispered that she wasn’t worth such loyalty.
It was the same voice that had haunted her since girlhood, her father’s voice, sharp as a blade, reminding her she was a burden.
She clenched her hands, forcing herself to breathe, to quiet that echo from the past. She needed to think of something else, anything to break the sudden heaviness in the air.
Her gaze drifted toward the hearth where a faint fire glowed, chasing the chill from the stone walls.
“Tell me somethin’, Declan,” she said gently, turning her eyes back to him. “Why is it ye dinnae celebrate Yule here at Castle McCallum? It seems a shame with such a grand hall and all these folk who’d love a feast.”
Her tone was light, but she watched him closely, curious at the flicker of shadow that crossed his face.
Declan’s expression hardened in an instant, his voice curt and cold. “There will be nay Yule celebration in this keep,” he said flatly. “Nae now, nae ever.”
The finality in his words struck her like a slap, and for a moment, she simply stared at him, unsure she’d heard right.
“Not ever?” she repeated, her brows knitting together. “But why, Declan? Surely it would lift the spirits of the clan. We could invite Norah and her bairns; ye ken how they’d delight in the songs and the feast.”
She gave a small, hopeful smile, trying to warm the sharpness from his tone.
Declan’s eyes darkened, his jaw set like stone. “I said nay, Isabelle,” he replied sharply. “The matter’s closed. There’ll be nay Yule here.”
His voice carried that deep, commanding edge that always seemed to end arguments before they began, but Isabelle was not so easily silenced this time.
Her heart quickened, frustration rising to meet his chill. “And why nae? What harm could there be in a bit of joy and laughter? The folk of this castle follow ye without question, but they deserve some happiness.” Her tone was firmer now, the faint tremor of defiance breaking through.
Declan’s gaze snapped to hers, fierce and unyielding. “It’s none of yer concern, lass,” he said, his voice low but edged with warning. “There are reasons, and that’s all ye need to ken.”
He turned away, as though the matter were beneath further discussion, but Isabelle wasn’t ready to yield.
She took a step closer, her voice rising. “Reasons? That’s nae enough, Declan! I’m yer wife, I’ve a right to ken why ye forbid somethin’ that brings light into this dark place.” Her hands trembled, though not with fear but with mounting anger and hurt.
He turned back sharply, eyes flashing. “Ye have no such right when it comes to matters I choose to keep me own,” he growled. “Ye’re the Lady of this keep, aye, but I’m the Laird, and ye’ll do as I say.” His tone was hard, the authority in it absolute, and yet it only made her temper flare hotter.
“Do as ye say?” she repeated, incredulous. “So that’s what this marriage is to ye, then? Orders and obedience?” Her voice cracked slightly, but she refused to back down.
Declan’s nostrils flared, his voice low and dangerous. “Mind yerself, Isabelle. I’ll nae be spoken to like that under me own roof.”
He stepped closer, towering over her, but she stood her ground, chin lifted in defiance.
“I’ll speak as I please when me husband treats me like a child,” she retorted hotly.
“Ye think I’ll just bow me head and smile while ye shut me out?
Ye can command the guards, the servants, the whole of the clan, but ye’ll nae command me into silence!
” Her voice trembled with passion, her face flushed with fury and pain.
Declan’s eyes burned with restrained fury. “Ye forget who ye’re speakin’ to,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m the Laird of this clan, and what I say stands. Ye dinnae need a reason, Isabelle. Ye only need to obey.” His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a whip.
Her heart pounded, and she stared at him as if seeing him anew.
“Obey?” she repeated softly, disbelief and hurt mingling in her voice.
He might have told her that she was expected to obey him at their wedding, but his behavior after that made her think he didn’t really mean it.
She couldn’t help but feel betrayed. “Ye would have me live like some meek lass who’s nae allowed to ask a question? I thought better of ye, Declan.”
Her voice was quieter now, but it carried a deep ache that no anger could hide.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, but his eyes remained hard. “Ye’re twistin’ me words yet again,” he said. “I protect this clan, Isabelle. There are things in the past better left buried, and Yule is one of them. I’ll nae say more on it.”
His tone softened slightly, but the walls around him remained unyielding.
Isabelle shook her head, her breath trembling. “Ye shut me out and expect me to smile like naught’s amiss,” she said, her voice breaking. “I came here wantin’ to build a life with ye, Declan, to share in the good and the bad, but how can I when ye keep me at a distance?”
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
“Enough, Isabelle,” he said softly but firmly. “This discussion’s done.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her lips trembling. Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, her steps slow but steady.
Isabelle stormed through the corridors, her skirts swishing furiously with each step. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anger and humiliation burning hot beneath her skin.
Once again, she felt dismissed, pushed aside as though her thoughts and feelings meant naught. It was just like her father all over again, silencing her, deciding what mattered and what did not.
She pushed open the heavy doors of the castle and stepped out into the cold courtyard. The wind nipped at her cheeks, but she barely noticed, too lost in her turmoil.
“Obey,” she muttered bitterly under her breath, pacing across the stones. “I’ll obey when the sky turns green. Thinks himself some kind of god, that one.”
Her voice trembled as she went on, more to herself than to anyone who might have heard.
“One night, he touches me like I’m somethin’ precious, and the next, he’s colder than the Highland wind. What am I supposed to make of that?”
Her hand brushed against the stone wall, grounding her as confusion twisted inside her chest. “He’s a puzzle, that man. A maddening, confoundin’ puzzle I cannae make sense of.”
The clang of a distant hammer rang from the smithy, sharp and rhythmic, matching the thud of her pulse.
Isabelle stopped near the fountain, her reflection quivering in the water. “Ye make me feel alive one moment and unwanted the next,” she whispered, anger giving way to ache.
“I dinnae ken which man ye truly are, Declan Cain, the one who held me like I mattered or the one who shuts me out as though I’m trouble.”
She drew a shaky breath and lifted her chin, her pride warring with her pain. “Fine then,” she said quietly, her voice firming. “If the Laird wants silence, he’ll have it. But he’ll nae find it easy to break me.”
Isabelle stepped beyond the castle walls and followed the narrow path that wound down toward the loch. Mist hovered over the water like a veil, soft and silvery beneath the pale sunlight.
She had learned quickly that the loch’s edge was her place of peace, a rare corner of calm where the sound of lapping water helped her untangle her thoughts. Today, though, even the quiet beauty of the scene couldn’t wash away the sting of Declan’s coldness.
She stood near the reeds, arms wrapped around herself, trying to steady the turmoil in her chest. The loch reflected the high stone walls behind her, the castle’s towers mirrored in shifting ripples that seemed as restless as her heart.
“Ye’d think,” she muttered softly, “that after all I’ve been through, I’d have learned nae to expect kindness from a man.” Her sigh mingled with the soft whisper of the breeze across the water.
A high-pitched laugh broke through her brooding. Isabelle turned, startled, as three small figures came bounding down the slope toward her, skirts muddied and curls flying.
It was the triplets, Penelope, Hallie, and Beth, each with a fistful of something clutched tight and faces glowing with mischief. Behind them hurried Bren, their nursemaid, trying in vain to keep them from tumbling headlong into the mud.
“Me Lady! Me Lady!” cried Penelope, waving her hand. “Look what we found! Shiny stones by the stream!” Her voice was bubbling with excitement as she thrust her tiny palm forward, revealing a small collection of wet pebbles that glinted faintly in the light.
Isabelle knelt down, smiling despite herself at the sight of their mud-smeared cheeks.
“Ah, they’re bonnie indeed,” Isabelle said warmly, taking one of the pebbles and turning it in her fingers. “Sparkle like starlight, they do.”
Beth beamed and tugged at Isabelle’s sleeve. “We’re goin’ to make crowns with them, me Lady ! Bren says we can!” Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Isabelle felt her laughter stir for the first time that morning.
“Crowns, ye say?” Isabelle replied, her eyes twinkling. “Well then, that sounds like a fine royal plan, I suppose, if ye’ll let me wear one of them too.”
The girls giggled in delight, clapping their hands together.
Hallie leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, “Ye’d make a kind queen, nae like Papa when he’s cross.”
Bren gasped softly at the child’s boldness, but Isabelle only chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Hallie’s face.
“Ah, your papa has a heavy burden, wee one,” Isabelle said gently. “He must care for all of us, even when he seems cross. But ye’re right, it wouldnae hurt him to smile now and again.”
The triplets burst into laughter, and Isabelle joined them, her heart easing with every sound of their joy.
They reminded her of her nephews. For a moment, the ache of home tugged at her chest, but she pushed it aside and focused on the children before her.
“Come sit with us, me Lady !” cried Beth, pointing to a patch of grass by the water. “We’re makin’ soup! Loch soup!”
Isabelle arched a brow, pretending to look scandalized. “Loch soup? I daresay I’m nae brave enough for that!”
Penelope lifted a stick and stirred the murky puddle before her proudly. “It’s fine soup! Has mud, grass, and shiny rocks!” she declared.
Bren groaned, but Isabelle’s laughter bubbled out before she could stop it.
“Well then,” Isabelle said, lowering herself beside them, “it sounds like ye’ve made a feast fit for kings.” She plucked a reed from the shore and pretended to stir the pot. “There. Now, it’s got a touch of magic too.”
The girls squealed with delight and hugged her arms, their little hands clutching at her sleeves.
The warmth of their affection melted something inside Isabelle’s chest, a tender place she hadn’t realized was so cold until that moment. She looked down at them, three wild-haired, bright-eyed bundles of life, and her heart swelled with something fierce and protective.
Bren smiled from where she stood nearby, shaking her head. “They’ve taken to ye somethin’ fierce, me Lady ,” she said fondly. “They’ve nae stopped chatterin’ about ye since ye arrived.”
Isabelle’s smile softened as she looked at the children, still pretending to cook their muddy stew.
“They remind me what joy looks like,” she said quietly. “I didnae realize how much I’d missed it.”
She reached out and touched one of the girls’ curls, feeling an unfamiliar peace settle over her. These children wanted her company and asked for it freely without judgment or demand.
“Perhaps,” she thought, “this is what I needed—someone who wants me near.”
But even as laughter filled the air, a shadow lingered in her thoughts. Declan’s cold dismissal from earlier echoed in her mind, dulling the light just a little.
How could one man stir such warmth in her one night and such pain the next? She looked toward the castle walls.
The triplets continued their games beside her, chattering like birds, their joy anchoring her to the moment.
Isabelle drew in a long, steadying breath, deciding to let Declan’s temper wait.
For now, she had laughter and sunlight, muddy hands and tiny voices, and perhaps, for the first time since arriving, she felt a glimmer of belonging.