Chapter 29 #2
Isabelle, Mabel, and the triplets stepped through the gate with their baskets full of vines and holly. Bren followed. The girls chattered excitedly, their boots crunching in the thin layer of frost.
Ahead, a tall figure stood near the stables, his dark cloak dusted with snow—Declan. The moment the triplets saw him, they squealed with delight.
“Da!” Hallie cried, breaking free from Isabelle’s grasp and running toward him. “Da, look what we found!”
Beth followed close behind, clutching a bundle of vines almost as big as herself.
Penelope ran last, calling, “We got holly, too! Mabel says it’s for Yule!”
Declan crouched to meet them, his hard features softening as he took the greenery from their hands.
“Did ye now?” he said, his voice low and warm. “That’s fine work, me lassies. Ye’ve brought the forest itself home to us.”
Hallie puffed out her chest proudly. “We picked the best ones! Lady Isabelle helped!”
Declan’s gaze flickered upward at the mention of her name. Isabelle stood several paces away, her hands clasped on her basket, her cheeks flushed from the cold and from seeing him.
Their eyes met across the courtyard, just for a moment.
He looked weary, guarded, yet there was a longing there that made her chest ache.
She wanted to speak, to break through that wall between them, but her pride held her still.
Instead, she gave him a small, polite nod, which he returned in kind, his expression unreadable.
Mabel glanced between them and said lightly, “A fine welcome, aye? The bairns have been workin’ hard for this.”
Declan smiled faintly at his sister. “Aye, I can see that. They’ve done well.” He ruffled Penelope’s hair then turned to the others. “Now then, let’s see what sort of mischief ye plan to make with all that greenery.”
Before anyone could answer, a single snowflake drifted down and landed on Hallie’s nose. She giggled and looked up as more began to fall, delicate white specks swirling from the sky.
“It’s snowin’, Da!” she shouted, twirling with delight. The other girls joined her, their laughter ringing out like bells.
Isabelle tilted her face upward, the flakes melting softly against her skin. The sight of the children playing around Declan, their joy spilling into the cold air, made her heart swell. Yet beside that joy was a hollow ache; the space between her and Declan seemed wider than ever.
She felt his presence near her but could not reach him, not while silence hung between them like a shadow.
She watched Declan look at his daughters with quiet fondness, but his gaze strayed often toward her. She felt the weight of every word left unsaid between them. Still, neither moved closer.
Mabel cleared her throat softly. “Best get these bairns inside before they turn to icicles,” she said with a grin.
“Aye,” Isabelle murmured, her voice trembling just slightly. “Come now, me loves. Let’s make those decorations we promised.”
The triplets groaned good-naturedly but obeyed, gathering their holly and vines.
Declan stepped aside to let them pass, his hand brushing briefly against Isabelle’s arm as she moved past him. The touch was fleeting, but it set her pulse racing.
Inside the castle, warmth greeted them like an embrace. The fire in the family solar burned bright, casting golden light across the polished floors and stone walls. Isabelle removed her gloves and cloak, setting them aside as Bren helped the girls settle around a long table.
“Bren, hot tea to warm up the girls,” Isabelle said.
Bren curtsied and left the room.
“Now then,” Mabel said cheerfully, rolling up her sleeves, “who’s ready to make the grandest wreaths this castle’s ever seen?”
“Me!” shouted all three girls at once, their excitement renewed.
Isabelle couldn’t help but smile, her earlier melancholy softening as she took a seat beside them.
“We’ll start with the vines first,” she instructed and showed them how to maneuver the vines, “then weave the holly through like this. Careful now, the leaves bite back if ye’re nae gentle.”
Beth stuck her tongue out in concentration as she twisted a vine into a loop. “Like this, Lady Isabelle?”
“Aye, perfect,” Isabelle said warmly. “Ye’ve a good hand for craftin’, lass.”
Mabel chuckled. “Best keep her busy; she’ll be decoratin’ every doorway in the keep by supper.”
The sound of laughter filled the solar, bright and comforting. Isabelle found herself relaxed, her heart easing as she worked alongside the children.
Penelope reached up and placed a small sprig of holly behind Isabelle’s ear.
“Now ye look like a Yule angel,” she said proudly.
Isabelle laughed softly, touched beyond words. “Och, ye sweet bairn. Ye’ve a poet’s tongue.”
As the afternoon passed, garlands and wreaths began to take shape, filling the table with color. Mabel hummed a soft carol under her breath, while Bren tidied up the trimmings with a fond smile.
Isabelle sat back for a moment, watching the girls chatter and giggle. Her heart felt full, and yet, as her gaze drifted toward the window where snow continued to fall, she couldn’t help but think of Declan.
He had not joined them. Even now, she could picture him standing alone somewhere in the courtyard, his shoulders squared against the cold. Part of her wanted to run to him, to break the silence, to tell him she missed him, but she couldn’t.
Not yet.