Chapter 13
Isabail lay back on the blankets and stared up at the thatching.
Had MacCurran truly just offered to wed her?
Without a single mention of love or devotion?
Was he mad? Offers of marriage were supposed to be delivered on bended knee and accompanied by some sweet-smelling bouquet. Not delivered in the form of a threat.
“Did he truly say I could never leave?”
“He’s not thinking straight at the moment,” Ana said. “He’ll come to his senses in time.”
Isabail turned her head to look at the other woman. A woman she had falsely accused of killing her brother and condemned to die in a pit. The very same woman who had just healed a near-fatal wound in Isabail’s gut.
“How can you be so forgiving?” she asked.
Ana wielded her pestle with mastery, crushing handfuls of dried leaves in a small wooden bowl. “I’ve been on the wrong side of a judgment or two,” she said ruefully.
“I accused you of a crime you did not commit. Why would you agree to heal me?”
Ana paused to wipe sweat from her brow with her sleeve.
“There is no room for intolerance in healing. I simply do what I am called upon to do. I can no sooner turn from a wounded person than I can cease to breathe. Whether the patient lives or dies is a decision to be made by God, not by me.” She smiled. “I am not worthy of such power.”
Isabail blushed and looked away. During the trial, she had called Ana Bisset a godless demon. Now she was writhing in shame.
“Do not feel any blame, Lady Isabail,” Ana said. “You, like many others, fell victim to the twisted mind of Friar Colban.”
Isabail shook her head. “Surely you must feel some anger toward me. No one can be as understanding as you profess to be.”
The other woman chuckled. “Aye, I felt anger. And aye, I cursed your name when I was wasting away in that pit. But before John’s death, before I was accused of poisoning him, you were kind to me.
When I tended to the talon strike on your arm the day you got your merlin, you blessed me and pressed a gold coin into my hand. First one I’d ever seen.”
Isabail smiled. “Aye, well, I was rather certain I was going to lose the arm. When you told me it would heal within a fortnight, I was overjoyed.”
All that seemed so long ago. It was as if it had happened to another person.
Isabail felt no connection to the young widow who’d lived for nothing more than to hunt at her brother’s side.
So much had happened in the last year, not much of it pleasant.
John’s death, the trial, the arrival of Cousin Archibald to take up the reins of the earldom.
Before that she’d been happy. As happy as any woman can be who had lost her husband prematurely and been left without children.
“Did Daniel truly threaten to slay Jamie?” Ana asked, her expression frank and serious.
Isabail nodded. “Choked him to near death right before me. He would have killed him if I hadn’t opened the tomb.”
“He’s a good lad,” said Ana. “And he’s already been through much.”
Meeting her gaze, Isabail swallowed heavily. “I fear for him. I truly do. Daniel will not hesitate to end his life if he feels the need.”
“Niall and the laird are going after him,” Ana assured her. “They will see to his safety.”
An image of MacCurran approaching the gate at Tayteath sprang into Isabail’s mind. She pushed herself weakly into a sitting position. “Tayteath has never fallen to a siege.”
“They will find a way.”
Isabail groaned in frustration. “If I could accompany them, they could enter the castle freely. My soldiers will open the gates to me.”
“You are not well enough to travel,” Ana pointed out, setting her pestle on the table. “And I do not believe the MacCurran would want you in his party.”
Isabail put a hand on the bandages wrapped about her waist. She felt surprisingly well, considering the grievous wound she sported. Only a wee bit weary. “Please,” she begged. “Ask the laird if I can accompany them. It would save many lives on both sides if the castle can be entered peacefully.”
Ana looked dubious.
“Please. I will never forgive myself if I don’t make the attempt.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, the healer nodded and ducked under the fur panel over the door.
Isabail downed the rest of her cup of ale, then set it aside. She was feeling stronger by the minute. Whipping aside the blanket, she swung her feet to the floor. The MacCurran would never agree to take her along if she could not stand on her own feet.
Gathering her resolve with a deep, indrawn breath, she shoved against the straw mattress and thrust herself upright.
All might have gone well had a wave of dizziness not washed over her at that moment.
She teetered to one side, reached for the wall, and missed.
Crashing to the wooden floor, she narrowly missed landing on the brazier.
“You foolish lass,” growled the MacCurran as he strode across the room and scooped her into his arms. The comforting warmth of his chest competed with the throbbing pain in her hip from the fall. “You lay near death only a few moments ago. You should yet be abed.”
Isabail gave in to her desire and pressed her cheek against his chest. “You cannot go without me. Tayteath is unbreachable.”
“No castle is unbreachable,” he said gruffly.
“If I accompany you, it will not be necessary to try.”
To her regret, he lowered her to the mattress and stepped back. “You cannot come. Speed is of the essence, and you will only slow us down.”
She pushed to her elbows. “What good is speed if you can’t get past the castle gate?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles of his forearms rippling in the firelight. “If de Lourdes is not there, the sooner we know that, the sooner we can consider other possibilities. And it’s vital that Jamie know we have come for him. That knowledge might be all that keeps him alive.”
Two excellent arguments.
“But if Daniel is there,” she countered, “he will lock down the gates and hold you off. He might even threaten Jamie’s life as a means to repel you.”
“I have no intention of simply marching up to the gate and announcing my presence.” He favored her with a steely stare. “No matter what arguments you use, I will not agree to take you with us.”
She studied his face. “If we were already wed, would you take me along?”
“Nay.”
“Fine, then,” she said with a pout. “Leave without me.”
He continued to stare at her with his fierce blue gaze. Then he sank to a crouch beside the mattress and cupped her chin.
“Take care, lass.”
Whether he intended it as a warning or as a wish for her safety, she did not know. Nor did she get the opportunity to ask. In a blink he was gone, leaving Isabail staring at the fur panel flapping in the wind.
* * *
Aiden accepted a bundle of dried meat and cheese from Beathag and packed it in the pouch slung over the rump of his horse. They would not be stopping for food, only to sleep. That meant they would eat in the saddle, and any supplies had to be easily consumed.
“Did she tell you anything about the castle defenses?” asked Niall as he strapped his bow to his back.
“Save to say it was impregnable, nay.”
Niall snorted. “Grand.”
Aiden put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. He was taking a small party—his best twelve men. “It’s a sea-bound fortress, so unless you can swim, there’s only one way in.”
“Through the front gate.”
“Aye.”
Niall swung into the saddle. “Bonnie bloody hell. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy our little excursions, brother? Truly, without you, my life would be dull.”
Aiden snorted and turned his mount toward the path. “‘Twasn’t I who insisted you break into Duthes Castle, enrage a mad friar, and rescue a maiden from a burning pyre. I think you find enough trouble without my help, bratling.”
He urged his massive bay warhorse into a canter and led the way down the hill and out of the glen. The one advantage to leaving in the middle of the night—they were unlikely to meet up with one of MacPherson’s patrols.
* * *
“Ha!” crowed Isabail as she reached the door. “I told you I was feeling stronger. You truly are a miracle worker, Ana.”
The redhead rolled to her side of the mattress and pulled the blankets up around her ears. “You should be sleeping,” she grumbled. “Not wearing a groove in the floor.”
“We cannot stay here and allow needless deaths to occur. I would have thought a healer would be more concerned about the loss of life and limb.”
“You are a madwoman,” tossed Ana from beneath the covers. “We are but two lasses. We cannot cross the length of Scotia on our own. No matter how great the benefit.”
“Why not?” demanded Isabail, walking slowly but successfully over to the bed. “I can wield a bow, and I’ve seen you fillet a fish with that knife. We are not so helpless as men would have us believe.”
“I will not do it,” Ana said, sitting up. “I’ve been alone on the road, and I assure you it wasn’t pleasant. There are dangers you cannot imagine. Don’t be a fool, Isabail. Give up this ridiculous notion.”
Isabail plopped down on the stool. “I cannot.”
The healer sighed. “Why not?”
“It is my fault that the crown was stolen. And my fault that Daniel took Jamie hostage. If I had but held my tongue instead of sharing all that I did with the traitorous cur, he would still be lying in the hut under guard, and the crown would be safe.”
“Nay.” Ana braided her hair and tied a leather thong around the end. “Daniel came here with the intent to steal the necklace. One way or another, he would have found a way—or died trying. You are not to blame for his scurrilous acts.”
“Even his presence here was my fault,” Isabail said with a shake of her head. “He followed me.”
“Nonsense.” Ana tugged a gown over her shift. “He followed MacCurran.”
Everything Ana said rang true, but her words did not ease the dread in Isabail’s belly. She knew she held the key to breaching the walls of Tayteath, and if she did nothing to help, good men would die. Jamie might die.
Isabail surged to her feet. “If you will not come with me, then I must go alone.”