by Gwyn Brodie
"I thought you were going riding," his mother said from the stone bench beneath the rose arbor.
"Aye, but I came to see if Lady Isobel might like to go riding with me." That way, he could keep her safely within his sight, and 'twould be a good time to tell her the real reason for Marcus's visit, as he had wanted to do since the Andersons unexpected appearance at Willowbrae. And he would have her all to himself for at least a little while.
"Well," Lady Fraser said uncertainly, her worried gaze darting back and forth between Isobel and Drostan.
His mother swiped at a honeybee that flew too close to her face. "Why dinnae you let the lass go, Agnus? Drostan will take good care of her."
Lady Fraser glanced toward the waterfall as if remembering another time his mother had told her the same. She sighed. "I suppose 'twill be fine then."
"Much thanks, ma," Isobel said as Drostan helped her to her feet and pulled her arm through his. "As much as I love the gardens, I'd much rather be riding across the moor."
Drostan chuckled. He was not surprised in the least. "I thought you might be ready for an outing, and to be honest, I need one myself."
She smiled. "Aye, I do. But I need to change first. I'm afraid this day dress will never do."
He raised a brow. "Perhaps you'd rather have a belted plaid," he teased, as they entered the castle.
Isobel laughed. "Perhaps, I would. Shall I meet you in the bailey once I've finished?"
He nodded. "I'll be waiting." He left her at the bottom of the stairs and headed to the stables to retrieve their horses. A half-hour later, they were mounted and waiting for the portcullis to raise.
Marcus came rushing out of the castle and over to her. "Where are you going, Lady Isobel?"
Drostan raised a brow. 'Twas not any of the bastard's business where the lady was going.
Isobel seemed taken aback by his question. "For a ride with Drostan, of course. Why do you ask?"
"'Tis most inappropriate for you to go out alone without a companion, is it not?" His face a deep shade of red, he glared at Drostan.
She frowned. "My mother gave me her permission."
"What about your father? Did you ask his permission?" He took hold of Bramble's reins.
Drostan had heard and seen enough. "Whether Isobel goes for a ride with me or not, 'tis none of your affair. Turn her reins loose—now!"
Though he looked angry enough to kill Drostan, he dropped the reins and stepped away from Isobel's horse.
"Come, lass." Drostan rode through the portcullis, with Isobel close behind. A short distance away from the castle, he brought the stallion to a halt and waited for her to reach him. "Did he upset you?"
"Aye, a bit. I swear that man is as daft as the village idiot. What right does he have to ask me such questions?"
"We need to talk, and I've just to place." He rode off across the moor, and she followed. Once they reached the far side of Willowbrae Loch, he dismounted and lifted her down. Taking her hand, he led her to a fallen tree, where they sat down. "Another young woman, Lady Flora McBean, was murdered in Inverness. Flora had been to the Willowbrae many times over the years, both as a child and a young woman. She also attended the ceilidh."
Isobel's eyes widened. "Flora and I spoke briefly about the festivities, and then she was off dancing with you."
"Did you notice which men she danced with? Perhaps her killer was one of them."
She thought for a moment. "You, your brothers, except for Robbie, Marcus, and several other men that I didnae ken."
"Speaking of Marcus, do you ken why he came to Willowbrae with your father?"
She frowned and shook her head. "I have to admit, though, I am curious as to the reason."
Why had her father not yet told her of his decision? Perhaps he was dreading the reaction from the daughter he so obviously adored. "I believe 'tis to procure a betrothal between the two of you."
Isobel gasped, then her eyes filled with tears. "I cannae believe my father would force me to wed someone I dinnae even care about, let alone love. Besides, there's something about Marcus that makes me uneasy."
Drostan's chest tightened. "I wish there was something I could do, lass. But once the agreement is signed, 'twill be hard to get out of it."
She suddenly smiled. "Perhaps there is something you could do."
He frowned. "What?"
"Tell my father you bedded me."
It was Drostan's turn to gasp. "I'm certain that would go over well with your parents—and mine. Then you'd be forced to wed me, just in case a bairn was to come along later."
"Would that be so awful?" Isobel rose to her feet. She moved in front of Drostan and pressed her lips against his.
Drostan softly groaned and drew her onto his lap. Kissing Isobel was pure ecstasy.
She pulled her mouth away and looked down at him. "I do so enjoy kissing you," she said breathlessly, then kissed him again.
A twig snapped.
He reached for his dirk.
All four of his brothers walked out of the wood.
Isobel jumped out of his lap.
Drostan frowned. "What the devil are you doing, lurking about?"
Ailig grinned. "We're not lurking about. We've been out hunting hares for the supper stew."
"We've two." Taran held up their catch.
"Well then, perhaps you'd best head on to the kitchen. I'm sure Elspeth will be waiting."
As his brothers made their way toward the castle, their chuckling did not escape him, nor did it Isobel, for her face had turned a deep pink.
Once they were alone, Drostan drew her back into his arms. "Where were we, lass?"
She smiled. "I'll show you." She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him, the feel of her tongue against his sending surges of desire through his already heated body.
At that moment, he wanted Isobel more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He took his mouth away and moved his lips down her throat.
She tilted her head back and softly moaned. "Drostan," she whispered.
With a growl, he lifted her into his arms and carried her beneath a low hanging pine. He gently placed her on the bed of soft needles and stretched out alongside her. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, marveling at its softness.
Isobel's dark eyes were wide with innocence but filled with passion. She would give herself to him, he had little doubt—and he wanted her. He would make sure that betrothal never happened, but not at the cost of Isobel's reputation.
Having made up his mind, he granted himself the pleasure of kissing her one last time before getting to his feet and holding out his hand.
Looking somewhat bewildered, Isobel took it and allowed him to help her up. "Is something amiss?"
He smiled. "Nay, lass. We need to get back. I have to make certain your father doesnae betroth you to that brute."
She grinned and threw her arms around his neck. "Much thanks."
He held her tight, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. A man could get used to having Isobel in his arms.
AFTER LEAVING ISOBEL in the solar with her mother, Drostan went to the library in search of his father. Perhaps he could intervene on Isobel's behalf, as his father and Laird Fraser had been friends for many years. He blew out a breath. What would he do if the betrothal was already signed? Drostan could not bear the thought of another man having Isobel—especially that whoreson, Marcus. He knocked on the door.
"Aye?"
Drostan entered the room, closing the door behind him.
His father grinned. "Would you care for a dram of whisky, son? I was just about to pour one for myself."
Drostan snorted. "I'm afraid I'm in need of more than a dram." He sat down on the settle near the window.
"Is something amiss?" He frowned as he handed Drostan a cup.
"Aye. I've something to speak with you about, Da." He tossed back the amber liquid in one gulp.
His father frowned as he took a seat across from Drostan. "I'm listening."
One corner of his father's mouth turned upward. "According to the young lady's father, she's a handful. 'Tis the reason why William wishes to have her betrothed. For up until now, no suitor has caught her fancy."
"'Tis the betrothal I'm here about."
He raised a brow. "I see. What of it?"
"I want you to talk Laird Fraser out of betrothing Isobel to Marcus."
The laird shook his head. "I ken you hate the man for what he did to you, and I dinnae blame you. 'Twas a torment no child should have had to suffer. But for what reason might he call it off?" He narrowed his eyes. "Have you bedded the lass?"
Drostan should have said he had, and that would have been the end of it, but he refused to lie to his father. "Nay, I've not."
"What's your stake in this?" his father asked, his gaze fastened on Drostan's face.
Drostan shot up from the settle and paced back and forth. "What's my stake?" He snorted. Did he have one? He decided he did.
He looked at his father. "Isobel."
The laird nodded. "Och, I thought as much."
"I dinnae wish to see her wed to that insufferable bastard. The man has a mean streak as wide and deep as the Great Glen. If she's forced to marry him, her life will be one of constant misery."
His father rose from the settle and grasped his shoulder. "I've a feeling there's more to it than that. Do you want her for yourself, son?" he asked softly.
Drostan blew out a breath. Aye, he wanted her—for all eternity. There, he had finally admitted it to himself. "Perhaps I do, but first and foremost is the matter of the betrothal. Will you speak to her father?"
He hesitated for a moment. "I will, but I'm uncertain as to how much good 'twill do."
Drostan nodded. "'Tis all that I ask. Much thanks, Da."
The laird grinned. "If the lass truly holds your heart, and you wed her, your life will never be the same."
Truer words had never been spoken. "Isobel finds her own path." Drostan realized he would gladly walk that path with her, and that shook him to the core.
THE NEXT DAY AS GLOAMING settled over the land, Marcus rode across Mackintosh holdings with his two guards, Cam and Dougal. In the distance, he spotted Lady Mary Cameron on horseback. He watched as her companion urged her mount into a run leaving the other young woman far behind. The two must have slipped away, as there were no guards about.
Marcus quickly hid behind a boulder, motioning for his men to do the same.
"What is it, Marcus?" Cam squinted up at his future laird.
"Make certain no one else is about, then tell Lady Mary, the one on the white mare, that you have a message for her. Tell her Robbie Mackintosh is waiting for her over here and that she must tell no one."
"What about the other lass?" Dougal grinned.
"She's not the one I want. Now, hurry, before her companion comes back, then return to Willowbrae. I'll be along shortly."
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Isobel was on her way to the solar, after refusing Marcus's invitation for a walk in the gardens, when she spotted Ailig leaving his bedchamber and waited for him the reach her. His clothes were rumpled, and his dark hair unruly. "Good morn, Ailig."
"Morn, lass. Are you on your way to break your fast?" he asked with a roguish grin.
She laughed. "I broke my fast some time ago. 'Tis almost time for the midday meal."
He scratched the dark stubble on his chin. "I'm afraid I came in rather late last night—or was it early morn?"
Isobel smiled. "Ailig, I've a question I was hoping you could answer."
He raised a brow. "If I can. What is it?"
"Why does Drostan despise Marcus so?" She kept her voice low. "'Tis most obvious there's a great deal of animosity between the two men. I've personally witnessed Drostan's dark glances and scowls in Marcus's direction, and his anger when I allowed Marcus a dance. What could possibly have happened between the two men to cause such loathing?"
Ailig's brown eyes darkened. "My brother has good reason for disliking the knave."
Apparently, Drostan and his mother were not the only Mackintoshes who disliked Marcus, which further piqued her curiosity. "Can you please tell me?" she pleaded.
He blew out a breath. "Very well, but not here."
"Where, then?"
"Do you ken Drostan's whereabouts?"
"Aye. He rode out with your father and brothers a while ago. We had only taken our seats at the high table when a man hurried into the great hall and approached Laird Mackintosh, saying he needed to speak with him regarding a matter of great importance. Once he finished whispering into the laird's ear, your father nodded to your brothers. A signal, I supposed, for they all jumped up from the table and followed him out without breaking their fasts."
Ailig frowned. "I wish they'd awakened me. Whatever 'tis must be serious. With them away, there'll be no one in the library. Let's go there."
Isobel followed Ailig down the stairs and into the empty room.
He closed the door behind them. "I would have left it open, but I dinnae wish to be heard."
She nodded and took a seat, anxiously anticipating what she was about to hear.
He sat down across from her. "The earl sent Marcus to foster with us when he'd seen fifteen summers."
Isobel frowned. "'Tis an advanced age to begin fostering, is it not?"
"Aye, but by then, he'd fostered with many clans, and had quickly worn out his welcome with them all. When my father agreed to accept him, he didnae realize the extent of his cruelty. Every waking moment, whenever he caught us alone, Marcus tormented Drostan and me. Mind you, at the time, Drostan had seen but nine summers and myself, only seven. Robbie, Taran, and Morgan were safe from his mistreatment only because they were always with either our mother or the nursemaid, Jenny."
She slowly shook her head. "How awful." Was Marcus indeed the sort of man her father wished her to wed?
"Early one morning, while the rest of us were breaking our fast, Drostan watched Marcus slip into our da's bedchamber and followed him. Marcus picked up our father's favorite sgian dubh, and Drostan confronted him. He grabbed my brother, dragged him across the room, and tossed him into a chest, which he locked before leaving the bedchamber and closing the door. When no one could find Drostan, the castle and grounds were thoroughly searched to no avail. Hours had passed when I came down the corridor and heard him cry out. When I opened the chest, I was so shocked by what I saw, I sometimes still have nightmares about it. Drostan's face and hands were red with his blood, his nails ripped and torn from trying to escape, and he was gasping for breath. Til this day, he cannae bear being in small spaces, unless there's an open window nearby."
Tears blurred her vision, and her throat tightened. Her heart ached for Drostan—then and now. "What happened to Marcus for doing something so evil to a helpless child?"
"He was sent back to his family, along with a missive explaining what happened. I cannae tell you how shocked we all were by his arrival a few days ago with Laird Fraser. He has visited Willowbrae, along with Kinkirk, several times over the years, but not for a while."
"Much thanks for telling me, for I now understand Drostan's feelings. Might I confide in you, Ailig?"
He raised a brow. "Aye, if you wish, lass."
She took a deep breath. "There's a possibility my father brought Marcus here to betroth me to him."
His dark eyes widened. "Is Drostan aware of this?"
"Aye. 'Twas he who told me and is seeking a way to keep it from happening. I plan on confronting my father with the matter as well."
"My brother cares for you deeply."
Her heart danced. "How can you be certain?" She prayed 'twas so.
"I see the way he looks at you, Isobel. I've never seen him take notice of another woman as he does you. Have faith. If he said he would help you, he will. Drostan is a man of honor and his word."
"I've no doubt." She rose from her seat. "I'd best get to the solar. My mother will be wondering where I've g
one. I'll see you at the midday meal."
"Aye." He turned and stared out the window as if deep in thought.
As she left the library and closed the door behind her, Isobel realized she would never again look at Marcus without seeing the frightened blood-smeared face of Drostan at the tender age of nine summers.
MARCUS HAD WAITED FOR over half an hour for Ailig and Isobel to exit the library. But 'twas only she who came out. Earlier, he has asked her to go with him for a walk in the gardens, but she had refused. He now knew it was because she wished to be alone with Ailig while Drostan was away.
Isobel Fraser was like all the rest, giving herself to whomever she pleased. He was certain Drostan had compromised her. And Ailig had followed suit while his brother was gone. Drostan would be most surprised to learn his brother had bedded the whoring wench. How many of the other Mackintosh brothers had taken her to their beds? How many other men?
Once Isobel was his wife, he would see her adequately punished for her misdeeds. He would not take her to his bed until enough time had passed for him to be sure that the bairn she carried was his. And once she produced him an heir, he would have no further use for her. Accidents happened all the time along the crags of Hornridge Castle, as his other wives had been quick to learn.
Chapter Eight
A thick morning mist hovered near the ground, as Drostan, along with his father, three of his brothers, and six guards rode across the moor toward Sionnach Ridge, which ran along the eastern border of Mackintosh lands. Donald, an elderly clansman, had been returning from a visit with his eldest daughter when he found the body of a young woman lying near the base of the mountain.
