Spinning Isobel around, Will laughed, watching as she swayed with those beside her, her face shining with so much happiness he felt like his heart would burst looking at it. He’d realized as soon as the party got started that she had missed gathering with groups of people. It was still a mystery, how long she’d been on her own, but there was no doubt that her loneliness was quickly fading away now that Will was a part of her life.
The song ended and everyone clapped, pleased with the performance. Flushed faces grinned at each other, feet moving again as the band started up once more.
“Come, get something to drink with me,” Will called to her, offering her his arm.
Giggling, she took it, allowing him to escort her from the dance space. Her hair was a wild mess of curls, the locks falling out of the tie she’d put them in earlier. Dirt stained the hem of her skirt, the dark fabric blending into the night whenever they were far enough away from the fires. She didn’t seem to have any care for her appearance, though, her thoughts focused on the party, as were everyone else’s.
They grabbed some whiskey, gulping it down greedily, laughing and chattering about everything going on. Every now and then, Will thought he saw someone give him an odd look, but no one said anything to him. The extended family welcomed Isobel well enough, especially for thinking she may be a witch, and for that Will was grateful. As she spoke with them and shared in the merriment, they seemed to like her even more, their worries fading away into the night.
“I never would have imagined that I could have this much fun somewhere besides Ireland,” Isobel confessed before taking another long drink.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chuckling, Will sipped from his cup as well, allowing himself a moment to stare at her and soak up her presence.
“Just that I thought that part of my life was over when my family died. We used to do this with our neighbors, too. We would tell stories and dance . . . be together. I’ve missed that sense of belong to someplace, of having others who shared life with me.” She smiled sheepishly, blushing.
“I’m happy to live life with ye, Isobel,” he said sincerely. “Truly.”
“And I with ye,” she responded in kind. Eyes widening as the music started again, she laughed, grabbing his arm again. “I haven’t heard this song in ages!”
“Come on, then,” he urged her, heading back toward the dancers. Weaving through a few standing crowds, he slid his hand into hers, grinning as they neared the moving group. Suddenly, someone stepped out in front of them and he froze, feeling as if all the color had drained from him in an instant.
The woman was wearing traveling clothes, her eyes tired as she stared down her nose at him. Gray hair was arranged perfectly under her cap, one eyebrow raised. A silent fury seethed from her, the straightness of her back reminding him of a man about to face death head on.
“Missus MacDonald,” he stuttered, feeling the need to hide Isobel behind him. “I thought ye and yer daughter were in the Lowlands.”
“So it would seem,” she replied, her lips curling down in distaste.
“Isobel—” Hesitating, he wondered if he should actually introduce them. It would be rude not to, though, especially with the way Fiona’s mother was staring at Isobel, clearly waiting for an introduction. “This is Missus MacDonald. Fiona’s mother.”
“Oh.” Caught off guard, Isobel nodded as a greeting, glancing at Will with question in her eyes. “Pleased to meet ye, Missus MacDonald.”
“Are ye?” Folding her arms, Fiona’s mother continued to glare at Isobel, hatred obviously written on her face.
Around them, the groups of people realized what was happening and fell silent. Before long, even the music stopped, everyone watching the three of them with guarded interest and concern.
“Have I done something wrong?” Isobel asked, laughing slightly as she stared around at everyone.
“No,” Will replied quickly, only to be undercut by Missus MacDonald.
“I should say so!”
Fiona had appeared behind her mother, confusion in her expression. She looked at Isobel in surprise and then at Will, as if to ask him what was going on. The two women seemed like a wall he couldn’t get around and he was suddenly struck with the urge to turn and run.
“If I’ve offended ye in some way, please know I didn’t mean to,” Isobel said sincerely, still in the dark as to why everyone was watching her with such interest.
“If ye’ve offended me?” Missus MacDonald laughed, looking around the group. “Why would I not be? I come home and find my future son-in-law attached to another woman, clearly disregarding the fact that he is promised to my daughter. Tell me, woman, would that not offend ye?”
“What?” Isobel looked at Will then, their hands still clasped together. “Ye said that ye and Fiona were no longer engaged.”
“Then he’s a liar as well as a cheat,” Missus MacDonald stated, her tone icy.
The group shifted uncomfortably, whispering among themselves.
“Will?”
Swallowing hard, he stared at Isobel, feeling like there was a hot ball of lead in his stomach. “It’s true,” he said softly. “I’m still engaged.”
Isobel pulled her hand from his in an instant, looking at him with wide eyes full of hurt and betrayal.
“I tried to tell ye,” he said quickly. “But I didn’t ken how. I swear to ye, Isobel, I was going to call the whole thing off as soon as I saw Fiona again.”
“Ye’ve been promised this entire time,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. Her last words came out as a whisper, the sound of it piercing him through the heart. “How could ye, Will?” Looking around at the group, she straightened her back, all appearances of the fun-loving girl who had been enjoying herself disappearing. “I suppose no one said anything to me because I’m a witch, too,” she said loudly, addressing all of them. “Afraid of being cursed. Ye never wanted me here.” Her lip trembled slightly and Will could see the battle raging inside herself for control. “Fine. I’m going.”
“Isobel,” Will said, reaching out for her hand again.
“I would appreciate it if ye didn’t touch me again, Mister MacDonald.” Stepping away, her tone hard, she started down the road, the crowd easily passing to let her through.
“Isobel, wait!” When she didn’t listen, he turned back to Fiona and her mother, the crowd uncomfortable around him. “I understand yer angry, but I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. This fault is mine, though. Ye dinna need to take it out on Isobel—she didn’t ken.”
“Ye disappoint me, William. I thought ye were a man of honor, not deception.” Sighing, Missus MacDonald looked back at Fiona, taking her hand in hers. “I’ll have words with yer father and ye later. This night need not be sullied by ill will any longer. Now that the witch is gone, we can continue celebrating family and togetherness.”
“She’s not a witch,” Will responded angrily. “And I’ll do no celebrating without her.”
Turning on his heel, he shoved through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those who got in his way. In the background, he could hear Da calling for him to stop, but he didn’t care. There was something more important than his honor at stake now.
As soon as he left the warmth of the gathering, a chilly wind seized on him, giving him gooseflesh. Wrapping his arms around himself, he ran down the road, eyes straining for Isobel.
“Isobel!” he called, panicking when she didn’t respond. “Isobel, wait!”
Finally, he saw her, head down and hands rubbing her arms as she headed toward the mountain. Lightning flashed overhead, lighting the entire scene like some horror story. Her dress fanned out behind her, hair flying in the wind as the rain began to fall. For the first time since he’d met her, he believed that she really could be a witch, calling on her powers to show the strength of her anger and dismay toward him.
“Ye’re going to catch yer death out here!” Angrily, he yelled after her, frustrated that she wouldn’t stop and listen to him. “Iso
bel, stop!” Running at a full sprint, he finally caught up, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder.
“No, ye stop!” she screamed back, rounding on him quickly. “Leave me alone, William MacDonald. I don’t want to see ye ever again! Ye’re a liar and a cheat and I should have known it from the very first moment I saw ye.” The woman he’d seen the very first time he’d laid eyes on her was back—the spitfire who didn’t take any directions from anyone. If she’d had Sheila with her, he had no doubt she would have clobbered him.
“I didn’t lie,” he responded, exasperated. “I didn’t tell ye the whole truth about my engagement, no, but I never once lied to ye about anything. I love ye, Isobel. Ye have to believe me.”
“Ye love me?” Her face went stone cold in the rain, fury rolling off her. “I don’t believe ye. If ye really loved me, ye wouldn’t have hurt me like this. Ye’ve made me into a mistress, Will! Ye brought me down here and let me believe that everyone wanted me there, when they were just too afraid to say anything unwelcoming to a witch. Ye embarrassed me in front of a group of people. In front of yer fiancée! I looked like an imbecile, Will. Anyone who truly loved me wouldn’t have put me in those situations.”
“Dinna be like that, Isobel. Ye know I didn’t mean to hurt ye.” Guilt flooded him all the same. She was right; he had destroyed her reputation even further without even thinking about it. In his quest to be happy, he had hurt her, possibly beyond repair. No one would ever forget the witch who lived on the mountain now.
“Even if ye didn’t mean to, ye did, Will. That’s all that matters. Ye kept the truth from me. People who love each other don’t do that, especially when it’s something like the fact that ye’re engaged to another woman.” She was crying now, he was sure of it. It was difficult to tell in the rain, but he could hear her sniffling, her shoulders shaking gently.
“Isobel.” His voice cracked, filled with pain and regret, and he reached out for her, wanting to hold her close and reassure her of his feelings.
She pushed him away, though, holding her head high again as she wiped her eyes. “Remember that first night together?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Ye said ye’d never hurt me. I guess never ended tonight.”
She couldn’t have injured him more if she’d physically struck him. Gaping, he watched as she turned and walked away, ignoring his shouts for her to please come back. Eventually, he was yelling at the empty darkness, knowing that every chance he’d ever had for happiness had disappeared into the trees.
Thirteen
“What are ye thinking, Willy?”
Da spoke softly, watching as Will shoveled out the barn. It had been three days since Isobel had left, leaving no clue as to whether or not she had made it back home in the storm, or if she would ever be returning. Maw had convinced Will to give her some time instead of riding right after her, but Da now watched him to make sure he didn’t slip off unannounced.
Fiona and her mother had come to speak with them the morning after the whole debacle had taken place. To Will’s surprise and dismay, they still wanted the wedding to happen, despite the public humiliation he’d brought upon all of them. Even more upsetting, his parents had agreed that it was the right course of action to take.
“I’m trying to get used to feeling like a prisoner in my own home,” he responded snottily. He’d never spoken to Da with such a tone before and winced, knowing he was crossing a line.
“Ye ken fine and well that ye made an agreement, Willy.” He sounded annoyed, like he didn’t want to be out here, dealing with his oldest son. “Ye can’t back out without providing equal compensation to Fiona and her mother.”
“How am I supposed to find equal compensation to my hand in marriage? Get them another groom? Pay for the wedding? There’s no one else and we have no money for a ceremony as it is.”
“That is my point, exactly.” Sighing, Da rubbed his face, walking over to his son and putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is the right thing to do, Willy. Ye ken it, I ken it, and Fiona and her mother ken it. Ye canna go traipsing across the Highlands, disregarding everything ye’ve worked for here. I only want a good life for ye. Marriage to a witch is not that.”
“She’s not a witch,” Will replied vehemently, tossing his shovel to the side. “If ye’d open yer damn eyes, ye’d see that as clearly as I do.” Huffing, he closed his eyes, trying to rein in his emotions. As soon as he felt he could keep from shouting, he spoke again. “Dinna fash, Da. I’ll marry Fiona like ye ask. Isobel doesn’t want anything more to do with me anyway.” Walking out of the barn, he headed down the muddy trail, toward the houses just down the road, muttering to himself angrily the whole way.
“Where do ye think ye’re going?” Da yelled after him.
“To clear my head!” he shouted back.
The air was still cold, summer rains threatening to break loose again overhead. Everything about life felt dirty and useless to him now, like he was viewing it through a screen that dimmed the colors and joys of life he’d had before. The home that had felt so welcoming to him was a prison now, full of neighbors who looked at him with pity and disgust. Sometimes, they whispered as he passed by, concern on their faces. He could only imagine what they were saying.
There goes the lad under the witch’s love spell. There goes William MacDonald, the liar and cheat. There goes the town disappointment. Everyone pity and judge him in his hour of despair. Pray for his soul.
Worst of all, his heart hurt for Isobel. Was she safe? Had she gotten sick in the storm? As furious as he was with his family for keeping him from going to her, he was more angry with himself for letting her go in the first place. He should have fought for her to stay. He could have easily carried her back to his home and demanded that she at least wait out the storm. Why had he simply let her go? There was no telling what had happened to her. She could be dead on the path, for all he knew.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Da following him at a distance and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t a child who needed constant monitoring. As he focused on the path ahead of him, he saw a group of people forming, listening to James MacDonald, the cousin who most often brought news of the politics and other events from around the country. He was seated on the back of his horse, eagerly telling everyone a story. As Will came closer, he was able to pick up on what some of the tale was.
“They wreaked havoc on the whole town,” he said animatedly, waving his hands. “Sickness, death, the whole lot. Just when the people thought they would all perish at the witches’ hands, the church officials arrived and arrested them.”
“What’s going on?” Will asked the closest person, ignoring the alarmed look the man gave him.
“He’s talking about an Irish family,” he said hesitantly. “Witches put to death last year. Apparently, the parents, two boys, and a young girl were all burned at the stake, but another daughter got away.”
“They tracked the girl across the country,” James said, his knack for storytelling apparent. “Several times they thought they had her, but she slipped through their fingers. The only good thing about the chase was the number of witches they caught along the way. Every person the girl stayed with was tried and put to death for making deals with the Devil. Eventually, the search ended. They assumed the girl had died, or would soon once winter hit.”
“Bless the victims and their families,” a woman murmured next to Will, crossing herself.
“One witch hunter didn’t give up, though,” James continued. “The trail was cold and lost for several months, but he finally got the information he needed.”
The crowd gasped at the news, shocked that there was more to the story.
“He sent word to his acquaintances here in Scotland, to be on the lookout for the witch in all their travels. She’d bought passage on a ship and fled the country. Should they ever hear of her, they should act as soon as possible, for the safety of their families.”
Will stomach started to turn as he listened, a sense of dread filling him. He couldn’t m
ove away, hanging on every word, panic rising inside him as James finished the story.
“Those acquaintances were the Campbells,” James said in a matter of fact tone. “And when I shared the news of the Delaney witch on the mountain with them two days ago, they shared with me the story of the Delaney family and their sins. At this very moment, they ride to the top of the mountain, to bring the evildoer to justice and finish her once and for all!”
It was as if Will had been stabbed in the gut. A cold wave washed over him, his ears ringing oddly, the breath stolen from his chest. Palms sweating, he turned around woodenly, feeling like he was about to crumble to the ground. Da was saying something to him, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him, but he couldn’t hear the words. His skin felt like it was being prickled over and over again, like the sensation he had whenever his foot fell asleep. Mouth dry, he looked beyond his father, the storm clouds on the top of the mountain suddenly looking like the angel of death, coming to take Isobel away.
When she’d said her family had died in a fire, he hadn’t realized she meant executed. As she’d told him she understood the witch trial process very well, he hadn’t known it was because she had witnessed it first-hand. Death really had followed her everywhere she went, claiming the lives of every soul who had pitied her and tried to help. Everything she had said to him had been true.
But, the witch hunter had one thing wrong; Isobel wasn’t evil. She was an incredible woman, unlike any Will had ever met, and she didn’t deserve to die. Whatever horrible thing they believed she and her family had done, Will knew it wasn’t true.
“Will!”
Da shook him again and he blinked, refocusing his gaze on his father’s face. “I have to go up there,” he said weakly, pushing Da away slightly. “Now!”
Taken Away (A Swept Away Saga Origins Story): A Scottish Highlander Romance (The Swept Away Saga) Page 9
