Isobel paused, peering into the poorly lit passage to ensure no one was coming before continuing on her way.
No, she could not deny what she had seen. She would not marry Jamie MacLeod, for she could not believe her father would order such a thing, and she never would unless she heard the words from his own lips.
And if it’s true…?
The single question popped into her head, but she pushed the question aside. As the future heiress to Brigid Castle, she had long understood that many men would want her simply to gain Brigid, but she had always counted on the fact that her father loved her and had promised her a marriage like the one he’d had with her mother—one of love.
Father was steadfast, honorable, and true to his word. To believe anything else meant that everything she had ever believed was a lie. She had to learn where he was and go to him. Mayhap he did not even know she had been taken from the nunnery. Before anything else, though, she had to free Marsaili from the chapel where Findlay had ordered her to be held as incentive to make Isobel marry Lord MacLeod. Isobel quickened her steps, understanding how valuable each moment was. The search for the priest was on, and if he could not be located, Jean had been only too eager to suggest that Lord MacLeod take Isobel to the northeastern end of Loch Awe to Kildrun Castle, another Campbell holding, that housed another priest who could marry them.
She bit her lip as she descended through the dark, smoke-filled air. The fire that had destroyed most of the main castle had been put out by the torrential rain, but the smell of burned wood hung heavy in the air, making her want to cough each time she took a breath. The tower and the chapel were the only structures that remained.
When Isobel reached the bottom of the tower, she pushed against the wooden door, only to have it swing open with such force that she nearly stumbled to her knees. She caught her balance just as Marsaili reached out and grabbed her by the arm.
Isobel blinked at Marsaili, who stood silhouetted by the moonlight. Her sister had a dagger in one hand and a satchel in the other. “Ye’re quite surprising,” Isobel murmured.
Marsaili grinned, her teeth flashing white against the darkness. “Ye’re rather surprising yerself. How did ye escape the tower?” Her question was innocent, but her look was probing.
Isobel narrowed her eyes. “How did ye escape the chapel?” For a long moment, both women stared at each other warily. Then Isobel finally spoke once more, knowing they had to flee. “We will keep our secrets?”
Marsaili nodded.
Isobel frowned at her half sister’s eager agreement. “Some of our secrets,” she clarified.
Marsaili bit her lip but nodded again. “Come. We must make haste. I overheard Findlay and Lord MacLeod talking, and they have Graham MacLeod chained in the cave. If we dunnae release him, he will soon be drowned.”
Isobel shuddered at the thought of drowning. She had so many questions, but now was not the time, except she had to know one thing for certain—or at least as certain as she could be that Marsaili spoke the truth. “The MacLeods are Father’s enemies?” Isobel probed.
“Aye,” Marsaili replied, her mouth quirking as if there were more to say, which Isobel dearly wanted to hear. “I vow I will tell ye all and speak only truth, but we must make haste or Graham will die, and be Father’s enemy or nae, Graham saved my life. He is nae my enemy.”
Isobel hesitated, caught between her loyalty to her father and her heart, which told her it was wrong to let a man die when he had risked his life to save another.
“I need yer help, Isobel,” Marsaili begged. “I kinnae swim, and the cave may well be flooded when we get there.”
Isobel sighed deeply. She could not let Graham MacLeod die, even if he was her father’s enemy. “I will help ye, but once we free him, ye will take me to Father.”
“Nay,” Marsaili answered, her gaze steely. “I will tell ye where Father is, but I will nae take ye to him.”
Isobel nodded, knowing she had to accept what she was given for now. “Perchance later ye will tell me why ye dunnae wish to go to Father,” she whispered as she followed Marsaili.
Marsaili whispered back, “I will tell ye many truths, though I dunnae believe ye will wish to hear them, and I suspect ye’ll refuse to believe them.”
They exited the tower into the freezing night and driving rain, and then, following Marsaili’s lead, Isobel crouched low to the ground with her back pressed to the stone wall as they crept around the tower. When they had circled half its width and faced the side of the courtyard that led to the water, Marsaili paused. She motioned into the darkness. “The cave is below us.”
Isobel rubbed the water from her eyes and squinted in the direction that Marsaili was pointing. She saw nothing but blackness. “Down where?”
“Shh!” Marsaili hissed. “If they catch us, ye’ll go back to the tower and Findlay may well decide I’m nae worth keeping alive.” Marsaili pointed toward the fortress wall and the watchtowers that lined it. “The guards will nae be bothering to watch the courtyard wall that faces the water. They’ll be looking toward the side by the woods and searching for signs of Graham’s men going to rescue him. Come.” She took Isobel’s hand. “We’ll scale the wall and make our way to the cave.”
Isobel nodded. Silently they climbed the wall and then peered into the dark below as lightning flashed and lit the water. Her breath caught in her throat, and her stomach tightened as she realized Marsaili’s plan involved the woman jumping into the water. “Ye said ye kinnae swim,” she moaned.
“I kinnae. That’s why ye must help me. I need ye to get me to land and then get to the cave and free Graham. Can ye do it?”
Isobel had no notion if she could, but she also knew she had no choice. “Aye,” she replied with grim determination.
Marsaili nodded. “Push off hard with yer feet when I give the signal. And Isobel, please dunnae let go of my hand. I’m deathly fearful of water.”
“I’ll nae release ye until ye are safe,” Isobel assured Marsaili.
Marsaili took a deep breath and then said, “Now!”
Together, they pushed off and dropped into the frigid waters below.
Chapter Three
The freezing temperatures made Graham slow. Too slow, he worried as he hefted his feet up toward the ropes once more. Water splashed down into his eyes and came just above his mouth as his legs finally, mercifully, wrapped around the rope. He could no longer make the bird calls, and he decided with a vague sense of detachment that he had about five more breaths until he’d be completely submerged and then maybe to the count of one hundred before he drowned.
With most of his weight now off his wrists, he could finally work his fingers to free himself, but they did not want to cooperate. The blood had not been flowing well for quite a while, and his fingers stung as he bent them as best he could.
His wrists had been tied together above his head, which was good. His right fingers grazed the rope around his right hand and touched the tie. Digging his nails into the rope, he gritted his teeth and clawed at the knot. Threads burrowed under his nail beds, but he could feel them tearing. When the rope went slack around his right wrist, relieved laughter gripped him. He quickly realized his mistake as water covered his nose and filled his lungs.
He immediately began counting as he worked on the rope that was secured around his left wrist.
Ten. Tug. Twenty. Scrape. Forty. Yank. Sixty. Lungs burning.
He slipped a finger under the loose rope as his lungs and chest tightened. Just one more tug and—The rope released as hands touched his chest, his back, his arms. His brother had come! Graham kicked upward toward the surface, only to realize there wasn’t a surface. The water had reached the top of the cave.
Cameron pulled at him, and Graham blindly followed. His limbs felt as if he were dragging them through thick mud, but he swam forward, guided by his brother. Graham broke the surface to blinding lightning, pelting rain, and glorious air. He gulped greedily, blinking the water out of his eyes as best h
e could, and when the lightning slashed across the sky again and he turned his head, his lips parted in shock as he stared into the exquisite, worried gaze of Isobel Campbell. He frowned, thinking for a moment that his mind was mistaken, so he reached out and pressed his fingers to her mouth.
Her lips were cold but her breath hot as she spoke. It washed over his fingers, making them tingle and making him very aware of just how real she was. This woman was his enemy, and now, it seemed, she was his unlikely savior, too.
“We must get to land!” she shouted over the storm. She shoved her wet hair off her forehead and pointed to her right. He nodded. Taking a firm grip on his hand once more, she pulled him along as she kicked with her legs and used her one free arm to swim.
He followed her lead as he scanned the land and the water for more Campbells or his uncle. He half expected them to appear at any minute, but when they reached the embankment and no one waited there to kill him, he crawled out of the icy water behind Isobel and came immediately to his knees and then his feet. The sudden motion sent all his blood rushing to his head, and his body swayed for a moment.
Isobel grabbed his arm and slung it over her petite shoulder. “Lean on me. I’ll nae let ye fall,” she promised.
To his surprise, he complied immediately. She staggered under his weight but did not complain. Instead, she moved them forward into the thick brush of woods and to a rock where she bent to help him sit down.
As she stood, he kept his stare steady on hers, curious to see her reaction when she looked at him. Her gaze swept over him, her mouth parting and eyes widening.
“Ye’re naked,” she whispered, her gaze going straight to his groin and then jerking up to his face. She tugged at her gown, pulling it off and leaving her in only a thin léine.
The outline of her perfect, high breasts straining against the gossamer material of her soaked léine heated him more than any fire ever could. She came toward him and draped her gown over his lap, then situated the material to hang down his legs.
She kneeled before him and set her hands on his thighs as she peered into his eyes. “Are ye injured badly?” she asked, her teeth chattering.
He studied this woman, his enemy who had just saved him, stripped her gown off to cover him, and now stared at him with a concerned expression. His chest tightened oddly.
“Ye kinnae tarry,” she rushed out, her tone tense. She looked around the area, her brow furrowing. “I dunnae ken which way ye should go.” Her voice was taut with panic now. “I left Marsaili here.” Her eyes darted around once more. “Marsaili,” she hissed several times, and when no answer came, she wrung her hands in obvious worry. “I dunnae ken where she could have gone. Ye must away. We all must! They’ll be coming for ye. And me.” She bit down on her lip, anxiousness painting her delicate features. “I’m sure if my father were here, he would halt all this. Be ye his enemy or nae, ye saved his daughter.”
Graham pressed his lips together on the desire to tell her the truth. He wanted to know exactly what was going through his soon-to-be captive’s head so he’d know best how to deal with her. “I dunnae ken what Findlay is doing. I kinnae tell ye how astounded I am. I—” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “My father is a good man. I ken he’s yer enemy, as ye are his, but he is good.” She frowned up at him when he didn’t speak, and she suddenly took one of his hands in hers and clutched it. “I ken ye must be afeared. I am fearful, as well.”
He could feel his eyes narrow at the insult, but she patted his hand in such a caring way that his anger slipped away and amusement replaced it.
“’Tis nothing to become angry about,” she added, looking away from him and to the thick woods, searching, he presumed, for Marsaili, who was well aware of the contingency plan and had likely gone to meet up with Cameron. “’Tis natural to be fearful when facing death,” Isobel said, drawing his attention back to her. The woman was daft if she truly believed he was afraid. “Ye’re fine now,” she said in a soothing voice that made him smile despite everything. “Ye’re fine now. All will be well if—”
At the sound of sticks breaking underfoot and to his right, he jerked upright—the clothing she’d covered him with falling to the ground. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her behind him to shield her. Her warm breath bathed his bare back with each sharp exhalation, and she wiggled—he supposed in protest at being held firmly against his naked body—but he didn’t loosen his grip.
He gave her a hard squeeze, a silent entreaty not to move or speak, and was pleased when she immediately stilled. He swept his gaze around him in search of a weapon when out of the darkness, Cameron appeared, a smirk coming to his face as he took in Graham’s appearance. Graham loosened his grip on Isobel but did not release her as he brought her to his side.
“It took ye long enough,” he growled at his brother.
Cameron nodded, then motioned behind him. Rory Mac, who was like a brother to Graham and his brothers by blood, stepped forward with a woman by his side.
Graham knew immediately by the defiant tilt of her chin, yet the guilt gleaming in her eyes as she glanced at Isobel, that the woman was his informant, Marsaili Campbell, Isobel’s half sister.
The woman looked at Graham from head to feet. Her eyes did not widen as Isobel’s had, and her cheeks did not redden. Either Marsaili Campbell was nae an innocent woman or she was an expert at hiding her reactions. A half smile tugged at her lips as she settled her attention on her sister. “Yer rescue was apparently much more entertaining that I kenned it would be.”
Isobel blushed furiously and gave Graham a shy smile that made him almost forget to be wary of her. To be sure she understood how he felt about her, he glared at her and almost laughed when her smile slipped away and she scowled in return.
At Cameron clearing his throat, Graham focused on his brother. “We found this thrown in the woods,” Cameron offered with a questioning look.
Graham took his plaid from his brother. “Jamie said none of us deserved to wear the MacLeod plaid.”
Cameron snorted at that. “I’d say he’s confused.”
“Aye,” Graham agreed as he released Isobel to put on his plaid. “What delayed ye in finding me?”
“In honesty, Brother, I’d nae have located ye at all if nae for Marsaili locating us. She led us here with the warning that we would either find ye drowned or rescued by that one.” An overt look of hostility twisted Cameron’s features as he pointed his dagger toward Isobel, who immediately pressed close to Graham’s side. A strong feeling of protectiveness swept through Graham, stunning him. He glanced sharply at the wet, beautiful woman beside him, who glared defiantly back at his brother but huddled close to Graham while struggling into her gown. She was a contrast of bravery and timidity, and it piqued his interest, irritating him even as he battered his curiosity down. She was the enemy. Yet…she had risked her life to save his. And then she had given the clothing off her back to cover him.
He understood why Cameron would have an immediate dislike for her, but then, why did his brother not show the same disgust for Isobel’s sister, who had betrayed her own family, albeit to his benefit?
Graham shoved his brother’s dagger away from Isobel’s face. She was the enemy, still she was not exactly as he had assumed. A flash of surprise came to Cameron’s eyes, and then his jaw tensed.
Graham squared his shoulders. “If ye wish to point yer dagger at someone, point it at that one,” he said, motioning to Marsaili. “She betrayed her family to us—”
Beside him, Isobel stiffened. “What? What say ye?”
“Isobel—” Marsaili started, but Graham gave her a quelling look, while still glaring at his brother and ignoring Isobel’s questions. “This one attempted to save me,” he said, indicating Isobel.
“Attempted!” Isobel said, her tone clearly affronted.
“And?” Cameron demanded. “Are ye saying she is nae longer our enemy?”
Graham looked hard at Isobel, who glared at him and then at her sister. She
looked as if she could not quite decide who she disliked more. He’d say one thing about Isobel Campbell: she was loyal, even if her loyalty was misplaced.
“Nay. She is still the enemy.” Graham could not elaborate more because he didn’t know exactly what to say. Isobel’s selfless act had set his mind in turmoil. “But she is also the pilfered prize,” Graham replied bluntly.
“Ye thankless beast,” she cried out. “I risked my life to save ye, and ye intend to thank me by, what? Trying to marry me to steal my castle?”
“First of all,” he growled, “ye did nae save me. I had already freed myself.”
“Ye were swimming in circles!” Isobel countered.
He ignored that statement, as it could very well be true, but that didn’t mean he was going to admit it. He would have straightened himself out eventually. “Secondly, I would nae ever marry a Campbell. It dunnae matter how important yer castle, so dunnae fash yerself about that.”
“Ye’re despicable,” she seethed.
“Coming from a Campbell, I’ll take that as praise,” he snapped.
Suddenly, the shouts of the enemy and the sound of dogs barking filled the night around them. Graham tensed and took the sword his brother handed him. “Jamie and Findlay,” they said in unison.
The voices in the distance grew louder. “Let’s away,” Graham said and reached for Isobel, who scrambled backward. He could grab her with no trouble, but he had the overwhelming desire for her to come to him by choice. “I could leave ye,” he said slowly. “But Jamie and Findlay will overcome ye easily with the hounds to track ye. And my uncle will be well pleased to marry ye, though I doubt ye’ll be well pleased as his wife.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Or,” he continued, taking time with his words as if he was in no rush, though they needed to flee now, “ye can come with us, and perchance ye’ll get lucky and escape me on the way to Dunvegan.”
He almost smiled at the way the notion lit her eyes. “I’ll go with ye,” she said, giving him a narrow-eyed look. “But I warn ye…I will escape ye as soon as I ken how.”
When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4) Page 4
