When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4)

by Julie Johnstone

  “The woman has a name,” Marsaili hissed, surprising Graham. And by Cameron’s flinch, it appeared her outburst surprised his brother as well. “It’s Isobel,” Marsaili growled. “She’s clearly weary, and ye need to keep yer voice low so as not to wake her.”

  Graham led the horses off the path and toward a stream he had spotted in the distance. “Yer defense of the sister ye just betrayed seems rather odd,” Graham commented, ensuring he kept his voice low.

  Marsaili shifted on Cameron’s horse. “I ken it seems I betrayed her to ye and to her, but I only thought to defend her. She dunnae ken our father as I do.”

  He considered the many things he’d like to learn and carefully decided what to ask first. “And why is that?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

  Marsaili nibbled her lip for a long moment before answering. “Isobel did nae ever live with him. She was sent to live at Iona Nunnery directly after her mother died in childbirth.”

  He nodded as he glanced at the sleeping woman in his arms. Her having been sent away for her whole life explained a great deal about why she thought her father honorable. Most likely, Campbell had hidden his true self from her, and Graham did not need to speculate why. He knew well that Isobel could not inherit Brigid until she was eighteen, nor could she be married before then without losing her inheritance. Her father had sent her away and made her think he loved her so that she would willingly do his bidding and marry as he wished when he finally brought her home.

  In truth, it was well-known that her grandmother, who was speculated to be a seer, had cursed her husband the day Isobel’s mother had died. The grandmother blamed her husband for her daughter’s death because he had forced Isobel’s mother to marry the Campbell, whose ill treatment had killed her.

  Isobel stirred in his arms then. Any moment she would wake. “How often did Isobel see yer father?” he asked.

  “Once a year on her birthday,” Marsaili replied. “I did nae meet her until she arrived home yesterday. None but our father, Findlay, and Colin ever met her.”

  The information surprised him. He stopped in front of the stream to allow his horse to drink, and he watched as Cameron brought his horse up beside Dante. Isobel’s breath was no longer deep against him. He knew instantly that she was feigning sleep, but he said nothing. Instead, he asked again what he wanted to know—and what he suspected Isobel wished to know. “Why did ye betray yer family, Marsaili?”

  She gazed warily at Graham. “I wished to keep Isobel safe from harm.”

  “Perchance,” he agreed. “But there is more. If ye dunnae tell me the whole of it now, I’ll nae allow ye to go one step farther with us. I’ll leave ye here for whoever may discover ye.”

  Marsaili’s mouth dropped open. “Ye would nae!”

  He felt Isobel tense, but she still pretended to be asleep. In truth, he would never leave a woman to be ravaged, no matter how deceitful she was. But he would tie her up and treat her more like a prisoner than an ally, and he would make threats to get the information he desired.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are ye willing to risk it?”

  “I am nae a Campbell!” she cried out.

  He frowned. “What say ye?”

  She glanced fearfully toward his men, who had stopped their horses some distance back, and he realized she was afraid to speak with so many listening. He moved his horse farther away and motioned for Cameron to do the same. “Ye may speak freely now,” he ordered.

  Lines of tension came to her forehead. “My father,” she paused and swallowed hard, “he ravished yer mother years ago when the clans were together for a tournament.”

  He could feel Isobel’s heartbeat triple under the press of his palm, even as his own did. Memories of his parents fighting, and his mother being with bairn and then no longer having one in her belly, and the bairn being gone filled Graham’s mind. Then the memory of his mother telling his father that the Campbell had ravaged her came to him. He knew it was true. He knew his father had known and was one of the reasons he hated the Campbell so much, but he had never known that there had been a bairn born of that ravishment until this moment.

  He locked gazes with his brother, who looked confused. Cameron had not known any of this. No one had except Graham and his parents.

  “Did my mother want ye?” Cameron asked.

  “She did nae want me, Helena said. I dunnae even ken I was nae Jean’s daughter until Helena told me out of anger some months before she went to Dunvegan. She gave me this.” Marsaili pulled a chain from around her neck that had a ring dangling from it. She took off the chain and handed it to Graham who held out his hand.

  His heart thudded as he looked at his mother’s ring.

  Marsaili took a long, shuddering breath. “I have been treated terribly by my brothers, Helena, and Jean all my life. And my father, he treats me with coldness. I ken he keeps me around with the hope that he can someday use me to harm yer family. I—”

  Isobel jerked upright so quickly that she nearly toppled off the horse. With a muffled curse, Graham reached out, set her feet on the ground, and steadied her. He dismounted beside her and watched as her neck and chest flushed a deep crimson, revealing her anger. Across her pale, beautiful face, the heat of her indignation spread like fire. “I’m certain ye have the wrong of it, Marsaili! Ye said yerself that Helena was evil. Father would nae have ravished yer mother, Graham.”

  “He did,” Graham growled.

  Isobel shook her head. “Ye hate my father. Ye’ll believe anything bad about him.”

  “Nay,” he said flatly. “My mother told me this secret years ago.”

  “By Christ, why did ye nae tell me?” Cameron demanded.

  Graham looked to his brother. “She made me vow to keep her secret always. Surely, ye see I had to?”

  Cameron looked as if he wanted to protest, but he nodded reluctantly. “I can see that.”

  “This kinnae be!” Isobel moaned. “Father would nae do such a thing!” she insisted, but Graham noticed the doubt flickering in her eyes and he suddenly felt sorry for her. Isobel looked to Marsaili, who shook her head.

  “Yet he did,” Marsaili said with no emotion. “He did ravish Graham’s mother, and she had me as a result. I am half-MacLeod and half-Campbell, truly wanted nowhere.”

  Graham winced at the woman’s painful words. He wanted to reassure her that she would be welcome, but he knew it would not likely be so. He himself was having a hard time with the revelation, but he would do all in his power to ensure she was welcomed.

  “Father wanted ye. He loved ye and gave ye a home,” Isobel said in a strangled voice.

  Marsaili’s eyes narrowed. “To use me and ye. We are but pieces in his game for the throne.”

  “Nay!” Isobel cried out, her voice ragged with pain. “It kinnae be.” She glanced at Graham, and he saw the wild desperation in her eyes to cling to her belief that her father was good. “Mayhap my father and yer mother came together in passion, and yer mother did nae wish yer father or anyone to ken it.”

  “Nay,” he clipped, the word harsher than he had intended, but he could not allow her to spout such an irrational notion.

  Isobel opened and closed her mouth as if she could not find words. He saw tears fill her eyes, but she seemed to will them away. “How am I supposed to believe any of ye?” she asked in a suffocated whisper. “Ye—” she pointed to Marsaili “—lied to me. And ye—” she motioned to Graham “—seized me for some foolish revenge!”

  “Foolish revenge!” he thundered, seeing her and Marsaili flinch as one. “Yer family plotted with my uncle years ago to seize my sister, Lena, and make my family believe she had drowned in the loch, all because my uncle wanted revenge against my father and believed he should be laird of our clan.”

  “I kinnae—” Her voice broke midsentence. “I kinnae believe this is true,” she finished in a shaky tone.

  “Kinnae or will nae?” he asked gently, for she looked as if she were glass cracking before his eyes.


  She hugged herself, and he had the sudden, strange desire to pull her into his arms and offer her comfort. He curled his hands into fists by his sides as her gaze met his. “I will nae believe it,” she finally said, but her trembling voice betrayed her uncertainty.

  Still, he did not feel triumphant. Understanding and pain rushed through him. He remembered well when he could no longer deny his mother did not love him as she loved Lachlan. It had been a great wound that had festered until he faced it and learned to accept it. Isobel needed to hear everything so she could begin to accept the truth.

  “Yer father,” he said in a low tone, “helped my uncle seize my sister, Lena. He kept it a secret that she was even alive for years, in hopes that it would buy my uncle’s fealty, which it did.”

  She shook her head as a look of bone-weary sadness passed over her features. “I dunnae ken what to believe.” He felt something squeeze in his chest at her words and her tear-filled eyes that clung to his.

  “Isobel,” Marsaili said softly and stepped toward her.

  Isobel flinched, and Marsaili halted her steps. “I would hear my father’s side,” Isobel said stiffly, looking from Graham to Marsaili and back again.

  Admiration for her loyalty, for the woman herself, settled within him. He started to turn to retrieve his rations bag when she spoke. “How did my brother Findlay come to be married to yer sister?”

  “By force,” he growled, unable to keep his voice from sharpening with rage. “My uncle coerced her into the marriage to complete the alliance between himself and yer father. And then yer brother beat her into submission and branded her.”

  All the color drained from Isobel’s face, and her hand fluttered to her neck. “Findlay is vile,” she whispered.

  “Nae just Findlay,” he corrected. “Yer brother Colin was just as bad.”

  Her lips pressed together in an angry line. “Colin was good to me. Always. He treated me with love and kindness.”

  “Yer brother Colin ravished my brother Lachlan’s woman, Bridgette. He seized her, branded her with an iron, forced her to marry him, and then he brutally took that which she did nae wish to give him.”

  “That kinnae be so!” she cried out.

  “It is so,” he countered in a hard voice.

  Isobel looked to Marsaili. “Do ye ken of this?”

  Marsaili shook her head. “I dunnae ken what Findlay did to Lena or Colin to Bridgette. I have nae met either woman, as I was nae ever treated as truly part of the family. But I believe what Graham says given how cruel Findlay and Colin have been to me.”

  “How am I to believe ye?” she demanded angrily. “Ye lied to me, used me, and betrayed me. I dunnae ken ye. And what I ken of ye is that I kinnae trust ye, and that ye hate our father and brothers for nae treating ye with love.” She slashed a hand in the air. “And ye!” She pointed a finger at Graham. “Ye are asking me to denounce my father who has shown me love all my life.”

  “He dunnae love ye!” Marsaili cried out. “He only kept ye safe ’til now to gain control of Brigid Castle!”

  When Isobel jerked as if Marsaili’s words had hit her like fists, Graham waved a hand. “Enough,” he ordered as pity stirred in him.

  Isobel squeezed her eyes shut as if she could not endure hearing another word. She had grown up separated from her family, and despite the troubles he had experienced with his own family, they had always been there for him and gave him strength when he’d had none. Mayhap, despite how evil her father was, he had done that for her.

  He heard her swallow hard, as if fighting back tears. That same desire to shield her from harm rose in him, but he refused to think too much upon it. He had taken her. He merely felt an obligation now because of his deed. It was unexpected but understandable. He would fulfill his vow to the king, he told himself, but somehow he had to also ensure Isobel Campbell was married to a man who would treat her well. Irritated suddenly to be burdened with such a problem but unable to dismiss it, he motioned toward the horses, putting the thought of food from his mind for the more pressing need to get them closer to Dunvegan where he could rid himself of Isobel and the strange feelings she stirred in him.

  Chapter Five

  Isobel sat stiffly in front of Graham on his destrier, and though she took great pains to make sure she did not touch him, she could still feel him behind her. Her enemy. Or so she had always believed of all MacLeods. Now uncertainty battered her body and mind so ruthlessly even her skin hurt, and she was freezing, which made it hard to think properly, and she needed to think. And plan.

  It didn’t help matters that Graham’s heat enticed her to lean back into the strong, solid embrace in which she had awoken earlier. When she had first been stirring, she had a moment of feeling perfectly safe and cared for, and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. But then she had remembered that she was in the enemy’s arms, and that sense of safety vanished. She felt very alone, and the thing that had always held the loneliness at bay was knowing her brothers and father loved her. But had it all been a lie? Findlay could not possibly love her after how he had acted. And what of Colin?

  She could have explained away Graham’s words about Colin to their clans simply being enemies, though it was hard to forget the man had risked his life to save Marsaili’s, which meant he did have good in him. But Marsaili’s continued insistence that Colin had been evil and that Father was working to overthrow the king was like a thorn in Isobel’s side that she could not pick out of her skin. Marsaili clearly hated Father and hated their brothers, so mayhap she simply wanted to turn Isobel against them, too. Isobel’s heart told her to believe this. It was better to be betrayed completely by the sister she had never known than the father she adored.

  But her head… She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. Her head cautioned her to not trust anyone until one proved one could be trusted, including her father. But that would leave her utterly alone in the world. She could not even succumb to sadness over Colin’s loss because she may well be mourning a monster.

  She clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw ached. She had been alone most of her life. She had seen her father once a year, and not even for an entire day. The rest of her days had been spent as an outcast at the nunnery. The nuns had never treated her with any kindness, but after Sister Beatrice had been cast out of the nunnery, they had treated her with a cold hostility and fearful wariness. No one had ever given her a physical punishment that would scar her again, and once, when she had been forced to kneel for a particularly long period by Sister Mary’s order, Isobel had overheard another nun caution Sister Mary to be careful, lest she fall to the same fate as Sister Beatrice.

  The only friends she had ever had were the Ceàrdannan. She sucked in a sharp breath as an idea struck. The leader of the Summer Walkers, Evan, had told her last summer when his group had come through Iona and she had saved his sick child from death that if she ever needed safe harbor, he would give it to her and protect her with his life.

  It was January, and she knew the Ceàrdannan spent the winters in a sea town called Oban. Somehow, she had to escape Graham and make her way there. No one even knew of her connection to the Summer Walkers so no one would search for her there. Then she could have Evan help her determine if she was being used by her father for ill purposes or if she had been told more lies. She slumped in relief at having a plan. Now all she needed to do was learn where Oban was and how to get there.

  Isobel braced herself against the continuing hard jolts of the horse over the rocky terrain. As Dante raced across the countryside, the cold air was blowing in her face and over her body continuously, making her shiver. She wrapped one arm around her waist and rounded her shoulders forward against the wind as her thoughts and worries tumbled in her head. Every time the horse’s hooves connected with the ground, her body protested. She was weary, but she refused to give in to the need to shut her eyes. She feared waking up in Graham’s arms again. The memory of being secure between his strong thighs tightened her belly and
stirred the same unwanted longing she had felt earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to recite a prayer of forgiveness that she’d often been made to repeat at the nunnery.

  A long while later, her body felt heavy—her eyelids especially so—and a thick fog blanketed her thoughts. The chill from the air had set so deep into her bones she was sure she would freeze. She could not remember why she should not lean back, and even if she could have remembered, she did not think she had the will to resist. When she gave in, her body met with an oddly warm wall of steel.

  She wanted that heat everywhere she was cold. She tried to turn into the fire, but something stopped her. A protest came to her numb lips, but it died when the heat encircled her and then seemed to consume her. She sighed contentedly as a balmy breeze blew on her cheek and slumber overtook her.

  Graham sucked in a sharp breath as Isobel’s soft body leaned against him. Was she trying to seduce him? No. It was impossible. He glanced down at her face only to find her eyes closed. She was asleep. She had no idea that she had curled into his arms like a kitten seeking attention. Even so, it was all he could do not to pet her.

  She wiggled her bottom between his thighs, and his groin throbbed in response. She was going to kill him, or rather the desire she elicited in his body would kill him since he could not act upon it. He couldn’t help but stare at the perfect slope of her cheekbones and then her full lips, the longing to claim those lips and see what she tasted like coursing through him. He’d not do it, of course. She was not a wench with whom to have a romp in the hay. She was a lady who would be a man’s wife, and she was the daughter of his family’s foes.

  The concern of earlier needled him. Somehow he had to ensure King David chose a man who was neither cruel by nature nor held a grudge against Isobel because she was the Campbell’s daughter, as Cameron seemed to.

  Hell, as he himself had. He had stolen her in part because he had convinced himself it would not matter if he used her because she had to be wicked like her family. Now he understood the falsehood for what it was. She was not responsible for her family’s misdeeds, but by taking her against her will he was forcing her to atone personally for each and every one of them. Yet, even if he was not obligated to bring her to the king, setting her free would not help her. She would simply become the victim of someone else who wished to use her, and she would not have him as her champion then. He froze at the thought. He was the protector of a Campbell? How strange life was.