Highlander Enchanted(16)
Isabel’s despair faded when she awoke sore but clear headed the next morning. Bursts of sunlight cut through the clouds outside the great windows of the bedchamber. The air smelled heavily of rain and hearth, and distant sounds from the hamlet drifted to her. Harp music joined the chatter of clan members and the neighing, squawking, and plaintive cries of penned animals.
Isabel remained on her side beneath the warm coverlets, listening to the peaceful fortress. It was difficult to imagine the friendly people who greeted them at the gates were constantly at war with one another, if the bard’s tales and Ailsa’s stories were to be believed.
She remained in bed longer than usual after waking, her mind less desperate this day than the previous night. Not only had she found Black Cade, but she was in his home. She had come to the Highlands with one goal, and she was in the place she needed to be in order to see it through.
Her situation was not so hopeless in the drizzly light of morning. Before Richard found her, she needed the contents of her satchel.
Stiff yet pleased by her ability to move, she put weight on her leg gradually before rising. The pain and bump were lessened this day, and she hobbled around the chamber. The bruises caused by Richard’s anger hurt more, and she gingerly explored the latest damage he had caused with fingertips. A swollen cheek, aching nose, and the warm pain of bruises around her neck from where he had grabbed her. For a moment, her hope flickered. She was always helpless when it came to Richard, afraid to anger him further by defying him and unwilling to beg him to stop.
Her father had wanted her to wed him at one point, and she became distraught whenever she considered she was possibly breaking a sacred commandment by disobeying her father. But Father Henry, the priest who had helped her navigate the final years of her mad father’s life, had told her to listen to her heart, for God would guide her, and to believe in His plan.
Had His plan led her here, or was it her own sinful will?
She breathed deeply and focused once more on her purpose. She had come hundreds of leagues, alone, often with little to eat or drink. Richard’s presence was not going to dissuade her.
Unable to walk without a limp, she was at least capable of moving on her own without grimacing in pain each step. Her headache lingered, aided by the ache of one cheek.
Isabel cleaned herself and then hesitated. While she slept, someone had entered and placed a gown at the foot of her bed. It was well spun, clean and simple, without adornment of any kind, and red with a thick belt the same shade of green as the Highlands. Her first thought – it was not befitting a woman of her birth – vanished when she considered she had arrived wearing the trews of a boy.
She dressed and searched his chamber for the saddlebag where she had stashed the precious writs. They were nowhere to be found.
She went to one set of windows, those overlooking the bailey. Dread settled heavily in her stomach, and she found herself peering out in apprehension, afraid to see Richard preparing to leave and her horse saddled and waiting.
No train of horses or Englishmen loitered at the stables. If she did not know better, she would entertain the wild wish he had gone and decided to leave her here.
That will never happen, she admitted sadly.
A warm breeze rustled the herbs hanging from the top of the window. She stretched up, fingertips brushing the ferny leaves of one. Mixed amid the herb bunches were strange trinkets. At first glance, they appeared rather plain, but as she gazed at them, she was able to make out the faded carvings in the face of each – and the glimmer of crystals or jewels encased behind the humble metals of the pendants.
A flicker of pink caught her fancy, and she stretched upward on tiptoes to reach the charm. Unable to grasp it, she balanced precariously on her good leg then hopped. Her hand closed around the pendant, and it fell into her hand as she landed.
Warm from hanging in the morning sun, the pink pendant mostly hidden by a tarnished shiver coat heated her cool palm. She studied it, puzzled. The crystal almost seemed to glow, and something about its simple, gentle beauty settled her fear. Charmed by the strange display, she glanced up at the rest of the dangling pendants before tucking the pink one in her pocket with a silent oath to return it later.
She went next to the weapons displayed along a long table. Many of Black Cade’s weapons were too large for her to lift, and she admired and envied his strength. Recalling her purpose, and her anger, she selected one of the smallest daggers he possessed and slid it into her pocket beside the pendant.
Isabel squared her shoulders and limped to the door. Her heart raced at the prospect of facing the world outside the peaceful bedchamber. The man she wanted dead had given her refuge. The man who wanted her lands would stop at nothing to drag her away and formalize their wedding contract.
She needed time to deal with both men.
Isabel left her bedchamber and paused in the hallway outside. She had been far too tired the night before to pay heed to the direction she had been led. She began walking. Instead of hiding her limp, she exaggerated it in the hopes she may be seen as too wounded to ride if she saw Richard and thus, buy herself more time.
She walked through the small hold, waiting for either man to leap out from around a corner at any moment to confront her. No one did, and the servants and other clan members greeted her with curious looks and friendly smiles without stopping to address her. The Great Hall was quiet, swept clean of rushes, and the courtyards and bailey void either of the men she dreaded encountering.