The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) - Hildie McQueen (best novels to read in english .TXT) 📗

“I forbid it.” She crossed her arms and fought not to cry. “I will not allow ye to go and put yer life in danger. What is it all about anyway?”

Darach pulled her against his chest. “Things of lairds, Isobel. I have to try to repair the damage my father has done. Otherwise, there may be war between the clans. As it is, even with my visit, I am not sure there is much to be done to make things right.”

Closing her eyes, Isobel held him close. How could it be that she felt as if life would cease without him? Was it love she felt?

“I will not think about it. We will have quite a few more days together.”

So much was changing in the next few days. After Beatrice left, she would be alone with her new family.

It wasn’t that she didn’t feel welcome, and thankfully she’d known them since her childhood. Yet those years she’d not come to visit had been a mistake. She didn’t know much about the surrounding villages and Darach’s brothers were all so different.

Thankfully, Mariel Ross had visited over the years, and she at least felt comfortable with her. Once the fortnight ended, she’d have to find out her duties and begin a new life as the laird’s wife.

It was exciting that the women had agreed to take on projects to help those in need. It would be fulfilling.

When Darach shifted, she lifted up on her elbow and watched him sleep for a moment. The moonlight provided just enough light for her to clearly make out his features. How could it be that so soon after marrying him, such a strong bond had formed?

Already she could not imagine life without her husband by her side. He was so different when alone with her. His demeanor softer, gentler.

Once they did not spend every day together, she’d have to become used to his absences. Isobel closed her eyes and imagined him going to the woman.

A twinge tightened her chest and she let out a breath. If just the thought of it made her feel physical pain, she couldn’t imagine how knowing it really happened would affect her.

She settled against Darach, the warmth of his body enveloping her. A tear trickled down her cheek in the knowledge that in all possibility he’d not remain loyal. If it were to happen, that he sought another, she would never be able to trust him again, nor would she ever be able to lose herself completely during intimacy again.

Knowing it was best to push the thoughts away, she sighed. For the next eight days, she would make the best out of things. Enjoy her husband’s attentions and the marriage bed.

Once the days ended, he would travel to visit an enemy laird and he would need her prayers and support. If nothing else, she would send him off knowing she would be waiting.

When morning came, Isobel woke up to find Darach was already dressing. He stood by the window and peered out. Dressed in tunic and breeches, he forwent wearing a tartan. With the warmth of the season, he preferred to wear cooler clothing.

Isobel slipped from the bed and went to the wardrobe. “Do ye dislike that most of my dresses are so drab?”

When his arms came around her and his lips pressed to her throat, she let out a soft chuckle. “Darach, do ye hate my clothes?”

“I became attracted to ye because of them. I adore yer clothes because it kept others from noticing yer beauty.”

She turned in his arms and he kissed her. How she loved the feel of his arms, of his body against hers, and the smell of him. “So ye do think they are ugly then.”

The sound of his laugh rumbled, and she gave him a playful swat. “I am going to have new ones made and ye are to pay for them.”

“Do as ye wish,” he said and then pulled her behind when someone knocked.

Stuart, a guard, and another man entered.

“Apologies,” his brother said seeming to have forgotten Darach would not be in the room alone. “I should have announced myself.”

“Aye, ye should have. Await me in the corridor,” Darach growled. “Go now!”

The men shuffled out.

“It must be something very important,” Isobel said to his broad back.

Turning to her, he smiled down. “I am not sure they didn’t do it on purpose hoping to get a glimpse of ye.”

“That I doubt,” Isobel said, enjoying the compliment.

When left alone, Isobel went to the door and cracked it just a bit to hear what the men spoke about.

“He’s gone,” Stuart said. “Someone came and let him out when Seamus took his leave to relieve himself. Whoever it was must have kept vigil.”

“I accept all responsibility and expect to be punished for it,” a man said, his voice trembling. “I cannot believe to have failed ye so soon, my laird.”

Someone else, probably the guard spoke next. “It has to be someone he paid off. I will begin an inquiry.”

“Do it,” replied Darach quickly. “Seamus go with him and question every servant and guard who was in the house last night. Ensure each of them gives ye any details of what they may have seen or heard.”

After that, the group walked away.

Isobel hurried to dress. If there was a present danger, she had to ensure Beatrice was safe from harm.

After not finding Beatrice in her bedchamber, Isobel scurried down the corridor.

Her hair still down and probably a tussled mess, she stormed into the sitting room where she found Beatrice and Lady Ross drinking tea.

“Goodness, ye look as if ye were dragged behind a cart,” Beatrice exclaimed with a snicker. “Is something amiss?”

Isobel shrugged. “I am not sure. Stuart and two men came to fetch Darach. They were talking about someone escaping. I wanted to be sure ye were out of harm’s way.”

“Ah yes,” Lady Mariel said. “Cairn, the traitorous snake. He must have gotten away. I do not believe him to