Page 79 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
Isabelle felt her heart twist. “Aye, sweetheart, I think he will. He needs somethin’ bright to look at these days.”
“Ye care for him deeply, dinnae ye?” Mabel whispered to her.
Isabelle met her gaze and gave a small nod. “More than I ought, perhaps.”
The women shared a quiet look before turning their attention back to the girls. Hallie was struggling with a particularly stubborn vine, tugging so hard she nearly toppled backward.
Isabelle laughed, steadying her by the shoulders. “Easy there, warrior lass! We dinnae need to battle the forest.”
Hallie giggled. “But it’s hidin’ the prettiest vines!”
“Then we’ll coax them out gently,” Isabelle said, brushing a stray curl from the girl’s face.
By midday, their baskets were full of greenery, their cheeks flushed from the cold.
Mabel lifted her face toward the pale sun. “It’s good to hear laughter again,” she murmured. “For too long, this place has been filled with silence.”
“Aye,” Isabelle agreed softly. “But the bairns, they chase away the shadows. An’ maybe… maybe I can too.”
Mabel placed a gloved hand on her arm. “Ye already have, lass. Ye’ve brought life where there was none.”
As they turned back toward the castle, the triplets marched ahead proudly, carrying their bundles as though they bore treasure.
Isabelle watched them with a tender smile, her heart lighter than it had been in days. Isabelle felt warmth spread through her chest, a fragile hope flickering to life like the promise of Yule itself.
Isabelle, Mabel, and the triplets stepped through the gate with their baskets full of vines and holly. Bren followed. The girls chattered excitedly, their boots crunching in the thin layer of frost.
Ahead, a tall figure stood near the stables, his dark cloak dusted with snow—Declan. The moment the triplets saw him, they squealed with delight.
“Da!” Hallie cried, breaking free from Isabelle’s grasp and running toward him. “Da, look what we found!”
Beth followed close behind, clutching a bundle of vines almost as big as herself.
Penelope ran last, calling, “We got holly, too! Mabel says it’s for Yule!”
Declan crouched to meet them, his hard features softening as he took the greenery from their hands.
“Did ye now?” he said, his voice low and warm. “That’s fine work, me lassies. Ye’ve brought the forest itself home to us.”
Hallie puffed out her chest proudly. “We picked the best ones! Lady Isabelle helped!”
Declan’s gaze flickered upward at the mention of her name. Isabelle stood several paces away, her hands clasped on her basket, her cheeks flushed from the cold and from seeing him.
Their eyes met across the courtyard, just for a moment. He looked weary, guarded, yet there was a longing there that made her chest ache. She wanted to speak, to break through that wall between them, but her pride held her still. Instead, she gave him a small, polite nod, which he returned in kind, his expression unreadable.
Mabel glanced between them and said lightly, “A fine welcome, aye? The bairns have been workin’ hard for this.”
Declan smiled faintly at his sister. “Aye, I can see that. They’ve done well.” He ruffled Penelope’s hair then turned to the others. “Now then, let’s see what sort of mischief ye plan to make with all that greenery.”
Before anyone could answer, a single snowflake drifted down and landed on Hallie’s nose. She giggled and looked up as more began to fall, delicate white specks swirling from the sky.
“It’s snowin’, Da!” she shouted, twirling with delight. The other girls joined her, their laughter ringing out like bells.
Isabelle tilted her face upward, the flakes melting softly against her skin. The sight of the children playing around Declan, their joy spilling into the cold air, made her heart swell. Yet beside that joy was a hollow ache; the space between her and Declan seemed wider than ever.
She felt his presence near her but could not reach him, not while silence hung between them like a shadow.
She watched Declan look at his daughters with quiet fondness, but his gaze strayed often toward her. She felt the weight of every word left unsaid between them. Still, neither moved closer.
