Page 38 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
“It’ll take more than a fine gown to make me belong,” she said softly. “But I thank ye, Sarah. Yer kindness means more than ye ken.”
The maid dipped her head respectfully. “Kindness costs nothin’, me Lady . An’ ye’ll find yer place soon enough.”
Sarah smoothed the front of her apron and gave Isabelle an encouraging smile. “Come now, me Lady . I am to escort ye to the hall,” she said gently.
“The kitchens’ll be waitin’ to serve ye, an’ it’s best to show yer face early. Folk’ll be eager to see their new Lady McCallum.” She reached for the door, pausing only when Isabelle hesitated behind her.
Isabelle’s hands twisted together at her waist as nerves stirred in her chest. The thought of facing strangers, people who would judge her with every glance, sent her stomach into uneasy knots. Declan would nae be there to shield her; she’d be alone among watchful eyes.
“Aye,” she murmured softly, “best to get it over with, I suppose.”
As Sarah guided her through the corridor, the stone walls echoed their footsteps, the faint hum of servants working somewhere below drifting through the halls.
Isabelle’s thoughts turned inward, her anxiety mounting with every step. At Castle Ross, she’d grown used to whispers behind her back, cruel words from servants poisoned by Rosaline’s venom.
If they dinnae like me here either,I’ll have nowhere left to belong.
She cleared her throat and glanced toward Sarah.
“Tell me, lass,” she said, her tone softer now, “the little girls, the Laird’s daughters, what are they like?”
At once, Sarah’s face brightened, her eyes lighting up like a hearth newly stoked.
“Och, the wee lassies are sweet as sugar, me Lady ,” she said, nearly beaming. “Penelope’s the eldest by a few minutes, steady as a rock, that one. She minds her sisters an’ helps the nursemaid without bein’ asked. Hallie’s the wild one, always runnin’ off in the gardens, climbin’ trees like she were a wee squirrel. An’ Beth, och, Beth’s gentle as a lamb. Ye’ll see soon enough; they’re angels, all three.”
Isabelle smiled faintly, her heart softening despite her nerves. “They sound lovely,” she said. “Declan did nae say much about them, only that I was to raise them. I admit, I dinnae ken the first thing about raising bairns.” Her words held a note of quiet honesty, tinged with fear she tried to hide.
Sarah gave a sympathetic glance as they descended the grand stair.
“Ye’ll learn soon enough, me Lady . They’ve nae had a maither touch in years, poor dears. They’re starved for gentleness, I think.” Her tone grew quieter, reverent almost. “Their maither was a fine woman. Lady McCallum, rest her soul.”
Isabelle slowed her steps, curiosity and sorrow mingling. “What happened to her?” she asked gently.
Sarah’s smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. “Twas a carriage accident, me Lady ,” she said in a low voice. “They were comin’ back from visitin’ kin on the mainland when the bridge gave way in a storm. The Lady was inside the coach when it fell. The girls, though they were hurt, lived. But their maither she dinnae make it.”
The words settled heavily between them. Isabelle swallowed, her throat tight as she imagined three small girls, her husband’s daughters, watching their world crumble in one awful moment.
“That’s… a cruel fate,” she whispered. “The poor bairns.”
Sarah nodded, eyes glistening faintly. “Aye, the Laird was near mad with grief. The castle’s never been the same since. The girls still speak of their maither often. They used to cry themselves to sleep, though it’s eased some these days.”
Isabelle turned her gaze toward the floor, feeling a deep ache stir in her chest. She’d never known a mother’s love herself, her own mother having died when she was a babe. “I ken what that feels like,” she murmured. “Growin’ up without a maither it leaves a hole that never quite mends.”
Sarah gave her a soft, approving look. “Then ye’ll understand them better than ye think, me Lady . They dinnae need perfection, just someone to love them a bit.”
Isabelle nodded slowly, her resolve firming even as doubt flickered beneath the surface. “I’ll try,” she said quietly. “I cannae promise I’ll be the maither they deserve, but I’ll do me best to be kind.”
Sarah smiled again, her expression full of warmth. “That’s all anyone could ask, me Lady .”
“Me Lady, the Laird’s sister awaits ye in the great hall for to dine with her.” Isabelle’s eyes widened instantly, her heart thudding faster than she’d like to admit.
“His sister?” she repeated, blinking. “I was not aware of one?”
“Aye,” Sarah replied, smoothing out a faint wrinkle on Isabelle’s sleeve. “Lady Mabel lives here in the castle, m e Lady. She’s a nun, but she often helps with the bairns and tends to the household when me Laird ’s away.”
Isabelle swallowed, feeling her throat tighten. “A nun?” she murmured, both surprised and anxious. “Then she must be… kind, I hope?”
Sarah smiled faintly, a reassuring expression in her brown eyes. “Aye, she’s kind-hearted but sharp as a blade when she needs to be. Ye’ve naught to fear, me Lady . Lady Mabel has a soft heart for anyone who treats the wee ones well.”
