Page 37 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

“Gwendolyn!” Alastair’s exclamation was part summoning, part battle cry.

When they reached the door to the castle, they threw it open and skidded to a halt inside the foyer to see more Englishmen lying dead at the bottom of the stairs and all the way up to the first floor.

Orrick’s heart moved to his throat. “We’re too late.” It was then he noticed the arrows protruding from the dead men’s chests. Not MacLeod men. Had Isolde defended the castle in their absence?

“Everyone is down at the loch,” a familiar male voice came from behind them.

Orrick spun around to see Becks, the steward. His clothing was smeared with blood and dirt.

“Explain this,” Alastair demanded.

“The English waited until you and your brothers had left, then someone inside our castle opened the gates and let them in. The English attacked the guards, then once past them, they tried to kidnap Gwendolyn.”

Alastair paled. “Where is my wife?”

“She is safe. Gwendolyn, Fiona, and Rowena are burning the bodies of the dead at the shoreline since the English left their dead behind.”

Alastair rushed to the back doorway and out into the rear courtyard. He did not stop until he stood at the balustrade overlooking the shoreline. Below Fiona and Rowena stood near the burning pyres while Gwendolyn distributed blankets to the castle staff who were chilled from the wind along the shoreline. At the sight of his wife, Alastair released an audible breath. “Were any of our warriors killed or injured?” he asked Becks when the steward and Orrick appeared at Alastair’s side.

“Lottie is with the four men who were injured. No one was killed.”

“And Izzy?” Orrick asked, searching the shoreline.

A deep sorrow weighed down Beck’s appearance, making him look older and more tired than he’d ever looked before.

“Tell me, I beg you.”

“She left before any of us knew she was gone.”

Orrick’s breath stilled in his chest. “Gone? Why?”

“She left a note for Gwendolyn and Alastair. She also left a note in her chamber for you, Orrick, along with a wooden sword for Emlyn.” Becks extended his hand back towards the doorway. “Izzy protected the womenfolk who were upstairs at the time of the attack. If it weren’t for her bravery and skill, I fear Gwendolyn might have been captured, and who knows what else might have happened.”

Shame weighed Orrick down. Isolde had done what he could not. Obviously, Isolde’s aim had improved under the weight of the challenge before her. Without her this day might have become a tragedy. And yet, she’d still felt as though she didn’t belong here with the MacLeods. If anyone didn’t belong here, it was Orrick. He was a MacLeod. He had at one time been a mighty warrior. What would it take to become that man again? To be more like Isolde?

“Orrick?”

Orrick shook his head, dispelling his thoughts and found Alastair staring at him with concern.

“Where did you go?”

Orrick glanced at Alastair, then noted that Becks had left, most likely to allow the men to talk in private. “I do not want to be the man who cannot do what must be done to protect his family. I don’t want to disappoint you or anyone else by not being able to battle as I should. I always retreated into my books when I felt unworthy as a child and then as a young man. It is why I tossed those books aside and went to the West Indies with Tormod. I was trying to prove to myself that I could be just like the two of you.”

Alastair frowned. “We never wanted you to be anything but what you already are. You give the three of us balance. I stop and plan, Tormod rushes to fight without thinking, but you—you were always the perfect mixture of both. You gave every situation great thought, but then you were prepared for whatever came our way—from the surrounding terrain, to our enemies’ strengths and weaknesses, to the types of weaponry or strategy that would be most effective while sparing lives whenever we did have to battle.” Alastair placed a hand on Orrick’s arm. “Tormod and I always wanted to be more like you.”

Orrick gaped at his brother, amazed. “Truly?”

Alastair nodded. “I’m sorry I pushed you earlier to fight with Tormod and me. I won’t do that again. When you are ready—” Alastair shrugged “—if you are ever ready, then I will gladly have you ride beside me into battle.”

“Thank you, Brother.” Orrick managed a smile. Talking with Alastair had helped ease the shame he’d felt earlier. “You should go be with Gwendolyn.”

“And you should go find Isolde and bring her back here, where she belongs. We all owe her a debt of gratitude for what she has done this day.”

Orrick pushed his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling restless. More than anything he wanted to find Isolde and bring her home. Dunvegan no longer felt right without her. “I think I know where to find her.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Alastair asked.

“You are needed here. Besides, I am certain you are anxious to see Gwendolyn. Perhaps I could take Graeme with me and a few men.”