Page 38 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

Alastair nodded. “As soon as I see Gwendolyn, I will make it so.”

Chapter Thirteen

Isolde waited and watched from her hiding place amongst the brambles and tall grasses that were within spying distance from her cave. She had to make certain no one was around before she went back to gather what meagre supplies remained there. She would also bring her bed, the few dishes she’d carved out of wood, and her stash of arrows to the secondary cave she had started at the base of Healabhal Mór.

As she waited, she saw red deer passing through the tall grass, munching on the blades that were dusted with snow. She’d left before Lottie had come to sew her wound and before anyone could stop her. She still wore her battered and bloody dress from earlier in the day, the boots they’d provided her, and the wool cloak Orrick had placed around her shoulders. The boots were a true luxury after a year of wearing shoes she’d fashioned for herself, but the cloak wasn’t nearly as warm as the pelted one she’d left behind. She’d have to remedy that by creating a new one or she might perish from the winter weather.

Along with the deer, a badger family passed by: a mother and three cubs that had been born earlier that year. For a moment, the mother stopped and sniffed the air, possibly smelling the blood on her clothing or sensing Isolde’s nearness. The badger reared up on her hind legs, searching the grass with her cubs behind her.

Isolde tensed. The badger was protecting her cubs from an unseen threat. Then, as though sensing Isolde was not a threat, the animal lowered her wedge-shaped body back onto four paws and continued leading her family to a safer location. Isolde watched them head away from her, then turned to gaze down at her injured arm. The animal world was no different than the human world. They would do whatever they had to in order to protect what was precious to them.

Isolde sobered. She had protected what was treasured at Dunvegan, then had fled in order to stop putting them in danger. Would they see her sacrifice as such or would they think her a coward for leaving? Would Orrick come looking for her? She knew she shouldn’t want him to, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him and the passionate kiss they’d shared. She closed her eyes and swallowed, clenching her fists. That kiss had left her shaken and confused, and longing for more of what she could never have.

Her stomach clenched, and she felt a sudden ache where her heart was. Isolde opened her eyes and pushed the sensation away. Leaving Orrick behind was what she had to do to keep him and his clan safe, no matter how much she longed for a different outcome.

She regretted not staying long enough to find the woman with the white hair who had helped her in the battle against Lieutenant Collins and his men. She’d mentioned the woman in her letter to Alastair and Gwendolyn. It was up to them to decide how to proceed on that front.

The sun was starting to set, casting the world around Isolde in hues of grey and gold. She would only have daylight for perhaps an hour, or less. If she were going to make it to Healabhal Mór tonight, she would have to travel by moonlight.

She cast one final glance around the area leading up to the cave and determined that she was indeed alone. But just in case someone waited inside the cave, she strung her bow and proceeded to the entrance.

When Isolde reached the mouth of the cave, she stepped inside and listened. Her previous home was dark and silent. She made not a sound as she stepped farther into the darkness, feeling emptiness grow inside her. She’d been with the MacLeods for a week, but now her old home felt cold and dreary, hostile and unforgiving.

With the flint and steel she’d left behind in the cave, she lit the remnants of a candle she’d taken from the MacLeods, then set the flame to the torch at the midway point of her cave. As soon as the light flared, she dropped the candle and clutched her bow, ready to draw an arrow in case someone or something was there.

The cave was empty. She should have been grateful, instead she felt even more alone. A lump lodged in her throat. It would take some time to get used to the solitude of living on her own again, relying only on herself for her survival.

Relaxing her bow, Isolde walked over to her bed where she had placed Emlyn after she’d sewn the child’s leg, then to the shelf where Orrick had retrieved her gathered honey. Isolde still felt their presence. They’d only been in her life for little more than a week, but she could not deny the fact that she missed them both terribly. Her heart clenched and a chill settled inside her, spreading through her limbs.

“I am not lonely,” she said aloud, the sound echoing in the cave. If she kept telling herself that lie, then perhaps someday it might be the truth. She used to think her world outside Scorrybreac was expansive. She had no walls to hold her captive. She could go anywhere and do anything without the disapproval of her brother. Although, she did regret not being amongst her people. That was why she’d trained so hard all her life: To protect them. And not just those behind the walls of Scorrybreac: all the Scottish people.

When her father and mother had returned from their travels with glorious tales, she’d had a glimpse of a wondrous world full of many peoples and cultures. She’d also been given insight into what larger problems might come their way with British expansion. England was Scotland’s neighbour. Scotland had already lost her independence when King James I had become the heir to the English throne. Now they might very well lose their national identity if they didn’t keep fighting. It would take every well-trained warrior to see that didn’t happen. Including Isolde.

Once she reached her new home, she would figure out how to make that happen even if it meant fighting by herself. She gathered her honey pot, her bowl and cup, and placed them on the pelt covering her bed before gathering the pile of arrows she’d fletched herself over the past year. She had tied the items into a bundle when she heard the snap of a branch just outside the cave. Her muscles tensed. She dropped the pelt and drew an arrow from her quiver, setting it to her bow. She spun towards the opening with her heart in her throat.

In the purple light of dusk she saw the familiar outline of Orrick’s body. When he stepped into the light, she eased the arrow from her bow. This morning his eyes had been filled with warmth and acceptance. Now they were filled with uncertainty.

“Why did you leave Dunvegan?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the bundled pelt at her feet.

“You should not have come,” she said even as warmth centred in her chest at the sight of him.

“I had to. You matter to me, Isolde. I needed to know you were safe.” Orrick’s gaze shifted to her injured arm as he stepped closer.

“My arm is fine, as is my aim once more. You no doubt saw evidence of that upon your return to Dunvegan.” Isolde glanced at the entrance of the cave. Had Orrick come alone?

“Graeme and seven others are waiting for us at a distance. I asked for privacy while we talked,” he said as though reading the directions of her thoughts.

Now others knew about her secluded home. It was now more important than ever that she leave for her secondary settlement and soon—darkness was falling.

“We can talk here or back at the castle, but we will talk. The choice is up to you,” Orrick said, interrupting her thoughts.

He stood before her. She doubted the trick she’d used to slip past him the first time would be successful again. So she stepped back and sat on the man-made ledge carved out of the stone wall.

He took a seat at the rough table opposite her. They sat in silence. She was about to break the moment when he sighed. “We are friends, are we not?”

Her brows came together. “Aye.”

“Then why leave Dunvegan and the protection we offer you?” He looked away, then back at her. “I need an honest answer.”