Page 47 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

“Nay,” Alastair replied. “Only when it seems as if there is no hope for all of Scotland will I use the magic the flag possesses.”

“Then it’s a fair thing you are riding into a possible battle alongside a fairy,” she said with a smile.

“Half a fairy,” Tormod corrected.

Aria rolled her eyes. “Half a fairy is better than no fairy at all.”

Chapter Sixteen

Isolde and Orrick arrived at the gates of Scorrybreac Castle later that afternoon. They were taking a risk of harming the MacLeod clan’s relationship with the Nicolson clan, but it was something Isolde felt strongly about. She might have been banished for not acting as her brother would prefer she did and not accepting his choice of a husband for her, but John was the only family she had left in this world. His approval of her marriage meant everything to her.

That didn’t mean the moments ahead of them would be easy. John was still a possible threat. So far, their journey to Scorrybreac had been blessedly free of incident. They’d seen no sign of English troops along the way. Was it too much to hope that Lieutenant Collins and his remaining men had headed back to England?

While they’d travelled on horseback together, Isolde was keenly aware through the movements of his body that Orrick observed every cluster of trees, shrubbery, and rock outcropping. It wasn’t until they came to the gates before them that his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He was still tense when Isolde announced who they were and asked for admittance into the castle to see her brother.

“You look almost relieved,” Orrick said from behind her, on the horse they shared, as the gates opened, allowing Orrick, Isolde, Graeme, and the other MacLeod warriors entrance.

“Until this moment, I wasn’t sure John would actually see me,” Isolde replied as they entered the bailey and were met by a dozen soldiers. She instantly recognised Watt, Murdo, and Richard, her previous tormentors, at the front of the group. Isolde met their startled and angry gazes with a steely look of her own. She wasn’t the same person who had left here over a year ago. They no longer held any sort of power over her. For she had proven to herself that she could thrive on her own.

Orrick must have noticed the men’s gazes himself because his jaw firmed, his back straightened, and he became even more formidable under her gaze. Orrick dismounted and then helped her down before handing over his horse to a waiting stable boy. Graeme and his men did the same.

“Come,” Watt said as the men surrounded them on their approach to the keep. “I’m sure you remember the way.”

It felt strange to be back home after so long away. It was as if she were seeing the castle through new eyes. The walls of the outer bailey had always looked old, but now they were pitted and in desperate need of repair. Isolde frowned at the thought that her brother had not tended the ancient structure as he should have over the past year. They headed for the courtyard. There, servants carried pitchforks of hay towards the stables where the cattle awaited their meal. Instead of relaxed and carefree as she remembered them, the very same servants appeared tired, stooped, and looked at the ground instead of at her.

The clang of the smithy pounding steel punctuated the air in an irregular beat, causing several of the women carrying yeasty bread from the brick oven to the kitchen shed to startle when the hammer hit metal. As she and Orrick strode past, she could feel their gazes upon her.

Isolde ignored them. John knew her well enough to know she would return someday despite his banishment if she discovered Sarah’s child had lived. Though the others probably never expected to see her again. When she, Orrick, and the others entered the keep and made their way to the great hall, Isolde’s own nervousness took hold. How would her brother greet her? Would Sarah and the child be there? Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how much she wanted to meet her niece. If only they would grant her that wish.

Inside the chamber, the men surrounding them shifted back against the walls, allowing Isolde, Orrick, Graeme and the men to move freely towards the laird who stood, waiting at the top of the dais. A hush fell over the chamber.

“You look different than I remember you,” her brother said in the way of a greeting. No smile. No warmth. Just a statement.

Isolde stood proud with her bow in her hand and her quiver at her back. “I accept myself for who I am now. That is the only change I know of.”

Her brother, John, looked older than she remembered. Grey now threaded his brown hair and concentrated at his temples. Isolde shuddered as a chill moved through her. Were the events of that fateful day responsible for this change in him? Needing to say the words that had festered inside her for so long, she stopped before her brother and met his gaze. “I am so sorry your family was injured by my arrow, John. I have prayed for your safety and welfare every day since I left.”

From behind her brother, Sarah stepped out into the open with a child in her arms. “Your prayers were not heard,” her brother’s wife said angrily. There was no forgiveness in her eyes, only pain. “We suffer now more than ever because of you.”

“Sarah.” John’s voice was hard.

Sarah stiffened, but remained beside her husband. In Sarah’s arms, Brea squirmed, wanting to be set down. As she squiggled, the hem of her gown came up, exposing one perfectly formed leg and another that was red and purple and swollen. The scent of rotting flesh came to Isolde as she narrowed her gaze on the little girl’s leg. The appendage was not deformed as Isolde had expected. The leg was putrid and rotting. Her gaze shifted to Sarah’s. Did they not realise that was what was happening? Why didn’t they do something to help their little girl?

“Why come back here?” John asked, bringing Isolde’s gaze back to him. His face was tense and the wariness in his eyes made her ache. “What do you want? And why bring Orrick MacLeod and his men with you?”

Instead of answering his questions, she asked her own. “Why is the castle in such a state of disrepair, and why haven’t you sought a healer or a barber for your daughter? Surely you see what is happening to her.”

John looked disconcerted, then angry. “Of course I see how she suffers. But we have been choked off from the outside world for the past year by the English, thanks to you. We are their prisoners.”

“The English are here? Inside the gates?” Orrick asked, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. Graeme and the others did the same.

John paled as his gaze flew to Orrick’s then Graeme’s. “The English are outside the gates, but they make their presence known if we try to leave. They have allowed small hunting parties to exit the castle occasionally, but that is all.”

Sensing the threat was not imminent, Orrick and the others relaxed their hold on their weapons.

“I had no idea.” Isolde’s breath caught as she imagined the horror these people must have endured for the months since she’d escaped Lieutenant Collins and his men. They had been isolated every bit as much as she had. “Did you ever try to send word to other clans while your men were outside the castle?”

John shook his head. “We were watched very closely.”