Page 22 of The Lion

“He will return with a stick,” Darach said. “Usually, one that is much too large for him.”

Isobel smiled, her gaze following the dog’s meandering.

Without preamble, she went to the situation at hand. “My sister has no wish to marry ye, Laird. I must ask that ye consider not courting Beatrice. She is a delicate person, who would be better suited for a quiet life with someone less…”

“Of an ogre?”

“I am sorry for that,” she said her cheeks coloring. “It was rude of me.”

Darach shrugged. “I deserved it.”

When Albie emerged from the woods dragging a branch, Isobel burst into laughter. The sound of it flowing through the air. She pointed at Albie, who wagged his tail vigorously, unable to stop her mirth. “He…he is so funny,” she exclaimed between bouts of laughter. “So very adorable.”

That she liked the dog more than him bothered Darach. He grabbed the huge branch from Albie, broke off a smaller piece, and threw it. The dog raced off after it.

“Laird?” Isobel began, her gaze lifting to his. “Perhaps ye can inform yer mother that ye will not marry Beatrice. Surely ye do not wish to force marriage upon an unwilling woman.”

“Has she not told yer mother?”

Hitching her chin as if in challenge, once again she met his gaze. “Ye know very well that women have little say in who we marry. Besides, she is not yer type at all.”

It was too tempting not to tease her a bit. “What, pray tell, is my type Miss Isobel?”

They walked where they stepped down and he held his hand up for her to take. Isobel took his hand not seeming to take much notice. However, the feel of her soft skin, enfolded between his fingers definitely affected him. As soon as she stepped onto flatter ground, he released her hand and clasped his behind his back.

“I would say,” Isobel began. “That ye would need a strong woman, who is not intimidated by ye. Someone who yer brothers and yer mother would accept, of course.”

“Of course,” he said so she’d continue.

“Ye said ye like to read, so yer future wife cannot be a simpleton, but one of keen intelligence. Oh, and one last thing.” She gave him a disapproving look. “She must be willing to turn a blind eye to yer dalliances.”

In amicable silence, they continued to walk for a bit. Although it meant he would be up much later working, Darach found that he was not in a hurry to return inside.

“What about ye, Miss Macdonald? I know ye do not wish to speak of why ye are not here for me to court. However, I wonder. What type of man would ye marry?”

For a moment, it was as if she was transported away. She turned from him, her gaze moving from the treetops to the ground. When she spoke, he had to listen carefully, as it was almost like a whisper.

“Above all, he must be kind and forgiving.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she needed forgiveness for, but intuitively, he knew she’d not speak of it.

“Although often considered a virtue, kindness can sometimes be a fault.”

She didn’t reply and he ran a few feet away to throw the stick for Albie. When he returned to her, Isobel watched Albie. “Why did ye name him Albie?”

“I was being melodramatic and named him Abyss since he is so dark. However, with a personality like his, it was much too dark a name.”

Isobel nodded. “I agree.”

“We should head back,” Darach said realizing they’d walked quite a distance and it would be dark by the time they returned. He wondered at the oversight of not having a chaperone along. Despite he and Isobel not being at all interested in one another, it could be harmful for her if someone were to say they’d seen them alone after dark.

She turned in a circle, her arms out. “The perfect day is turning into a delightful night. I do love summer evenings.”

“It’s best we get back before it becomes evening,” he replied, looking toward the keep.

With Albie trotting happily in front of them, they began the trek back.

“Will ye speak to my mother?” Isobel asked quietly. “Please consider it.”