Page 36 of The Lion

Applause and cheers sounded, and in that moment Darach realized this was indeed the best day he’d ever experienced.

The drums signaled the beginning of the next competition, which would be a race between young lads. Darach took Isobel’s elbow and they went up to the stands to take their seats.

“Ye are making things so-so complicated,” Isobel whispered.

Darach arched a brow. “Or is it ye that complicates things?”

Chapter Eleven

Why was she fighting it so? Isobel had to admit enjoying the day, and even more, the way Darach paid so much attention to her. He ensured she, along with his mother, sister, and her family were attended to. They’d each been fed to within an inch of their lives. Her mother was half asleep, her eyes half-closed, her mouth slack.

Ella kept them informed of who was who, their names and where they were from, whenever the men lined up to compete. Isobel couldn’t remember a single name as her entire attention was captured with Darach’s movements, how he shifted in his seat, or how he greeted the winners. When he turned to speak to his mother, she wanted to touch his broad back. When he looked to her, it was hard not to stare at his lips or look deeper into his blue-green eyes.

Despite the warmth of the day, a shiver traveled through her when Darach’s shoulder brushed hers.

This was ridiculous. How could a man she knew would never be loyal to her, bring so many reactions? There had to be a way to guard her heart, because if she were to be honest, she was beginning to want to marry.

The public pronouncement he made through his attention to her in front of the entire clan was not something that could easily be undone.

She let out a shaky breath.

“Let us go change,” Lady Ross stood, her face bright with anticipation.

Darach helped his mother up and then turned to her and the rest of the women to his left. “You realize women have never competed in the games before, Mother.”

“From today on when our clan has a festival, they will.” Lady Ross gathered her skirts to pass her son. “Come along ladies. We are next.”

The women’s game turned out to be a huge success. The crowds laughed, clapped, and cheered, and at the end of it, Isobel’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Several times she’d caught Darach watching her as she hit the ball and then hiked up her skirts to dash around the stool. They’d not bothered to set rules, so men, as expected, stepped in to judge and give them rules along the way.

At the end of the day, she and the others, trudged back to the keep, utterly exhausted. The second day of the festival would be mostly archery and another tug of war, and Isobel looked forward to it.

“I preferred yer other dress,” Darach caught up with her. “Although I must admit, it would not have been the best choice for running about like a lad.”

Isobel gave him a droll look. “Lasses run too.”

“True.” He looked relaxed. The hours outdoors that day have given him a golden complexion. “Are ye disappointed that yer team did not win?”

Shaking her head, Isobel chuckled. “Not at all. I expected the kitchen maids would be quicker. Although I must say, I did not know my sister could run so fast.”

“Ye and she are very close,” he stated.

Isobel nodded. “We are, despite our differences in interests and such.”

“Congratulations on yer win,” Isobel said, noting his lips curved up just a bit. Throughout the stoolball game, he’d laughed while watching. It could be one of the reasons she’d not won, being distracted by how his face transformed. The man was quite handsome as it was, and when he smiled, deep dimples formed in his cheeks.

Lady Ross, who walked in front of them slowed and weaved her arm through Darach’s. “I will sleep well tonight,” she announced. “Ye should seek yer bed as well, son. No work for ye tonight.”

“Just for a moment or two,” Darach said. “Even if I wished to, I suspect once I sit, I may not keep from sleeping.”

Once inside the home, Darach pulled Isobel aside. “A word.”

Her mother nodded. “I will await ye upstairs,” she said pointedly.

His hand on her elbow, Darach guided her to his study. The room was cavernous in her opinion. Dark, until he lit a candle and placed it on a large table that was covered in parchments and other paraphernalia.

“Please sit.” Darach’s serious expression gave her pause. Whatever this was about, he’d left the relaxed man outside and was now definitely Laird Ross.

Lowering to a leather chair that practically enveloped her, Isobel slid forward to sit on the edge so she could place her feet on the floor. The furniture in the room had obviously been made specifically for the Ross men, who were tall.