Page 40 of The Lion

Isobel considered it for a moment. “If Father did, he was discreet. I will ask Mother.”

“Perhaps it is something all men of wealth do. Have a whore on the side.”

“Beatrice!” Isobel exclaimed unable to keep from chuckling. “Please, never use that word in front of Mother.”

“That’s what they are,” Beatrice insisted. “Lying about with men that do not belong to them.”

“Men do not belong to anyone,” Isobel said. “It is us who belong to them. They remain free, no matter the vows they give during a wedding ceremony. Seems it is the one vow they are not held to.”

“Aye,” Beatrice replied quietly. “I do not wish to ever marry.”

Isobel studied her pretty sister. “Let us pray ye find a man who loves ye and is devoted. There are some. Perhaps one like our own father.”

“We should go down in a few moments,” Beatrice said, not moving and taking in the view. “I can see why ye enjoy spending time alone outdoors. As much as I do not care for it, sitting here this morning, I am glad to have done it.”

It would be a day filled with possibilities by the view of mountains, the ocean, and colorful displays of the festival. People hurried about, setting up tables, tents, and bonfires, over which flavorful food would be cooked.

A team of maids carrying baskets and buckets crossed the short distance from the keep to the field, to set up items on the tables and water to boiling for the cooking to begin in a short while.

In the distance, a line of carts and wagons traversed the narrow roads towards the festival. Today families would enjoy a rare day of leisure and an abundance of food. The idea of a two-day celebration had been a good one. Isobel could see that it brought the people together and gave them an opportunity to get to know the new laird better.

“We should head down in a bit,” Isobel repeated her sister’s earlier comment and again neither of them moved. She looked down at her sketch, the landscape she’d drawn had been darkened, the sky ominous.

When she climbed the stairs to the stand, Darach was not seated. Her mother’s eyes widened at her appearance.

“Ye look like a pauper,” her mother said exaggerating. “Did ye even comb yer hair?”

“Beatrice and I went for a walk and lost track of time. We considered it best to be on time than to take time to look like peacocks.”

Lady Macdonald looked past her to Beatrice, who sat with her shoulders back, hands clutched on her lap, looking forward.

“I am not sure it would be a waste of time if ye both hurry and go change. The archery competition is about to start, and everyone’s attention will be taken.”

On the left side of the field from where Isobel sat, the same tent with the women who’d dressed colorfully again remained. The woman who’d she’d seen earlier stood out, dressed in blue that day. Isobel noted that she looked angry, with narrowed eyes and a pinched expression.

The woman must have felt her watching, because she turned toward the stands, scanning the faces until looking at her. Isobel did not look away, but instead kept her gaze on the woman whose eyes widened slightly before she turned her attention back to the field.

Interesting. Of course, she was aware that once Isobel became the laird’s wife, it would be in her power to send her away. It wasn’t and would never be in Isobel’s power, however, to keep Darach from seeking her out.

Dressed in full regalia, Darach was every bit the laird. He motioned to the competitors and the people clapped and called out their favorite’s name.

After a hard elbow jab from her mother, Isobel clapped as well. One of the archers was Stuart Ross. The man every bit a Ross, with dark hair and hazel eyes, stood erect, his stance more of a warrior than an archer.

Most archers she’d seen were lithe and nimble. She had no idea of Stuart’s quickness, but he was large and muscular. He kept her attention during the competition, it became obvious that Stuart and Ewan were competing against each other.

Where Stuart was powerful, Ewan seemed to have the edge when it came to agility and trickery. In one event, they had to run to a hay bale, drop to one knee, and shoot. Ewan edged Stuart out easily.

The brothers were so busy in their rivalry, they didn’t take note of another archer, one of the keep’s guards, closing in on their targets.

Gideon, who sat behind Isobel leaned forward and whispered to her and Beatrice. “Bram will beat them because they are too self-involved. Funny in this situation, but not in battle.”

It occurred to Isobel that it was the truth in every aspect of life. One could be so self-involved that they missed out on things occurring around them.

She looked to her mother, who was chatting with Lady Ross. Then she slowly scanned the surroundings. Most people were enjoying the day. Families ate while watching the competition, a group of lasses were gathered in one corner preparing to dance. In the distance, the keep guards kept vigil to ensure everyone was safe.

Men on horseback patrolled the forest edge, while others rode along the roads. There was indeed a lot more going on when one took notice.

The woman Lilia wasn’t under the tent anymore. Isobel watched as Lilia looked over her shoulder as she made her way past the stands. She headed in the direction of where the competitors prepared and the armament was kept.