Page 68 of The Lion

“I need to speak to Isobel,” Darach said in a quiet voice.

“As ye can see, she is asleep,” her sister whispered.

There was a beat of silence. “Please leave us.”

“No.” Beatrice’s tone left no room for argument.

After a few beats, footsteps retreated, and the door closed.

“Arse,” Beatrice said with a huff.

“Thank ye,” Isobel said softly in case Darach was outside the door. “I do not think I can face him today.”

Last meal was brought to her by Annis who lit a lantern and set up a table with an embroidered cloth. The three of them, Isobel, Beatrice, and Annis ate the food. Everything smelled delicious and yet to Isobel, it tasted bland.

All she wished to do was return to bed. “I am not sure when I will feel up to facing people again,” she told her companions. “I am so humiliated.”

“Everyone will act as if they do not know, I’m sure,” Beatrice said. “They have to, ye are the lady of the house.”

“What are the servants saying Annis?” Isobel met her companion’s anxious gaze. “Tell me the truth.”

Annis closed her eyes for a moment, and Isobel knew what she was about to say would be hurtful. “They are saying that the laird sought Lilia’s bed, preferring her to ye.”

“Oh.” The spoon fell from Isobel’s hand, landing with a thump on the tabletop.

Beatrice took her hand. “It will be fine. As much as I hate to say it, this is a common occurrence and not something that diminishes yer marriage in the eyes of the clan.”

“Of course, it does,” Isobel said. “It may not affect him in any way, after all, men are given so much leave when it comes to infidelity. I, however, will be seen as someone who cannot satisfy her husband. Unable to keep him in my bed.”

Once they finished eating, Isobel asked for both of the women to leave. She brushed the tangles from her hair out and paced the room. Although smaller than the bedchamber she’d shared with Darach, it was a good size.

The canopied bed was large enough for two people. There was also a dressing table, a screen in the corner of the room, and a small wardrobe.

Next to the window was a washstand and a chair, all in all, it was a bedchamber that would serve her well.

From this window, she had a different view than the one across the corridor. Instead of the field and forest, this room faced out to a craggy mountain that sloped down until meeting the sea. The moonlight gave it just a beautiful dusting of light that, under other circumstances, she would immediately pull out her chalks and sketch.

Not wishing to prolong her first night alone, Isobel returned to the bed. The sooner she fell asleep, the better.

The next day, dressed in one of her brown dresses, Isobel went down the stairs and past the great hall. She’d eaten first and midday meals in her room, to avoid having to sit at the high board next to Darach. The buzz in the room quieted when she passed, but she managed to keep her head up and gaze focused on the exterior of the building.

“Isobel.” It was Stuart who came up to her.

Turning to meet his eyes, she ensured to keep a flat expression. “What is it?”

“Darach wishes to speak to ye in private.”

“Tell him I cannot at this moment. I am going for a walk. Alone.” Not waiting for a reply, she walked away praying no one followed. It turned out Albie followed. The dog walked alongside her, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He looked to be smiling and she envied him.

Without a sketchbook, Isobel climbed up to her perch and looked across the Ross lands. This day was different. Unlike the sunny days before, the cloudy skies matched her current mood.

How was she to carry on? Isobel wished there was a way to know how long before the ache in her chest and stomach would go away. Lady Mariel would probably have some insight, when she could bring herself to ask.

From what she understood, however, Lady Mariel never loved her husband. It would have been so much easier for her. Isobel had not been as smart. So many times, she’d reminded herself not to allow Darach to enter her heart, but from the pain in her chest, it had been an impossible task.

In the distance, a large wagon, pulled by two horses, ambled up the road toward the keep. All kinds of wares hung from the sides and the wooden frame was covered by thick fabric.

A well-stocked peddler.