The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) by Hildie McQueen (ereader for android .TXT) 📕

It was foolish to think otherwise. To hope for a love match or at least a marriage where her husband would be loyal.

Isobel vowed not to cry. She would not allow herself the pain of any more physical torture than she’d already experienced. At the sound of gulls calling, Isobel went to the window and stared out for a long time.

When last meal came, she managed to keep a calm façade when entering the great hall. Conversations lulled, the room’s atmosphere changing as those present attempted to look to her without it seeming obvious.

How exactly was one to act upon first seeing the lady of the keep right after her husband proved his love for another? With pity or concern? Or perhaps, like most there, with curiosity to see the interaction between them.

Darach stood upon her approach and held out her chair. When she lowered to sit, he did as well and turned to her. “Ye look very pretty this evening.”

Knowing everyone watched, Isobel forced a smile. “Ye look very different to me today.”

For a moment, a crease formed between his brow, but then he only nodded.

People kept turning to look at them and then murmuring to one another. Isobel wanted to stand up and run from the room. Either that or do something that would give even more fodder for gossip. She envisioned pouring ale over Darach’s head or tossing his plate onto his lap.

“Would ye like some fruit?” Darach asked, his gaze locked on her.

“No, I would not,” Isobel replied shortly. A servant approached, and with her gaze lowered poured ale into her cup. The young woman’s hand shook as she met Isobel’s gaze.

“Is something wrong, Ila?” Darach asked the servant, who started at the question.

“Nay, my laird, all is well,” the girl slid at look to Isobel, waiting to be dismissed.

“Ye may go,” Isobel said, and the girl scurried off. “I imagine, she murmured, “it will be a while before they stop feeling pity for me.”

Darach tracked the servant girl’s progress, then looked to the people sitting around the tables. Instantly everyone avoided eye contact, looking to one another or their food. It seemed her husband finally noticed what he’d been oblivious to. No one would look directly at him or Isobel.

“This is ridiculous,” he said under his breath and looked to Stuart, who sat on his right. They spoke to one another in soft tones, so Isobel could not hear.

She turned to her left where Lady Mariel sat eating in silence. She looked about to cry.

“Do not fret for me,” Isobel told her and patted her hand.

“I never wished this for ye,” she replied, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. After taking a long drink from her cup, Lady Mariel met her gaze. “I am here for ye, Isobel. Be assured in this, I am with ye.”

After the meal, it was customary for the family to go into a parlor and spend time together before going to bed. Just the thought of being around the Ross men made her physically ill. Needing to be away and alone, she ignored Darach’s attempt to take her elbow and instead walked toward the stairs.

Beatrice caught up with her. “Would ye like me to come sit with ye for a bit?” Her sister began to head in the direction of Isobel’s bedchamber, but she stopped her.

“No, let us go to yer room instead.”

“Of course.”

Isobel was glad that her sister did not try to touch her or coddle her in any way, because at that moment, it would have been too hard to control her emotions.

They walked into Beatrice’s room and sat on the bed. Beatrice searched her face. “Dear sister, I hate to leave ye now,” her sister admitted. “I think I should remain here a bit longer.”

“Do what ye wish. Whether ye are here or not, this situation will resolve itself. I do not wish ye to remain because of me. I am sure Mother and Father miss ye terribly.”

“Will ye not miss me then?” Beatrice smiled at her.

“If ye decided to remain here to live, I would be very happy. Of course, ye would have to ask for Father and Mother’s permission.”

Beatrice pouted. “I doubt they will give it. Mother has decided I am to be married. She’ll need me close by to shove in front of suitors.”

“Ye make it sound so very pleasurable,” Isobel teased. “Let us send a messenger asking for permission. We can request that ye spend the winter here.”

“What will ye do? It is as if the entire clan knows what happened,” Beatrice sighed. “It is all so horrible… what Darach did.”

She’d been asking herself the same question over and over. “I will continue as normal. Help manage the household, help the poor and elderly. I will take my walks and sketch. On occasion, I imagine having to lay with him. But other than that, I do not face a horrible life.”

Beatrice covered her hand. “Ye are so very brave. I am not sure I could be so.”

“I have a different opinion sister,” Isobel said. “Ye are far stronger than I am. For in the face of scrutiny and not being chosen by the laird, ye continued forth, doing what ye could to work for the betterment of his clan. Never have ye waivered in any way, despite yer fear of the beastly Ross men.”

Her sister’s laughter was like bells to Isobel’s ears. She couldn’t help but smile and sense that in truth, she would be fine. The current experience would make her a stronger woman and a better lady of the keep.

That her marriage was not a love match was not something unexpected, what was unacceptable was to allow any kind of emotional involvement.

“I best go to bed. Sleep well, sister.” Isobel pressed a kiss to Beatrice’s brow. “Do not write to our parents without me. We shall do it together.”

Her sister nodded. “Very well. Sleep well.”

Upon entering her bedchamber, she found a