Page 3 of Jack (Highland Outlaws #1)

Isabella clasped her hands together. “A baby!” She turned to her father. He looked dumbstruck. She grabbed his arm. “Father, did you not hear? Catarina has a son!”

Brows raised, he slowly stood. The makings of a smile tugged at his lips. “A son,” he whispered.

Laughter bubbled up her throat. She threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Papa, we must go to her!”

Her father pulled away. His smile vanished. Shaking his head, he thrust out his hands. “That is not possible.”

Her stomach sank. “But Papa...we must!”

“No, Bella.” He turned away from her. “I cannot.”

Her arms hung helplessly at her sides as she watched his cloak of anguish once more wrap around his stooped shoulders. She had lost him again to the cold gray fog of grief.

She steeled her heart and stared at her father’s shadow. “May I go?”

He eased back down on the bench and rested his face in his hands. Her shoulders tensed. Surely, he would not deny her.

“Lady Redesdale?”

Isabella swung around to find Mary once more standing in the arched doorway. Behind her stood another man. He had thick gray hair and stern eyes. “Yes, Mary.”

“Another messenger, my lady. Sent by Lord Percy.”

At the mention of Lord Percy, her father straightened in his seat, a scowl twisting his features.

Isabella placed a hand on his tense shoulder.

His body eased at her touch. She looked down and saw his brow unfurl.

After several moments, he shifted his gaze away from Lord Percy’s messenger back to Catarina’s servant, who was still standing in front of them.

“What is your name?” he said to the boy.

“Thomas, my lord.”

“Thomas, how are our borders? Is it safe enough for travel?”

The young man pulled at the thin whiskers on his chin. “Our borders have been peaceful for some weeks now. Mind you, the journey would not be without some risks—thieves and the like. Still, the distance is fewer than seven leagues, and we will guard Lady Redesdale with our lives.”

Lord Redesdale’s gaze shifted toward the windows, but he crossed his arm over his chest and patted Isabella’s hand still at rest on his shoulder. In a quiet voice, he said, “I do not want you to leave, but if you must go, you have my blessing.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and clasped her hands together. Relief eased the tight coils in her stomach. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Papa! And do not worry, I will not stay but a fortnight. Then I will return.”

Someone near the doorway cleared their throat. Isabella turned and locked eyes with Lord Percy’s messenger. He scowled, clearly not appreciating having been kept waiting.

She glanced at her father, who continued to speak to Thomas, ignoring the other man’s displeasure. “Make haste to the kitchen, Thomas. Find William, my manservant. Tell him to begin preparations for Lady Redesdale’s journey north. She will depart in two days’ time.”

Thomas nodded eagerly. “Lady Ravensworth will be most pleased by this news.” He turned and bumped headlong into a maid carrying a tray laden with their next course. The wooden dishes clattered to the ground.

“My lord,” the other messenger snapped, stepping over the spilled food and overturned bowls.

Not waiting for Isabella or her father to grant him leave to speak, he continued.

“Lord Percy is concerned that our peaceful borders are making some of the lords complacent. Rumors have spread of talk against the king’s campaign deeper north into Scotland. ”

Fury once more twisted her father’s features, but he did not reply.

Clearing his throat, the messenger continued, “Lord Percy hoped that given the unfortunate events surrounding your wife’s death that your support would be readily offered.”

Isabella’s stomach tightened. She glanced down at her father’s white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the table. Slowly, David stood, his hands clenched in tight fists. “And why would I offer my support?” His voice grew louder with every word spoken.

A cruel smile twisted the messenger’s lips. He appeared to delight in her father’s anger. “Because, my lord, the Scottish people killed your wife.”

Isabella gasped at the blatant lie.

Moving faster than he had in years, Lord Redesdale stormed around the high dais, his eyes bulging wide. “Get out,” he shouted. “Get out of my house!”

The messenger stepped back, slipping on the spilled food. He regained his balance and eyed his soiled shoes with disgust. “Lord Percy will not be pleased.”

“Get out,” her father yelled. His chest heaved as he labored to breathe. Isabella rushed to her father’s side.

The messenger scowled at them. “You would do well to remember that Lord Percy is favored by King Edward. You’ve been warned.” Then he turned on his heel and marched from the hall.

“Papa, are you all right?” Isabella asked as she helped her father back to his seat.

For a moment, David did not speak. He sat stiffly, staring daggers at the door through which Lord Percy’s messenger had exited.

“Papa?” she urged him softly, seeking to penetrate his present fury.

Slowly, he shifted his head and met her gaze.

He took a deep breath, reached out, and squeezed her hand.

“Go north to your sister. Set your gaze upon my grandson.” His fingers unfurled.

Slowly, his hand fell to his lap, leaving hers cold.

His shoulders curved forward, burdened by the weight of sorrow.

“Mayhap like Catarina, he has your mother’s eyes. ”

Isabella swallowed hard as she watched her father retreat into himself. Once more, he was a shadow of the man who had raised her, loved her. Still, she held tight to the joy of Catarina’s news and thrust her shoulders back. “Mary,” she called to where her servant waited.

“Yes, my lady,” Mary said as she hastened to Isabella’s side.

“Please ready my trunk.”

Mary’s brows came together. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my lady, but I wish ye wouldn’t go! The road north is full of bandits and Scottish rebels, and only our Lord in Heaven knows what else!”

Isabella’s nostrils flared. “I am an English noblewoman, but I grew up in what was once Scotland’s great city. I will not be ruled by fear or grief, nor will I allow the threat of petty thieves to stop me from meeting my nephew. Please do as I’ve instructed.”

“Yes, my lady,” Mary said quickly before turning on her heel and racing down to the kitchens.

Breathless, Isabella sat back in her chair.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Despite the strength of her words, fear and doubt coursed through her, but she refused her feelings.

She knew she risked meeting danger on the open road, but if she remained where she was, surrounded by naught but misery, her fate would be decided.

She would lose all hope, and any inclination for joy or love would fade, until, like her father, only nothingness remained.

At that moment, her choice was clear.

She chose life.

Jumping to her feet, she pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek. Then she hastened toward the stairs that would bring her to her chamber. Her future suddenly held countless possibilities, and she needed to be ready to face them all.