Page 101 of The Hawk Laird

“I have not decided what I will do about it,” James drawled. A painful blend of anger, confusion, and hurt had roiled in him all day, barely faded by wine. He wanted to believe Isobel loved him. But he yet wondered about the choice she had made. “Lady Isobel does not want a forest outlaw, it seems. Naught makes that so clear as a wedding.”

“Do not be a sodding fool,” Janet said. “Go get her.”

“I do not the sharp side of your tongue, my darling.”

“Gawain of Avenel told you about Sir Ralph’s route through the forest for a reason,” Janet said. “He gave us the chance to win her back. We cannot ignore that.”

“She chose luxury and protection—in my own castle—over life with an outlaw. Who could blame her?”

“Against her will,” Janet said. “I told you that. Sir Ralph forced her into this by threatening all our lives.”

“You said she wished me peace in my life, and went about donning wedding finery that I could never have afforded for her. She made a practical choice.”

“She hates and fears him. He will use her for gain. Steal her back, you fool!”

“The English king will favor her. She will be honored. She will not be well kept.”

“She will not behappy,” Janet snapped. “Do you love her or not?”

“I will not take another man’s wife. Even a drunken rogue has morals.”

“Make her a widow,” Quentin said quietly.

James slid his friend a long look. Quentin folded his arms, stretched out his long bare legs from under the wrapped plaid, and regarded him calmly.

“Make her a widow,” Quentin repeated. “I will help you.”

“And I,” Henry Rose said. Patrick echoed agreement.

Eustace leaned forward. “I know Leslie well, and my loyalty has ever been to John Seton of Aberlady and his daughter. And James Lindsay, you have my respect.” He gazed steadily at James. “I will help you as well.”

“We are always at your back,” Patrick said. “You know that.”

“I am with you too.” Geordie sat up where he lounged on Alice’s bed. “I have a good hand with a sword and I am recovering.”

“Now that I have a good meal in my belly,” John Seton said, “I believe I could run with you lads myself.”

James looked at each one, frowning deeply.

“And my hand is steady with a bow,” Janet said. “Besides, I have my own grudge against Sir Ralph Leslie.”

“As do we all, on your behalf,” Patrick growled, looking at her.

“So, James Lindsay. If you want to know why your lady married that fellow,” Alice said, “stop her escort and ask her yourself.”

James felt his throat tighten. Their loyalty stirred him to the roots of his soul. The trust and support of these few willing, loving friends were riches enough for a lifetime.

But there was one whose shining, gentle faith in him was as elemental to his soul as water to his body. As long as she was missing from his life, as long as she was threatened or unhappy, he would feel it. And he would never find the peace that he craved without her.

“Aye, then. How shall we go about it?”

“My strong adviceto you, my son,” Father Hugh said, “is to wait.”

“Wait!” Sir Ralph protested.

Seated in blindness on the edge of the bed in the tower chamber, Isobel listened to their conversation. Silent, she folded her hands in her lap and felt grateful toward the priest for that, at least.

“Wait,” Father Hugh said. “The blindness does not last long. Soon she will be sighted again, and willing.”