Marcail slowly sank back onto the bench, hurt in her turquoise eyes, but Isla didn’t care. She had never felt such humiliation before in her life. Deirdre had done many things, but she had never made Isla feel as unwanted as a flea.
Isla walked into the bailey, then beneath the gatehouse. She wanted to keep on walking and never look back at MacLeod Castle, but she had given her word to keep the shield up. She would not break that vow.
She turned and headed toward the village. There she would find her solace and something to take her mind off what Hayden had done and said.
*
Hayden knew Isla was in the hall even before Fallon looked down. He hadn’t meant to let things get out of control. He had thought speaking with Fallon about it would solve everything. But Fallon had wanted him to continue watching Isla.
What Fallon didn’t know was that Hayden couldn’t chance it. Nothing Hayden said could change Fallon’s mind. Finally, Hayden’s control had broken and he’d let his ire get the better of him.
He hadn’t wanted Isla to know. He certainly hadn’t wanted her to hear him. Despite his good intentions, she had seen and heard all of it.
Hayden watched her walk from the hall, anger in every step. Her back rigid, her hands fisted, crushing the bread and cheese held there.
He almost went to her, almost took her in his arms and apologized.
“That wasn’t well done, Hayden,” Broc said from below.
Hayden sighed and leaned his hands on the railing. Camdyn walked away, but Fallon stayed.
“What is going on?” Fallon asked. “Did something happen between you and Isla?”
Fallon blew out a breath and clasped him on the shoulder. “I’ll have another watch her, then.”
Hayden should have felt relieved. He should have been overjoyed. Instead, he felt worse than a slug. How had his life gotten so messed up? When had things gotten complicated?
He used to be in control, used to make decisions easily and not change his mind or wonder if he was right. Now, all he did was second guess himself. Ever since he’d first seen Isla, dying on that cold mountainside, his life had been irrevocably altered.
And not for the best.
Hayden’s appetite was gone, and the thought of sitting in the hall with some looking at him as if he was addled and others looking at him as if he were the bringer of doom, left him cold inside. He turned on his heel and looked for a window to climb out of.
There was only one place he could go where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed — one of the many caves.
Hayden easily reached the inaccessible holes in the cliffs thanks to his god. He stalked inside one of the shallow caves and ran a hand down his face. It was dark and clammy, just like his mood.
He’d gotten no rest after leaving Isla’s bed. He had paced his chamber trying to find a way out of the situation he’d put himself in. The first step was to distance himself from Isla as much as he could. Which meant no longer watching her as the MacLeods had requested.
He’d gotten what he wanted, but he didn’t like the empty feeling inside him now. He should feel relieved, happy not to have Isla as his responsibility anymore.
Why then did he have the insane urge to go and find her, to try and make her understand why he had said the things he had?
Hayden lowered himself to the floor at the cave’s entrance and stared out at the sea. Waves rolled in, clashing with the boulders and sending spray shooting toward the sky. It was a constant battle the sea and land were in, and no matter how strong the land stood, the water eventually won.
If only Isla had been anyone but who she was. He could have enjoyed the passion they shared and not felt as if he dishonored his family. He wouldn’t feel the need to push her away when all he wanted to do was pull her close and kiss her again.
Why did it have to be so difficult? It had been many decades since he had found a woman who intrigued him as Isla did. Why couldn’t she have just been a normal woman?
Hayden knew part of Isla’s appeal was her magic and how it affected him. He wanted to overlook it, overlook her, but he feared he wasn’t strong enough.
Holding Isla in his arms, kissing her, caressing her … loving her had felt so right. As if his entire life had been building toward her, toward finding her and the moment he first kissed her.
He hated that something so right could be so wrong.
TWENTY-THREE
Deirdre felt her magic wane. She threw a fist in anger but it just went through the wall of her chamber. If only Dunmore and the wyrran would return with a Druid, she could be whole once more.
Her anger stemmed from more than that, though. She had tried to reach Isla. For a moment, Deirdre thought she might have succeeded, but the link vanished too soon.
With her magic so dimmed Deirdre wasn’t sure if she was connecting with Isla or not. She had even sent a handful of wyrran to see if they could locate Isla.
If she’d somehow been captured Deirdre would make sure she was rescued, but Deirdre didn’t think that was the case. Either Isla was dead, or she had tried to escape. With Grania and Lavena gone, there was nothing Deirdre could use to make Isla do as she wanted.
Deirdre had thought after five centuries Isla would have been swayed to her side, but the Druid was stronger than Deirdre had ever realized.
She had sought out Lavena for her skills in seeing the future, but the sister she should have bent to her will was Isla. Oh, Isla was a slave to her in more ways than one, but Isla still fought her.
Had Deirdre seen the signs of Isla’s power sooner, she could have worked it so that Isla welcomed the evil inside her. Deirdre didn’t think even Isla knew how great her magic was, and if Deirdre had her way, Isla never would.
Isla would be hers once again, and Deirdre would do whatever it took to have her.
*
Isla’s braid fell over her shoulder and whacked her in the arm as she bent to pick up a broken ewer from the cottage floor. She tossed it through the open door and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
She saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye and turned to the window. She had thrown the shutters open to let in the sun and breeze. Leaning an arm across the sill was Malcolm, Larena’s cousin. Isla saw how he held his mangled right arm firmly against his side.
His face was haggard and he sported a mangy beard that hid most of his face, but even then Isla could see his handsomeness. A beard and scars did not hide his vibrant blue eyes or his hollowed cheeks and square jaw. His blond hair was darker than Hayden’s and held more body to it. Malcolm had a lock that constantly fell over his forehead and tangled in his long eyelashes.
“Hello,” she said when he simply stared at her.
“Why are you always alone?”
She raised a brow and chuckled. “You ask me that? You who stay by yourself most of the day.”
His gaze moved around the cottage. There was a hard line to his lips, as if they were permanently twisted in a snarl. “You work as if you care what happens here.”
“You don’t think I do?”
“Why should you? You’ll be gone soon enough.”
Isla watched the sea breeze ruffle the hair about his shoulders. “And how would you know that?”
“Because we’re the same.” His gaze clashed and held hers. “We’re here because for now it’s where we need
