Isla's Heart

The Meeting

While Isla Mackenzie had been told of Clan Cameron's wealth, she'd not expected the magnificent gray stone castle that rose out of the cliffs before her. She gazed upon the two large towers that shown proudly in the setting sun of the Highlands, with wonder. Instantly a vision of uneven stone stairs flashed before her mind. She groaned inwardly, stairs had never been her clumsy feet's friend.

"You've the grace of a drunken knight," Her, often drunk, father would say while eyeing her rigidly... If he looked at her at all.

She sighed, pushing the unpleasant thoughts of her loathsome father to the furthest reaches of her memory. Her dear sister's betrothal had set her free of Gawain Mackenzie's harsh words and iron fists.  If she worried the man waiting for them in Castle Lochiel would have the same countenance as her father, she did her best not to show it.

Not that Catriona would fair badly, she always seemed to shine in any situation. With their father, especially. Surely this Connall Cameron would react to Catriona much the same as most men. Dazzled. She looked to Cat now, sitting prettily upon her white horse with a mask of serene pleasure upon her beautiful face. Not for the first time, Isla wished she showed even one shimmer of her sister's fair perfection.

Annoyed with her errant thoughts, Isla batted a stray red hair from her vision and concentrated on what was to come next. They'd already passed through the village where every man, woman and child had stopped their work to stare curiously at the entourage.

Isla had held herself tall and straight, praying to the Lord above to keep her from falling off the mare beneath her. It would be just her luck to tumble into the mud before Cameron's entire clan. Then again, what would it really mater? What would she be to these people anyway? The spare Mackenzie lass. No use and no place for her. She closed her eyes against the pain that shot across her heart.

Nothing new, really. Not in the end.

"Chin up, Isla! We're about to make our introduction." Catriona piped, beside her now, smiling brightly, "I dreaded this when father first told me of my betrothal to that vial Alasdair," for effect she let an artificial chill run through her elegant body, "But it all worked out well, don't you agree? Connall is said to be quite young and handsome too! Very good turn of events for old Alasdair to take ill."

Used to her sister's often thoughtless words, Isla calmly reminded her it was impolite to speak ill of the dead and even worse in earshot of his heir.

Catriona rolled her expressive blue eyes, "Well of course I'd never say such a thing to his face! You must remember you're my younger sister Isla, if anyone should be telling her sister how to behave, it is I." She studied Isla's face for a heartbeat, obviously annoyed at being treated as though she were an ignorant child. "Instead of telling me the proper way to mourn the loss of a man I detested, you should concentrate on not making a fool of yourself in front of our new Laird. Do try to keep from falling or tripping over him, won't you love? I would so hate for him to believe we're a family inflicted with clumsiness!"

The biting reprimand rolled off Isla's back, she'd been told worse, and by her sister at that, but she knew Cat only did so out of insecurity. She had never quite learned the art of tact, or kindness for that matter. Oh, she didn't mean to be a cruel person, she was just rather blunt with her words.

There were times Isla found this very refreshing, but there were other times, like this, when she wished her sister would shut her pretty little mouth! As if her nerves were not frazzled enough? Now her imagination drew a picture of her tripping over the Laird's feet and knocking him to the dirt. If anyone could accomplish such a commotion it would be she. She'd once managed to take out an entire line of knights with a mere stumble.