Isla's Heart

Not a Lady's Man

Isla had finally received her wish and sat contentedly in front of the hall's massive stone hearth mending the mantle she'd torn that morning when she'd taken that foretold fall down the stairs leading from her solar. Thankfully no one had been there to witness this embarrassment. She decided it was the little things you had to find joy in and not being seen flying down five steps on her rear was very joyful for her.

They'd been at Castle Lochiel for almost a fortnight and the situation had only become stranger every day. They'd not seen much of the new Laird since that first night when Cat had all but talked the poor man's ear off.

Isla smiled at the thought as she drew another stitch, oh yes, her sister was fit to be tied. The little Princess had finally come face to face with a man that did not fall at her feet in adoration. That was a fine circumstance, indeed.

That morning however, she'd managed to corner the badgered Laird in the hall before he'd left for a hunt. Isla had not been able to hear the conversation that took place, but Cat had walked away with a cunning grin upon her deceptively innocent face. Later it had been revealed that her sister had finally arranged a meeting with the Laird and his men to speak of wedding plans.  

Even now, as she sat enjoying a moment's peace, somewhere in the castle she was sure the Laird was not. Cat was nothing if not persistent. She'd not feel sorry for the man though; his discomfort afforded her some time away from her agitated sister and that obnoxious Gilead Owen.

Why, even that morning the man had seen it fit to hide behind a column outdoors and then jump out at her.! When she'd done nothing but stare at him with mild surprise he'd muttered some insult under his breath and marched away. Isla was not sure what made the Laird and that Gilead so close. Mayhap he was an acquired taste?

She did her best to ignore the irrational jealousy that raced through her chest at the thought of Cat spending time with the Laird. Just a silly infatuation, really. So what if he was the most handsome man she'd ever met? Or that he seemed to be just as kind as he was fierce? And fierce he was!

She put her mending aside now, the memory of the Black Wolf practicing with his guards in the training camp made it impossible to concentrate on the task. He'd been shirtless, sweat making his hard chest and flat stomach glisten in the sunlight. Muscles in his lean arms flexing with every blow he'd made upon his rival. She'd never have imagined thinking of a man as beautiful, but beautiful was the only proper word to describe Laird Conall Cameron of Lochiel.

A beautiful man that would belong to her sister.

That was the part that was not to be forgotten. She could gaze upon his lovely form her fill, but at the end of every day this gorgeous man would belong to her equally gorgeous sister and she knew that was as it should be. Beauty belonged with beauty. There was no place for plain in that world. Any fluttery feelings that made her heart ache or her body tingle would have to be endured. She'd endured far worse in her one and eight years. 

She was pulled out of her reverie when an enraged Catriona went marching through the hall without even taking notice of her. A grim Hamish and Gills followed but went their separate ways once they'd reached the stairs.

With a sigh, Isla began to gather her mending. Cat would wish to rage about whatever had not gone her way, and Isla was always her favorite audience.

"Please stay seated Lady Isla, if you do not mind?" The Laird asked softly from over her shoulder.

Isla stifled a gasp at his sudden appearance, "Of course, milord." Putting down her belongings she watched as he took the seat across from her and stared sternly into the fire.