Isla's Heart

Memories

The next day brought Winter's icy rage upon them. Wind whipped against the keep's walls trapping most everyone within.

Isla sat by the fire mending her sister's torn mantle. Shaking her head she drew her last stitch but did not look up. She could feel the Laird's heavy stare upon her and she knew that if she raised her head even a bit she'd connect with his scrutiny. What made him stare for so long? She'd stayed out of his way, but still his gaze followed her whenever they inhabited the same space.

Praying to the good Lord that her sister did not notice his attentions she tried to seek Cat's whereabouts. Of course she would be seated next to Conall, prattling on without seeming to stop for air. If she noticed his neglect she did not let it show. Her usual coquettish smile played upon her face and her sapphire eyes shown with delight. There were times Isla gravely despaired for her sister's sanity. In one moment she could be at the point of murdering her and then the next it was as though everything was perfectly as it should be. Cat's world was a place of many highs and lows that left Isla feeling dizzy and uncertain.

At their father's keep they'd managed well together, but here a vast valley had been cast between them. Catriona would rarely request a task of her now, she'd once done so incessantly. Mending the mantle had been her own idea and Catriona had taken little notice of the offer. Mayhap, her sister was still angry with her trespass against what she obviously saw as her territory.  Isla knew she'd done everything possible to keep from coming in contact with the Laird, even when she so longed to speak with him. She ached with the need to hear his husky voice say her name as he had the baleful day she'd wandered to the training fields. But what made her fear for her soul was the even greater need to have his hands upon her again.

Certain nothing untoward would have happened even if Catriona had not barged into the room like a runaway steed, she still wondered at the Laird's actions that day. He'd practically dragged her through rooms and up the stairs that led to his high tower. Then once there he'd seemed to calm... Until she'd told him he could not rule his people into thinking whatever he decreed. You could rule the people with an iron fist all you wanted, but you would never be able to dictate what went on in their hearts and minds. Her father had tried and failed at that exact mission many times.

As she'd foretold, rumors had already started spreading through the kitchens that he was bedding both sisters. Wicked women!

Jamming her needle blindly through the garment in her hands she seethed. She'd warned him it would happen and he'd acted as though she was just some daft little girl! He'd looked at her as though she was someone to pat on the head and send on their way. This one was time she wished she'd not been proven correct. There was no pleasure in being thought of as an indecent woman that would take part in such debauchery. Stopping her work she stared forlornly into the dying fire. She'd be sent away for sure. She was not even certain her father would take her back to his keep. Happily rid of her as he was.

The Laird would wed her sister and then he'd find some knight in need of a dutiful wife. Sending her away. Away from him.

An unwelcome giggle bubbled from her throat and she involuntarily sought out Gills with her amused gaze. Mayhap, he'd wed her to Gills. Wouldn't that be an amusing twist to her current plight? Sure he was old enough to be her father but that seldom mattered to men when making bargains concerning the females in their lives. She was but a piece of property to be sold off or bestowed upon whomever would benefit her master.

Shaking her head she decided Gills wouldn't have her, even if it would help his friend. She was not "lively" enough for his tastes and she'd noticed of late he kept a keen eye on one of the new serving wenches. She seemed to return his interest. Gills could be charming.... In the right light.

If only my life were so easy.

Although she acted otherwise, there had been a few men whom had showed interest in her over the years, but never the honorable kind. She blamed her father's indifference towards her. It did not go unnoticed by all who visited their rundown keep. How could any man respect the honor of a woman if it was blatant she was of no use to her own family? With no protection given to her, as it had been her sister, she'd been forced into awkward positions. If there was an ounce of pride within her it stood firmly on the ground that she'd kept herself pure even when it seemed to matter to no one but herself. None of the roving knights she'd encountered had made their way passed a sloppy kiss and clumsy grab at her body.

The memory of a dark and stormy night she'd almost lost the battle snaked its way through her. Cold mud seemed to surround her once again and she could almost feel the icy wind that had cut across her bare skin. The smell of rancid breath and the heavy weight of the man above her poked at her memory.

No! Ignoring the prick she'd just dealt her finger, she gathered her things quickly and ran from the hall as though the dogs of hell were nipping at her feet.

She would not remember.

Never!