Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero by Terry Spear Page A

said.
    “Mary.”
    “Aye. She wishes it. She said Lord Wynfield would not allow you to take her with you.”
    “Aye.” Isobel’s voice shook with cold. “Why…why would she want to leave?”
    “Because you had left.” He glanced again at her. She was staring at her horse, her head bent in the driving rain, trying to keep it out of her face, her hood hiding her expression.
    “You will be my wife.” He’d decided the moment he’d learned Lord Pembroke was dead. Nothing would stop him now. Though King Henry could be a problem if some of her suitors brought the issue to him.
    She jerked her head around and stared at Marcus, her blue eyes wide and lips parted.
    “If ‘tis what you desire.” He tried to smile, but he was so cold himself, he felt his frozen face would crack with the effort. He wished to give her a choice, but if she was not certain about him, he would ensure she changed her way of thinking.
    “But…but my father…he will not permit it.”
    With incredulity, he stared at her. Lord Wynfield had not told her about her da’s death? God’s wounds, man. Now Marcus was left with the task?
    Marcus had been certain the baron would have warned her about it, and the danger she might face on her journey to see the king.
    Och, Marcus could not be the bearer of bad news when she could be near death herself. He would wait until they were safe and dry and warm again. He wanted to wait until they were home in the Highlands, but he felt she should know of her da’s death before that.
    Would it ease her suffering if he told her the whole truth? That her da was not who she thought he was? He wasn’t sure that was something he should speak of now. Mayhap never. She believed she was the daughter of a Norman earl when she was truly the bastard daughter of a Highland laird. He wanted her to know she was all Highlander, no part of her heritage being of Norman descent. On the other hand, the knowledge she was a bastard and not an earl’s daughter, raised by a man not her da, and shunned by the one who was—might not be the most welcome of tidings for the lass at this point.
    She didn’t say anything more, and he lapsed back into silence.
    After they had traveled for some miles, Isobel warily asked, “Why are we not headed for Pembroke Castle?”
    He thought she realized he was not taking her home. Not when Lord Wynfield had the notion of sending her away. What if he did so again? Marcus knew she’d be in danger all over again. He would not permit it.
    “Nay, too risky.”
    “I do not understand. Traveling beyond the castle walls is dangerous. Surely we would have been to my castle by now. And it would be safer there.” She paused and stared at Marcus. “Who attacked us? And why? If your man takes my knight home, my father will be concerned as to why I have not been taken there as well.”
    “You were no longer at the site of the battle, my lady. My clansman left with no knowledge of what had become of you. While he took your knight to your castle to seek aid for him as quickly as he could, we had to chase you down. We will go to my hunting lodge, which is closer by a day’s ride, and then to Lochaven after that.”
    “You did not answer my question. Why are you not taking me home? Marcus?” she asked, staring at him now. “What…why were you there? My father did not send word for you, did he?” Then her face paled. “My father has not returned home. What is wrong?”
    “My lady…Isobel—”
    “Riders,” Rob warned.
    They could barely see the men in the gray rain drenching the glen, but they could hear the horses’ hooves, and Marcus feared the riders might have been with the men who had attacked Isobel’s escort.
    But then he could make out their clothes and realized they were Highlanders, some wearing furs, their tunics belted at the waist, some with beards, all with longer hair.
    Seven men swarmed around them as Marcus and his men readied their swords.
    “Who would be out in foul weather like