The Highlander's Accidental Bride by Cathy MacRae Page B

harder.
    “Don’t fight this.” He kept her close, minimizing the damage her hands and feet could inflict.
    Trembling, Mary at last gave in and Eaden relaxed his grip, stroking his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.
    “Hush now, lass. We’ll finish this later.”
    Mary shook her head in denial, and Eaden sighed deeply.
    “Ye cannae fight me on this. Ye cannae change the way things are. It willnae be a bad life here, I promise ye. We need to begin again, ye and I, and we need to set things straight between us.” He set her back from him just far enough to read the mutiny in her eyes. And the fear still lurking there.
    “I’ll arrange for ye to get a message to Miriam. And I’d like to see ye in yer new gown,” he teased her lightly, hoping to bring a smile to her face.
    Mary’s gaze cut away from his. Finally, she nodded and Eaden had to accept her silent agreement. Taking one of her hands tightly in his, he turned and led her over the trail to the castle where the decisions she made would affect the rest of her life.

CHAPTER 14
    Isobel heard the faint slapping sound of leather slippers on the stone floor. Intrigued to see Lady Scott enter the great hall alone, she noted the look of dismay the woman wore as she passed Isobel’s hiding place.
    Easing out of the shadow of a recessed doorway, she followed Mary as she fled up the stairwell. Moments later the laird’s bedroom door slammed shut. Isobel approached the closed portal and leaned her ear against the door, trying to gauge the activity beyond. A curious, muffled sound drifted through the thick wood.
    Waiting several minutes in silence, Isobel tried to decide what to do next. If those were sobs she heard—and she sincerely hoped they were—could there be a way to turn this to her advantage?
    Her burning curiosity to see the woman who stole Laird Scott had brought her to the castle in the first place. Knowing she had no business there, she’d nevertheless lingered in the great hall and listened to the servants’ chatter. When she heard Lady Scott’s maid had fallen ill, Isobel had been smart enough to seize the obvious opportunity. Ina had to appoint someone to attend the Barde’s daughter, didn’t she?
    “I’ll do it,” Isobel had said, startling everyone around her, including Ina, who had been too busy to question Isobel’s willingness to serve.
    When she’d viewed Eaden’s young wife for the first time, Isobel’s heart had lurched painfully. The new Lady Scott was young, very beautiful, and most assuredly competition for Eaden’s affections. It would not take him long to sire a brat on this child-bride of his, but would she be obliging enough to die birthing it?
    From the beginning Isobel knew the risk of Eaden’s growing attachment to the girl. Surely there was something she could do to make Eaden send his bride away. She’d use her time in Lady Scott’s bower to her advantage and search for any insecurities the young woman might reveal. So far, Isobel’s efforts to ingratiate herself had fared well.
    Now, she disengaged the latch and eased the door open enough to see inside the room. Sunlight streamed in the narrow window on the far wall, but it took Isobel a few moments to discern the outline of the woman curled in the middle of the bed, crying brokenly. Her arms were wrapped around a pillow, her face buried in its softness.
    For several minutes Isobel savored the muffled sound of Mary’s distress. Finally, she smoothed the smile on her face to a more appropriate expression of dismayed commiseration and entered the room.
    She crossed to the bed and settled next to Mary, ignoring the embarrassed look on the younger woman’s tear-stained face. Mary scrambled to a sitting position, clutching the pillow protectively against her stomach.
    Isobel picked up the corner of the coverlet and wiped the girl’s tears away. “There, milady,” she crooned. “Whatever ‘tis, it cannae be so bad as all that.”
    “N-no,” Mary