“No.” Isobel drew a breath. “If I go, what becomes of them?” She nodded at the door to her father’s study where her parents lingered. “The agreement disappears. The protection disappears. My father will still owe those men, and this time there will be no one to bargain on his behalf.”
“But this is yer life, Isobel,” Margaret argued. “You cannae sacrifice…”
“Then what should I do?” Isobel demanded as her irritation with the situation gnawed at what remained of her strained nerves.She knew that her friend only meant to be supportive, but Isobel could not contain the worries that flew through her mind. “Shall I leave my parents destitute? Should I reject the elder’s decree and leave them to face the consequences? What would happen to them? What would become of me? What kind of person would I be if…if…”
She could not bring herself to finish the statement. The thrill of bolting from the house, saddling Star, and riding toward the southern border had enticed Isobel for a moment, but now, she saw the vision for what it was: futile.
Even if she managed to escape and defy this proclamation, the Elders would be within their rights to drag her back to Scotland. Her soon-to-be-husband, the Laird of Dunalasdair, would likely be compelled to track her movements and hurry her to the altar, for he was just as obligated to be joined through this marriage as she.
Silence settled in the room. The weight of the decision seemed to press down on both of them.
Margaret squeezed her fingers gently. “Then if this is to be yer last night here, I will nae leave ye to face it alone.”
Isobel looked up and saw the honest dread and concern etched into Margaret’s lovely features. Her pale blue eyes glittered with unshed tears.
“I will stay with ye,” Margaret said. “We will sit awake and talk or nae talk at all. But you will nae spend the night wonderin’ when he will arrive with nay one beside ye.”
Something tightened in Isobel’s chest. “You do not have to…”
“I want to,” Margaret said. “And I am nae askin’ permission.”
Isobel’s heart ached with fear and sorrow. She knew not what tomorrow would bring, so she recognized that it was a blessing to have her dearest friend by her side to provide even this modicum of comfort. Despite everything, she managed a faint smile. “Then I would be grateful.”
They went to Isobel’s chamber together. Margaret closed the door behind them and remained there for a moment, as though listening to the quiet of the corridor. Isobel moved toward the bed and sat, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Neither of them spoke immediately.
Margaret crossed the room and lowered herself onto the mattress. She slid one hand over the mossy green and pure gold duvet cover. “Ye should try to rest.”
“I doubt I could.”
Isobel leaned back against the pillows without undressing. After a moment, Margaret did the same, lying beside her fully clothed. The candles burned low, and the room grew still.
Isobel stared at the canopy of her bed.
“When I was a child,” she whispered, “I used to cut out paper stars and stick them to the fabric up there.”
“Mmm…” Margaret murmured. “How did ye get them to stay put?”
Isobel shook her head slowly. “They didn’t. I wasn’t tall enough to poke a pin through the stars and even when I slathered the backsides in honey, they would not stay in place.”
Margaret laughed softly. “You put honey up there?”
“I tried.” Isobel released a resigned sigh. “But I failed.” She paused and pondered how to say what she was really thinking. “Margaret, do you think I am the sort of young woman who is just…” She once again sought the correct term, but nothing extraordinary sprung to mind. “Malleable?”
Margaret turned her head and gave Isobel an incredulous stare. “No,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “Yer stubborn as can be and ye know yer own mind better than any other lass in the county.”
Isobel frowned. She tipped her head back further and looked toward the vacant green canopy. “Then, why didn’t I find a way to fix those stars in place? And why can’t I find a way out of this marriage?” Anxiously, she lifted her hand to her mouth and chewed on the corner of her thumb nail. Her motherreprimanded her endlessly for indulging in this bad habit, yet she could not stop herself from venting some of her inner disquietude. “Why did the Elders choose me? Could they not have struck a bargain some other way? Could they not have demanded some other form of payment in return for freeing my father from his debts?”
“These are heavy questions, me friend,” Margaret said slowly and Isobel could hear the ring of exhaustion echoing in her companion’s words. “And I’m afraid I don’t have any answers to give ye.” She yawned broadly. “If ye would like to talk through your worries…if ye want to cut out paper stars and try again to hang them…”
“No.” Isobel patted Margaret’s forearm gently. “No more paper stars. No more dreams of what is to come. My future…my marriage…my life is now set.”
* * *
The familiar sound of horse hooves clip-clopping in the stone courtyard shattered the silence of Isobel’s bedchambers shortly after the day dawned.
Isobel’s eyes opened instantly. For a moment, she did not understand what had awoken her. Then the sound came again, louder now, accompanied by voices and the creak of leather.
Margaret sat up beside her. “Isobel…”