The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1), Hildie McQueen [reading books for 5 year olds TXT] 📗

long for her packing to be done as she only took four dresses, two nightgowns, and a few undergarments. Other than a brush, mirror, and a set of ribbons, she had no need to pack more. It was best not to stand out, as her sister was who her parents planned to marry off.

Leaving Annis to continue sorting through her things to ensure it all fit in the small trunk, Isobel rushed out to the great hall. They were not to leave until the next day, which gave her a few more hours to plead her case against traveling.

In the great hall, she found her father. He no longer sat at the high board, but in a wide chair that was made comfortable with blankets. His feet were elevated on a footstool that had been fashioned for comfort. As he watched over the day’s activities, he lazily ran his hand over a large orange cat on his lap. Although afflicted by an ailment that kept him from moving about easily, her father remained clear of mind and continued to lord over the clan. With light brown eyes, and a trim gray beard that covered his square jaw, he remained attractive.

At seeing her, his lips curved, and he motioned for her to come sit next to him. Her eldest brother, Evander, shook his head, obviously annoyed at the interruption.

She waited as the council discussed the upcoming harvest and division of duties. It was a mundane daily activity that had always fascinated her.

“Should ye not be seeing about the midday meal?” Evander whispered in her ear.

Isobel gave him a droll look. “Should ye not be out somewhere sticking yer sword in a straw dummy?” The double entendre was meant to annoy him as he was currently embroiled in a situation with two women, both of whom were demanding his attention. It was not the first time.

Their father had become too lenient as his illness progressed. Evander should be married and settled by now, but he had managed to talk their father out of ordering him to do so.

“What is on yer mind daughter?” her father asked when the council finally took a break from the discussion.

She leaned into his ear. “May I remain here with ye and not go with Mother and Beatrice to visit Clan Ross?” She didn’t give him an opportunity to reply before continuing, “Ye will be left alone, and I should be here to keep ye company.”

“Aye, ye should,” he said with a teasing grin. “However, yer mother told me that if ye came to me, I should remain firm in our decision that ye must go.”

“It is Beatrice who will garner the new laird’s attention. One look upon her beauty and he will not hesitate to agree to marriage.”

Laird Macdonald studied her for a long moment. “Do ye not have a looking glass Isobel? Yes, yer sister is quite bonnie, but ye are as beautiful. It is not because of her looks that we present her for marriage.”

“I know Father,” Isobel said, quick to reassure him. “I am not bitter about it. It is no one’s fault that I cannot be first choice.”

Evander huffed, his two-colored eyes flashing angrily. “It certainly is someone’s fault, and that bastard is lucky to still be alive.” Her brother was a handsome younger version of their father. The main difference were Evander’s eyes. The right one brown like their father, the left hazel, like their mother. Despite the curious feature, it did not keep lasses of all ages from seeking a tumble with him. And he rarely turned them down. Which was one of the reasons he found himself in a tangle of two women demanding his attention.

Not sure how much he’d overheard, Isobel turned to her brother. “Mother says either ye or Padraig will take care of Father while we are gone. I am trying to convince Father to allow me to remain. I know ye are both much too busy.”

Her brother’s eyes narrowed, and he stroked his chin in thought. “Maura will stay behind, will she not?”

The battle was lost. Isobel gave up trying to come up with another argument. She was to go to South Uist, the home of a new laird she barely remembered.

“I require yer help,” Beatrice said as soon as Isobel entered her sister’s room. Gowns, shifts, and other various articles of clothing were strewn everywhere. On the floor, next to the two trunks, sat Annis looking quite defeated.

The room was bright because the balcony doors were open allowing sunlight to stream inside. Her sister’s blond hair was loose, framing her heart-shaped face with a riot of curls, making her look like a wild fae on a quest.

“Whatever are ye doing?” Isobel asked lifting a gown from the floor and inspecting it for tears. “Ye must allow Annis to complete the packing. We leave first thing in the morning.”

Her sister sank onto the bed and fell back, blending into the piles of clothing. “I do not wish to go. I do not wish to marry the ogre.”

“Why do ye say that?” Isobel neared the bed, lifted a pile of clothes and placed them atop one of the trunks. She nodded at Annis, signaling that the servant should pack them.

Immediately, Beatrice began to cry. “Because he is terrifying. Ye did not go with Mother and me last time we visited. Ye should have seen him, he is like a wild beast. Huge and overwhelming.”

Isobel did her best to imagine the slender blond young man she’d met years earlier and could not fathom he would have changed so much.

“Darach was quite kind to us when he visited last. He whittled a horse and gifted it to me.”

Beatrice sat up and glared, her beauty not marred by the expression. “That was over ten years ago Isobel. Ye have no idea how much he has changed. He is not the same person. His brothers are just as beastly. They are all huge and bulky.”

“Evander is huge and bulky,” Isobel