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her
emotions.  Her father had forbid her to cry and she would not defy him.
    “You must be strong,
sweetheart.  No one can know that Clan McLaughlin is without a Laird.  You must
oversee the tournament yourself, with the help of Hodges of course, but no one
else must know.  The fate of the clan and your marriage will depend upon this
secret.”
    Isobel nodded. 
She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, still struggling to hold back
her tears from falling.
    “There are those
that would take the Lairdship if they knew that it was vacant,” McLaughlin
warned.  “Look at me, Isobel,” he instructed as he studied his daughter’s face.
    Isobel brought her
eyes back to her father’s, holding his gaze with blue eyes that matched his
own.
    “No one must know
of my death until a successor has been chosen and you have consummated your
marriage.  Only then will the successor be confirmed as Laird of Clan McLaughlin. 
Do you understand, sweetheart?”
    “I understand,
Papa,” Isobel said with conviction, her voice struggling to get past the lump
that had again settled in her throat.
    “Choose wisely,
sweetheart,” McLaughlin said as he slumped back against the pillows.  His blue
eyes were filled with tears that he would not allow to fall.  “And know that I
love you.  Know that I’ve loved you now and always, despite my shortcomings.”
    “I love you too,
Papa,” Isobel whispered, holding her father’s fragile gaze.
    Rudy McLaughlin’s
heart ached for what he had done to Isobel, or rather for what he had neglected
to do for her.
     Failing his
daughter was the greatest regret of his life.
     

..oo      Chapter Six     oo..
     
     
    Tristan had tried
everything.
     He had spent
hours at his forge, melding shards of metal into useful bits. 
    It had not worked.
     He had paced the
floor, tearing his fingers through his hair in exasperation.  He could not get
the lass out of his mind.  It was as if Isobel was the sunlight, her sudden
appearance in his life threading through the darkness that had overtaken his
world.  He could think of nothing besides her beautiful face.  Her high,
melodic laughter floated through his mind, plaguing his thoughts with its sweet
torment.
    Tristan ripped off
his leather work apron and tossed it over the back of a chair.  He needed fresh
air to clear his mind.
    Saddling his
stallion rather hastily, Tristan tossed a small loaf of bread and a wedge of
cheese into the saddle bag.  On a whim, he added a jug of summer ale, hoping
that the spirits would quell his racing mind. 
    He swung up into
the saddle and kicked Justice into motion.  The stallion was eager for a ride,
having been neglected for the past few days.  His hooves pounded the solid
ground, kicking up bits of earth as they left the village and thundered towards
the forest. 
    Tristan lost
himself in the pounding of the stallion’s hooves, steady and strong as they fell
against the earth.  He pushed the beast harder, willing the animal to outrun
his racing thoughts.  Isobel had stricken him to the very core of his being.  He
felt as if her blue eyes looked effortlessly into his soul, stripping him of
his guise and making him consider thoughts long repressed and forgotten.  Isobel
had brought back the person that he used to be – the person that he had been
before the tragedy.
    Tristan had never
expected to desire a woman again.  In his darkest moments, he had sought companionship
with the odd willing lass, but he had never again expected to want a woman for
more than that. 
    Isobel McLaughlin
was a beautiful woman.  At first Tristan had believed that it was her beauty
that fueled his raging attraction to her.  Their meeting in the meadow had only
intensified this attraction.  Now Tristan knew that his attraction to the lass
was fueled by something deeper.  Isobel had a lightness of spirit, a raw
innocence that enflamed Tristan’s protective nature.  He wanted to wrap her in
his arms and