Hunted (The Scottish Falconers Book 2) by Diane Wylie

water and drank. If only her anguish could be washed away as easily as her thirst.
    A big brown toad, sitting on the muddy bank, swiveled bulging eyes toward her then away as it looked for insects. The day was cool, but winter seemed firmly in the past for now. Normally, the smell of warming earth and fresh green sprouts of vegetation would boost her spirits. Not this time.
    Getting another handful of water, she splashed her hot face a few times, blinking her scratchy and swollen eyes. Crying did that to a person’s face. How shameful to cry over an Englishman!
    “Belle?”
    Isobel jerked around, dismayed by her own lapse in alertness. She breathed a sigh of relief to see her sister-in-law approaching. Catriona’s skirts rustled over dead leaves as she walked. Even from this distance, the creased brow and pursed lips spoke of her concern.
    “Aye, Cat. What is it?” Rising, she dried her palms on her breeches and wiped her face on her shirt sleeve.
    “Da wants ye to come back to the campsite. Mr. Sinclair, it seems, has some explaining to do, and he wants you to hear it.”
    Catriona stepped closer and wrapped Isobel in an unexpected hug. “’Tis so hard to handle lying by someone you love,” she murmured into Isobel’s ear.
    “Who said I lo—” Her words died with the knowing expression on Catriona’s face. A long sigh escaped, and Isobel let her shoulders relax, unaware until now how much tension she’d been holding.
    “Come, Belle. Come hear his story before ye condemn Derek Sinclair.” Linking their hands, Catriona eased Isobel in the direction of the camp.
    “But what if—” No, she couldn’t even speak the words.
    “Have faith in your Da and brothers. They ken more than ye think.” Catriona gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
    Truth be told, Isobel was angry and a bit resentful. She saw the love between Rabbie and Catriona. Not just the physical act of love, but the small things like a quick kiss or caress, and the knowledge that he belongs to you and you to him. She wanted these things too. Isobel had just begun to believe that Derek would be her one true love. Finding him to be a liar and an Englishman could easily spell the end of their relationship before it had really begun.
    * * *
    Fin shoved a plate of roasted squirrel and turnips into Derek’s chest. With an irritated glance at the man, Derek accepted it with a nod of silent thanks. Considering that two men had cooked the meal, it smelled and tasted pretty good.
    Isobel and Catriona had come back moments before without saying a word. Isobel’s expression was frozen into a mask of indifference, but her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She was upset, and he was the cause.
    Everyone ate their meal in tense silence, only broken by William, who sat on the edge of the donkey cart swinging his legs and singing a little song to himself as he ate. Derek recognized the song as an old Scottish song his Gram used to sing when he was just a child. Poor little William must miss his mother. Derek missed his Gram, and she had been gone for years.
    “We will hear your story now,” Boyd said, breaking the silence.
    Swallowing the last bite of turnip, Derek placed his plate on the log beside him and stood.
    Fixing his gaze on Isobel, he began. “I am partially Scots by blood. My mother’s mother, Anne Mackinnon, was full Scottish of the clan MacKinnon. ’Twas my grandfather who was English, along with his family, the Sinclairs.”
    “Are ye faking your accent?” Rabbie wanted to know.
    “No. I spent a large part of my life with my Scottish Gram, living on the Isle of Sky, An t-Eilean Sgithenach , after my parents died. I loved it there and picked up some Gaelic and an accent. When Gram and Grandda died, I was sent to an English military school. Experiencing the bad end of a riding crop cured me of any accent until Isobel found me in that glen. One does what it takes to survive.”
    As he explained the reason for his deception, Rabbie Graham