Joanna Fulford (16 page)

Iain surveyed her critically. ‘Can you ride, my lady?’

She nodded, unable to speak now.

‘Come then,’ he said.

Chapter Eleven

A
fterwards Isabelle had only the haziest recollection of the ride to Dark Mount and then, on arrival, a confused impression of men and horses and shouted orders as the injured were taken indoors. She craned her neck to try to see Ban but caught only a brief glimpse of him as the men bore him away. Then she was conducted to the great hall. Servants bustled around in obedience to Lord Iain’s commands. Isabelle stood to one side, trying not to get in the way. In spite of Nell’s presence, she had never felt more alone in her life.

Then a different woman appeared, a very beautiful woman with tawny hair and deep-blue eyes. She was in the advanced stages of pregnancy. In spite of this and her small stature she had about her an aura of natural authority. Isabelle quailed inwardly, knowing this must be Lady Ashlynn. She looked pale and no wonder. Ban had said they were close. How would she receive the woman for whose sake he had been so critically hurt?

Seeing his wife approach, Lord Iain stepped forwards to meet her. ‘We have a guest, my love. Lady Isabelle of Castlemora.’

Heart hammering, Isabelle curtsied. Ashlynn inclined her head in acknowledgement.

‘You are welcome, Lady Isabelle. You need not be afraid; here you are among friends.’

The tone was unexpectedly kind and it brought a lump into Isabelle’s throat. Somehow she murmured an appropriate response.

‘You’ve had a terrible experience,’ Ashlynn went on. ‘You must be exhausted.’

‘Do not be concerned about me, my lady.’

‘I cannot be anything else since I know what it is to be hunted by those who intend only harm.’

Knowing something of the woman’s history Isabelle recognised the words for truth. She also knew it must have taken enormous courage to face such perils alone. Just thinking about it engendered respect.

‘Had it not been for Lord Ban I would never have escaped at all.’ Her eyes met Ashlynn’s. ‘Is he... Will he be all right?’

‘The healers are with him now.’

‘I see.’

‘When you are rested we will talk again. In the meantime a chamber has been prepared for you. Morag will show you.’

* * *

The chamber was spacious and well appointed and its window afforded a fine view of the glen. However, Isabelle barely took it in. Nell regarded her in concern.

‘You need to rest. You look exhausted.’ She paused. ‘It will not help matters if you fall ill yourself.’

‘I know. It’s just that it seems wrong to sleep while Ban is in danger.’

‘He’s in good hands. The healers at Dark Mount are famed for their skill.’

‘I fear for him all the same. He’s lost so much blood.’

‘He’s a fighter in every way. He’ll not give up the ghost just yet I think.’

‘I pray you’re right.’

‘I’ve seen a good many fighting men in my time. I know a survivor when I see one.’

The words chimed with what Isabelle already knew of Ban’s past. The result was a small flicker of hope.

‘He has survived other wounds,’ she replied.

‘Worse ones, I’ll wager.’

‘It may be so. If only he doesn’t get a fever.’

‘We’ll worry about that if it happens,’ said Nell. ‘In the meantime you should get some rest.’

Wearily Isabelle nodded. Then she removed her cloak and lay down on the bed. ‘You will wake me at once if there’s any news?’

‘Of course.’

Isabelle closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Within minutes she was asleep.

* * *

It was evening before she woke. The rest had refreshed her and when she had bathed her face and combed her hair she began to feel a little more like her old self. Her gown was in a sorry state after the adventures of the past two days, but there was nothing much to be done about it. Somewhat self-consciously she ran her hands over the front of the creased and dusty skirt, not liking to appear before her hosts so unsuitably attired. Under the circumstances perhaps they would forgive her. What mattered now was to have news of Ban.

On reaching the hall she found Lord Iain there with his wife and several others whom she did not know. Feeling suddenly awkward she hesitated in the doorway. However, Ashlynn turned at that moment and saw her there.

‘Lady Isabelle. Pray come and sit down.’

She crossed the room aware of the curious stares directed her way. What must they think of her? By now the whole of Dark Mount would know who she was and how she came to be there. Furthermore they knew Lord Ban had been grievously hurt in her cause.

Sensing her nervousness Ashlynn smiled. ‘You look a little better, though you are still too pale.’

‘I am quite well,’ replied Isabelle, ‘but what of Lord Ban?’

‘Meg has drawn the arrow and stanched the wound. His other hurts are not so deep but he has lost a lot of blood one way and another. What he needs now is rest and time to heal.’

‘He will be all right, won’t he?’

‘I pray God he will.’

Isabelle drew in a ragged breath. ‘He has been so kind, done so much to help me.’ Tears welled in the hazel eyes. ‘Now he may die and if he does it will be my fault.’

‘I am sure it cannot be your fault,’ replied Ashlynn.

‘But it is. If it weren’t for me he would have returned home unscathed. By rights he should have.’

‘Won’t you tell me what happened?’

Tactfully she led Isabelle aside and sat her down on the other side of the hearth before drawing up a chair for herself.

‘Now you may speak freely.’

She listened with close attention as Isabelle spoke of her father’s death, and offered her condolences. When her companion went on to speak of Hugh’s murder and the events following, Ashlynn was shocked and horrified.

‘Truly this Murdo is a most evil man.’

‘I think him capable of any outrage,’ replied Isabelle.

Of the origins of her relationship with Ban, she said nothing, being too ashamed to confess it. Nor did she mention their subsequent betrothal. Ban had wished the matter kept secret and she would not break faith with him, no matter how hard it was to remain silent. If Ashlynn guessed she was not being told the whole, she evidently knew better than to try to force a confidence. Isabelle was grateful for it, and for the kind attempt to offer what reassurance she could.

‘My brother has a strong constitution and an even stronger will. Once before, when first we came to Dark Mount, he was nigh unto death but he fought it and won.’

‘He mentioned that he had been injured at that time.’

‘He has a taste for dangerous odds.’

Isabelle’s heart swelled. ‘I never saw a braver man, or a more skilful fighter.’

‘I know of only one man who could best him.’

‘Who is that?’

‘My husband.’

Glancing across the room at Lord Iain, Isabelle could not doubt the words. Despite his courtesy towards her she held him in considerable awe. A more powerful and charismatic figure would be hard to find, except for Ban of course. Thinking of how much she owed him, owed to both of them, only intensified her guilt. Somehow she had to try to make amends or, if not, to make herself useful at least.

‘Ban is going to need careful nursing for a while,’ she said. ‘I would be glad to help in any way that I can.’

Ashlynn smiled at her. ‘That is a kind offer and I am grateful. Meg and her assistants have several patients to look after at present and another pair of hands would certainly ease their load.’

‘I’d be glad to do it.’

‘Being so near my time makes me feel of limited use. I tire much more quickly than I did.’

Isabelle managed a wan smile. Her companion’s swollen belly was a mocking reminder of failure and humiliation. ‘That’s quite understandable. Just let me know what you need me to do.’

‘Bless you. Your help will be much appreciated.’

‘It’s the least I can do after all that Glengarron has done for me.’

It was a partial truth only. The real reason for her offer was not just about gratitude, though she certainly felt that. Rather it was the need to be with Ban, even if he was unaware of the fact.

* * *

After the arrow was drawn Ban had remained unconscious for some time, being weakened by loss of blood. Meg came daily to check the dressings and look at the wound which, mercifully, remained free of infection, and to administer draughts of poppy and wine to take the edge off pain.

‘Sleep is the best thing for him just now,’ she said. ‘Rest will help the wounds to knit.’

‘How long will it take do you think?’ asked Isabelle.

‘Two weeks, maybe three. Several more after that until he’s fully fit again. All the same he was lucky. Another inch and the arrow would have pierced his lung.’

Isabelle shivered inwardly. ‘Yes, he was lucky.’

‘If there’s any change in his condition call me.’

‘I will.’

Meg left the room, closing the door behind her. Isabelle surveyed the sleeping figure with misgivings. His flesh was still pale beneath the stubble of his beard, his eyes sunken and shadowed, cheek bones jutting in sharp relief. Bandages swathed his shoulder and torso.

‘Don’t die,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t die.’

She no longer felt afraid for herself, only of a future where he was not.

* * *

It was another week before he came to full consciousness. Rising slowly from a well of darkness he looked about in surprise. The room was vaguely familiar yet how he came to be there he could not imagine. In his memory was a confused mass of images: a hill and sky and fighting men. He stirred and then winced as pain lanced through his shoulder.

‘Don’t try to move yet. You will tear the wound afresh.’

With an effort he turned towards the voice and saw Ashlynn. He managed a faint smile and received an answering smile in return.

‘God be thanked,’ she said then. ‘You have frightened us all, Brother.’

‘How long have I been here?’

When she told him his brows drew together as tried to make sense of the information.

‘You were unconscious most of that time.’

‘How did I—?’ He broke off aware of the dull throbbing in his shoulder, and glanced down at the bandages round it. Other bits of memory began to come back. He frowned and his hand clenched on the coverlet.

‘Isabelle! Where is she? What happened to her?’

Ashlynn, fearing to see him agitated, was swift to give reassurance. ‘She is here, Brother, safe within these walls.’

‘Is she well?’

‘Very well.’

‘I’m glad. There were moments when I feared—’ He broke off as other recollections stirred. ‘Jock is dead.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

‘What of his family?’

‘Iain has already been to see his wife. She will be taken care of and the children too.’

‘Even so they will miss Jock sorely. So will I. He was a loyal friend and a brave warrior.’

‘Yes, he was.’

Ban’s jaw tightened. ‘His death will be avenged, I swear it.’ He frowned as another unpleasant thought occurred to him. ‘Davy and Ewan? Are they...?’

‘They are both well.’

‘Thank heaven for that.’ He paused. ‘What of the traitor, Murdo?’

‘Iain had his men conduct a thorough search, but they have found no trace of him.’

‘Damnation. As long as the swine’s alive he’ll remain a threat.’

‘His force is decimated and he is injured,’ said Ashlynn. ‘Surely he can pose little danger now.’

‘You don’t know him, Ash. He’s single-minded in following his purpose, and cares not how he achieves it. He wants Isabelle, and she may yet be in danger.’

There were many questions she would have liked to ask him about that, but knew it was too soon. Already he looked exhausted.

‘Isabelle is safe for the present,’ she said. ‘No harm shall come to her here. Meanwhile, you should try to sleep a little.’

It was testimony to his fragile state that he did not argue. ‘Will you come back later?’

‘Try keeping me away.’

The door closed softly behind her. Ban shut his eyes. Unbidden Isabelle’s image drifted into his mind. She was safe. That was something at least.
She is here...within these walls.
The knowledge filled him with conflicting emotions: relief, hope, pain. For her he had risked and lost the life of a friend. Or rather he had risked and lost a friend for the sake of his own ambition, his own desires. Ashlynn hadn’t mentioned his betrothal and he felt sure she would have done so if she had known of it. Therefore it seemed Isabelle had kept silent. That gave him pause since it would have been very much in her interest to declare it. Why hadn’t she? Most other women would. He knew she hadn’t enjoyed the clandestine aspect of their relationship yet he had followed his inclination regardless. Looking back he experienced a twinge of guilt and shame.

He could well imagine Ashlynn’s reaction to his behaviour; she would take him roundly to task over it and demand he acknowledge Isabelle properly. Continuing the relationship in the same covert manner would not be something his sister would ever sanction, not even, he suspected, for the sake of an heir. After her experiences during the Harrying, Ashlynn was nothing if not protective of those she considered vulnerable. And Isabelle was desperately vulnerable.
Nothing has changed. The arrangement still stands.
How glib those words seemed now. Suddenly a great deal had changed and made everything far more complex than even he had imagined. Even his feelings were complicated: emotions that were unaccustomed and disquieting. He had no experience to call on, nothing that might help him find his way. The knowledge did little to raise his spirits.

Chapter Twelve

T
he next time he woke he felt rather better, his mind sharper. Turning his head he saw a woman standing by the window. She had her back to him, her form silhouetted against the late afternoon light. However, her gown was familiar.

‘Ashlynn? Could I have some water?’

At the sound of his voice the woman turned quickly and his heart performed a painful manoeuvre as he recognised her.

‘Isabelle. What are you doing here?’

‘Lady Ashlynn is resting so I’ve been sitting with you awhile.’

‘I see.’

For a moment or two they surveyed each other in silence. He realised she was wearing one of his sister’s gowns. The forest-green one. Ashlynn must have lent it to her. He thought the colour suited her well.

She looked away. ‘I’ll fetch you that drink.’

He watched her cross to the table and pour water from the jug into a horn cup. Then she returned. Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed she leaned towards him. As she did so he caught a subtle trace of lavender scent from her gown. It was as unexpected and disconcerting as her presence. She held the cup to his lips. To cover his inner confusion he drank some of the water. It gave him a little space in which to gather his thoughts.

‘Thank you.’

She straightened and moved away, replacing the cup on the table. ‘You look a little better today.’

He frowned. ‘Today? Have you been here before then?’

‘Several times.’

The thought that she had been with him, watching him sleep, was strangely unsettling though not displeasing.

‘I wanted to help,’ she went on, ‘and it seemed little enough to do—in the circumstances.’

‘I thank you for your care.’

‘It is I who should be thanking you,’ she replied.

‘I don’t want your gratitude, Isabelle.’

The tone was unintentionally abrasive and she looked away. Ban mentally cursed his tactlessness.

‘What I meant was you owe me nothing.’

‘That isn’t true and we both know it. But for me none of this would have happened.’

‘You have no reason to feel guilt. The responsibility lies with Murdo.’

The name fell between them, bitter and unsavoury, evoking unpleasant memories. Isabelle grimaced.

‘I hope to heaven that he has died of his wound by now. If so my brother is justly avenged.’

‘Aye, he is, although I’d hoped to kill Murdo myself.’

‘The sooner he’s dead the better. Otherwise you would have a blood feud on your hands into the bargain.’

‘A blood feud?’

‘He intended to get my dowry back from the Neils.’

‘Ah.’

‘Since they would rather die than yield up a penny of it there would have been slaughter on a grand scale.’

‘That there would.’

She shook her head. ‘I would not have anyone die for such a reason, not even Alistair Neil.’

He frowned, uncertain he’d heard aright. ‘Forgive me, but I’m not sure I follow.’

‘The truth is that there was no love lost between us.’

It wasn’t in the least what he’d expected to hear and it caused a rapid revision of some earlier assumptions. ‘That might have changed, with time.’

‘No amount of time would have made any difference. My late husband was a brute. So, while I would not have sought his death, I cannot wish him back either.’

He was silent for a moment or two, letting the implications sink in. Then he recalled another conversation.
There is no pleasure for a woman in the marriage bed.
Suddenly a whole lot of other ramifications occurred to him. Was that part of her reluctance for their betrothal? Had she been afraid he would hurt her? The idea was abhorrent. He needed to find out more.

‘But your father couldn’t have known that when he agreed to the marriage?’

‘No, I truly believe he did not.’ She sighed. ‘It seemed to be a glittering match in every way. I must take my share of the blame since I also took it on face value.’

‘You are not the first to have made that mistake and I imagine you won’t be the last.’

‘Are you speaking in general or specific terms?’

He hesitated. ‘I once fell for a beautiful face, but it didn’t take me long to discover the shallowness behind.’ He smiled in self-mockery. ‘I was a lot younger then.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Beatrice.’

He shifted position a little and winced at the answering stab of pain in his shoulder. It carried him back four years to a patch of muddy ground and four men whose fists and feet hammered home the penalty for presumption.

Isabelle surveyed him steadily. ‘She hurt you, didn’t she?’

It was not the pain he remembered. Flesh healed after a while; humiliation never did. At best it could be buried.

‘It was many years ago and it has long since ceased to matter.’

‘If you say so.’

He averted his gaze. ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to sleep awhile.’

‘Of course.’

‘You need not stay. I’m sure you have better things to do than play nursemaid to me.’

With that he shut his eyes, bringing the conversation to a definitive end. Isabelle made no attempt to alter that. He heard her move away and then the door opened and closed. He was alone. It should have come as a relief but what he felt just then was bereft.

* * *

Isabelle didn’t return to her room but took the stairs to the top of the tower instead. At the end of the passageway a small door led out on to a terrace which overlooked the glen and the hills beyond. It was a private place, found by accident not long after her arrival at Dark Mount, and just now the solitude was welcome. She leaned disconsolately against the warm stone trying not to think about Ban. After all he’d just made it very clear that he didn’t want her company. Considering what she knew of marital relationships she ought to have been better prepared for rejection. As it was, it hurt more than any beating in her experience.

She sighed. How was it that some women seemed to possess an innate understanding of how to please a man, while she had none? Her mirror told her that she was not ill-looking, but physical beauty wasn’t enough. Alistair Neil had found her attractive but she had never been able to please him in any of the ways that mattered. Ban had found her attractive enough to seek a betrothal, and to bed her of course, even to rescue her, but he didn’t love her. She was a possession, like his horse and his sword.
No man takes what is mine.
He’d been injured and lost a friend on her account. Small wonder if he blamed her. Far from pleasing him as she had hoped, this alliance had left an indelible memory for all the wrong reasons. The one consolation in this sorry mess was that he was on the road to recovery, and if she’d helped towards that the effort had been worthwhile. He was out of danger so he wouldn’t need the intensive nursing he’d had hitherto. There was no point in her returning to the sick room again. For both their sakes it was better to stay away.

* * *

For the next three days Ban’s heart leapt every time the door opened, and each time it sank when he saw that the visitor wasn’t Isabelle. He realised then that she had taken his words to heart and wouldn’t be coming back. Ashlynn, who visited regularly, watched him in concern. His injuries were healing well and he was able to sit up and take nourishment again, but his spirits seemed low. His temper was uncharacteristically short too. At first she attributed it to pain but when she asked if his wounds were hurting he denied it.

‘I hate to see you like this, Ban. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Then why are you behaving like a bear with a sore head?’

His jaw tightened. ‘I’m just tired of lying abed, that’s all.’

‘It won’t be long before you’re up and about again.’

‘It can’t come too soon as far as I’m concerned.’

‘It can’t come too soon for the rest of us either,’ she replied.

It drew a self-deprecating sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Ash. I don’t mean to be ungrateful—or bearish. It’s just having too much time on my hands and not enough to do.’

‘Good try, Brother. If I didn’t know you better that might have convinced me.’

‘All right, I’ve had things on my mind as well.’

‘Would one of them be Lady Isabelle by any chance?’

He looked up sharply. ‘Why should you think that?’

‘Well, let me see... She no longer comes to this room. You’re in a foul humour and she looks utterly despondent.’ She paused. ‘Am I getting close?’

He heaved another sigh. ‘It was my fault. I spoke more harshly than I’d intended and I hurt her feelings.’

‘Then perhaps you should apologise.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Well, it would be a good start.’

‘Damn it, Ash. Do you think I don’t know that?’

‘So the difficulty is...?’

‘I fear she won’t want to listen.’

‘Perhaps you should give her the benefit of the doubt.’

* * *

Their conversation remained much on his mind and the more he dwelt on it the more irksome his invalid status became. He knew he was going to have to talk to Isabelle and that was going to be impossible while he was confined to bed. After four more days he could stand it no longer and announced his intention of getting up.

Ashlynn sighed. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be of any use to tell you to wait a little longer?’

‘No use at all,’ he replied.

In fact his shoulder pained him very little as long as he didn’t try to use his arm, and the gash along his ribs was now mending to a vivid scar.

‘I’ll help you into your shirt then, shall I?’

‘I need to shave as well.’

‘Why can’t you just grow a beard like other men?’

‘Because it itches and drives me mad.’

‘You’re already mad, Brother. The beard has nothing to do with it.’

He returned a quelling look. Ashlynn grinned.

* * *

It took a while to accomplish both tasks but eventually it was done. Ban thanked her and then turned towards the door. As he reached the threshold he hesitated. Dark Mount was quite large and there were innumerable places a person might be. He didn’t think his strength equal yet to an exhaustive search.

‘Where?’

‘I’m not entirely sure, but you could try the roof terrace.’

It wasn’t far and he reached the door a few minutes later. Taking a deep breath he opened it and went out. The terrace was empty. He was aware of disappointment but at the same time it felt good to be outdoors again, to breathe the free air and feel the sun on his face. He strolled to the parapet and looked out across the glen, thinking of the men who would never look upon it again. As soon as he could mount a horse he would go and see Jock’s wife. He owed her that courtesy.

It was the sound of a creaking hinge that drew him back and he glanced round. His heartbeat quickened a little as Isabelle stepped out on to the terrace. She didn’t notice his presence at first, but, having closed the door behind her, looked up and then stopped in her tracks.

‘Ban.’ The word was accompanied by a spontaneous smile. Then it faded into something closer to quiet consternation. ‘I...I thought you still abed.’

‘I found it increasingly tedious.’

‘Well, I am glad to see you so far recovered.’

‘I have had good care though I fear I was not always a good patient.’

‘Nell says that fighting men rarely are.’

‘She’s right. By nature we do not take kindly to being shut up for any length of time.’

‘Then I’ll leave you to enjoy your new-found freedom.’ She turned towards the door.

‘Isabelle, don’t go.’ The tone was midway between a command and a plea but it checked her long enough for him to close the gap between them. ‘I must speak with you.’

With an effort she faced him. ‘My lord?’

‘What I’m trying say is that I’m sorry for my churlish behaviour the other day.’

It clearly took her by surprise, he noted with wry amusement, but then it would, given his previous manner towards her.

‘You were not yourself,’ she replied.

‘No, but that isn’t a good enough excuse.’ He paused. ‘I would have apologised sooner but you did not return.’

‘I thought you would not welcome my company.’

‘I can understand why you might have thought so, but still I hoped that you would come.’

‘Did you?’

‘Very much so.’

‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘I thought...’

‘Thought what?’

‘That you would still be angry.’

‘I was not angry with you. It’s just that what we spoke of then is something I have preferred to forget, and I over-reacted.’

‘I did not mean to open old wounds.’

‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘The past has a habit of returning to haunt us.’

‘I think I will never be free of it. Not of the memories or of Murdo.’

‘He will be held to account by and by for the wrongs he has done you.’

‘The greatest wrong he did me was when he injured you.’

He blinked. While he knew she was grateful for her recent deliverance, this implied a rather deeper feeling than gratitude. It was disturbing on many levels, like the way she was looking at him now. Of course it would be easy to read more into it than she’d intended. He probed a little further.

‘Would it have grieved you then, if I had been killed along with Jock?’

‘How can you ask that?’

‘If I had been you would be free.’

She looked into his face. ‘I could not forget you so easily.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘It wasn’t flattery. I am your wife, Ban. What hurts you also hurts me.’

Her words suddenly swept him into much deeper water and they filled him with disquiet. He had hoped that, if they were eventually able to put their relationship on a regular footing, she might one day come to care for him, but it wasn’t supposed to happen yet.

‘I am honoured, truly.’

‘I did not know it until I thought you might die; that I might lose you for good.’

The look in her eyes was more eloquent than words and his heart lurched. She was standing very close to him. The urge to take her in his arms was almost overpowering; his entire being craved the touch and taste and scent of her, but if he followed his inclination it wasn’t going to end with a kiss. And even a kiss was too dangerous. A kiss now meant emotional reciprocation and he couldn’t give in to the temptation. It would be no better than a false promise, an earnest of something he might not be able to give.