Highland Hero (26 page)

“Ye didnae seem too troubled by the ghosts.” She was not sure she understood why suddenly all he had accepted was now unacceptable.

“I wasnae, and that worries me.” He dragged his fingers through his hair and scowled as he looked around the kitchen. “ ’Tis as if this place has put a spell on me. Not only do I see things I never saw before but I am beginning to treat such sightings as but a part of life. Weel, it may be a part of life at Bandal, but it doesnae exist outside these lands.”

“It does. ’Tis just that most people dinnae see it.”

“Exactly. I want to be one of those blind, ignorant people again.”

“Can ye just forget all ye saw and learned here?”

“I can try.” He could see the glint of tears in her eyes and pulled her into his arms. “Lass, ’tisnae ye I run from. ’Tisnae ye I want to push from my mind.”

After briefly hugging him, she stepped out of his light embrace. “But it is. I am Bandal. It is me. I believe I was fated to come here because this is where I truly belong. Patrick’s kinsmen could have taken back the lands, for the marriage was a short one and there was no child, but they didnae. They gave it to me. Everything that has happened to me since I came here has only shown me more clearly that I belong here.”

“Ye could leave. Ye could come with me,” he said impulsively, then realized that he badly wanted her to. He wanted to leave Bandal and all its spirits behind but not her.

“Nay, I dinnae think I can.”

“Why? Are ye trapped here?”

“In a way, for I am needed here, wanted and accepted. And this is all I own. Then, too, taking me from Bandal will change little.” She smiled sadly. “My gifts werenae born here, merely strengthened.”

“Ye mean to say that, wherever ye go, the same things will happen,” he said quietly, disappointment sweeping over him.

“Aye, more or less. The magic is strong in Bandal, but ’tis everywhere. Faeries, brownies, ghosts, and all the rest, are everywhere. If ye must get away from such things, then ye must get away from me.”

“I am sorry,” he whispered and wondered if she would ever know how much he regretted leaving her.

“So the fool is running away, is he?”

Isbel looked up to see Pullhair standing beside her. She tossed aside the rag she held, suddenly realizing she had been rubbing that same spot on the table since Kenneth had walked out of the kitchen several hours ago. The pain she felt seemed to have become part of her blood, flowing through her constantly with every beat of her heart. She did not really want to discuss it but knew Pullhair would prod at her until she did.

“Aye, he is leaving in the morning. He saw a faerie today and she smiled at him. He has decided that he has had a bellyful of the magic of Bandal and cannae stomach any more.”

“He is a coward.”

“Nay, for he really doesnae flee out of fear. Aye, ’tis there, as it is in all of we poor timid mortals. Kenneth simply doesnae want to be a part of all this. He doesnae want to ken all the secrets this place holds. He doesnae want to see what few others ever will. He wants to return to what he was.”

“And ye will just let him go.”

She stood up so abruptly she knocked her stool over. “Aye. What would ye have me do? Tie him to the bed until he changes his mind? E’en if I could be so bold, it wouldnae work. As he says, this isnae his life, isnae what he was raised to accept or e’en like.”

Pullhair shook his head. “I had thought him a better mon than that.”

“Oh, I think he is.” She smiled sadly. “He just doesnae think he wants to be. I can understand that. There are times when I heartily wish I wasnae what I am. I wish I could look into the shadows and see only shadows or walk through the forest and see naught but the trees. The blood I carry and the gifts I hold can sometimes be a great burden, Pullhair.”

“That is only because your people willnae accept them.”

“And what is wrong with wishing to be accepted, e’en liked, by your own kind? That is what Kenneth runs back to. He may ne’er say so, but if he accepts me, then he must accept near banishment by his own people. The choice is either me or the rest of the world. I was ne’er given that choice, but he has it and I cannae fault him for returning to all the others.”

“But he hasnae e’en given ye a child yet,” he grumbled.

A chill ran down Isbel’s spine. One thing that had kept her from total despair was the thought that Kenneth had left her with child. Pullhair’s cross words killed that hope.

“Are ye sure?” she asked, her voice tight with emotion.

“Aye. Here now,” he cried in alarm when Isbel buried her face in her hands. “Dinnae start weeping. There is still hope.”

“How can there be? The mon leaves in the morning.” She righted her stool and sat down, knowing that Pullhair’s presence was all that kept her from succumbing to her intense grief.

“There is still this night.”

She gaped at him. “The mon is leaving me. Am I to go to his bed after he has said fare thee well? Surely that would mark me as little more than some hedgerow whore.”

“Nay. Ye are letting your pride rule ye again. Ye became the mon’s lover with no promises made nor love words spoken. In truth, ye entered his bed kenning that he might leave. I cannae see how it makes much difference now that ye ken for certain he will leave and when.”

Isbel sighed and gently rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “Weel, it does. I am nay sure I can explain the why of it, but it does make a difference.”

“Weel, ye had best swallow your pride again.”

“Why? Why cannae he swallow his pride?”

“Because he willnae. ’Tis certain he willnae twixt now and sunrise. So, ye must be the one to do so.”

“I begin to get a bellyache.”

Pullhair reached out and yanked her braid, ignoring her sharp curse and easily avoiding the swat she aimed at him. “Ye want your belly filled, lassie, and ye cannae get that wish by sitting here weeping and moaning.”

“I am
not
weeping and moaning. The mon might well be offended if he kenned we were using him for stud.”

“Are ye planning to tell him?”

Her natural inclination to be honest welled up inside her, but she ruthlessly quelled it. “Nay, and I shall have to do a penance for that.” She sighed and idly drummed her fingers on the table. “Are ye certain that, if I lie with that mon tonight, I will bear his child?”

“Now, lassie, ye ken that I shouldnae be telling ye such things.”

“Pullhair,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to ease her temper. “Ye are asking a lot of me and have your own purposes for doing so. I ken well that ye are my friend, but ye dinnae push me into the mon’s arms solely for the sake of my happiness. For that, I think I deserve something. All I ask is some assurance that, if I go to Kenneth tonight, I will wake with child come morning.”

“Aye, ye will.”

“Thank ye,” she whispered. “I am treating the mon most dishonestly and myself most dishonorably. Howbeit, I will do all that and more if it means I can hold a child in my arms.”

Kenneth frowned when there sounded a soft rap at the door. He had just retired after a somber, quiet, and somewhat tense evening meal with Isbel and Pullhair. There was a good chance it was Pullhair at the door preparing to scold him or try to talk him into staying and Kenneth was certain that he did not wish to see the little man.

He opened the door and gaped. Isbel dressed in her fine linen nightgown with her hair loose and flowing over her slim shoulders was the last thing he had expected to see. For a moment he was afraid that he had not made himself clear.

“Isbel, did ye heed me at all this afternoon?” he asked uncertainly as she slipped past him into the room.

“Aye, ye are leaving when the sun rises,” she replied as she sat down on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap to hide the way they trembled.

“Yet ye have come to me?”

“I do understand why ye must leave.” She frowned when he shut the door but continued to just stare at her. “Why are ye looking at me like that?”

He smiled crookedly as he moved to stand in front of her. “I suppose I was feeling a wee bit unsettled because ye arenae upset o’er my leaving.”

“I didnae say I wasnae upset. I said I understand. What I may have misunderstood was that ye were truly saying farewell this afternoon, setting yourself away from me right then and not in the morning.”

When she stood up, he caught her in his arms, sat down on the bed, and settled her on his lap. “Nay, I am glad ye came to me tonight, more than words can say. I fear I am just confused as to why ye would do so after I have told ye I am leaving.”

So ye can give me a child,
she thought but bit her lip to keep from babbling out the truth. “Ye ken that I want you,” she said, staring at their clasped hands to hide her blushes. “Ye saying fare thee well doesnae end that wanting. I like the way ye can make me feel and this is the last night I will e’er have the chance to savor that pleasure.” She peeked up at him and felt the warmth of his gaze enter her blood. “I think no other mon will e’er make me feel as ye do and, let us face the cold, hard truth, there are none about to teach me otherwise.”

The mere thought of another man touching Isbel both hurt and enraged Kenneth, but he fought to push such feelings aside. He had no right to feel them because he was walking away from her. He decided it might be wise not to think about who she might be with or what she might be doing once he was gone. The feelings raging through his body told him he could easily find himself returning to Bandal. That would be foolish since he would still be unable to stay, and also very unkind.

“I should be mortally ashamed of myself,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Ye have saved my life and ye have given me a sort of pleasure I have ne’er tasted before, yet I turn my back on you.”

“I couldnae leave ye to die or be taken up by the Sluagh and I chose to come to your bed. The pleasure was also shared. Mayhaps I should be ashamed.”

He fell back onto the bed and pulled her on top of him. “Then let us wallow in our shame together.”

She smiled, clinging to him as he squirmed around until they were in a better position on the bed. “ ’Tis always best to share such things.”

Isbel cried out in amused surprise as he hastily removed his braies and her nightgown. When their flesh met, she shuddered. Their passion was so strong and so well matched. She could not understand how he could not see that, could not see as clearly as she did that they were meant to be together.

She slid her hand down his side, savoring the feel of his smooth, taut skin. Isbel knew she would not get much sleep, and if she had her way, neither would Kenneth. A greed born of desperation gnawed at her. As she touched her lips to his, she knew this would be the very last night of lovemaking for her. Kenneth might well find another. A man in his position was expected to marry and sire children. She could not do the same, could not seek out a new lover. After he walked away, she would be completely alone except for his child. As Kenneth began to make love to her, she prayed that Pullhair was right, that this was the night she would conceive a child. It could be the only thing that kept her from complete despair.

Kenneth silently dressed and donned his sword and padded jupon. For a long moment he stood at the side of the bed and stared at the sleeping Isbel. He wanted to crawl back in beside her, to hold her in his arms, despite a long night of lovemaking. He also knew that, if he gave in to that urge, he might never leave.

As quickly and as quietly as he could, he slipped out the door. Kenneth wished he did not feel quite so much like a thief in the night. He hurried to the stables, saddled Wallace, and let himself out of the bailey. The only clear thought in his mind was to get away before he changed his mind.

Isbel slipped out of bed, tugged on her night rail, and went to the window. It had probably been cowardly to feign sleep as Kenneth left the room, but she felt sure it was for the best. As she watched him ride away in the gray light of dawn, she placed her hand over her belly and prayed that Pullhair was right. If she could not have the man at least she could have some solace in bearing and loving his child.

Chapter 8

Isbel grimaced, straightened up, and rubbed at the ache in the small of her back. As soon as Kenneth had left, she had dressed and come to the stables to clean. It was hard, filthy work, and it almost succeeded in making her forget how alone she was. She just wished she could work through the night.

As she stepped outside to draw water from the well so that she could clean off the stench of the stables, she tensed. Something was wrong. Never before had she felt afraid or threatened within the surrounding walls of Bandal, but she did now. It was as if all the magic that had protected her had suddenly been yanked away.

She kept looking around as she washed up, anxious to get back into the tower house and bar the door. Even as she tossed the water into the dead garden near the stables, she knew it was too late. The gates of Bandal were pushed open and two men rushed in. She knew she had no chance of reaching the safety of the tower house but she ran for it anyway.