Highland Wedding (13 page)

“Not that ye would have noticed, brother,” murmured Tavis.

“I noticed.”

“Went black-faced and silent, did he?”

“Aye, Storm. Sat glowering and sulking upon his horse with nary a word to the lass. Tossed me at her to chase after MacLennon, e’en though she sat there awash in her own blood.”

“She wasnae awash in blood. ’T’was naught but a flesh wound.”

At that moment, Alexander arrived. “How is Islaen?”

“Fine,” snapped Iain, irritated even more by Alexander’s interest.

“Where have ye been all day, Alex?”

“Just visiting a few friends, Storm.”

“Ye have some, do ye?” Iain muttered.

Alexander grinned and strolled over to the table to help himself to some wine. “Mayhaps I should visit with the lass.”

“Meg most like has her abed.”

“All the better.”

“Alex, behave yourself,” Storm ordered, biting back a smile.

“For ye, Storm, anything.” He then grew serious. “Ye are certain the lass is all right?”

“Aye and it seems to me ye are muckle concerned about anither mon’s wife,” Iain growled. “My wife.”

“Tsk, such a black mood. I fear I have news that willnae lighten it.”

“What news?” Iain demanded impatiently when Alexander did not elaborate, simply sat down. “Where have ye been?”

“That matters not.”

“With a lass,” Storm said firmly.

Ignoring that, Alexander continued, “Lord Fraser didnae die from the beating ye gave him, my friend.”

“Ye are right. ’Tis not good news.”

“It seems he is, howsomever, scarred and crippled.”

“Crippled?” Iain struggled to remember what he had done to Fraser but could only recall his intense murderous rage.

“Aye. Ye busted his leg when ye threw him up against the wall.”

“But he stood up.”

“Fear most like gave him the strength. He was trying to run, broken leg and all. It didnae break clean.”

“So he will have a limp.”

“Aye, Storm, there is little doubt of it. His kin see it as a just payment.”

“So there willnae be a lawing done.” Colin’s voice held a note of relief.

“Nay, there willnae be a feud, but Lord Fraser cries out for vengeance and none can silence him.”

Iain indulged in a long, colorful bout of cursing, ending with a muttered apology to a wide-eyed Storm. “Anither knife aimed at my back. Lord Fraser willnae face me square. He has e’er been a coward.”

“Aye, ye have the measure of him. Best ye have the full measure.”

“What do ye mean?”

“’Tis not just ye he claims must pay.” His gaze never leaving Iain’s face Alexander reported flatly, “He claims Islaen is to blame too. He says she lured him, taunted him and tempted him, then cried rape when ye caught her at her games.” Alexander barely saved his tankard of wine when, with one swift sweep of his arm, Iain cleared a wide arc of the table off. “He cries her a whore and claims ye tried to kill him to keep him from telling the truth about her,” Alexander continued doggedly, viewing Iain’s rage with interest. “He is talking loud and long for the tale has e’en reached here.”

“No one will believe it,” Iain rasped.

“None that ken her, nay,” Alexander said quietly.

“But not that many do,” Iain ground out.

“Nay. I am sorry, my friend. I should not have stopped ye from killing the mon. It hasnae stopped the talk.”

“He has cut his own throat.”

“Ye can do naught until he is up and about. Nay, not until he strikes at ye.”

“Why not?”

“Ye cannae kill a mon in his bed. That would bring about a feud and the death of many. Neither can ye strike at a cripple. I fear ye have your hands tied and cannae loosen them until he strikes at ye.”

“Or Islaen.”

“Aye, or Islaen. The least ye would bring upon yourself is the whisper of cowardice, the worst is outlawry. Only if ye cut him down in the act of fighting for your
life or Islaen’s can ye come away clean.”

“Shall I tell the MacRoths this news too?” Phelan asked quietly.

“Aye, tell them. I will seek my bed now,” Iain said as he abruptly stood up. “There seems little else I can do.”

Iain wondered blackly what Islaen had done to deserve being burdened with a husband who seemed doomed to bring about her destruction. She had been safe and content with her family. Now she had two men eager to see her pay for crimes she had not committed. Worse, she had a husband who was unable to really protect her, could only wait for the enemy to strike and pray that she was not killed before he could end the threat to her life.

Finding her asleep, he undressed quietly, then carefully eased into bed. Despite his better intentions, he reached for her. She murmured his name and cuddled up to him. He fought to clear his mind of worries and prayed that all the wine he had drunk would help him sleep. A bitter laugh echoed in his mind when he realized how much holding her close helped him in that aim.

Islaen woke with a start, then cursed herself for being a foolish child. A nightmare had frightened her awake, one she clearly recognized as having been inspired by the day’s events. Letting that fear rob her of needed sleep was the worst thing she could do, she thought crossly. It would insure that she was not alert enough to protect herself if she had to. She would not let that madman defeat her in that way, especially not when he only meant to use her to deepen the hurt he dealt Iain.

Slipping out from beneath the arm Iain had draped over her waist, she moved towards the window. Below she spotted the guard, alert yet strangely unobtrusive. She did not bother to peer outside of the chamber door. Tavis had said there would be one there too and she did not doubt it.

“He has made us prisoners in our own home, upon our own lands,” she thought with a touch of bitterness. “We cannae e’en feel safe within our own chambers. I begin to think ye a sorcerer, Duncan MacLennon. If ye would but turn that skill and hatred against the English, Scotland would ne’er have to fash herself about that country again.”

“Islaen.”

She turned quickly, hearing a note of fear in that husky call. “Here, Iain. By the window.”

“Best ye get back into bed ere ye catch a chill and take ill.”

Biting back a smile, she dutifully returned to bed. Despite her confusion and doubts about how he felt for her she was confident that he held an honest concern for her safety. She had heard that hint of fear in his voice and knew men well enough to know that his grumpiness now was because he feared she had. She had been in no danger and he now felt foolish about worrying.

“God’s teeth, woman, your feet are like ice,” he growled as he pulled her close. “Did ye have a need for fresh air?” he muttered.

“Weel, Iain, I have been meaning to speak to ye about your feet,” she began, grinning against his chest, then squeaking with outrage when he gave her hair a gentle punitive yank.

“Pert wench.” He grew serious. “How fares your wound?”

“’Tis naught, Iain. Aye, it pinches, but ’tis so shallow t’will soon heal.”

“I should have asked ere now.”

“Ye had other matters upon your mind.”

“Aye—murder. The sight of your blood made me hunger for his. I raced away thinking only of how eager I was to kill him.”

“Ye could see that I wasnae hurt badly. There really was little reason for ye to stay.”

“Ye had been badly frightened. ’Tis reason enough. I should have stayed to see that your fright was eased, your wound tended.”

“Tavis managed both verra weel. Iain, t’was more important that ye try to catch that mon. Aye, I was frightened and I did wish ye near but those are wee things, easily soothed later. ’Tis far more important that that madman be stopped. Aye, and e’en then I understood weel your need to be the one that stopped him. I too want him stopped though it troubles me to want a mon’s death.”

Before resting his head against her breasts, he gave each one a kiss, then nuzzled against them and yawned. “Dinnae fash yourself o’er it, dearling,” he murmured sleepily. “He gives us no choice.”

Islaen stumbled to the washbowl, splashed cold water on her face and rinsed out her mouth. The door opened and, for an instant, she felt panicked, then saw that it was Meg. She smiled weakly as the woman hurried over to her.

“Ye have been ill.” Meg felt Islaen’s forehead for signs of fever.

“Aye, for the sixth morn. I am a wee bit slow this morn or ye wouldnae have discovered it.”

“Why do ye wish to hide it, ye foolish lass? I maun look ye o’er and think of how to physic ye.”

“Ye cannae physic this, Meg. Come, think. What makes a woman empty her belly every morn?”

“Ye are with child,” Meg gasped and hurried over to the bed to place a cool cloth upon Islaen’s forehead. “Are ye certain?”

“My woman’s time hasnae come since a fortnight after I was wed.”

“Och, aye, there is a sure sign. Ye were e’er verra regular. And now this sickness of a morn.”

“Aye, for near to a week. For a week afore that I felt it but didnae empty my belly. ’Tis a pity that has changed.”

“Weel, it doesnae last long. Does the lad ken?”

“Nay, and I mean to keep him from kenning for as long as I can.”

Meg nodded. “The months can move by verra slowly for one who is afraid of it all. ’Tis a pity ye cannae share this.”

“That is my penance for the lies I have told,” she said quietly as she carefully stood up.

“God wouldnae expect a penance. Ye are doing as He commands. ’Tis proper that ye choose His will o’er that of your husband’s.”

“Only this once, Meg. I swore to obey my husband and to honour him.”

“Ye will honour him by giving the young gowk a bairn. A lass can do a mon no greater honour.”

“Mayhaps. Help me dress. I need to eat something.”

“Are ye certain?”

“Aye, ’tis the only way to end this illness.” Although she had to eat it carefully food did settle Islaen’s stomach. She then wandered through Storm’s garden somewhat aimlessly. Iain was gone, as he often was, claiming a need to be at Muircraig, their future home. There was little for her to do. Storm only occasionally needed help in keeping Caraidland running smoothly.

“Such a dark look on such a lovely late summer’s morn.”

Startled from her thoughts, Islaen managed a smile for Storm. She found herself growing closer to the woman. Islaen just wished she could feel sure enough about the friendship to confide in the woman. They had talked about a lot of private things but there were still a few things Islaen kept secret.

“I was but feeling too idle.”

“Then come with me.” Storm linked her arm with Islaen’s. “’Tis my time to romp with my children.”

“Are ye certain ye wish me to intrude?”

“Most certain. There are five of the little dears and only one of me. Extra hands are
ever welcome. Tavis sometimes comes, whene’er he is about, but he is off with Iain.”

“Aye. At Muircraig.”

Storm laughed softly upon hearing the crossness in Islaen’s voice. “He readies your home.”

“I ken it. I also ken that he hides.”

“Sadly that is undoubtedly true. Still, he cannot seem to stay away too long.”

“Nay,” Islaen grumbled, “every few days he feels a need to come to me for a good rutting.”

“Islaen,” Storm gasped, torn between laughter and worry. “Is it truly that bad?”

“Weel, mayhaps not. I am but too sensitive, mayhaps. It does seem, though, that he stays no longer than is necessary to sate his body’s hungers. The last time he didnae e’en arrive in time to dine with me and he always leaves ere I waken in the morn.”

Wincing slightly, Storm murmured, “It does sound a bit, well, cold.”

“Aye. I begin to feel like a whore.”

“Ye must not think so, Islaen. I know he would ne’er want ye to think that. Instead, take hope in the fact that he cannot keep away from you. Aye, it seems as if ’tis but a lusting, but he does not really need you to sate that. I am certain there is a wench or two about Muircraig that would gladly become the leman of the new laird, yet he rides for hours to seek your bed.”

“I do think it. ’Tis all that of times keeps me from striking him.” She smiled crookedly when Storm laughed. “’Tis just that he gives me no chance to win him, to woo him. I had hoped that, once away from court, we would have time together, time for me to weaken his efforts at keeping us strangers. I feel sure that, an I can make a break in that cursed wall he has built around his heart, t’will crumble. I cannae do it when he stays out of reach. That keeps us strangers.”

“It makes it harder, aye, but do not ignore the importance of that time in the night.”

“Och, I dinnae. ’Tis just that I grow a wee bit weary of only seeing him soften in the night. Weel, at least this way I neednae face that stranger each dawning. ’Tis a blessing of a sort. That did grow muckle tiring.”

Their talk was abruptly ended when they entered the nursery. Although the twins, Aingeal and Taran, were nine and beginning their training, they too were there. With so much to do, their time together with their mother was considered more important than any training, for it was too rare. Islaen recalled her mother doing the same and then her father until they were all of an age to dine together.

She smiled as the youngest, two-year-old Blythe, toddled her way. Soon they were all involved in a game. It went slowly for each child had a great deal he or she wished to tell Storm, but none complained. The game was merely used to keep them seated in a companionable circle as the children took greedy advantage of having their mother’s undivided attention. As she watched the group, helping to keep Blythe from chewing on the game pieces, Islaen felt that Iain would not, indeed could not, fault her for refusing to let him deny them a family.

Iain frowned as he entered the hall. Having not found Islaen in their chambers, he had paused only long enough to wash up before seeking her in the hall. She was not there either and he was not sure about where else to look.

“Looking for Islaen?”

“Aye, Tavis. Have ye seen her?”

“I was told she was with Storm. Since that is where I am bound right now, ye may as weel come along.”

“With the bairns?” Iain asked as they strode along and he recognized where they were heading.

“Aye, ’tis their time with Storm. Can ye no hear them?” Tavis asked, grinning as the sounds of rowdy children grew louder. “Here now,” Tavis growled with mock sternness as he paused in the doorway, then waded into the tangle of laughing children and women. “Here is a muckle great noise.”

Iain watched his laughing wife sit up, a giggling Blythe clinging to her. Islaen was flushed and disheveled but looked happy and content. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look that she thoroughly enjoyed being with the children. It was also obvious that the children had accepted her quickly and completely.

He felt swamped with guilt. Because of the fears he could not conquer, he was denying her all of that. However, each time he held Islaen close, his fear grew stronger. Even the guilt he felt now did not really ease that fear.

As she approached him, trying vainly to tidy her appearance, Islaen wondered about the look upon Iain’s face. His expression was remote but his eyes were clouded with troubled thoughts.

“Ye have returned early this time,” she said quietly, smiling her welcome. “Is there any trouble?”

“Nay.” He absently tidied her hair. “I but need extra time here to gather supplies. Where is Alex?”

“He left for home early this morn. He said he had been too long away from his daughter.”

“Weel, I shallnae miss his unasked advice.”

“Why did ye not tell me about Lord Fraser?”

Iain’s step faltered slightly and he eyed her warily. He could easily see her annoyance and understood it even as he cursed Alexander for having too busy a mouth. Iain was not really sure why he had said nothing to her. He did not want to hurt her by repeating the man’s loathsome insults but that was not really reason enough to keep her ignorant about a danger that lurked around her.

“I am nay too sure why. He spoke most unkindly about ye,” he said quietly as they entered the nearly deserted hall.

“Aye. I ken it. He calls me a whore, a temptress, mind ye. Wheesht, what a fool. Me, a temptress.” She shook her head.

Smiling with a soft lechery as he sat her at the table and poured them each some wine, Iain murmured, “Ye surely tempt me, sweeting. Can ye fetch us some bread and cheese, David?” he asked a young page as he sat down.

“That is most convenient since we are wed,” she retorted softly, even though she blushed over his words.

“Aye, true enough.” He grew serious. “As I said, I am nay sure why I didnae tell ye. I have e’er thought ’tis best to ken a threat e’en if the kenning brings some pain. Ye need to ken a threat if ye are to protect yourself from it.”

“Do ye really think he will do it? Mayhaps he but boasts and rattles an empty scabbard.”

“He is a mon to do that, but we cannae just assume that he will this time.”

She reached across the table and patted his hand. “We are troubled by a madman and a fool. They see wrongs where there were none and wish to blame someone for what wasnae their fault. Ye didnae hurl Fraser on top of me and I didnae lure the fool on. Ye must cease to blame yourself for what isnae your doing and what ye have no control o’er. I put no blame upon ye.”

He took her hand in his and kissed her palm, smiling faintly when she trembled. “Ye are of a verra forgiving nature.”

She smiled and shook her head in silent denial. “What do we do about Fraser?”

“Naught, curse the fool’s eyes,” growled a voice from the doorway.

Islaen gasped when she saw her brother Robert standing beside Phelan. Giving a soft cry of delight, she raced over to him and was caught up in his arms. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, then giggled as he strode over to the table still holding her, then set her down back in her seat.

For a while she was allowed to dominate Robert, plaguing him with questions. As she did so, the page, David, arrived with Iain’s bread and cheese. The boy then hastily left to get some more as well as some more wine.

“Now, lass, if ye are satisfied that we have all managed to survive without ye,” Robert drawled, winking at Islaen, “I would be pleased to pass a word or twa with your husband.”

“Weel, I will leave ye to it,” she said as she stood up, “and see that ye have a place to bed down for the night.”

“I will be here for more than a night, lass. Fither says I am to set here until I can tell him that both Fraser and MacLennon feed the worms. T’would be worth me verra life an I return afore that.”

Nodding in understanding, Islaen hurried away to find Storm. She hoped that Robert’s presence and his insistence upon staying would not anger Iain.

“Ye think I cannae take care of her?” Iain growled as soon as Islaen was gone.

Robert shook his head. “Nay. Doubt of your ability isnae what brings me here. ’Tis worry. When so many swords point at one who is so dear to ye, ye want to be there e’en if ye ken weel that ye arenae needed.”

Iain relaxed and smiled faintly. “Anither sword on our side cannae hurt. Nay, nor anither pair of eyes watching the shadows.”

“T’was sore tempting to end the threat of that fool Fraser with a dirk in the night.”

Phelan laughed. “Alex was right about the roar. Phew, Iain, I ne’er saw such a display of tempers.”

Grinning, Robert nodded. “We were all ready to ride straight to Fraser and cut the dog to pieces but the women blocked the door out o’ the hall. Is Alex still here?”

“Nay, he left this morning.”

“’Tis best. I wasnae too certain I liked that mon sniffing round my sister.”

“I wasnae too certain I liked him sniffing round my wife,” Iain drawled and Robert laughed.

“Come, tell me what ye are doing, though by God’s toe-nails it seems we arenae allowed to do much.”

Discussing the danger he and Islaen faced and what little could be done about it was the last thing Iain wanted to do. He had used the excuse of needing supplies to come
to Caraidland but what he really sought was time alone with Islaen, in their chambers, naked. However, there was no way he could say that to her brother so, with an inner grimace of frustration, he entered into a rather fruitless discussion with Robert and tried very hard not to think of Islaen.

As the day wore on into the night, Iain began to wonder if he would ever get time alone with Islaen. His family soon gathered to meet this representative of Islaen’s large family. As always, they wished to hear any news Robert might have that they had not heard yet. The food was good and the company enjoyable, but it was not what he needed or wanted. He found himself watching Islaen more often than he liked and grew a little angry at the way she seemed to pull him to her despite what he thought best for both of them.

“There, ye see?” Storm murmured, leaning close to Islaen. “Iain was home early this day and did not rush ye off to bed.”

“He had no time. Robert arrived and wished to talk. Iain couldnae say, ‘Excuse me, Robert, but I really must go and bed your sister. ’Tis why I came home.’”

“Oh Islaen.”

“Look at how he stares at me and tell me that that is not what he thinks on.” When Storm looked, then blushed, Islaen asked, “What troubles ye? I have seen Tavis look at ye thus. Are ye no used to it?”

“Well, Tavis does not look at me just so.”

“Aye, there is the love to soften the lusting in his eyes. There is none of that in Iain’s look.”

Storm was not so sure of that, but decided it would probably only cause difficulty if she stated her opinion, so held her tongue. “That was not what I referred to. I know what it is,” she breathed in sudden realization. “Well, well.”

“Weel, weel, what?” Islaen pressed when Storm fell silent.

“Beneath the hunger lurks a touch of anger.”

“Aye, that is oft there,” Islaen said dismissively, and wondered if she had had enough wine as she had her goblet refilled.

“Do ye not wonder why ’tis there?”

“I assumed I had done something to annoy him.”

“Aye and I think I know what it is ye do. Ye make him want you.”

“That doesnae make much sense.”