His Lady of Castlemora(2)

Her chin lifted at once. 'I wonder then that you should wish to make her yours.'

'I have long wished it. The present circumstances change nothing, except  to work in my favour since there will be no more suitors coming calling  now.'

'Never tell me you speak out of pity, Murdo.'

'Far from it.' He smiled. 'I know the truth, you see.'

She stared at him. 'What do you mean?'

'That Alistair Neil was no man at all.'

'You have no right to say such things.'

'You don't have to pretend to me, Isabelle. 'Tis common knowledge among  the local whores: your late husband was but meagrely endowed, and that  he couldn't get a cock stand either. If you have no children the fault  is not yours.'

Had it been anyone else this vindication would have been balm to her spirit. As it was, her cheeks burned.

Murdo drew closer. 'I can give you children.'

She stiffened. The thought of intimacy with him was utterly repellent. 'It's impossible.'

'Come now, would you not prefer to be ridden by a real man for a  change?' Seeing her outraged expression he laughed softly. 'One night in  my bed and you'll forget Alistair Neil ever existed.'

'I'll never share your bed.'

If her reply had dismayed him it was not apparent for his expression did  not change save that his gaze became more intense. 'When I set myself a  goal I always achieve it.'

Despite the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine goose bumps started  along her arms, and she wanted nothing so much as to be free of his  presence.

'I regret that you will be disappointed this time.'

'You're wrong, Isabelle. This time you will be my wife.'

'That I never shall.' With that she turned to leave, but a strong hand on her arm prevented it.

'I never take no for an answer,' he replied. 'You should know that well enough by now.'

She tested the hold but it didn't alter. 'Let go of me, Murdo.'

'You escaped me once before but I'll not let it happen again.'

The tone was casual but its implications were not. Her heart thumped  unpleasantly hard but she forced herself to meet his gaze. 'You forget  yourself. You may have a trusted position in this household, but it does  not give you the right thus to presume.'

'Not yet perhaps,' he replied, 'but know this: I intend to have a husband's rights over you soon enough.'

That quiet assertion snapped the last fragile strand of her self-control. 'Never!'

Tearing herself free of his hold she turned on her heel and ran off  through the trees. He watched but made no attempt to stop her.

'Aye, run from me, Isabelle,' he murmured. 'You won't escape.'





Chapter One


Three months later

Isabelle urged the horse to a canter, wanting only to put space between  herself and Castlemora for a while. In theory she ought not to ride out  alone but Murdo and her brother had gone out hunting earlier so there  was no one to prevent her. All the same, freedom was going to be  short-lived. Her father might have decided to bide his time over the  Neils, but he had not been tardy in seeking another husband for her...

'Glengarron is an old ally. Marriage will serve to strengthen the tie.'

Her stomach turned over. Somehow she managed to control her voice.  'Forgive me, but I thought the Laird of Glengarron was already married.'                       
       
           



       

'So he is. I was speaking of his brother-in-law, Lord Ban.'

'I see.'

'He's a Sassenach but that canna be helped.'

'A Sassenach?'

'It's not ideal, I admit. On the plus side he's a respected warrior with  strong family connections, but, having no land, he canna be so  particular in his choice of a bride.'

Her jaw tightened. 'Nor I so particular in my choice of a husband?'

'You canna afford to be choosy now.'

'Perhaps it is the Sassenach thane who will be choosy.'

'Why should he be?' He eyed her appraisingly. 'You've looks enough and  the Graham blood to boot. No doubt some small financial inducement could  be found as well. It should be enough.'

With an effort she held fury in check. 'And if it isn't?'

'There's always a convent.'

'I have no vocation for the religious life.'

He regarded her steadily. 'Murdo looks at you a good deal. You could do worse.'

'I hardly think so.'

'In that case I advise you to put on your finest gown and make yourself agreeable when Lord Ban arrives.'

Her mouth dried. 'When is he expected?'

'Very soon now. See to it that all necessary preparations are made to welcome him.'

The recollection of that conversation filled Isabelle with roiling  anger. Nevertheless, she didn't dare to disobey. Castlemora was ready to  receive the guest. Meanwhile, she needed time alone to gather her  composure and ready herself to face what was coming. For that she  required some peace and quiet.

Holding her mount to a steady pace she followed the burn until it  widened out into a pool beneath a stand of trees. Although it was just  within the bounds of Castlemora land it was a secluded place and,  ordinarily, she would not have come here alone. If Murdo ever found out,  the fat would be in the fire. Over the years the master-at-arms had  evolved a highly efficient system of intelligence. Almost nothing  happened at Castlemora without him knowing. The hunt was a fortunate  distraction.

Isabelle dismounted and tethered her horse. The sun was high now and the  day hot. Her clothing was sticking to her back and the water looked  inviting. She glanced around but the land was still; there was no sign  of human presence as far as the eye could see. The temptation grew  stronger. It ought to be safe enough for a while at least.

* * *

Ban smiled and leaned back against the tree, glad to be out of the  saddle for a while. He and his companions had been riding since early  morning, albeit at an easy pace to spare the horses. Their mounts were  dozing in the shade while the men, having partaken of bread and cheese  and slabs of dried meat, stretched out awhile at their ease. A little  way off among the trees Davy stood watch. For all that the country  seemed peaceful it never paid to be complacent. Ban had learned that  through long experience. For five years he had ridden with Black Iain of  Glengarron, watching, learning, training, his body growing hard and  lean and strong, his mind sharp and focused. The stripling youth who had  been saved after the destruction of Heslingfield was long gone and in  his place the man, now a respected warrior in his own right. Being  Iain's brother-in-law had won him no favours. Ban was expected to prove  himself like all the rest. He applied himself wholeheartedly, for by  concentrating on the new life he could forget the old. Here the past  mattered not. He was judged by what he did now. Though he was treated  with civility enough by his companions he knew they watched him, judged  him. It had been a matter of pride to be found worthy, to win their  trust and acceptance.

He glanced across at his companions: Ewan, Jock and Davy, good men all,  men he trusted at his back in a fight. They would stand by him as he  would by them. They had been through enough adventures together to know  it. Not that he expected to do any fighting in the near future.  Delivering some horses to an old friend was hardly likely to be fraught  with peril. He did it as a favour to Iain. Of the other, more personal,  matter he had said nothing to his men. After all, he had not positively  decided yet; could not decide until he knew more. A few days at  Castlemora would doubtless clarify matters.                       
       
           



       

Unbidden his mind returned to the conversation a week earlier. He was  playing in the courtyard with his young nephews when Iain appeared on  the scene. For a while Iain watched the boisterous game, an indulgent  smile hovering on his lips. When eventually they stopped for breath he  dismissed the two children with the intelligence that he wanted private  speech with their uncle.

'Is anything wrong?' asked Ban when the youngsters had gone.

'No, 'twas merely that I would ask a favour.'

'What kind of favour?'

'I need someone to deliver some horses to Castlemora. Archibald Graham  asked me for some good breeding stock a while ago. I told him I'd look  out for some likely animals.'

'The brood mares from Jarrow by any chance?'

'The same.'

Ban nodded. They were fine animals. However, it wasn't a challenging  undertaking and any of Iain's men could have delivered them, so why was  he being singled out for the task? As so often he sensed there was more  here than appeared on the surface.

'Would you mind?' Iain's tone was casual. That more than anything else  set off alarms in Ban's brain and he couldn't help but smile.

'Of course not.' The assertion was sincere. Castlemora was no more than  two days' ride and the weather fine. Besides, he owed his brother-in-law  a great deal and was glad to return a favour when he could.

'Good.'

Ban waited certain now that there must be more to come. He was right, though he could never have guessed its import.

'The journey may be made to serve two ends,' Iain continued. 'Archibald  Graham is an old friend and ally but, sadly, his health is failing.'