His Lady of Castlemora(15)

       
           



       

'I'm so sorry, my lord. I don't know what came over me. A momentary panic...'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Panic? This is not the first time you have been to bed with a man.'

'Forgive me.'

'What's to forgive?'

'Opposition to your will.'

'My will? I had rather hoped it might coincide with your own, but clearly it doesn't.'

She licked dry lips. 'Your will is mine, my lord. If you still wish  to...to consummate this bargain I will do whatever you command.'

'A tempting prospect, believe me. I can think of a lot of things I'd like to do with you.'

Her stomach roiled but she fought it, knowing that she had to retrieve  the situation somehow, anyhow. No matter what he demanded of her now she  must submit.

He sighed. 'Perhaps you're right. It is too soon; too sudden. Perhaps we  need a little time to get to know each other better, or at least for  you to become more accustomed to me.'

'My lord?' If he'd expressed a wish to fly she could not have been more  taken aback. Almost immediately she suspected a joke at her expense but  nothing in his manner indicated that he had intended it thus.

He smiled wryly. 'There is no need to force the pace now.'

'But you require a son.'

'So I do and, God willing, we'll get one, but not today I think.'

He rolled off the bed and retrieved his clothing. When he had dressed again he picked up her discarded gown and kirtle. 'Here.'

Alarm mingled with relief. It wasn't supposed to happen like this and  yet he had just put into words what she had been thinking. They did need  more time; at least she needed more time to come to terms with this  arrangement. She climbed off the bed and took the proffered garments.  Then, rather self-consciously, she donned them once more. When she had  done so, he handed her the girdle and watched her fasten it.

'That colour suits you well,' he observed. 'Of course, any gown is helped by a lovely figure.'

She felt herself redden. 'Thank you.'

To cover her embarrassment she lowered her gaze and smoothed a wrinkle  from her skirt. Ban smiled faintly and then turned away to pour some  more wine. Then he handed her a cup.

'It's a fine vintage. It seems a shame to waste it.'

Obediently she took a sip. It steadied her a little. Then guilt replaced  relief. 'I want to thank you for your forbearance. It is more than I  expected.'

'And what did you expect? To be held down and raped perhaps?'

She lowered her gaze. 'Well, yes. No. I mean I don't know what I expected.'

He was dumbfounded. Her first response had been the true one and it  raised some unwelcome implications. 'I have already told you that I have  never forced a woman.'

'But we are betrothed so it's not the same thing. Well, not exactly.'

'Isn't it?' The blue gaze locked with hers. 'It seems uncomfortably close to me.'

Uncomfortably close indeed if she associated him with the kind of men  who perpetrated crimes of violence on women. War provided the excuse.  The past five years had shown him what political expediency was prepared  to sanction: atrocities masquerading as justice; rape, mutilation and  murder committed in the name of a king's ambition. Inevitably one became  hardened in the end; learned to bury emotion. Self-preservation  necessitated it. Now it appeared that emotion wasn't as deeply buried as  he'd imagined.

'I will take nothing that is not freely given.'

'I will do my duty, my lord.'

'Aye, but not out of fear.'

'I see now that such fear was foolish.'

'I hope you do.'

'I'm sorry I have failed you.'

'Forget it. Let's just chalk it up to experience.'

'I will try to do much better in future.' She hesitated. 'Do you mean to tell my father about this disobedience?'

His cup stopped in mid-air. 'Of course not. Why the devil should I?'

There were several things she might have said in reply but she held her  peace. Ban put down his cup and took her by the shoulders.

'This is between us now, Isabelle; no one else. I want this arrangement to work. The question is, do you?'                       
       
           



       

'Yes, my lord.'

'Good. Then we are agreed.'

'I regret giving you reason to doubt it.' She made herself look at him. 'It won't happen again.'

He nodded. 'It is well.'

* * *

In fact Ban was aware that matters were far from well. That Isabelle  should be afraid to share his bed was deeply disconcerting, as was the  realisation of how much he wanted her. Taking her would have been simple  but the use of force was out. The idea was distasteful in any context  but where she was concerned it was downright repellent. Besides, it was  certainly no basis on which to build an enduring relationship. He could  only wonder what had gone before to make her so afraid. Recalling the  occasion of their first meeting he winced inwardly. He'd hardly done  himself any favours there. Even so, she was no virgin bride and  therefore no stranger to the realities of marriage. Her fears were  groundless but he'd have his work cut out to prove it. All the same he  meant to succeed. If it meant time and patience then so be it. The prize  was well worth the winning.

* * *

After she left him Isabelle retired to the bower to tidy her appearance  and ensure that no tell-tale signs of a tryst remained. A rumpled gown  and untidy hair would be enough to a discerning eye. Having made the  necessary adjustments she lingered awhile, needing time and space to  think. Events had gone so contrary to expectation that even now it was  hard to take in. The sense of her folly only increased. Procrastination  solved nothing: she had merely delayed the inevitable. Ban had been  forbearing this time but he'd made it clear that he expected her  compliance in future. Surely that wouldn't be so hard: he was gentle and  patient. What more could she ask for? Why on earth had she panicked  like that?

The passing minutes provided no clear answers. In the meantime there  were other matters requiring attention. When she had regained her  composure she quit the bower and went to the hall. As she entered she  saw her father speaking to one of the servants. He dismissed the man and  then waited for Isabelle to approach. For a moment he surveyed her  critically, his gaze quizzical.

'Is it done?'

Crossing her fingers under the folds of her skirt she nodded. 'Yes, my lord.'

'Good.' He paused. 'I pray for a happy outcome.'

'And I.'

That at least was true. It went against the grain to lie to him but  there was no way to explain what had taken place with Ban, even had she  felt so inclined.

'Succeed in this and your future is assured.' He squeezed her arm gently. 'I would see you safely settled and soon.'

'You will, my lord.'

'I hope so, but I suspect that time is running out.' As she opened her  mouth to protest he silenced her with a finger to her lips. 'It's the  truth and it must be faced. The pains in my chest occur more often now  and the effects last longer. Before I die I should like to see Lord Ban  your acknowledged husband.'

A lump formed in her throat making it harder to speak. 'He will be, and long before then.'

'I hope you're right.' He smiled wryly. 'Incidentally, I think him a better man than your last.'

'So do I.'

She thought there was no possible comparison; Ban was everything that  Alistair Neil had never been. Her behaviour this morning had been  foolish beyond belief. She vowed then and there that it would not be  repeated. All she wanted now was to forget about the past and move on.





Chapter Eight


Over the next few days, Ban used some of his time to better familiarise  himself with the layout of Castlemora, committing to memory the location  and function of its various buildings and the immediate environs. Local  knowledge was going to be essential to his plans. He also made a point  of meeting regularly with his men and listening to what they had to say.  They mixed more freely with the household servants and had also  ventured into the village nearby, and he knew they could be relied on to  keep an ear to the ground.

'Murdo and his crew are not well liked hereabouts,' said Jock. 'They've a reputation for brutality and the villagers fear them.'

'As well they should,' replied Ewan.                       
       
           



       

Inevitably the mercenaries were everywhere in evidence at Castlemora  but, although they eyed the Glengarron retainers with ill-concealed  dislike, they had offered no further insult.

'It seems that three of them raped a local lass and got her with child,'  Jock went on, 'but when the case was brought they swore blind she'd  given her consent. It was her word against theirs. When the judgement  went against her, the lass killed herself and the bairn with her.'

Ban shook his head in disgust. 'Their kind has no conscience and obeys no laws but their own, or perhaps Murdo's.'

'Him they fear, my lord, and with good reason apparently.'

'So I imagine.'

'He takes good care that their more questionable deeds occur well away  from Castlemora and that there are no witnesses. Any who speak out are  invariably punished or else they meet with an accident.'