His Lady of Castlemora(28)

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.