His Lady of Castlemora(33)

'I don't wonder at it.'

'There were times when I thought... Well, you know what it's like. I  don't have to tell you.' Ashlynn squeezed her companion's arm gently.  'It means so much to know that my brother has found the right woman at  last; that I'm gaining a sister with whom I shall have so much in  common.'

Isabelle summoned a bright smile. She wasn't about to disillusion  Ashlynn by telling her the real reasons for her brother's choice of  wife.

'I'm glad too.'

'In spite of having a good and loving husband I have missed female companionship.'

'I can understand that. Men don't seem to see the world in the same way somehow.'

Ashlynn grinned. 'You're right there. Sometimes I think they might be a different species altogether.'

'It isn't just me then.'

'I do my best to exert what influence I can, but my sons are clearly  cast in the same mould as their father.' Ashlynn laid a hand on her  belly. 'I wouldn't mind at all if this child were a girl, just to even  the sides a little.'

Isabelle tried not to feel envious. 'I hope soon to follow your example and give my husband a son.' She paused. 'Many sons.'                       
       
           



       

'Of course. Why should you not?'

There was no easy way to answer that so Isabelle didn't try. 'Did you...  Was it very long after marriage before you conceived your first child?'

'Not so long. A few months only.'

The words created a feeling of cautious optimism. 'I pray that I will be so fortunate.'

'I'm sure you need have no worries on that score.'

Isabelle hoped with all her heart that she was right.

* * *

The wedding took place two days later, as planned. For Isabelle it was  bittersweet. She had the acknowledgement she sought but not the one  thing she would have prized above all else. When she looked at Ban her  heart filled with pride and longing but, she reflected sadly, this was  as much as he was prepared to grant. It did at least show that she had  his respect and, perhaps, liking, and that was better than nothing. More  than ever she was grateful for being able to look the part. She could  only hope that Ban would approve.

In fact Ban found himself staring. Dressed in a deep-blue gown  embroidered at neck and sleeve, with her auburn hair held by a circlet  of flowers, she looked at that moment more like a goddess than a mere  mortal. As he took her hand Isabelle looked up and met his gaze,  returning his smile. Very gently he squeezed her fingers. Then they  knelt and made their vows before the priest. When it was done he drew  her close and kissed her, a lingering and passionate embrace that held  in it a promise of the night to come.

Then there followed all the usual congratulations from friends and  well-wishers before they returned to the great hall for the wedding  feast. The hall had been swept and decked with flowers and leafy boughs.  For all her sister-in-law's assurances about a small-scale celebration,  it seemed that all of Glengarron was present. More than one of the  assembled crowd commented on the beauty of the bride, whose happiness  was plain to see. And the groom too looked remarkably well, seemingly  unable to take his eyes off her. Throughout the meal he plied her with  food and drink, serving her with his own hand. In truth Isabelle ate  little, being too caught up the excitement and the suddenness of it all  and too aware that she might have been Murdo's bride. The thought was  chilling.

'What is it, sweetheart?' Ban's blue eyes registered concern for he had seen that fleeting shudder.

'It was nothing.' She smiled, meeting his anxious gaze. 'A bad memory.'

'Nothing shall harm you now, Isabelle. You can let go of the past.'

'I know it.'

He carried her hand to his lips. 'We will build a future you and I.'

In his eyes she read both promise and passion. It sent a frisson down  her spine. He was her lord now. Later he would take her to his bed.  Thereafter, she must give herself to him whenever he wished it. The  thought filled her with eager anticipation. Her love-making with Ban had  stripped away all her earlier suppositions and revealed her naivety at  the same time. In a way it had empowered her too. She did have the  ability to attract a man and to arouse him and to please him, even if it  was only in bed.

Across the hall the musicians struck up a tune and Ban smiled. 'Will you dance with me, my lady?'

'Gladly.'

He took her hand and led her to the floor amid cheers of approbation.  The measure was slow and intricate; a courtly dance that kept the couple  close yet permitted only the meeting of hands. Yet every touch, every  look thrilled, for her at least. Envious looks came their way from men  and women alike but she paid no heed, having eyes only for Ban. She had  not expected him to dance so well or to move with such effortless grace.

'Where did you learn to do this?' she asked.

'Heslingfield mostly, though Iain has had some input too.'

Isabelle was genuinely astonished. 'Lord Iain?'

'He underwent his knightly training in France, where I understand the  gentler arts were taught most rigorously. He has since filled in the  gaps in my education.'

'He has done a good job then.'

'So I think.'

'The man is full of surprises, isn't he?'

'You have no idea.'

She laughed. 'It's something else you two have in common.'                       
       
           



       

'What else?' he asked.

'You are both handsome, both warriors, both brave...'

'I could listen to this all night but if I allow you to continue I fear it will turn my head permanently.'

'I cannot think your head would be so easily turned.'

'You have the power to turn heads, my lady.'

Her eyes sparkled. 'Now who is the flatterer?'

'It wasn't flattery.' He shot a glance around the room. 'Every man here would like to be in my shoes right now.'

Her cheeks flushed a little, her heart beating faster for his praise. 'There is only one man here who interests me.'

Ban's gaze locked with hers. 'I shall endeavour to retain your interest by every means in my power.'

* * *

The dancing went on into the night. Isabelle's hand was solicited by  various partners and she accompanied them to the floor for each new  measure, prepared to engage in polite conversation and show a pleasant  manner, but her smiles she kept for Ban alone. Many a man cast  appraising looks her way but if she noticed it she gave no sign. He saw  it with approval. It pleased him that other men admired his wife and he  was content to let them look. However, that was all they would ever do.  Isabelle was his. He hadn't realised until he met her that he possessed  such a jealous streak. His mind ran on ahead to the hour when they would  retire. It had felt like an age since she had shared his bed but far  from quenching desire their former love-making had only increased it,  and he found himself impatient to be alone with her and resume where  they had left off. Just thinking of the possibilities caused his body to  respond. Yet it was more than physical attraction now, he acknowledged.  His feelings for her had strengthened with time and grown complex and  multi-layered, albeit harder to identify. All he knew for sure was that  he wanted to build a future with her; sire children with her if heaven  permitted it. That part still carried an element of risk but he couldn't  regret taking it now.

* * *

Much later, after the feasting and the dancing, when the hour grew late  and night replaced blue dusk, she retired to the chamber she was to  share with her husband. There Nell had helped her to undress and comb  out her hair. Across the room the great bed waited, dressed now in fresh  linen and strewn with sweet herbs and flowers. The night was soft and  warm and through the casement she could see the moon, already high in  the heavens where a thousand stars shone. It was beautiful, a night made  for romance, for love. Isabelle bit her lip. Ban had never used that  word and never would. He had told her that long ago. She had to hope now  that she had enough love for two. He had been patient with her in so  many ways; had put his life on the line for her and he had given her the  acknowledgement she longed for. It was time to give something back, to  do all in her power to make this marriage work. Her first had been a  disaster but at least Alistair Neil had taught her a few things on the  way. Perhaps past experience could be turned to good account.

The ensuing thoughts were positively sinful. She smiled to herself,  realising then that there had been a shift in her thinking and it had  happened without her being aware of it. This was no longer just about  being able to please him in general by seeing to his household and his  comfort and being what the world would consider a dutiful wife: it was  much more specific. It was about wanting to reach the man; about  touching his heart. It would be no easy feat. What she sought was  protected by emotional armour that had been forged by grief and loss and  years of war. Even so, she had to believe it could be done, that she  could somehow find a way...