The Laird's Captive Wife(79)

Knowing the risk now of an endless male discussion about the minutiae of hunting, Ashlynn caught Jeannie’s eye and saw an answering sympathy.

‘I am sure we all look forward to some good sport tomorrow, brother. However, for now shall we have some music?’

Ashlynn recognised her cue. ‘What an excellent idea.’

At her speaking look the suggestion was picked up and endorsed by several other ladies.

Iain smiled and submitted graciously. ‘Very well. What would you have?’

Some called for music and others a song. Much to her surprise Ashlynn saw a servant hand her husband a lute and she watched him move to a stool nearby. Then he began to tune the instrument. She had not known he possessed any musical skill. Others evidently did for his acquiescence drew applause. Then he turned to Duncan.

‘Will you favour us with a song, brother?’

Another chorus of approval greeted this, intensifying as Duncan got to his feet. It seemed the audience had a song in mind for they called out their choice most emphatically. With a laugh he inclined his head in consent. Listening attentively Ashlynn discovered that he had a good voice and he sang well to general acclaim. Then Jeannie was called upon for a rendition. Her protests availed her naught and at last she capitulated. The song was a ballad as near as Ashlynn could tell for the words were in Gaelic. The voice was strangely beautiful and arresting with an elusive quality that tugged at the heart for it seemed to her to be filled with heartache and loss. Unbidden and unheeded tears sprang to her eyes. The tune held her to the end and she joined in the thunderous applause. Glancing at Ban she could see that he too had been moved.

She had been expecting Jeannie to sit down after this but Iain said something to her and, having gained her agreement, he began to play again. However, when she sang this time he joined with her. His voice was fine and strong, a perfect complement to hers and again in the sweet Gaelic tongue. Ashlynn listened in complete amazement wondering how many more unknown facets there might be to this man she had married. When they finished the applause was tumultuous. This time Jeannie did sit down and presently her brother began another tune.

On the opening bars the conversation faded and the listeners fell silent. Iain fixed his gaze on Ashlynn and began to sing, a soft and beautiful melody that was unmistakably a love song. It wasn’t necessary to understand the words to know it. In stunned surprise she listened, held by the expression in those dark eyes that spoke more than the words. She could not have looked away even if she had wanted to. With the swift thumping of her heart came the knowledge that this was much more than a song: it was a public declaration. That understanding was followed by a moment of exquisite pain in which everything around them vanished until the room contained only the two of them and the only sounds were the lute and the voice fused in that haunting expression of love and longing. Her heart acknowledged it and in that instant understood what it had tried so hard to deny.

When eventually the song ended the silence stretched out for several heartbeats before the room erupted. With one part of her consciousness Ashlynn heard the applause wash around them, but her eyes never left his. Then she saw him smile and her breath caught in her throat. Iain handed the lute to Hamish and returned to reclaim his place beside her.

‘That was beautiful,’ she said. It was the truth, like the emotion overpowering her now. ‘I did not know you could sing.’

‘Another example of my good aunt’s training,’ he replied. ‘She was ever fond of music and encouraged the pursuit in others.’

‘Did she teach you that song?’

‘No, I knew it long before I went to France. It was one of my mother’s favourites.’

‘I see.’

He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘Indeed I hope you do, lass.’

Across the room Hamish strummed a few opening chords and launched into a rollicking tune whose chorus demanded loud audience participation, and the ensuing noise precluded further conversation.

It was much later before the singing ended and some of the guests began to take their leave.

Ashlynn expected Iain to linger as was his wont but to her surprise he accompanied her up the stairs. They strolled together along the passageway until they reached his chamber. Drawing her gently inside, he shut the door. Then he turned to face her, for a moment or two regarding her in silence.

‘There is something I would give you, Ashlynn. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.’ He reached into a pocket and drew out a small square of folded cloth. ‘This is long overdue but I hope you’ll think the wait worthwhile.’

He took her hand and placed the little package in her palm. She returned him a swift glance but his face revealed nothing. Curious now, she unwrapped the gift carefully, and then drew in a sharp breath. Inside was a ring. It was made of gold and exquisitely fashioned in an intricate pattern of love knots. For a moment she stared at it in silent wonder and then looked up at him.