Highland Vow (15 page)

“Are ye afraid your lover will catch us together?” she said, her voice holding a tempered sharpness.

“Isabel,” Cormac began. Then he paused to fight a strong sense of resentment, for he knew now that Isabel had been no virgin when they had first lain together. So, too, had she bedded down with four husbands and, if rumor was to believed, a few lovers as well. She had no right to condemn him, especially when they were more often apart than together.

Then he sought for the understanding he had always felt before. Isabel had not chosen any of her husbands and he had no proof that she had taken any lovers. The trials they had suffered through were not of her making. Cormac could sympathize, but suddenly, he knew that he would not allow her to sharpen her tongue on Elspeth, nor demean what he and Elspeth shared. It was, perhaps, time for Isabel to return a little of the vast amount of understanding he had always shown her.

“Elspeth isnae your concern,” he said cooly, but stroked the back of her hand a gentle caress intended to soften the harshness of his words.

“How can ye say that, my love?”

He shrugged. “I doubt I can make ye understand. Elspeth has saved my life not once, but twice. I owe her and her clan more than I can e’er repay. She and I are friends.” He was a little surprised to realize that he meant that wholeheartedly. “’Tis all ye need to ken.”

Friends?
Isabel thought. She had the feeling Cormac would never call her a friend. That meant that Elspeth already held a part of Cormac she herself had never reached, and
that enraged Isabel. He was slipping away from her. She could feel it, hear it in the coolness of his voice. Isabel convulsively tightened her grip upon his hand, ignoring the frown he sent her way.

“I am sorry,” she said with what she prayed was an appropriate contriteness. “I fear her presence at your side has preyed upon my mind. E’er since I saw her, I have feared that she would take ye away from me. ’Tis why I pushed ye away at first, thought to make ye wait. ’Twas naught but jealousy speaking.”

Her evident unhappiness plucked at his guilt, although it was neither as strong nor as swift to arrive as he felt it ought to be. This was the woman he had pledged himself to, the woman he might well be marrying very soon. There should be no secrets between them and yet he felt no urge to confess or apologize.

He hugged her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she sat down on the bed and gently pressed herself against his chest. Despite not having held her for almost a year, he felt not even the faintest flicker of lust. He told himself it was because she was unhappy, needed soothing not seducing, but he did not really believe himself.

“Ye have no cause to be jealous,” he lied, another first with Isabel that did not cause him as much unease as it ought to.

“I could not bear to lose you, Cormac.”

“That can ne’er happen, Isabel. We are pledged.”

“I ken that I have no right to hold fast to you. I should release ye from that vow we made when we were nay more than bairns. Selfishly, I dinnae, and I force ye to be alone. ’Tis just that I need ye so. Ye are the only good thing in my sad life, my only source of joy. Without your love to keep me strong, I would simply wither and die. But I must nay condemn ye to sharing my misery.”

Her words were spoken in a soft, tremulous voice, her sadness clear to hear. Cormac knew he should immediately swear his devotion, repeat his pledge, and then make love to her. Yet he suddenly felt as if they were acting out some strange, almost morbid play. He grew and changed, Isabel grew and changed, husbands and lovers came and went, yet this remained the same. Isabel bemoaned her selfishness and hinted at setting him free, and he assured her that he wished only to be with her. At the moment, he felt no inclination to do that, and that both astonished and dismayed him.

For ten long years he had faithfully uttered the words she now waited for. They should come easily yet they remained locked inside of him. He felt angry over her demands. Had he not proven his devotion time and time again over the last ten years? Was he not here, having raced to her side yet again? And despite Elspeth’s place in his life, had he not immediately sent word to Isabel that he had arrived and meekly accepted her demand that he wait to be called? How much more assurance could the woman need?

Something was seriously wrong. Something had changed. Cormac felt none of the biting hunger he had always felt upon seeing Isabel. He could not even feel that the lack of lust was due solely to having spent himself in Elspeth’s arms but hours ago, yet it made a reasonable excuse and he clutched at it. A little voice in his head was advising him to look more closely, to open his eyes and see that he was free of Isabel, even hinting that there were ways to break his pledge yet keep his honor, but he ruthlessly silenced it.

Cormac refused to accept that he had wasted ten years of his life or, far worse, had played the faithful fool for that long. He did not want to think that he had mistakenly locked himself into a vow he could not, would not break, but would always regret. It was
just that he was tired, that he had thoroughly sated himself in Elspeth’s soft arms. The infatuation he suffered needed time to fade. Soon all of the old feelings Isabel had always stirred in him would return. It would all be all right soon. He just had to wait a little while.

“Cormac?” Isabel pressed when he continued to sit there, silent and brooding.

She kissed the hollow near his ear, something she knew he really liked. Isabel was stunned when she felt him tense beneath the touch of her lips. He did not actually move away, but she felt him retreat in some way. Matters were far, far worse than she had thought. Then she heard a faint noise near the door, the soft rustle of a skirt across a rush-strewn floor. It could be a maid, but instinct told Isabel that it was Elspeth Murray. She might have trouble pulling Cormac back to her side, but it could be done in time. It could be done a lot quicker if little Elspeth Murray was gone, and that was something Isabel felt she could do. All she needed was a few minutes before Cormac saw that Elspeth had returned. She placed her hands on Cormac’s cheeks and pulled his mouth down to hers, hiding the fury she felt when he was slow to return her fierce kiss.

“Ah, Cormac, my love,” she whispered, though loud enough to be heard by the person near the door, “how I have longed for you.” Keeping her hands on his cheeks, she held him facing her, although she noticed that his gaze wandered a little. “There is still a fire between us.”

He had felt none, but heard himself say, “Aye, Isabel. There has e’er been that.” Cormac told himself it was not a complete lie, for once he was himself again, he felt sure that fire would return.

Knowing it was going to be difficult to pull ardent confessions from him at the moment, Isabel struggled to turn their discussion in the direction she needed it to go. If she asked just the right questions or phrased her words in just the right way, she could pull free words that could easily sound ardent and full of love. Cormac did not actually have to declare his heart was hers and hers alone, but Isabel felt sure she could make it sound very much as if he did. She fought the urge to turn and assure herself that the one she wished to overhear all of this was actually standing there.

“After so many years, so many shared nights, surely ye cannae cast me aside like some weel-gnawed bone?” she said.

“Nay, of course not,” Cormac began, irritated that he would have to remind her yet again that he was not a man to break his word.

“Oh, ye have made me so happy. I was so afraid, Cormac.”

“There is nay a need to fear, sweeting,” Cormac said as he stroked her hair. “I am here for ye, as always. Just as I promised.”

“I can always depend upon your love, cannae I?”

“Of course.”

Cormac spoke absently, mostly out of habit. This was what he always did. This was what he had come here for. He paid little attention to what she said, however, for his thoughts were on the kiss they had just shared. It had been pleasant, but little else, and he began to think the cause was far more than weariness and well-sated passion. He had also found himself worrying that he could be caught kissing Isabel, that Elspeth could discover them together. In fact, he wanted Isabel to go away, and since he had been dreaming of this reunion for months, that made no sense at all. He decided to obey that urge, however. He would tell her whatever was needed to soothe her and get her to leave.
Then he would be able to do some clear thinking.

“I am so glad ye came to see me again, my love,” Isabel said, brushing her lips over his. “I believe that there is hope for us this time, that finally we may be able to be together as we have always wished to be. Are ye nay happy?”

“Of course, Isabel. How could I not be? Is it nay what I have sought for ten long years?” So why did he suddenly feel so trapped? he asked himself and found no answer. “But mayhap ye should leave here ere we are discovered.”

“Oh, I care not,” she declared with what she felt was an admirable display of passion. “I am done with hiding how I feel about you, how we feel about each other. ’Tis past time we grabbed hold of what we crave and cast aside all propriety and fear of danger. We should herald our love from the North Sea to the Thames.”

Cormac barely stopped himself from shouting,
God nay!
He should be ecstatic that Isabel was finally brave enough to freely proclaim her love, but all he could think of was that Elspeth would hear and be hurt. Yet again he thought that something strange was happening and he desperately needed to be alone to figure it all out.

“I am glad, Isabel, and often have I wished we could do just that. Howbeit, I believe a little caution would be wise just now,” he said gently. Then he noticed that she looked ready to weep and hurriedly kissed her. “We are older now, too wise to indulge in such headiness, such rash actions. Let us proceed with just a little discretion.”

“Ah, ye need to speak with your whore. I understand and will wait. But nay for long, my love.”

Before Cormac could reprimand her for her harsh words about Elspeth, a chillingly familiar, husky voice drawled, “Why wait? Let us clear the board here and now.” And Cormac felt as if something inside him needed to scream aloud in panic and frustration.

Elspeth felt as if she would shatter. Pain throbbed through her body with each beat of her heart. She was not exactly sure what caused her the most pain: the sight of Cormac and Isabel embracing or Cormac’s words. Elspeth decided it was probably the latter, for there rang the death knell for all of her hopes and dreams. She had lost her gamble.

The need for some act of violence, however small, was so strong that Elspeth trembled with it. She wanted to yank Isabel away from Cormac. She wanted to slap the woman numb for robbing her and Cormac of any chance of happiness. She wanted to beat Cormac black-and-blue, preferably with a large blunt object, for being such a blind fool. It would do no good, however. Elspeth knew that, and so she stood clutching the edge of the door until the urge had all but passed.

“Elspeth,” Cormac began, easing free of Isabel’s hold, but he could think of nothing to say. “How long have ye been there?”

“Long enough,” Elspeth replied.

Too long
, Cormac thought. The pale, tight look on her face told him that she had probably heard everything he and Isabel had said to each other. He had the urge to rush to her side and loudly declare it all lies, to try to take back every word he had just said. Anything to take the look of pain from her beautiful eyes. He could not do that to Isabel, however. She did not deserve to be hurt any more than Elspeth did. And just now, he was not exactly sure that he had lied to Isabel. He needed time to search his own heart and he could see that he was not going to be given that luxury.

“Elspeth, we need to talk,” he said, glancing only briefly at Isabel as she stood up.

“I dinnae believe we have anything to say to each other,” Elspeth said.

“Of course ye do, child,” Isabel said, taking a moment to smooth her gown, silently implying that she and Cormac had been ardent enough to require such fussy tidying. “I will leave ye to talk.” She touched a kiss to Cormac’s mouth, inwardly cursing his blatant distraction. “Send me word later, my love. When ye are free. Then we can meet again.”

It was not easy, but Elspeth resisted the temptation to trip Isabel as the woman swept by her. The look of smug triumph upon Isabel’s perfect features made Elspeth want to scream. Isabel had won. They both knew it. She did not need to gloat.

And just what had Isabel won? Elspeth thought as she looked back at Cormac. Anger surged to the fore in her heart, briefly pushing aside her hurt, and she clung to it He was a blind fool. She was willing to give him everything, all that any mon could want, and yet he clung to a woman who only toyed with him. He clung to his vow out of a sense of honor, and Isabel used it to keep him captive. Elspeth wondered when she had become a fool, too. It was the only explanation for her trying so hard to win a man who could not see beyond a pretty face, for her loving a man who would probably still believe Isabel a sweet victim even if he caught her standing over her husband’s body, a bloodied dagger in her soft white hand. And it was his blindness that made him honor a vow to a woman who would not know honor it fell on her.

Cormac cursed his weakness as he swung his legs over the side of the bed only to discover he could not stand up without wavering slightly. He should not have pushed himself by walking after having exerted himself so delightfully last night. It would be better if he could stand firm now, could move quickly, and if needed, could hold firmly to Elspeth. Instead, he was going to have to depend upon the strength of his words and he had little confidence in his ability to soothe her fury. He was distracted from planning his
first statements when Elspeth began to gather up her things.

“What are ye doing?” he demanded.

“Leaving,” she replied as she shoved her few possessions into her small sack.

“We need to talk, Elspeth.”

“About what?”

“About what ye saw or heard here.”

“I saw and heard two old lovers renewing their affair. I saw that ye cannae break a vow, no matter how old and no matter how much matters have changed for both of ye. What else was I supposed to see?”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I wasnae renewing the affair with Isabel.”

“Nay?” Elspeth shoved the last of her things in her bag, then tied it shut, very tightly, as she envisioned the top of her bag as Cormac’s neck. “She had her tongue down your throat because she was so glad ye were saying fare-thee-weel, did she?”

“Ye kenned that I was coming here to meet with her.”

“Aye, I did. ’Tis clear that I am a great fool for thinking what happened between us might have caused a wee change or two in your plans. Weel, it appears your lady love is right and ’tis time to say fareweel to your whore.”

“Isabel spoke unkindly,” he began.

“Dinnae apologize for her. Aye, she spoke unkindly, but dinnae try to say that she didnae mean it. She did.”

“She ne’er would have spoken so crudely if she had kenned that ye might hear it.”

Elspeth wondered how an otherwise intelligent man could be so utterly stupid. “She kenned I would hear it, for she kenned that I was standing there.” She settled Alan in his sling, then coaxed Muddy into his bag.

“Nay.” He stopped when she looked at him with disgust. “Elspeth, ye must try to understand. I am pledged to her. Isabel has had a verra hard, unhappy life. She needs me.”

It happened before she could grasp control of herself. Elspeth hit him with her bag—twice. For a moment she was horrified that she had struck a wounded man. Then he straightened up, rubbed his head, and glared at her. When she saw that she had not really hurt him, she had to forcibly quell the urge to do it again. She wanted to hurt him, and since she could not do it emotionally, she ached to do it physically. It was past time to leave. Denied its usual release, the violence she felt found its way into the angry words she began to spit out at him.

“Aye, poor, wee, tormented Isabel,” she sneered. “Fine. Run to her as ye have done for so long, though curse me if I can see what ye have gained for your ten years of martyrdom. Most men would have considered the vows made no longer valid after her first marriage, let alone her fourth.”

“Marriages that were forced upon her. ’Tisnae her fault that we must be apart so often. I am sorry if ye feel that I have used ye unfairly.”

“Of course ye have.”

“Weel, I didnae notice ye crying nay too verra often,” he snapped, furious at himself for making such a mess of things and at her for the sharp words that cut him to the bone.

“And I wasnae referring to all the rutting we have been indulging in. The unfairness comes from the fact that ye ne’er once considered changing your course. Ye
ne’er even tried to take more from me than lust or to give me more than that. I was ne’er more than a pair of conveniently spread thighs and ye ne’er gave me the chance to be more.”

“I ne’er thought ye would wish to be more,” he whispered, and he knew that was not the complete truth.

“Then ye are an even greater fool than I thought ye were. Or a liar.” She knew her smile had a nasty twist to it when she saw him flush. “Aye, for a while I do believe I was as great a fool as ye are. I chased after something I could ne’er have. My only consolation is that, unlike yourself, I have the wit to see that I but waste my time.”

Cormac stood up and reached for her. “Stay awhile, Elspeth, at least long enough to regain some calm.”

“Dinnae touch me,” she snapped, slapping his hand away. “Stay? I think not. I havenae the stomach to watch ye try to decide what to do with me whilst ye trail after Isabel. Ye may not think it, but I do have some pride. I willnae allow ye to trample it any more than ye already have. I ken I said ye need make me no promises, but that doesnae mean ye need nay respect me, either. Ye have made your choice.”

“Ye cannae expect a mon to cast aside ten years with a woman in but a day or two. Nay, not when there is a pledge that was made.”

“Nay? I
loved
ye. I gave ye all a woman can give a mon. I tossed my pride, my chastity, and my heart at your feet, and I was willing, nay, eager to give ye whate’er else I could if ye had but asked.” Her anger grew as she spoke and her pain began to slowly break free of the tight bonds she had placed upon it, adding a soft agony to her voice. “But I wonder if ye ken what love is?
I
would ne’er have left ye.
I
would have had to be dragged, chained and screaming, to stand before the altar with another mon.
I
would have been at your side whilst ye fled the Douglases and would have turned o’er every rock to find the real killer.
I
would have cried your innocence loudly from one end of Scotland to the other. Love is like that. ’Tis nay meekly going from one husband to another nor summoning ye only when trouble brews.

“Fine. Ye have chosen the bed ye wish to lie in. Ye will have your precious honor. For all I ache and rage, I pray that we are all wrong about Isabel, that she is indeed the poor, sweet madonna ye think she is. But I believe ye will find it a rocky bed. Mayhap ye will think on me, on all I offered ye, and all ye treated so callously, all ye tossed aside. For tossed it aside ye have, and ’twill take more than ye may have to offer to e’er pick it up again. Aye, heed this, my bonny lover: If ye decide in my favor after I am gone, ’twill take more than pretty smiles and fair words to make me want to risk this agony a second time. If ye do decide ’tis me ye want, ye are going to have to crawl—just as ye have crawled to Isabel for ten, long, wasted years.”

She noticed he looked stunned, his eyes wide and his face pale. Elspeth shook her head and left, quietly shutting the door behind her. The click of the latch sounded so final she felt it deep in her soul. Forcing herself to be calm, she left the inn. It did not surprise her to find Isabel waiting for her just outside of the inn door.

“Ye didnae go far,” Elspeth said, trying to hide her intense dislike of the woman.

“I just wanted to see that ye do—go far, that is.” Isabel smiled faintly.

“Ye do like to gloat when ye win, dinnae ye? ’Tis most unbecoming.”

Isabel straightened up and glared at her. “Aye, I have won. ’Tis glad I am that ye have the sense to see that and leave. Some women might try to fight for the mon they
wanted.”

“And ye think I havenae? I have fought verra hard indeed. Still, ’tis difficult to o’ercome ten years of enslavement. Ten years of believing oneself in love with a woman who ne’er really existed. Ten years of honoring a vow he ne’er should have made in the first place. Aye, ye may smile. Ye have won the right to keep toying with the poor, blind fool. For how long though? Ye play a vicious and chancy game, mistress. Cormac is the only one who thinks ye naught but some poor, sweet lass forced to bow to her greedy family’s will. At the moment, I believe his wretched sense of honor is all that holds him to you. His kinsmen see ye for what ye are. So do his friends. So does most everyone else. Ye dinnae hide what ye are before others and one day ye willnae be able to hide what ye are before Cormac, either.”

“And ye think he will then run back to you?”

Elspeth shrugged. “He may. It matters not. He will run from ye and ye best hope he does, too. After all, he may just decide to make ye pay for your deceits and I surely dinnae envy ye facing a mon who kens ye have made a complete fool out of him for most of his adult life.”

“Cormac loves me. He has always loved me. Ye couldnae take that away and it eats at ye, doesnae it?”

“Mayhap. Although I think ye already wonder if ’tis still love or merely a mon unable to break his word. And although it appears that he has chosen you, I willnae disappear as completely as ye wish. Nay, mistress, I am in his blood, in his memory, and a wee bit in his heart. Oh, aye, I ken weel that he will remember me and ye will ne’er be sure when my memory intrudes or why or if he is comparing ye with me.”

Isabel’s laugh was short and cold. “And ye think ye could possibly win in such a comparison?”

“Aye, for ye see, I gave him the one thing ye ne’er have, the one thing ye probably cannae give anyone.”

“If ye think Cormac and I have loved chastely, then ye are indeed a fool.”

“I speak not of passion, mistress, but of love. I loved him completely, without demands, without restraint. He kens I loved him, for I told him so. And there is where ye will fail to conquer me, for ye have ne’er loved him. For ten years ye have spat on a gift many women would kill for. Ye have abused his honor and his love. And that, mistress, is why I despise ye and always will. That is why I believe ye are an even greater fool than poor Cormac.” Elspeth could tell by the cold, scornful look upon Isabel’s face that the woman simply did not understand.

“A verra pretty speech,” drawled Isabel, her blue eyes narrowed in dislike, “but I believe ye were just leaving?”

“Aye, Payton waits for me. I believe ye ken my cousin, Sir Payton Murray?”

It was undoubtedly a little mean-spirited of her, but Elspeth took great delight in the way Isabel’s eyes widened and the woman paled slightly. Isabel spread her charms so far and wide, Elspeth was very surprised that Cormac had not been deafened by the whispers of what a whore the woman was. But, she thought sadly, he probably ignored or denied them as he did so much else about the woman. Elspeth knew the moment the woman realized that her little indiscretion was not going to be whispered into Cormac’s ear, and she nearly rolled her eyes in disgust when Isabel began to look decidedly eager.

“Is Payton staying at court?” Isabel asked, then gave Elspeth a smug look. “He is a
verra good lover.”

“Tsk, Isabel. Ye truly should be a wee bit more discreet, a wee bit less sexually gluttonous. If ye dinnae start keeping your white thighs pressed together more often, there isnae going to be a mon left in Scotland whom Cormac can look in the eyes.”

Ignoring Isabel’s hissed curse, Elspeth walked away. Losing to such a woman made her feel ill, but she fought to walk away straight and proud. Although she did not possess the skill to hide her pain from Isabel’s keen eyes, she wanted to leave the woman with the impression that Elspeth Murray would not suffer for long.

As she approached Payton, he stood up, took one long look at her, and then held out his arms. Elspeth did not hesitate to accept his hug, but she only allowed herself a small taste of his sympathy. Too much and she would be weeping as loud as a milk-starved bairn.