Highland Wedding (14 page)

“I think ye have drunk too much wine to think clear. We agree that Iain wishes to keep his heart locked away?”

“Aye.”

“Well, he wants you. He mayhaps wants you far more than he wishes to. So, he comes to you because he is unable to stay away but with a man’s twisted logic he blames ye for that. Aye, he most like accuses ye of bewitching him.”

“Because he wants a lass?”

“Not just any lass but ye, his wife, the one he tries to hold at a distance.”

“Weel, if ’tis true, aye, that would annoy him. It could also just be lusting.”

“An it was just lusting, he would not be so particular. Nay, nor would he find aught in it to be annoyed about.”

“I ken what ye are saying, Storm, but I am thinking t’would be best an I didnae think on it. ’Tis the sort of thinking that could bring me some pain. Ye could be wrong,
ye ken. He could just be feeling in a black mood but nay black enough to still the lusts that brought him home. Nay, ’tis best for me an I just wait, wait for more than a look in his eyes and a hearty tumble atween the sheets. Aye, that be the supplies he has come for.”

“Islaen, ye sound a little bitter.”

“Och, weel, I do get so now and again. ’Tis naught and passes quickly.”

“I am glad. It may not seem as if ye have much now, and how well I know the pain of holding back all the love ye ache to give the fool who does not want it, but t’will change. I am certain of it. All I felt I had from Tavis in the beginning was his lust. Many times he hurt me because he did not want to love me. I too tasted the bitterness and anger that brings, but I ne’er stopped loving him. When I was with him, I gave him all I could save the words. That is what ye must do. Tavis had his scars too, deep bitter ones, but they healed. I am certain that Iain’s will too.”

“Weel, I just hope that when they do heal ’tis me he reaches for.”

At the very first chance that came his way, Iain caught hold of Islaen and hurried her off to their chambers. He ached with wanting and did not really care if anyone guessed exactly why he had hurried his wife out of the hall. However, he could not fully repress a grin over the way Islaen blushed as he towed her along to their chambers.

“Iain,” Islaen gasped as they entered their chambers and he sent a dozing Meg scurrying out by just one fierce glance. “Poor Meg.”

“She best get accustomed to it. God’s teeth, woman,” he growled as he tumbled her onto the bed, “I have sat for what seems like a lifetime just thinking about ye under me, naked and aching as badly as I am.”

“Ah, is that why ye have been sending me such black looks.”

Even as her passion was stirred she was a little amazed at the speed with which he disrobed them. She was sure she would find a tear or two in her clothing in the morning. It was also a little surprising that such haste would arouse her. Islaen suspected that his powerful need invaded her body too.

“The black looks were because ye werenae trying too verra hard to creep away with me.” He sighed with near relief when the last of their clothing was tossed aside and their flesh met. “Och, lass, this is what I needed,” he murmured as he pressed his body close to hers, savoring the feel of her warm soft skin.

“Only this?” she purred as she ran her hands over his back.

“Nay, ye greedy wench,” he growled just before kissing her hungrily.

As Islaen returned his kiss with a hunger that was swiftly equalling his she mused that, if passion was all Iain was going to give her, he was certainly giving her the best. She knew she had nothing to compare it with, but she was certain that no other man could make her feel as good, make her soar as high. The way he could stir her had to be unique.

She cried out softly as his lips touched her breasts. Although she would have thought it impossible, she seemed more sensitive to his touch. When he began to suckle with a gentle greed, she nearly grew frantic with the desire flowing through her. She was almost relieved when his kisses moved from there to caress her abdomen, then her thighs.

That sense of near calm, when she sought to gain some control over her passion, faded instantly when he kissed the bright curls that adorned her womanhood. She went still with shock, then tried to move away. Although she felt no qualms about caressing him so intimately, she was not sure it was a caress that was meant to be so fully returned,
nor that she wanted it to be despite what her body was beginning to tell her. Her attempt to draw away was easily thwarted by Iain.

“Be still, dearling. Ye will like it as much as I do, I promise ye.”

With a few strokes of his tongue he filled that promise. All resistance Islaen had felt fell away, passion smothering her modesty. She made no further attempt to elude the intimacy until she felt her desire about to crest. Even as she called his name he was over her, joining their bodies almost roughly. She clung to him with near desperation, as they sought and found passion’s goal together.

Once her mind began to clear of desire’s haze, Islaen no longer felt so sanguine about it. She was sorely embarrassed by the wantonness she had displayed. It was a little difficult to face him after he had caressed her so intimately. When he eased away from her, she tried to roll out of his reach but he laughed softly and pulled her close.

“Such modesty from a woman who has tasted every inch of me,” he murmured and kissed the top of her head when she pressed her face against his chest.

“Weel, that is different,” she mumbled and wondered if that sounded as foolish to him as it did to her.

“Nay and weel ye ken it.” He combed his fingers through her thick hair. “I thought on it this past fortnight.”

“Thought on it?”

“Aye, thought on it often, wondering why I had been so slow to enjoy that pleasure with you. I was certain t’would be nectar and I was right. Ne’er have I tasted such sweetness,” he whispered, then laughed huskily when she groaned softly, clearly embarrassed by such direct talk. “Islaen?” he asked after a moment of companionable silence.

“Aye?”

“Were ye ready?” he asked hesitantly, thinking upon the swiftness with which he had bedded her.

‘Was I ready?’ she mused incredulously. ‘Surely he can tell such things? How much more ready does he want me? I near to impaled myself upon him in my greed for him.’ Then she grimaced, suddenly realizing that he referred to the sponges she was supposed to be wearing and wondered idly what had prompted him to ask when he had not done so since their wedding night.

“Aye, I was ready soon after ye arrived,” she replied and felt his sigh of relief and was both angered and hurt by it.

It was an effort to keep her hand from drifting to her stomach. There now rested the cure for Iain’s fears. She would present him with a healthy child and rise unharmed from her childbed. Islaen just prayed that God would grant her that.

Reaching out, Islaen’s hand met only cold linen. She sighed, then hurriedly moved to get her chamberpot as her stomach rolled and heaved. Weak but no longer nauseous, she hurried to clean up. With a cold compress held to her forehead she crawled back into bed for a moment’s rest and decided it was probably for the best that Iain left her side so early in the morning. Men could be slow to guess that a woman was with child, but she suspected even the slowest of them would begin to suspect when the woman emptied her belly every morning.

Still, she mused, it was disheartening to find him gone. She was lost in thought on that problem when she suddenly realized someone had entered the room. Expecting Meg she was startled to find Storm at her side.

“Meg was feeling a little poorly so I came to see if ye needed anything. Are ye feeling poorly too?”

“Just a headache.”

“Ah, they are a nuisance. Let me freshen that compress for you.”

It was not until Storm had stepped behind the screen placed before the chamberpot and washing utensils that Islaen realized she had erred. She winced when she heard Storm gasp softly. When Storm reappeared, Islaen did not really need to look to know that the woman had found the sponges. They were left out for Iain’s benefit. She was, however, discomforted by the anger upon Storm’s face. For a moment Islaen cursed Iain. It was, after all, his fault that she found herself in such an uncomfortable situation. Islaen knew that she could no longer keep the truth from Storm and hoped that the woman would understand as well as help her keep her secrets.

“Islaen, I would ne’er have thought this of you. I find it hard to believe e’en now though I hold the proof. Is this why you can say you do not fear childbirth, because ye know you are safe from that? How does this help Iain?”

“Come and sit down, Storm. ’Tis a long and complicated tale.”

Hesitantly Storm did so after putting the sponge back and handing Islaen the compress. “I hope ’tis one to ease my temper. We are friends and I wish us to stay so, yet I love Iain as my own brother and feel as if this is a betrayal of him.”

“Iain was the one who wanted the sponges used. He insisted upon it.”

“Oh, but, well, that did not mean ye had to.”

“I had to or he would not share my bed.” Being as discreet as possible, Islaen told Storm of the wedding eve and the wedding night.

“He obviously feels damning your soul is better than risking your life upon a childbed,” Storm said crossly.

“So ye feel ’tis a mortal sin too.”

“Aye, I also feel ’tis a sin against you. I will not believe you if ye tell me ye do not wish to bear his children.”

“I would not mouth such a lie though I fear I am not clear of the sin of lying. He gave me no choice, Storm.”

“I know and I do not think he realizes how cruel that is. He thinks only to protect you. Oh, this is a disaster. How can ye show Iain that not every woman need die upon a childbed, that ye can do it, if he forces you to use those things?”

“By not using them,” Islaen said quietly and smiled faintly when Storm’s eyes slowly widened. “I used them once on our wedding night. That was enough to tell me that
he doesnae really notice their presence, though it puzzles me that he doesnae.”

“His passion runs too hot, Islaen. He notices little save the sating of it, I wager. Ah, poor Islaen, he forces you to deceive him and I can tell that that pains you. I should dearly hate to be caught in such a snare.”

“Something else pains me and that is that I must ask ye to keep my deception a secret, to share my lie.”

“Of course I will.”

“Ye agree most readily.”

“Aye. Ye do intend to tell him yourself eventually, do ye not?”

“Aye, when the bairn comes.”

“It will.”

“I ken it will.” Islaen grinned. “In about six months, mayhaps seven. ’Tis hard to tell exactly.”

“So quickly.”

“Nay as quick as I should have liked. I wished for it to be blamed upon the first night we laid together.”

“The sponges are not without fault. I use them and was using them when I found myself carrying Blythe.”

“Ah, I had wondered. She is so close in age to Moran. Barely a year younger. I can see their use in such control. In truth, I begin to think my mother made use of them and Meg agrees. We are nearly all twa years apart in my family. I mean to do that.”

“Good. I had thought to speak to ye about it. Bearing a child takes a great deal from a woman, before, during and after. She needs time to recover, to regain her full strength and ’tis not only for her sake. The babe needs that too. I truly believe that resting between babes is why both I and all my children survive. So, Colin will have his grandchild,” Storm murmured with a smile.

“The mon has five already.”

“Aye but he wishes all his sons to know that joy. He is in the winter of his life and wishes to see his sons happy. Colin also knows that Iain needs that, though he would deny himself.”

“I must keep my condition secret for as long as possible.”

“We-ell, with the first ’tis oft a long while ere it shows, but why do ye wish it kept hidden?”

“Because of Iain’s fears.”

“Ah, of course. He will worry himself sick when he knows.”

Islaen nodded. “Whate’er else I fash myself o’er, I ken that he has a strong need to keep me safe, worries o’er me. In his eyes my being with child is much akin to putting a knife to my throat. The less time he is troubled by that image, the better.”

“Are ye afraid, Islaen? Many women are. I was a little.”

“I am a little. An anything goes wrong…”

“I pray God it does not.”

“So do I but an it does, I shall tell Iain of my deception. I willnae let him add to his guilt. He will be told that I willingly took the risk upon myself, disobeyed him. He cannae blame himself when ’tis kenned that I deceived him.”

“I will help ye in that, but I feel there will be no need. Ye and the child ye carry will be fine. Now, ’tis my thought to visit the crofters today. Winter draws nigh and I
must be sure that they need naught more to face it.”

“Iain has left again?” Islaen asked even though she knew in her heart that he had.

“Aye. Phelan went with him. Come, I shall keep ye busy enough to help ease that loss.”

Storm was true to her word and Islaen was torn between chagrin, thankfulness and amusement. Despite the concessions made for her condition, she crawled to bed exhausted every night.

One night as she wearily washed up she realized it had been a full week since she had seen Iain. She had never stopped missing him but she realized that hard work had made her days too full to linger on it much. One day melted into the next with work taking up every waking hour. The loneliness she might have felt in the night was deadened by exhaustion. Her body demanded sleep and nothing could forestall it getting what it needed. Sighing as she crawled into bed and almost immediately started to fall asleep, she wondered if hard work was what Iain used to stay away from her, exhausting his body so that the hunger he never hid from her was vanquished.

Iain sighed as he ate the bread and cheese a sleepy page had fetched for him. Phelan had sought bed, too weary to think of food. After a week of hard work the night ride to Caraidland had taxed the strength of both of them.

Shaking his head, he wondered how long he could continue and stay sane. He was back at Caraidland for one reason and one reason alone—Islaen. No matter how hard he worked he could not completely vanquish his need for her. Eventually, the need to see her, to speak to her, to hold her, grew too strong to ignore. Finally he rose from the table and headed for his chambers.

Islaen woke to passion. So afire with need was she that she barely had enough presence of mind to know that it was no dream that Iain had come home. When they lay sated in each other’s arms she wondered sadly how long he would stay this time, then shook away that distressing thought.

“That ye, Iain?” she asked sleepily, grinning when she felt him jerk in her arms.

Seeing her grin, he nipped her shoulder in gentle reprimand. “Wretch. Who did ye think it was?”

“Weel, it being dark and your manner of waking me leaving little time for clear thought…” she shrugged.

“Islaen, ’tis a verra dangerous sort of teasing ye indulge in,” he growled as he eased the intimacy of their embrace but stayed wrapped in her slim arms.

“Aye? And what can ye do about it?”

“’Tis a husband’s right to beat his errant wife.”

“Errant am I?” She watched him rise, then fetch a damp cloth to wash them with.

“Verra errant,” he murmured as he cleaned himself off then gently tended to her. “Pert too and impertinent.”

“My, my, I am weighted down with faults,” she said softly welcoming him back into her arms.

“Aye but I strive to overlook them.” He nuzzled her breasts.

“How gallant ye are.”

“I ken it.”

“And vain.”

“Vain am I? I should punish ye for such harsh words.”

“And what form shall this punishment take?”

“An ye stay awake for a wee while, I will show ye.”

She found it easy to stay awake as she reveled in the passion he gave so freely.

When she woke in the morning to find him still in her arms she was both delighted and dismayed. It would be nice to spend a little time with him but she feared he would discover her pregnancy before she was ready to reveal it to him. Her sickness in the morning had become erratic, a sign that it was leaving her, according to Storm. She could not be sure, however that she would be fine each and every morning. There was, she realized, some advantage to his absence.

“Iain,” she gasped, startled when the man she had thought asleep suddenly acquired some very busy hands, “I thought ye were sleeping.”

“I am,” he growled against her neck. “I am dreaming.”

“Ye have some verra lively dreams then.”

“Lass,” he murmured as he moved to crouch over her, “ye dinnae ken the half of it.”

The day was half over before they left their bed. Islaen quickly sought out Storm. She felt guilty for not being there to help the woman with all the work that needed doing.

“Not to worry, Islaen. Ye have helped immensely and I know you will again. Take time with Iain. ’Tis important.”

“I just feel guilty leaving ye to do it all alone.”

“Do not. I have done it these past ten years and will do so again when ye move to Muircraig. Best I do not get too accustomed to your help. Does Iain stay long?”

“Nay, I think not. He gathers supplies now. He suddenly recalled that that was his excuse for coming here,” she drawled.

Storm laughed but then said carefully, “Islaen…”

“Nay, ye dinnae need to say it. I ken that seemed a wee bit bitter, but I didnae lie when I said it passes quickly. I have promised myself that in the hours he is with me he will ne’er find an excuse for his neglect in my behavior. I fear that means I swallow so many words that they but spill out on occasion. Please be patient with me.”

“I understand completely. Ye are not the one who needs patience. The more I see of Iain’s actions the more I am amazed at your tolerance. I should sorely have bruised Tavis by now for such hurtful nonsense. If ye feel a need to spit out the bile that builds up whilst ye must hold your tongue, I am willing to hear it. I think I would have choked on it by now.”

“’Tis a near thing. If ye hear a crash in the night, dinnae fash yourself. ’Tis but me giving into the urge to kick him out of bed.”

Laughing softly, Storm shook her head. “’Tis not truly funny. Come, soon winter closes in and he must stay home. Travel is treacherous and no work can be done at Muircraig. How fared ye this morning?”

“I wasnae sick. Mayhaps I shall be lucky and not be all the while he is here. ’Tis too soon for him to ken that I carry his child. I suddenly kenned this morn that, for all it pains me, there are advantages to his staying away so much.”

“Aye. He is not there to see all the changes.”

“And, because he believes I work to remain barren, my being with child isnae the first thought in his mind.” She sighed and shook her head. “I but hope that I willnae be
adding to his burdens.”

“Enough of that. Do not let his fears taint ye. There is fear in all women with child but ye must not let the ones that Iain carries draw your own out. They could do ye much harm and I think ye know it.”

“Ye are right, of course. I mean to take the darkness from his heart, not take it into my own. I must work to remember that. As ye say winter comes. Soon there will be no hiding my condition from him and then I fear t’will be a verra great battle.”

“Aye, his fears will be strong then. Ah, there, he looks for you. Go on now.”

“Are ye certain, Storm?” Islaen asked as she watched her husband from the granary door.

“Aye, very certain.”

Islaen spent most of the day with Iain and began to wonder why she bothered. He seemed to want her with him yet he was aloof. The way he worked so diligently preparing to leave her again was rather painful to watch. Finally she gave up and used the excuse of needing a bath before the evening meal to leave him. She felt she needed time away from his coolness, away from fruitlessly trying to break through it, if she was going to be able to welcome him into their bed later.

Iain watched her walk away and cursed himself. He held onto her tightly with one hand and pushed her away with the other. It was not only mad, it was cruel, but he could not seem to stop acting so contrarily.

“Such a dark face. My wee sister raise your ire?”

Managing a smile for Robert who leaned inside the stable doors, watching him, Iain asked, “Any luck today?”

“Nay, curse MacLennon’s eyes. He is about.”

“Always. He doesnae wish to miss any chance at me.”

“So he watches closely, aye. I catch a glimpse of him or find his trail, but he e’er slips away. Are ye sure the mon isnae a spirit?”

“Nay, he lives though many seek to end that life. ’Tis uncanny the way he can elude us all. Unnatural almost.”

“His time will come. He will taunt death once too often. I fear I have more bad news for ye. ’Tis about Fraser.”

“Does the loudmouthed worm finally crawl our way?”