Joanna Fulford (8 page)

‘Your apology is accepted, sir. The man acted independently, and Castlemora is in no way to blame.’

He looked meaningfully at Davy. The latter paused a moment, then nodded and put up his sword. Hugh managed a tight smile in response and then looked coldly at Taggart.

‘You will collect your belongings and be gone. We have no use here for such as you.’ He paused and turned to the master-at-arms. ‘See to it, Murdo.’

The latter inclined his head in acquiescence, his expression quite impassive. However, when she glanced his way Isabelle intercepted a look of cold fury directed towards Taggart. No doubt he would send the brute off with a few choice words. This summary banishment was a fitting punishment. It was a pity, she reflected, that Murdo was not leaving with him. As it was, he would doubtless be smarting from this humiliation but for the life of her she could not feel sorry for it. Rather she was proud of Hugh. In that moment he looked and sounded like the laird he would one day become. As for their guest, he had most adroitly turned the situation around.

As though he sensed her regard, Ban looked round and met her gaze. She felt her cheeks grow red. What must he be thinking? How well she understood her brother’s anger over what had occurred. The laws of hospitality were sacred, a tradition that had ever been upheld at Castlemora. Wishing to show her solidarity with Hugh and to try to calm the waters, she spoke to Ban.

‘Like my brother I deeply regret what happened here, my lord.’

‘Pray, do not be uneasy,’ he replied. ‘The incident has been dealt with and the matter is closed.’

‘You are generous, my lord,’ said Hugh.

‘Such things happen in the heat of the moment.’ Ban glanced at Taggart, who had now staggered to his feet. ‘No doubt he will repent of it soon enough.’

Hugh’s lip curled. ‘I would say he repents of it already. The mettle of Glengarron has been proved anew.’

‘It should never have been called into question,’ said Isabelle.

Lord Ban bowed. ‘As ever you are gracious, my lady.’

His gaze flicked towards Murdo, who stood nearby. Isabelle’s followed it. Now there was no sign of emotion on the man’s face and he returned the look steadily, yet she sensed the anger simmering beneath. For a moment she wondered if he too would offer an apology to their guest, but he said nothing. All around them his men were silent too, though the very air was laden with their displeasure. Once again she was made aware of how numerous they were and how powerful a force they had become. Their resentment was dangerous, and they had just been shown up. They would not forgive or forget.

* * *

On their return to the hall Hugh ordered a servant to fetch ale and then saw their guests supplied with his own hand. Having done so, he made them a formal apology. Isabelle heard him with surprise. It was the first time she had ever heard him question a decision of Murdo’s, even by implication, and it pleased her greatly. Was Hugh beginning to trust his own judgement at last? It seemed he too had been much angered by what had occurred.

‘I would not have a long-standing friendship broken because of the actions of a coward like Taggart,’ her brother went on.

‘Rest assured that it won’t be,’ replied Ban. ‘What happened was most unfortunate but it was none of your doing, my lord.’

‘None the less I am truly sorry for it.’ Hugh looked at Davy as he spoke. ‘I hope it has not coloured your view of our hospitality.’

Davy met his eye and held it. ‘I bear Castlemora no ill will, my lord.’

‘I would not have you do so for the world.’

With that Hugh moved to speak with the younger man, drawing Jock and Ewan into the conversation as well. All three had relaxed now and participated with evident goodwill. Isabella regarded her brother with pride. Once again he looked and sounded every inch the laird. It gave her real hope for the future.

‘Your brother is an accomplished host,’ said Ban.

‘I thank you, yes.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘He is right though, and I too would repeat my regret over what happened today.’

‘There is not the least occasion for you to do so,’ he replied. ‘The matter is over and best forgotten.’

It was magnanimous and she was both relieved and grateful. The incident could so easily have resulted in the destruction of all her hopes.

‘You are generous,’ she said. ‘Such affairs as this can cause blood feuds that last for generations.’

‘I want no blood feud between Glengarron and Castlemora. As your brother says, the relationship is too valuable to jeopardise.’ He surveyed her steadily. ‘Rather, I intend to make the bond very much stronger.’

The allusion was plain, and once again she was reminded that their forthcoming betrothal was about business and politics. It saddened her that it should be so but it was the way of the world. In such affairs as these, men followed their heads not their hearts.

Chapter Seven

A
s the morning of their betrothal dawned Isabelle found it harder to maintain her composure. It was bad enough that her entire future depended on this arrangement. The manner of it made everything infinitely worse. She wouldn’t even have the benefit of darkness to hide her blushes. That wouldn’t trouble Ban, of course. The memory of their first meeting demonstrated as much. No doubt he would enjoy this.

Indignation came to the rescue and rallied her a little. When first the plan had been mooted it had been in her mind to dress plainly for the occasion but gradually vanity won out. She had no idea if Ban would even notice, but a fine gown would boost her morale a little, and heaven knew it needed boosting. To that end she arranged her hair into a becoming style as well.

Eventually she was as ready as she would ever be. Gathering all her courage she took a deep breath and made her way to her father’s quarters.

Both men were already there when she arrived. She noted that Ban had changed his clothes for the occasion and was now wearing a tunic of dark red wool over a fine linen shirt and dark hose. A tooled leather belt was fastened about his waist. The effect was to make him look more imposing than ever.

For a moment he surveyed her in silence and then made her a formal bow. ‘You look beautiful, my lady.’

‘I am glad my lord approves.’

‘I think the man would have to be dead who could not approve.’

Archibald Graham’s craggy features assumed a faint smile. Then he gestured to the prie-dieu across the room. ‘Shall we proceed?’

Ban took Isabelle’s hand and led her to the small wooden altar. Then he knelt, drawing her down beside him. Her father bound their wrists loosely with a strip of cloth. It took only a short time to give their mutual consent to the betrothal and make the required promises. Then Ban slid a ring on her finger, a fine gold band set with garnets.

Archibald Graham bade them rise. ‘It is done. You may kiss your betrothed.’

Ban leaned closer, his gaze holding hers for a moment. Then his lips brushed hers. It was a light and gentle caress; she might almost have said reassuring. Had he intended it thus? In truth there was very little of reassurance in the situation now.

Her father poured wine from the jug on the table and handed them each a cup before taking his own.

‘Let us drink to your union. May it be long, happy and fruitful.’

Isabelle drank obediently, hoping that the wine would take the edge off her nerves. She told herself it was ridiculous to feel nervous: she was no blushing virgin. She knew what to expect and it would soon be over. Next time would be easier. She darted a glance at the man who was now, effectively, her husband. He had given his promise not to hurt her. Things could be a lot worse. All she had to be was compliant. Eventually she might even be able please him.

Ban had not missed that swift anxious glance and guessed at some of the thoughts that lay behind it.
I will do what I must.
His fair betrothed appeared to have reservations about sharing his bed, reservations he intended to banish very soon. While the situation wasn’t what he’d have chosen, there was no reason why it should prove to be anything other than enjoyable for both of them.

Archibald Graham tossed back his wine and set down the cup. ‘I’ll leave you in peace. Just lock the door after me.’

With that he departed. With thumping heart Isabelle looked on as Ban turned the key in the lock. They were alone. For a moment or two neither of them spoke. Then he rejoined her and the room shrank around them until there was only the man and the bed. She tensed. He removed the cup from her hand and took her in his arms, his lips brushing hers, light, tentative, searching. Her heartbeat accelerated uncomfortably. Suddenly what had seemed like a mere practical detail began to assume an altogether different character. She closed her eyes, telling herself it was his right. He wanted a son; in order to get one he needed to get her with child. All she had to do was comply. She swallowed hard and a light sheen of sweat broke on her forehead. In her mind’s eye she could hear Alistair Neil’s voice:
Lie down on the bed as I have commanded you...
Her entire body stiffened. Hard on the heels of that response was panic. If she didn’t please this man, or at least give him what he wanted, she was finished.

Ban felt her tense and drew back, sensing her unease. ‘What is it, Isabelle?’

‘I... Nothing. Forgive me. It’s just the suddenness of it all.’

‘It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it?’ He smiled faintly. ‘And you have the advantage of me since I was never betrothed before.’

‘My advantage is not so great, my lord.’

‘Are you referring to previous or present experience?’

‘I was thinking of what went before.’

He nodded. ‘This must be a marked contrast: no celebration or public feasting, no wine or toasting.’

It wasn’t what she meant but wasn’t able to enlighten him just then. ‘Such things make little difference in the end.’

‘Perhaps not and yet I think this is not what you might have expected.’

‘I had no expectations before this.’

‘And now?’

‘I hope for the best.’

‘As do I.’

He drew her closer once more. Isabelle shivered, partly in fear and partly in anticipatory dread. This man was an unknown quantity and his touch aroused sensations that were entirely foreign to her; sensations that only heightened her uneasiness. He reached for the fastenings of her girdle and, unhurriedly, began to undress her. Her girdle fell to the floor, followed shortly afterwards by her gown. He drew off the linen kirtle beneath until only her shift remained, then picked her up and carried her across to the bed. Without taking his eyes off her he divested himself of tunic and shirt revealing the hard-muscled torso beneath. Her heart began to slam against her ribs like an unlatched door in a storm wind.

He came to join her, his hands on her waist drawing her closer. She could feel their warmth through the thin fabric. He bent his head so that his lips brushed hers, gently teasing at first and then gradually becoming more persuasive. She could feel the start of his arousal against her thigh. And his face faded and became Alistair Neil’s:
You’ll take whatever I give you and like it...
Isabelle froze, then tore her mouth away, panting.

Ban frowned. ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’

‘I can’t. I thought I could but I can’t.’ She struggled in his hold. ‘Please...’

Almost immediately she found herself free. Only too aware of the piercing blue gaze she turned away in acute embarrassment.

He frowned. ‘Look at me, Isabelle.’

Slowly, reluctantly she obeyed.

‘What are you afraid of? You must know I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘I...I can’t explain.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Ban lay back on the bed and for a moment or two he was silent. She cringed inwardly. What must he be thinking? What would he do now? To deny a man his rights was madness. It could only invite his wrath and an angry man was dangerous. She’d had her chance. Instead of seizing it she had just laid herself wide open to a beating and then rape. Had experience taught her nothing? She took a deep breath, mentally calling herself all kinds of fool.

‘I’m so sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me. A momentary panic...’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Panic? This is not the first time you have been to bed with a man.’

‘Forgive me.’

‘What’s to forgive?’

‘Opposition to your will.’

‘My will? I had rather hoped it might coincide with your own, but clearly it doesn’t.’

She licked dry lips. ‘Your will is mine, my lord. If you still wish to...to consummate this bargain I will do whatever you command.’

‘A tempting prospect, believe me. I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do with you.’

Her stomach roiled but she fought it, knowing that she had to retrieve the situation somehow, anyhow. No matter what he demanded of her now she must submit.

He sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re right. It is too soon; too sudden. Perhaps we need a little time to get to know each other better, or at least for you to become more accustomed to me.’

‘My lord?’ If he’d expressed a wish to fly she could not have been more taken aback. Almost immediately she suspected a joke at her expense but nothing in his manner indicated that he had intended it thus.

He smiled wryly. ‘There is no need to force the pace now.’

‘But you require a son.’

‘So I do and, God willing, we’ll get one, but not today I think.’

He rolled off the bed and retrieved his clothing. When he had dressed again he picked up her discarded gown and kirtle. ‘Here.’

Alarm mingled with relief. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this and yet he had just put into words what she had been thinking. They did need more time; at least she needed more time to come to terms with this arrangement. She climbed off the bed and took the proffered garments. Then, rather self-consciously, she donned them once more. When she had done so, he handed her the girdle and watched her fasten it.

‘That colour suits you well,’ he observed. ‘Of course, any gown is helped by a lovely figure.’

She felt herself redden. ‘Thank you.’

To cover her embarrassment she lowered her gaze and smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. Ban smiled faintly and then turned away to pour some more wine. Then he handed her a cup.

‘It’s a fine vintage. It seems a shame to waste it.’

Obediently she took a sip. It steadied her a little. Then guilt replaced relief. ‘I want to thank you for your forbearance. It is more than I expected.’

‘And what did you expect? To be held down and raped perhaps?’

She lowered her gaze. ‘Well, yes. No. I mean I don’t know what I expected.’

He was dumbfounded. Her first response had been the true one and it raised some unwelcome implications. ‘I have already told you that I have never forced a woman.’

‘But we are betrothed so it’s not the same thing. Well, not exactly.’

‘Isn’t it?’ The blue gaze locked with hers. ‘It seems uncomfortably close to me.’

Uncomfortably close indeed if she associated him with the kind of men who perpetrated crimes of violence on women. War provided the excuse. The past five years had shown him what political expediency was prepared to sanction: atrocities masquerading as justice; rape, mutilation and murder committed in the name of a king’s ambition. Inevitably one became hardened in the end; learned to bury emotion. Self-preservation necessitated it. Now it appeared that emotion wasn’t as deeply buried as he’d imagined.

‘I will take nothing that is not freely given.’

‘I will do my duty, my lord.’

‘Aye, but not out of fear.’

‘I see now that such fear was foolish.’

‘I hope you do.’

‘I’m sorry I have failed you.’

‘Forget it. Let’s just chalk it up to experience.’

‘I will try to do much better in future.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you mean to tell my father about this disobedience?’

His cup stopped in mid-air. ‘Of course not. Why the devil should I?’

There were several things she might have said in reply but she held her peace. Ban put down his cup and took her by the shoulders.

‘This is between us now, Isabelle; no one else. I want this arrangement to work. The question is, do you?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Good. Then we are agreed.’

‘I regret giving you reason to doubt it.’ She made herself look at him. ‘It won’t happen again.’

He nodded. ‘It is well.’

* * *

In fact Ban was aware that matters were far from well. That Isabelle should be afraid to share his bed was deeply disconcerting, as was the realisation of how much he wanted her. Taking her would have been simple but the use of force was out. The idea was distasteful in any context but where she was concerned it was downright repellent. Besides, it was certainly no basis on which to build an enduring relationship. He could only wonder what had gone before to make her so afraid. Recalling the occasion of their first meeting he winced inwardly. He’d hardly done himself any favours there. Even so, she was no virgin bride and therefore no stranger to the realities of marriage. Her fears were groundless but he’d have his work cut out to prove it. All the same he meant to succeed. If it meant time and patience then so be it. The prize was well worth the winning.

* * *

After she left him Isabelle retired to the bower to tidy her appearance and ensure that no tell-tale signs of a tryst remained. A rumpled gown and untidy hair would be enough to a discerning eye. Having made the necessary adjustments she lingered awhile, needing time and space to think. Events had gone so contrary to expectation that even now it was hard to take in. The sense of her folly only increased. Procrastination solved nothing: she had merely delayed the inevitable. Ban had been forbearing this time but he’d made it clear that he expected her compliance in future. Surely that wouldn’t be so hard: he was gentle and patient. What more could she ask for? Why on earth had she panicked like that?

The passing minutes provided no clear answers. In the meantime there were other matters requiring attention. When she had regained her composure she quit the bower and went to the hall. As she entered she saw her father speaking to one of the servants. He dismissed the man and then waited for Isabelle to approach. For a moment he surveyed her critically, his gaze quizzical.

‘Is it done?’

Crossing her fingers under the folds of her skirt she nodded. ‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Good.’ He paused. ‘I pray for a happy outcome.’

‘And I.’

That at least was true. It went against the grain to lie to him but there was no way to explain what had taken place with Ban, even had she felt so inclined.

‘Succeed in this and your future is assured.’ He squeezed her arm gently. ‘I would see you safely settled and soon.’

‘You will, my lord.’

‘I hope so, but I suspect that time is running out.’ As she opened her mouth to protest he silenced her with a finger to her lips. ‘It’s the truth and it must be faced. The pains in my chest occur more often now and the effects last longer. Before I die I should like to see Lord Ban your acknowledged husband.’