Joanna Fulford (9 page)

A lump formed in her throat making it harder to speak. ‘He will be, and long before then.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Incidentally, I think him a better man than your last.’

‘So do I.’

She thought there was no possible comparison; Ban was everything that Alistair Neil had never been. Her behaviour this morning had been foolish beyond belief. She vowed then and there that it would not be repeated. All she wanted now was to forget about the past and move on.

Chapter Eight

O
ver the next few days, Ban used some of his time to better familiarise himself with the layout of Castlemora, committing to memory the location and function of its various buildings and the immediate environs. Local knowledge was going to be essential to his plans. He also made a point of meeting regularly with his men and listening to what they had to say. They mixed more freely with the household servants and had also ventured into the village nearby, and he knew they could be relied on to keep an ear to the ground.

‘Murdo and his crew are not well liked hereabouts,’ said Jock. ‘They’ve a reputation for brutality and the villagers fear them.’

‘As well they should,’ replied Ewan.

Inevitably the mercenaries were everywhere in evidence at Castlemora but, although they eyed the Glengarron retainers with ill-concealed dislike, they had offered no further insult.

‘It seems that three of them raped a local lass and got her with child,’ Jock went on, ‘but when the case was brought they swore blind she’d given her consent. It was her word against theirs. When the judgement went against her, the lass killed herself and the bairn with her.’

Ban shook his head in disgust. ‘Their kind has no conscience and obeys no laws but their own, or perhaps Murdo’s.’

‘Him they fear, my lord, and with good reason apparently.’

‘So I imagine.’

‘He takes good care that their more questionable deeds occur well away from Castlemora and that there are no witnesses. Any who speak out are invariably punished or else they meet with an accident.’

‘I dinna much like turning my back on the scum,’ said Davy.

‘Their kind is better kept in plain view,’ replied Jock.

Davy eyed Ban quizzically. ‘Will we be staying here much longer, my lord?’

‘For a while yet,’ said Ban.

His men exchanged knowing grins. He returned a smile. They had guessed his interest, although not the depth of his involvement and he couldn’t tell them. Much as he disliked keeping them in the dark about his intentions, he had no other option at present. The situation was too delicate to share. Although matters hadn’t got off to the best start he was hopeful of amending them. If everything went as he hoped thereafter he’d be able to announce his betrothal soon enough. Then they could all go home.

‘The lady is fair,’ said Jock.

Ban’s face remained impassive. ‘Yes, she is.’

‘Rumour didn’t do her justice.’

‘Quite so.’

‘The man who wins her will be most fortunate.’

‘Indeed he will.’

Realising he wasn’t going to be drawn Jock let the subject drop and the conversation turned to other things.

Ban hid a smile, amused rather than annoyed by so transparent an attempt to pump him for information. In fact Isabelle had been very much on his mind. Since their betrothal the only real chance to speak with her had been when they met at table and, since the place was public, their conversation was confined to safe topics. After the disastrous episode following their betrothal she seemed a little more diffident, more eager to please. At the same time her smile had an anxious quality that he found perturbing. He didn’t want her to feel anxious or uncomfortable around him; on the contrary. Furthermore it mattered rather more than he could have anticipated. Her fear was an affront to manhood: so lovely a woman ought to enjoy intimacy, not dread it, and he wanted very much to instil that idea. The setback had not abated his interest in the least. If anything it had increased. The thought of her excited him, something he had not expected to find in a potential bride. In consequence he found himself looking forward to the day when he could take her to his bed openly and as often as he pleased. When he did he wanted it to be with her willing consent.

In his exploration of Castlemora he had located an old barn which was set apart from the main buildings but close enough to afford relatively easy access. It was used to store hay and grain. Being quiet and little frequented it thus provided a convenient place for his purpose since he and Isabelle could meet there discreetly. It carried an element of risk but there was no way around that. Discovery would be extremely awkward but, if anything, the possibility lent spice to the adventure.

* * *

When he proposed the place to Isabelle she made no demur. The barn was out of the way and they were unlikely to be disturbed. Not that the fear of discovery was uppermost in her mind just then. Having had time to grow accustomed to the idea of their betrothal and to Ban’s company, she just wanted to get the business of consummation over with. After the first time it would doubtless be easier.

He was waiting when she arrived. His presence seemed to dominate the space somehow and he seemed disconcertingly at ease whereas she felt as nervous as a goose at the approach of Michaelmas.

He smiled at her. ‘I wondered if you would change your mind.’

‘No, I haven’t changed my mind.’

‘I’m glad. I know this isn’t easy for you.’

Her eyes widened a little. ‘I think perhaps it isn’t easy for either of us, my lord.’

‘I’d be the first to admit that the circumstances are not ideal but you have no reason to be afraid. Nothing that happens here is going to hurt you.’

‘I know.’

‘Then will you trust me?’

She nodded. He drew her closer, his lips brushing hers, soft, coaxing. As she relaxed a little the kiss became more assertive, his tongue flirting lightly with hers. He tasted pleasantly of mead, a heady sweetness that mingled with the scents of hay and wool and leather. His hold tightened a little so that she was pressed against him, his hands caressing her back. Their warmth sent a tremor along her skin. Tentatively she pressed closer. As she did so she felt the start of his arousal. Her pulse quickened but not entirely through apprehension.

He drew back a little, looking into her face. ‘Come.’

His cloak was spread out on the hay and he drew her down with him and then resumed where they had left off. He took his time, kissing, caressing, using every device he knew to please and arouse, unwilling to hurry this and lose all the ground he had won. She was prepared to trust him and he would ensure her trust was not misplaced. It was no hardship. He’d wanted her from the first, but what he felt now went beyond the thought of physical gratification. This woman excited him in ways that no other ever had. For all manner of reasons he wanted to prolong this experience.

Gradually the caresses became bolder, exploring her breast and waist and buttocks. Isabelle tried to follow his lead, returning his kiss, sliding her hands across his shoulders and thence to his back but the woollen tunic was a hindrance. She paused, fumbling for the fastening of his belt. At length she found it and unlatched the buckle. The belt came loose and was discarded. The tunic rode up easily, allowing access to the shirt beneath. Tugging at the fabric she managed to free it, then let her hands slide across the warm skin beneath, feeling the play of his muscles. His kiss deepened in response, became a little more demanding.

He guided her hand to his groin and with a sense of shock she felt his erection, huge and rock hard, quite unlike anything in her experience and, for a second, deeply disconcerting. Summoning her wits she began to stroke him, heard a sharp indrawn breath in response. She felt his hand along her thigh, the touch gentle but assured. His fingers slid between her thighs and thence to her sex. She tensed; then heard his voice, quiet and reassuring.

‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Nothing bad is going to happen.’

Obediently she made herself relax a little, permitting the intimacy. The light stroking movement created a sensation of unexpected warmth in the core of her pelvis. That too was disconcerting but not unpleasant. She relaxed a little more as he continued. A few moments later the warmth was followed by slick wetness. For a terrible moment she thought that her flux had begun but he seemed not to find anything untoward and went on stroking her. What had been pleasant became closer to pleasurable. Her pulse quickened a little.

Ban unfastened his breeches and his erection sprang proud. She closed her hand around the shaft, wondering how on earth her body was going to accommodate him. Surely it had to hurt. Even if it did there was no turning back now. She had to go through with this, couldn’t fail him a second time.

He raised her skirts higher until she was naked to the waist. She reddened, acutely aware of broad daylight and the vivid blue gaze surveying her lower body. Apparently he was not dissatisfied with what he saw because she saw him smile. A few moments later his knee parted her thighs and he slid into her, slowly, carefully, until she had the length of him. Isabelle blinked. It hadn’t hurt. As she was assimilating the fact he began to move inside her. That at least was not unexpected. Recalling what her former husband had commanded of her, she put her arms around Ban and raised her knees. He thrust harder, deeper, the rhythm increasing. Isabelle moved with him, praying she might please him this time. Then he might not repent of the bargain.

The action caused an unaccustomed surge of excitement in him. However, he reined desire in hard. No matter what, possession must not become violation. Nothing that happened here today must frighten or disgust her. Consequently he held back as long as he could but eventually release became inevitable. He had to hope he’d done enough to convince her that he didn’t intend to hurt her. This exercise was going to be oft repeated and when he took her in future he wanted her willing compliance.

He took his weight on his elbows and withdrew, surveying her keenly. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’

‘Yes, my lord.’ She paused. ‘That was...nice.’

He smiled wryly. ‘Indeed it was, but it’s going to get a lot better.’

‘Better?’

‘That’s right.’

She remained silent, uncertain what he meant. Things had already gone far better than she had anticipated. Alistair Neil had never treated her with such consideration. Submission to him had felt like subjugation. Submission to this man felt quite different. Exactly why that was she couldn’t have said; all she knew was the truth of it. Of course a woman could not expect to get pleasure from the act as men seemed to do, but Ban had just demonstrated that it need not be disagreeable. She had experience enough to realise that he had used restraint with her, hoping no doubt to allay her fear, and she was grateful. Such apprehension seemed foolish now.

Ban stretched out beside her, drawing her close. She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling oddly content. It would be no hardship to repeat the experience with him; quite the opposite in fact. If God allowed it they might make a child together. The possibility filled her with hope and longing. It would please her to give this man the son he longed for. It might also bring them closer. Meanwhile, she would have a baby, a small helpless being whom she could love and who would love her unconditionally. Ban had already told her that he didn’t love her but perhaps, given time, they might grow closer. It wouldn’t be hard to care for a man who treated her with gentleness and courtesy.

Ban too was lost in his thoughts. Things had gone better this time but there was a long way to go yet. He had been unable to arouse her as he’d hoped to. Clearly she was still too tense, too reserved for that. It was going to take a while to allay her anxiety and make her completely comfortable with him. It was a considerable challenge but he intended to meet it, to bring her to a climax with him.

When she’d experienced it once, she’d almost certainly want to do it again. Only then would she be relaxed enough for him to take things further and explore other possibilities. Imagination supplied a series of highly erotic images in which she initiated their sexual coupling. The result was a fresh wave of heat to his groin. He quashed it. It would be a mistake to force the pace. He wanted more than just to bed her again: he wanted her to enjoy it too. He wanted her to want
him
. Just where that thought had come from he couldn’t have said, but he recognised the truth of it. This woman was going to be his, body and soul.

* * *

For that reason he restrained the urge to follow up their tryst too soon. Instead he let several days go by before suggesting another. If Isabelle felt pressured she would be less likely to relax and that ran counter to his plans. In the interim he used the time to talk to her on a variety of subjects, drawing her out, listening, learning more about her. The tactic paid off. She began to lose the anxious expression she had worn before and to smile more readily. Ban saw it with approval.

The next time they met at the barn she was less tense and a rather more willing participant. Again he was careful, ardent but tender, seeking by every means to increase her enjoyment. Isabelle followed his lead, clearly wanting to please him. While he wouldn’t have described it as perfect sex, it was certainly an improvement.

* * *

Over the following week they built on it. The secrecy of these meetings combined with the limited time available lent them intensity and a certain excitement so that Isabelle found herself anticipating the next time they would be alone. It had become to her rather more than a business arrangement now. In spite of all former resolution her emotions had become involved too. She knew it was unwise at this stage, but somehow it had ceased to be a matter of choice. He filled her thoughts. His treatment of her was considerate and kind; she had never known such gentleness in a man. He was passionate but he never hurt her. Each time they made love it bound her more tightly to him. Except that he never actually spoke of love. She smiled ruefully at her own folly: their relationship was but new-fledged. It was far too early to be thinking in those terms. When she was carrying his child things might change.
We may grow closer in affection.
The notion resurrected all her former longing and offered glimpses of a future she had never thought to have.

She would have liked to discuss the future with Ban but it was a sensitive topic and she hesitated. Nor did he advert to it. She attributed that to his reluctance to make plans that might never come to fruition. He didn’t want to make any promises. Their conversations tended to focus on past or present instead. She could understand it but deep down it hurt too. In spite of the consideration he showed her now he would put her aside if he had to.