Highland Wedding (11 page)

“Weel, it has ne’er been so important that I find approval,” she admitted softly and unconsciously touched her breasts freed from their bonds from their first night upon the road.

Alexander smiled and shook his head. “Lass, ye are bonnie, but I ken how hard it must be for one who has long thought otherwise to believe it. All his kin need to approve of ye is to ken that ye love their son. Ye do and they will.”

“I have ne’er said so,” she mumbled, coloring deeply.

“Mayhaps ’tis best that ye dinnae. Not yet.”

“Aye. He would hie to the hills,” she grumbled.

He laughed softly and nodded. “Ye wouldnae see him for the dust.”

“Alexander? Just why have ye come along?”

“Weel, lass, I ken that Iain will simply tell his kin that ye are his wife and ye will say little more than ‘Aye, I am.’ T’would be best if there is another there they can speak to and I am kenning more than I ought.”

“Are ye sure ye ought to?”

He shrugged. “It cannae hurt.”

“Nay, I suppose not.”

“Dinnae ye have anything to do, Alex?” Iain demanded as he walked over to them and a grinning Alexander strolled away. “That mon smiles too much,” Iain grumbled, then looked crossly at Islaen. “Why are ye always talking with him?”

“Because he is my friend. Iain, I ken that he is a beautiful mon who can seduce a woman with but one soft word but we are only friends.”

“He would be more.”

“Mayhaps but only until he finds what he seeks.”

“He thinks he has found it in you.”

“What he sees is that I see the beauty, aye, but I see the rest too. That is what he wants, a lass who will see past his face and form. Once another lass does that he will
ne’er e’en passingly think of me as more than a friend and a body can ne’er have enough good friends. He is your friend too, Iain,” she added quietly.

Iain nodded, understanding all that she said and inferred. If he tossed Islaen aside as he had almost done when he had gone with Mary, Alexander would be right there for her, but otherwise he would be no more than a friend. It was, nevertheless, a little unsettling to have such a mon ready and willing to take over his wife if the chance arose. Suddenly, he felt a greater understanding of Tavis’s feelings. He supposed that Alexander would find it amusing to have two MacLagans scowling his way and hovering over their wives.

He thought of that again as Caraidland came into view the next day, and looked at Alexander who rode at his side. “Tavis will be so verra pleased to see you,” he drawled.

Alexander laughed. “Aye. I always get a warm greeting at Caraidland.”

A wild cry broke the relative quiet of the countryside. Islaen stared wide-eyed at the rider charging towards them. Surely one man would never try to attack all of them, she thought, and then saw Iain grin. A moment later the youth came to an impressively neat halt before them and grinned back at Iain.

Despite the brightness of her own family’s hair, Islaen found the youth’s orange hair a wonder. She knew he could not be kin to the MacLagans for she had heard enough about them to know that they were dark. He looked at her and she nearly gasped. His eyes were beautiful, vaguely slanted, thickly lashed and a warm rich amber in color.

“Phelan, ye will be killed one day for someone will think ye some attacking madman,” Iain drawled.”

“Sure’n are ye certain I am not?” Phelan grinned, then nodded towards Islaen. “And this fair maid is your wife?”

“Aye. Islaen MacRoth ere she became a MacLagan. Islaen, this wild mon is Sir Phelan O’Connor.”

When he kissed her hand with all the grace of a skilled courtier, Islaen felt his long hair brush her hand and was bemused to find that it felt as soft and sun-kissed as the marigolds it resembled. She blushed when he looked at her. For all the sweet boyishness of his face, his eyes held the warm appreciation of a man who was no stranger to passion.

“M’lady,” he murmured in a soft, rich voice she could not help but compare to Alexander’s.

“Oh, Islaen, will do.”

He smiled. “And I am but Phelan. The sir but means that I was in the right place at the right time.”

A glance at Iain told her the young man was being modest. That and the fact that he looked too young to carry the accolade of sir told her that he shrugged away an act that probably made for an exciting tale. She knew instinctively, however, that she would not get the whole story from him, that he really did believe it all a simple piece of luck. There was something about the young man that made her relax just a little concerning her impending meeting with Iain’s family.

“Your father has a feast in the making. Caraidland has been a mad whirl since your squire arrived yester morn.”

“And that is why ye are out riding o’er the hills, Phelan?”

“Aye, Iain. They kept trying to put me to work. T’was not easy escaping Storm’s keen eye either.” Phelan grinned impishly at Alexander. “Mayhaps I should hie back to
warn Tavis that this pretty mon rides along with ye. Sure ’n he will be so pleased.”

“Nay, let it be a surprise. ’Tis why I told Murdo to say naught,” Iain drawled. “Mayhaps Alexander will tell Tavis why he blesses us with his charming company.”

“Can a mon not travel to see his friends without his reasons being suspect?” Alexander asked soulfully.

Islaen realized with surprise that Alexander had yet to explain himself to Iain. Although Iain might not appreciate Alexander’s reasons for joining them, an explanation would ease the suspicions Iain so clearly held. It was evident that Alexander found it amusing to let Iain puzzle over it. Islaen decided a little crossly that Alexander’s idea of fun could get quite annoying at times.

“Nay, not when he sets a mon’s wife to sighing,” Iain said dryly.

“Are ye sighing, m’lady?” Alexander asked Islaen.

She met his grin with a mildly disgusted look, then, closing her eyes, placed one hand upon her breast and the back of the other across her forehead. “Aye. Wheesht, I am near to swooning upon the ground at your feet.”

“Ye will be upon the ground soon if ye dinnae keep the reins in your hand,” Iain muttered as the men laughed.

“Nay. He willnae move. I told him to be still.” Islaen hugged her stallion’s neck. “He is a verra good lad, arenae ye boy?” she cooed.

“’Tis a stallion ye have there, m’lady, not a lap dog,” Iain said with mock disgust. “Weel, shall we cease sitting here and finish this journey?” Iain asked and there was a round of hearty agreement from the men.

Sighing inwardly, Islaen urged her mount onward, staying close to Iain. She could sense his eagerness to see his family. He did not seem at all aware of the fact that she was not quite so eager.

As they rode through the gates she tried to divert herself from her growing apprehension by studying Caraidland. Here was no simple tower house. It was large, strong and well run, if the orderliness about her was any indication. The MacLagans might be a small clan, but they looked strong and there was the air of wealth to the place. Islaen could easily understand the pride that colored Iain’s voice every time he spoke of Caraidland.

Iain helped her dismount and felt her tension. He suddenly realized that she might not share his delight in coming to Caraidland. He was coming home but she was riding into a nest of strangers.

“Come, love, t’will not be so bad,” he said gently. “Ye are at least not a complete surprise. They do expect you.”

She managed a weak smile for him as they moved towards the keep. There waited a huge group of people. Islaen found herself caught up in a dizzying round of introductions. While everyone seemed friendly she sensed a wariness in them. They were as unsure about her as she was about them. Islaen prayed that in the trial period to come she did not step too far wrong.

“She is a bonnie lass but a wee one,” Colin MacLagan said to his sons when they had a moment alone.

Iain sighed and nodded. He had been tempted to linger in the chambers he and Islaen had been given, waiting for her to join him, so that he could avoid any time alone with his family. That, he knew, would only postpone the inevitable. They naturally had a lot of questions and he decided it might just help Islaen’s settling in if he answered them as soon as possible.

“Aye, she is a good lass. Do ye ken the MacRoths?”

“Nay, not weel. Good people and the mon has a lot of sons.”

Inwardly, Iain grimaced, knowing that his father wanted him to have sons, and answered reluctantly, “Eleven.”

“Wheesht, there’s a brood to be proud of. The lass is the only daughter?”

“Aye. The youngest child too.”

Tavis grinned and winked at his wife who sat at his side, also a cherished only daughter. “Her kin have a heavy hand, do they?”

“’Tis nay too bad, though,” he half-smiled as he touched a fading bruise near his eye, “they guard her weel.”

“I was going to ask ye about that,” growled Colin. “Ye arenae still at odds with them, are ye?”

“Nay, that settled it all.”

“Men,” Storm grumbled in disgust. “Knock each other about, then shake hands. ’Tis foolish.”

“So Islaen said,” Iain drawled and Storm shook her head as the men laughed. “T’was a good fight. Her brothers are good.”

“But ye are better.”

“Aye, Tavis, but I willnae be if there is a next time. They watch and, if it works, they learn it.”

“Why didnae they come here with ye?”

“The English had raided, Fither. They got word of it halfway through our journey.”

“Bad?”

“Bad enough so they felt they had best get back home and see to things ere they came here.”

As Iain continued to answer questions he realized that his knowledge of Islaen, her life and her kin was still somewhat vague. He also saw that he needed to be evasive. While his family would never intrude too deeply into his private affairs they were quite naturally interested in how his marriage was working. Finally, he muttered the excuse that Islaen might need his help in finding her way to the feast and left what had begun to feel like an inquisiton, though he knew it had not been.

“The lad is being verra coy,” Colin muttered. “Do ye have naught to say, Alex?”

Alexander straightened up from where he lounged against the wall, having eavesdropped upon the family conference in the ever filling hall. “Me? Now what would I have to say about Iain’s marriage?”

Tavis’s bright blue eyes sparkled with laughter although his voice was stern. “Ye always ken more than ye ought about other men’s wives. I also ken that this time ye didnae come just to annoy me by flirting with Storm.”

“How ye wound me, Tavis,” Alexander murmured, winking at Storm, who smiled and shook her head.

“Come, Alex, enough teasing. Tell us what ye know,” Storm urged gently. “Is it a good match? Will it work?”

“Despite Iain’s effort, aye, I think it will. She is a good lass, Storm, a very good lass and she loves him though she willnae say it. She kens weel that Iain would flee that. Aye, the lass kens her mon very weel indeed.”

“He clings to his fears,” Colin said with a sigh.

“Aye, he does but ’tis not only her death upon a childbed that he fears. Death stalks him.”

“MacLennon,” Tavis growled.

Nodding, Alexander told them of the attack upon Iain. So too did he tell them of Lady Mary’s games. By the time he finished relating all that had happened in court the MacLagans were both dismayed and angry.

“It sounds as if they should have left court weeks ago,” murmured Storm.

“Most of that happened in the last few days but, aye, it will be better for them here. Is Maura still about?”

Thinking of the woman who had so avidly pursued Iain before he had gone to court, Storm grimaced. “Aye, though I believe she has set her aim at another. She is not wed yet, though, and not too far away either.”

“Ah, weel, at least she is but one and not many as there were at court.”

“Do ye really think the lass can pull him from himself? Stop him from being the cold mon he fights to be?”

“Aye, Colin, but it would help if MacLennon was dead. Until then,” Alexander shrugged. “Watch them when they come down to indulge in the feasting. Ye will see what I mean. If the matter werenae such a sad one t’would be funny. Iain catches himself softening and pulls back whilst poor, wee Islaen struggles to stop that retreat, wavering between sadness and anger.”

“Well, what matters most this night,” Storm said firmly, “is that the girl is very nervous and we must put her at ease.”

Islaen stared at herself in the mirror and then cursed softly, bringing a muttered reprimand from a harrassed Meg. She knew she was being a nuisance and perhaps foolish but she was desperate to look her best. Not used to her breasts being unbound she could only see a rather vast amount of bosom when she donned her fine gowns.

“I look the veriest whore,” she said sulkily, glaring at the soft rise of her full breasts.

“Ochane, ye will drive me mad,” hissed Meg. “Do ye mean to change again?”

“Nay, she doesnae.”

Iain grinned when both women turned abruptly to gape at him. He had stood in the doorway watching Islaen fret for several minutes. It was rather amusing to watch her struggle to hide what most other women would flaunt. She would clearly need a while yet before she was used to seeing herself unbound.

“But, Iain, I…”

“Ye look fine, lass,” he said sincerely as he moved to stand before her.

“Are ye sure? I wouldnae want your kin to think me shameless.”

“That they would ne’er think. Ye best come with me, lass, or t’will be little there is for us to eat.”

She smiled weakly and let him pull her along with him. Her gown was lovely and well made, of the finest materials, but she was certain she was showing far too much of herself. She colored with nervousness and embarrassment when she entered the hall at Iain’s side and all eyes turned towards her. It was not the best time, as far as she was concerned, to wear such a gown. As a stranger, and Iain’s new wife, all eyes were upon her anyways. Now was the time to be extremely demure.

Seated at the laird’s left, it did not take Islaen long to feel she had been given the best of seats. Colin was an open, friendly man and reminded her of her father in many ways. Within moments, she was feeling at ease.

It took a little longer to be sure she wished to be opposite Tavis’s lovely wife, Storm. Never had she been so close to a Sassanach although there had been times when some more or less friendly contact had been made with England. That Storm was not only accepted by the MacLagans but loved helped ease the awkwardness as did Storm’s friendly manner. It seemed as if Storm was more than willing to accept a new lady at Caraidland, even seemed genuinely glad of it. Tentatively, Islaen eased her wary stance, reaching for the friendship Storm seemed to offer.

It would be nice to have a woman friend, Islaen decided. She had Meg but Meg was more like a mother than a friend. Meg also had no experience with marriage and little with men. A woman to discuss things with, to confide in, could be very beneficial. Sometimes, Islaen mused, she felt very much alone as she struggled to adjust to marriage and being away from her home and her large family. Neither would it hurt to have some advice, she thought wryly. In her position, mistakes were costly. Storm had had ten years with the MacLagans, and Islaen grew more and more eager to discuss that, to ask questions.

Soon after the food began to disappear, musicians began to play. Islaen mused that Colin had managed quite an impressive feast despite the short notice he had received of their arrival. She wondered if the man had started planning it when he had been sent word of his son’s marriage. It was something he was obviously delighted about, if somewhat cautiously.

Islaen decided that Colin’s wariness was not directed at her. Colin evidently knew of his son’s fears and problems. She wondered just how much Colin had done to try to change his son’s opinions and attitudes. A faint smile touched her face as she envisioned the two strong, stubborn men in such a confrontation. Having seen many such confrontations amongst her brothers and father she had a very good idea of what it would have been like.

When the dancing began, Islaen found herself much in demand. It was a long while before she was able to retreat to a modestly quiet corner to catch her breath. As she finished a long refreshing draught of ale, she looked up to find Storm taking a seat upon the bench next to her.

“Do not look so wary, Islaen,” Storm said gently and smiled. “Might I call ye Islaen?”

“Oh, aye. T’would be most confusing if we called each other m’lady all the day long.”

Storm laughed softly and said teasingly, “We shall save it for when we are
annoyed with each other.”

“Do ye think there will come such a time?”

“But of course. I have a fierce temper and I would wager that ye do as well.”

“Aye, I fear ’tis so.”

“And it passes quickly.”

“Aye, fairly so. I dinnae hold fast to it and pout.”

“Good, then we shall go along fine. Tempers are a common thing here. They ne’er last and spite is rare. Iain has the calmest nature of all the MacLagan men, though Sholto is the more jolly. We all expect to be able to show our tempers, let free with them and not have to pay for days because we have done so.”

“’Tis the way of it with my family.” She felt a pinch of pain over the still fresh separation.

Patting her hand in a gesture of sympathy, Storm said quietly, “T’will pass. Ye must find comfort in the knowledge that ye can see them when ye wish.”

“It must be verra hard for ye to see your kin.”

“Not as difficult as ye may think. We have grown very good at visiting without danger or suspicion. In truth, ’tis the bandits, rogues of no country, who are the biggest threat. Phelan was very nearly murdered last year by the freebooters.”

“I would think that he soon made them sorry that they had attacked him.”

“Aye, most sorry, though he took a wound that kept him at Papa’s all winter.”

“Phelan resides here?”

“He does. Being Irish, he was wanted by few when it was time for him to begin his training. As soon as I was wed and came to abide here, Phelan joined me. Colin took him in hand and has oft expressed his pleasure in having done so.” Storm smiled when she caught the way Islaen watched her husband. “Alex is right. Ye do love Iain.”

“Alexander talks too much,” Islaen grumbled as she blushed but she made no effort to deny Storm’s assumption.

“At times, aye, but he spoke out this time for he recognized our need to know how matters stood.”

“And Iain would say naught.”

“Quite. Ye have a hard battle afore ye. I do not envy you it. Alex said ye knew all about Iain?”

“Weel, not all. I ken that he is afraid of childbirth.”

“Aye, he is that.”

“Why doesnae it help that he can see how weel ye do?”

“I truly do not know. Of course, it was very bad with Catalina. He was beset with guilt. I think you can cure him though, Islaen. Ye do not fear, do ye.”

“Nay. All the women in my family are wee lasses but they have braw bairns and little trouble in the birthing of them.”

For one brief moment Islaen was tempted to confide in Storm about what Iain had made her promise, and how she worked to deceive him. She resisted the temptation, however. Storm was offering friendship but Islaen felt it far too early to test that with such a secret.

“He also fears leaving you a widow.”

Startled out of her thoughts by that quiet statement, Islaen stared at Storm. “What?”

“MacLennon.”

“Ah, aye.”

“The man haunts Iain and none can seem to find him so that the threat may be ended for all time. So many eyes seek the murderer out that I oft think he must turn to mist, gathering into the form of a man whene’er a chance to strike at Iain arises.”

“I cannae believe Iain fears him. Weel, no more than any mon fears a knife at his back.”

“’Tis not really MacLennon nor death Iain has fear of but of causing ye grief. He is a man with death ever at his heels. Iain thinks t’would be cruel to woo ye and win ye when MacLennon could strike at any time and succeed. Death is not often so clear to see, so near at hand. He sees it as unfair to bind your heart to him when he knows of this threat.”

It was so logical Islaen could see the truth of it. She could also see the stupidity of it. The more she thought on it the angrier she got. She also felt the fury of helplessness. MacLennon could be haunting Iain for a long time. Unless Iain saw the man die he would always use that specter to hold her away from him.

“Sometimes I think that mon is half mad or a fool,” she muttered and Storm laughed softly.

“Ah, well, mayhaps. His intentions are good.”

When Islaen succinctly said what Iain could do with his good intentions Storm laughed heartily. The woman was still laughing when Tavis collected her for a dance. Islaen sighed as she watched the couple leave her. There had been a look in Tavis’s eyes when he had gazed at his wife that Islaen feared she would never stir in Iain’s gaze.

Thinking again on what Storm had said about that threat of MacLennon, Islaen sighed with some exasperation. She began to wonder why she bothered. The wise thing to do might be to just go about the business of life and let her much-muddled husband sort himself out. If Storm was right there was a battle it was nearly impossible to fight. Only MacLennon’s death would end Iain’s reticence and Islaen knew she could not manage that on her own.

Inwardly, she grimaced. She knew she would not stop trying to reach Iain’s heavily armoured heart. Common sense had very little to do with the matter. She loved and she ached to have that feeling returned. The love she felt for Iain constantly fought to be set free, to fully express itself and find some reward, some welcome. At times she had to bite her tongue to hold the words back. She badly wanted to know the full glory of love, one shared and returned.