Authors: Hannah Howell
“Fraser,” he bellowed. “Give it up. Ye have lost.”
“Aye, but so have ye, Iain MacLagan,” Fraser cried, grabbed a stick from the fire before the hut and darted around the side.
“What is that madman doing?” Tavis grumbled and signaled his archers to be ready.
Fraser darted back to the fire, laughing in a way that made Iain shiver. “Aye, MacLagan, ye have lost too.”
“Nay,” Iain screamed when he saw what the man meant to do with the burning stick he pulled from the fire.
Even as Fraser tossed the stick at the thatched roof the MacLagan archers fired. An instant later his body bristled with arrows. With a maddened bellow echoed by Tavis, Iain charged towards the hut but, by the time he reached it, flames engulfed the place. When he and Tavis tried to get closer, a white-faced Colin ordered the men to hold them back.
The hut was burning so fast that even if the men got inside they would never come out alive. They could not even use the water that was near for there was nothing to carry it with.
“’Tis nay so bad at the back,” one man cried and they all raced to where he led.
Islaen did not think she had ever been so scared. She and Storm were breaking through the wall but it seemed to go so slowly. The place was filling with smoke. Her eyes streamed and she felt as if she was choking. She noticed that Storm was no better. Burning pieces of the roof were falling in by the time they felt the hole was big enough to get through.
“Ye go first, Islaen,” Storm ordered. “Do not argue. Ye carry a babe. Get out there and then pull the lad through.”
She knew she would only waste precious seconds by arguing so Islaen wriggled through the hole. Reaching back through she grasped the youth under the arms and was pulling him out when suddenly she was yanked away. Roughly set down away from the rapidly burning hut, she watched dumb-founded as Iain and Tavis yanked the youth out, then Tavis pulled Storm out. Seconds later the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks and Tavis, the nearest to the conflagaration, had several sparks land on him. She heard him curse when too many hands roughly slapped out the embers. It was not until Iain yanked off his tunic and put it on her that she came out of her stupor. She then realized she had been sitting there almost naked while the MacLagan men stood around.
Iain saw her torn clothes and her bruises and felt like weeping. “We had to wait, lass, to go slow for fear he would kill ye.”
Still blushing over how she had sat so exposed before his men, Islaen only nodded as he helped her stand, then whispered, “’Tis all right.”
“An I had come to him as he had asked, I could have saved you from this.”
“I am alive, Iain. ’Tis all that matters.”
“I feel the same, Islaen. Believe that. No matter what that whoreson did to ye, I care only that ye have survived it all.”
Suddenly realizing what he thought had happened, Islaen whispered, “He didnae rape me, Iain.”
Gently grasping her by the shoulders, he said, “Islaen, there is no need to lie. It doesnae matter. Ye arenae at fault.”
“But I tell ye, he didnae…”
“Sometimes,” Robert interrupted softly, “they say the shock is so great the woman puts it from her mind. Best we get her back to Caraidland.”
“Aye,” Iain agreed. “Meg can tend to her.”
“Iain, will ye just listen…” she began.
“Come, Islaen, we will take ye to Meg. Ye will learn to accept this,” he said softly, “and understand that it doesnae matter to me.”
“Iain,” she ground out, “I wasnae raped.”
“Islaen, we can all see the truth,” he said sadly.
Following his gaze she did not need to see beneath the tunic that hung on her. She knew all too well how badly torn her gown was. It was not, however, proof that she had been raped. Then she glanced at Storm but the woman could not speak, her voice finally taken due to the abuse her throat had suffered. Storm nodded towards Islaen’s legs,
however, and when Islaen looked she gasped for there was blood there, a small trail of blood from her thighs to her calves. For one horrified moment she thought she was losing the child but then became aware of the stinging in her thighs and relaxed. Sometime in her fight with Fraser he had cut her or she had hurt herself in her rush to escape the fire.
Over her head Iain and Robert discussed her as if she were simple. She began to feel furious. No matter what state she was in, no matter how she looked, she should know better than anyone else whether or not she had been raped. She knew her fury was easily stirred because her emotions were raw from her ordeal, but when Iain spoke to her as if she were a small, frightened and somewhat stupid child and the men gathered there looked at her so sympathetically as he reassured her, she cursed and slapped his consoling hands away.
“I hate to prick your noble understanding, Iain MacLagan, but there is no need of it.” She punctuated her words by jabbing a finger into his chest. “Now listen to me, ye wooden-headed fool, I ought to ken what was done to me. Aye, he tried but he couldnae. Fraser couldnae rape a hole in the mud. Ye see, ye great gowk, when ye beat him that day at court ye mashed his cullions to pudding and the bastard couldnae get his pintle stiff if ye put a rod in it.” The look of astonishment upon Iain’s face as well as the sudden silence around them caused Islaen to realize what she had been saying. “Oh, God’s beard, what did I say?” she groaned, one hand covering her mouth as she stared at Iain in growing horror.
“Weel,” he said in a choked voice, “ye certainly made it all verra clear.”
When he burst out laughing and all his men and kin joined in, Islaen thought she would die of embarrassment. She put her hands over her flush hot face and wished she could disappear. No lady would have used such coarse language, Islaen was sure of it.
“Lass,” Iain murmured, his voice shaking with laughter, “ye can stand there ’til the final reckoning and it willnae happen. Ye willnae disappear.”
That seemed to amuse the men even more, which made Islaen forget her embarrassment and glare at them. “Oafs. I am going home.”
“Wait, sweeting,” Iain gasped as he moved after her and struggled to subdue his laughter. “I will get my horse.”
“Nay, thank ye kindly, I will get my own,” she said haughtily, then put her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly for Beltraine, who quickly appeared from the wood and trotted towards her.
She was just wondering how to mount without exposing too much of her legs when she heard someone mention the wounded youth. One man pointed out that the lad was one of Fraser’s men and several voices offered some very chilling suggestions as to what should be done with him. Seeing that Storm was trying to speak up for the youth but was still nearly mute, Islaen hurried back to where the young man lay. She was partly aware of how Iain continued to stay at her side.
“Nay, ye must not hurt the lad.”
“Did he help ye?”
“Weel, Iain, when Fraser asked him to kill us the boy refused. Fraser cut him down.”
“He was part of it though, sweeting. He didnae stop it.”
Looking at her husband she said quietly, “When he came to tell Fraser that ye had come, he looked horrified at what had been done to Storm and me. He was shocked to his
soul when Fraser ordered us killed. I think he is just a lad who was tempted by an adventure and had no idea of the mire he had stepped into. Nay, nor of the mon he rode with. He could have killed us but he didnae and, if Fraser hadnae been weakened by a wound, the lad could have died for that. Can ye nay give him a chance? ’Tis a small reward.”
“Aye, it is.”
Islaen began to feel very weary as Iain saw to the youth’s transport back to Caraidland. She did not try to ride off by herself but waited for Iain. He mounted and had Robert hand her to him. Once she was settled on Iain’s lap, she let her weariness conquer her.
“The blood upon your legs, Islaen?” Iain asked softly.
“Cut myself somehow. Either in fighting Fraser or in crawling out through the hole in the wall,” she replied tiredly. “Did ye find Robbie?”
“Aye, he was trying to get back to Caraidland. He will be fine.”
“Fraser?”
“Dead.”
“There is one threat gone then. A shame MacLennon’s madness cannae make him as foolish as Fraser.”
“Aye, a shame,” Iain agreed softly, then realized that she had fallen asleep and he tightened his hold upon her a little.
He stared down at the sleeping woman in his arms. From the moment he had heard that she was in Fraser’s hands he had been fighting panic. He had kept thinking of all the days he had stayed away from her, days that could never be regained. The depth of his fear for her told him something he did not really want to know. She was not pulling at him any longer—she had him.
Holding back a smile Islaen fought not to look at Storm knowing she would see laughter in the woman’s eyes and lose her control on her own. Gamel Brodie, the youth she and Storm had rescued, was vowing his undying devotion, swearing to sacrifice all in their service. Islaen decided the youth had listened to too many minstrel’s tales of knights and chivalry. Worse, he had taken it all to heart.
As soon as they could, she and Storm left him. When they felt they were far enough away so that he could not hear them, they gave into their laughter. They were still giggling over the matter when they entered the hall where Tavis and Iain awaited them. They told their husbands, who exchanged rueful glances, what they found so amusing, for it was clear that neither Tavis nor Iain saw the humor of it. That lack became clearer as the days passed and Gamel healed enough to start trying to prove his devotion.
Iain glared at young Gamel when he found the youth singing love songs to Islaen as Islaen sat by the fire in the hall doing her mending. He sat next to Islaen and continued to glower at the youth but Gamel paid him no heed. It was not only the way Gamel paid such attention to Islaen, for the youth paid equal attention to Storm, but the handsome young man made Iain all too aware of the years that separated himself from his young bride. He could not stop himself wondering if Gamel would make Islaen aware of it too.
“Storm is having a wee bit of trouble settling her bairns for the night,” he lied smoothly. “Mayhaps ye can soothe them with your singing, Gamel.” He smiled with satisfaction when Gamel left.
“I was enjoying that, Iain.”
“That drivel?”
“Aye, Gamel has a sweet voice. I also ken that Storm ne’er has trouble settling her bairns.”
“Are ye saying that I lied?”
Looking at him in wide-eyed innocence, Islaen said sweetly, “Nay, merely that ye may have been mistaken. I also feel sure that ye but forgot Tavis’s threat to make Gamel eat his lute an he doesnae cease singing love songs to Storm.”
Sprawling more comfortably on the settle, Iain smiled faintly, “Nay, I didnae.”
“The boy means weel, Iain.”
“Islaen, that boy is near one and twenty.”
“Aye but he is a boy still in many ways.”
“Nay in the ones I think on.”
“Gamel doesnae think on that. To him, Storm and I are the ladies of his songs. He plays at the old courtly love, love pure and from afar.”
“Hah. I have seen courtly love. So have ye, in the halls e’en. T’was neither pure nor from afar.”
“Ah, aye, weel, I did say the ‘old’ sort of courtly love.” She sighed for, while it was nice to see this jealousy in Iain, it was not something she wished to go on for too long nor to worsen. “I admit he can be tiresome but he means weel. He feels he owes us his life.”
“He does.”
“Aye, I suppose. He has no one, Iain. I cannot toss him out.”
“He has kin.”
“Iain, ye ken weel that they tossed him out.”
“Aye, for nearly causing a bloody feud by singing love songs to anither mon’s wife. The lad didnae learn by it, ’tis clear.”
“Actually, I think t’was more that he challenged the mon because the mon had raised his voice to the lady.” She giggled when Iain cursed softly. “So, ye best not yell at me, Iain.”
“I ne’er yell at ye,” he bellowed.
“Nay, of course not,” she murmured, then laughed.
His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “Ye are a brat and that lad is fast becoming a nuisance beyond bearing.”
She nodded and frowned in thought. Soon the humor would vanish from the situation. Since she could not simply throw the youth out she had to think of somewhere to send him. Her eyes widened as she suddenly saw the perfect solution to it all.
“Iain,” she cried, dropping her mending to throw her arms about his neck, “I have the answer. We will send him to my kin.”
Lightly putting his arms around her, he smiled crookedly. “I would be glad to see the back of him, but I think your brothers may object to having him underfoot. They too have wives he can swear vows to and sing to.”
“Aye, but such has happened before and they ken the way to cure the lad of his fancies. We had a cousin afflicted with such fancies and they soon set him aright, yet didnae kill all that makes it so sweet. Do ye ken what I mean?”
“Aye, the ideals remain but the foolishness is gone. ’Tis the best way for, aye, there is good in the fancies the boy holds. Do ye ask first?”
“I best do so.” She pulled out of his arms and stood up. “I will ask Robert to send his mon to our father. I dinnae think Fither will refuse the boy.”
Iain watched her hurry away and sighed. He was letting his jealousy show but he could not help it. His only comfort came in the fact that Tavis acted much the same. It was a hint of his feelings, however, that he would be wise to hide. Shrugging, he decided a man did not have to love to be possessive. Islaen had an excellent understanding of men, a rather uncomfortable one at times, and he could console himself with the thought that she would not read too much into his jealousy over the youth.
As soon as the youth was gone, Iain decided he would go to Muircraig. He had lingered at Caraidland to see that Islaen had healed completely, in mind and body, after Fraser’s attack. Once sure of that he had lingered because he had not wanted to leave her alone with the young, ardent and handsome Gamel. Soon that reason would be gone for Iain was also sure that Alaistair would accept Gamel.
Heading out of the hall he decided to go soak in a hot bath. He was restless and he knew why. Islaen was healed enough to make love to and he ached to do so. With his emotions still in such a turmoil, Iain knew it would be dangerous to hold her close and make love to her, just as he knew he would surely do so before he fled to Muircraig.
Watching her brother, Duncan, ride away with Gamel, Islaen looked over her shoulder at Iain. “The thorn has been plucked out.”
“Verra amusing. T’was not only my side that thorn pricked.”
“Nay. I noticed Tavis was in high spirits today.”
“I swear, the lad was more annoying than Alexander,” Iain grumbled as he escorted Islaen back inside.
She laughed softly, then frowned as she realized they were headed to their chambers. “Why do we go here?”
Gently pushing her into the room, then shutting the door, he murmured, “Ye are all healed from that attack, are ye not?”
Beginning to grow suspicious, Islaen answered, “Aye, I have been for a few days. I thought ye kenned that.”
“Aye, I did, but I was being gallant.”
“Ah,” she watched him start shedding his clothes and knew she was going to go along with what he so clearly planned, “and ye arenae planning on being gallant anymore?”
“I dinnae ken. Ye will have to tell me—after.”
“After? After ye bathe?” she asked brightly as he moved to stand before her wearing only his braes.
He ignored that and looked her up and down. “One of us is overdressed.”
“Aye, but I will soon mend that.”
With a soft laugh she swiftly undid his braes. “Better?”
She giggled as, with a soft growl, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. By the time he finished removing her clothes most of her playfulness was taken over by desire. Holding him close and savoring the way his skin felt against hers, she met and returned the hunger of his kiss. Her hands moved over his lean frame with an ill-disguised greed until he caught them in his, stilling them. She met his gaze and caught her breath at the passion revealed there.
“Now, that is better.”
“Ah, but is it gallant?”
“Ye can tell me in a minute.”
“Only a minute?”
“Ye are feeling pert, arenae ye?”
Rubbing her feet over the back of his legs she smiled and tugged his mouth down to hers. “I have ne’er heard it called that before.”
Iain laughed softly, then kissed her. Islaen quickly lost the last of her playfulness as he took them to the sweet oblivion all lovers sought. It was not until her mind cleared and she was holding him close, their sated bodies still intimately joined, that she began to get a little suspicious. She had the sinking feeling that Iain’s impetuous lovemaking was spurred on by plans to leave for Muircraig again.
Nuzzling her neck and enjoying the feel of her so intimately close, Iain began to think of a way to gently tell her he would be leaving for Muircraig in a few hours. Making love to her only strengthened his conviction that he had come close to breaking all his rules. Keeping the distance between them that he felt was necessary left him feeling empty and alone. It was a great temptation to end that.
“I must return to Muircraig,” he said softly as he kissed her neck and felt her tense briefly.
Not at all pleased to find that she had guessed correctly, Islaen forced herself to relax and asked calmly, “Aye? And when do ye leave?”
“By noon,” he replied, and covertly but carefully watched her, not sure she would take the news very well.
Islaen tried very hard not to get angry. She utilized every trick she knew to stop her
temper from rising. None of them worked. With a curse, she shoved Iain away, then sat up to glare at him. Clenching her hands, she fought the urge to strike him.
“I see, and ye thought ye best have a quick toss with the wee wife ere ye go,” she hissed.
Deciding that it was not a good time to think on her beauty as she sat there naked and fuming, Iain met her glare. “Now, dinnae get into a fit,” he began.
“I will show ye a fit.”
She tried to push him out of the bed but he was prepared for her move. Try as she would she could not budge him. In frustration she finally hit him. Iain cursed softly and wrestled with her until he got her firmly pinned beneath him.
He supposed she had a right to her anger, and could see that getting her into bed, making love to her, then abruptly leaving was tactless, but he had not expected her to get quite so angry. Hurriedly he searched his mind for the right words to soothe her yet not reveal the real reasons that he had hesitated to make love to her until the moment before he left. Not only did he not really like her to be so angry with him, he did not want to spend what time he had before leaving Caraidland in argument.
“Islaen, t’was not like that. Ye had a bad time when Fraser got hold of ye and needed to heal.”
“I have been healed for a while.”
“So ye say, but e’en now I can see the remnants of his attack.”
“They dinnae hurt.”
He eased his hold upon her so that it was more of an embrace than a fettering hold. “Good, for I would hate to think that, by giving into my needs, I hurt you—which is what I have feared. I but reached the point today, kenning that I was to leave, where I was willing to chance it, or, rather, didnae think on it too much. Islaen,” he murmured as he brushed light kisses over her face, “is it wrong for a husband to want to have some loving ere he leaves? I but seek a sweet memory to warm my empty bed at Muircraig. Aye and mayhaps mean to leave ye a wee memory or two.”
“Humph, ye mean to sweet talk me out of my anger,” she mumbled as she unsuccessfully fought her rising desires.
“Aye, there is some truth in that but what I said was also true.” He kissed her with a slow greed, then said softly, “I couldnae leave without a taste of this, lass, not when I ken t’will be a while ere ye are near enough to reach for again.” He began to toy with her hardened nipples with his tongue, enjoying the way she moved restlessly against him.
‘So dinnae leave or take me with ye,’ she thought a little crossly but bit her lip to hold the words back. She knew it would be a mistake to press him too hard on the matter. For the time being, no matter how it hurt and no matter how it destroyed her attempts to build a good marriage, it was best to open her hands and let him run. Complaints and recriminations would gain her nothing. She was sure of it just as she was fairly sure that they would cost her more than she was willing to pay
Closing her eyes, she decided to luxuriate in the passion they shared. She admitted honestly, but only to herself, that she too did not want him to go off to Muircraig without making love to her. There were too many times already when she ached for his loving.
Wantonly, she lay beneath him, nourishing every kiss and caress, greedily soaking up the pleasure he gave her. However, she jerked compulsively when his lips touched the curls adorning her womanhood. Her shock over such intimacy was brief and she soon
arched to his kiss. Soon she was shaking with need and tugged on his hair.
“Please, Iain, please, I dinnae want to go alone,” she rasped softly and cried out with relief and pleasure when he fiercely joined their bodies, taking them both to desire’s apex, their cries of release blending in what Islaen thought was the sweetest of harmonies.
When it was time for him to leave she did her best to hide her anger and frustration. She knew she could not force him to stay just as she could not force him to love her. As soon as he was gone, she went back to her chambers and indulged herself in a furious tantrum, finally collapsing across the bed, a little exhausted after venting so many pent-up feelings.
“Is it safe to come in now?”
“Aye, Storm,” she answered with a soft laugh.
Glancing around at the disorder as she entered the room Storm smiled, “Did it feel good?”
“Aye.” Sitting up Islaen looked at the strewn clothes and the rest of the mess she had made. “Aye, it did.”
“I know.” Storm sat next to Islaen. “I have usually enjoyed the ones I finally gave into. Well, until I had to pick up.”
“Aye, that will take some of the joy out of it. Still, ’tis better than beating Iain o’er the head with a mallet.”
“Mmmm. Husbands find that sort of thing hard to understand.” Storm joined Islaen in laughing.
“’Tis just that I grow so weary of the game but see no end to it. Aye, and undoubtedly t’will soon take a turn for the worse.”
“Why do ye say that?”
“I think that, when next he comes home, I must tell him of the child.”
Looking at Islaen’s waist which was no longer tiny, Storm sighed and nodded. “I think ye are lucky he has not seen it yet.”
“He mentioned that my figure was growing a wee bit fuller but, ere I could fumble with a reply, said he supposed I was just finishing my growing. He sees me as a child, I think.”