Authors: Hannah Howell
“Do ye mean to linger abed all day?” he asked huskily, a little astonished at how easily she could arouse him especially when he should be well sated, even in need of a rest.
“Weel, I am nay sure I am quite clear on a word or twa,” she murmured.
Almost grinning and wondering how she could look seductive and impish at the same time, he drawled, “Weel, I could take a moment to teach ye one more thing. This is a pat,” he said as he neatly flipped her over and gently patted her on her backside, “and this is a wee spank.” He gave her one not too hard slap and, laughing, loped out of the door.
“Wretch,” Islaen cried but by the time she had the pillow in her hands to throw at him the door was shutting behind him.
She sighed and got out of bed. Islaen felt no real eagerness to leave her chambers. In the night and often first thing in the morning, Iain was far from aloof and cool. He was passionate, talkative and sometimes teasing. Yet, by the time she joined him outside of their chambers in the morning, the mask was back in place and all his shields were up.
With a shrug of her shoulders she thrust away that wistfulness. She had seen what could be, saw it each time they lay in their bed shut away from the world. He was content then, she had no doubts about that. It was a start, a base she could build from. It bothered her a little to use her body and the passion they shared to break down his walls, but it worked and she was in no position to quibble over what methods she used.
Iain barely restrained himself from smiling at Islaen when she joined him at the table in the hall. Grinning at one’s bride like some besotted groom was not the way to keep her at a distance, he thought wryly. It was hard, though, to act aloof when his mind was still filled with clear and delicious memories of a passion-filled night. He knew he should try to hold himself apart even in their bed at night just as he knew he would never do that. As he had each night since their wedding he would find himself drawn to their bed by the promise of her passion and would find himself softening inside as she held him. He sometimes felt as if he were two men and could not help but wonder if he were equally confusing her. Iain thought a little wryly that that might be the way to keep her feelings for him from deepening.
Deciding Iain was going to be especially withdrawn today, Islaen allowed the queen to tow her off to where some of the women gathered. She collected her needlework and sat down with the others only to soon realize that needlework was not the real purpose of the gathering—gossip was. Some of the tales told shocked Islaen although she tried to hide that fact. It was difficult not to leap to the defense of some of the people whose names were being so completely blackened even if she did not know them at all. She began to get a headache as she tried to sort truth from rumour or lie.
“And here is something that will interest ye, Lady MacLagan.”
Resisting the childish urge to stick her tongue out at Lady Constance for the way the woman sneered her name, Islaen asked, “And what would that be?”
“Lady Mary Cameron arrived at court today. She used to be Mary Chisolm, ye ken.”
“Nay, I dinnae ken. The name means naught to me.”
“Weel, ye best learn it then.”
“Had I?”
“Aye, she is the woman Iain loved.”
“Ah, that one. He told me about her.”
“Did he tell ye she was a widow now?”
A chill ran down Islaen’s spine but she maintained her pose of calm disinterest. “Nay. It really doesnae concern us.”
Before Lady Constance could make the jeering remark that so clearly hovered upon her lips the queen changed the subject. Islaen breathed a silent sigh of relief.
As soon as she could do so without raising any suspicion that she was retreating, Islaen left the women. Once in her chambers she sprawled on the bed and quelled the sudden urge to scream in frustration. The last thing she needed was another problem. She knew Iain had told her that he did not love his old love anymore but she also knew that he could be mistaken. The flames of love could simply have been tamped down and, once confronted with the woman, flare back up again. The very thought of that hurt and Islaen gasped from the sharpness of it.
She was in love with the man, she decided a little sadly. It had been something she had suspected from the moment she had set eyes upon him, but she had tried, and
succeeded, to not think about it too much. This very real threat made her face it squarely. None of the other problems had really threatened her with the loss of Iain’s love. She simply did not have it and had to fight to gain it. Now she faced the possibility that all she fought for could be handed to another.
Shaking her head in vigorous denial Islaen stood up. That might happen but it did not have to. She certainly would not simply stand back and let it happen, she decided firmly as she started for the hall, hoping she would get there before Lady Mary Cameron presented herself.
Iain looked around for his wife, frowning faintly when he was unable to spot her. He was just about to give into the urge to see if she had retired to their chambers when a hand tugged at his sleeve. When he saw who vied for his attention he almost gaped.
“Mary.”
“I wondered if ye would remember me. It has been four years.”
“Ye havenae changed at all,” he said quietly and felt a twinge of resentment over that fact.
When she had been given to another he had been devastated. It was then that he had started to close off his heart, determined never to feel that sort of pain again. He knew that had left its mark upon him. Mary did not look as if she had suffered at all despite being taken away from him, a man she had claimed to love more than life.
Mary studied the man she had once thought to wed until the richer more powerful Lord Cameron had asked for her hand. Age and the trials of life had added to Iain’s exciting looks. She felt her pulse quicken. The one thing she had really regretted was that she had never had Iain for a lover. At first she had had to save her maidenhead for her husband, and Iain had always treated her like the greatest of virgins. After her marriage he had been out of reach. She had never stopped wondering how he would be as a lover, however, and she intended to find out.
“Ye flatter me.”
“Nay, ye look the same as ye did when we parted. I have changed, though.”
She reached out to trail her finger over the scar upon his face. “It makes ye look attractively dangerous, Iain. Ye are wed?”
“Aye, but a fortnight ago. I was just about to seek her out.”
Islaen paused just inside the hall and frowned as she began to look for Iain. Despite his height it was not always easy to find him when the crowd thickened. It was at its thickest now for there was food in the offering.
“Looking for someone, love?”
Sparing a brief welcoming look for Alexander, Islaen nodded. “Iain, and should ye really be calling me love?”
“Mayhaps not but I think I will.”
“It may cause talk.”
“Aye, we will set the gossips’ tongues to wagging at both ends. T’will be most amusing.”
“Ye have a strange idea of fun, Alexander MacDubh.”
When she finally spotted Iain she tensed. A fulsome blonde stood very close to him. She was on the tall side for a woman, her shape one that Islaen was sure men desired, and she was both elegant and graceful. What truly frightened Islaen was the softening she could see in Iain’s face as he looked at the woman.
“Alexander, who is that woman with Iain?” she asked even though she felt sure she knew.
“What woman?” he asked with an overdone innocence.
“Ye ken what woman,” she said sternly.
“Lady Mary Cameron. Ye dinnae ken the woman.”
“Aye, I am afraid I do.” She looked at him after watching the woman stroke Iain’s face and smiled crookedly. “Weel, are ye going to tell me again that I neednae fash myself about the women?”
It was one of the hardest things she had ever done but Islaen did not ask Iain about Mary. She decided the best way to handle the matter was to trust Iain and, in truth, she did.
Mary, however, she did not trust one little bit. The woman would push until Iain fell. She was already doing it. Islaen wished she knew how far the woman intended to go. Depending on how ruthless one was, a wife was not an insurmountable obstacle. Islaen had the feeling that Lady Mary could be very ruthless indeed.
Taking a long drink of wine, Islaen fought to keep her temper just as she had for the three nights since Lady Mary had arrived. She sat next to her husband but could have been miles away for all the notice he took. Mary had managed to usurp Lady Constance’s seat, and thus practically all of Iain’s attention. He seemed quite willing to give it too, she thought crossly. She told herself firmly that attention was all he was giving the woman and she ought to be grateful for that instead of sulking.
“Och, Iain, we are sorely neglecting your wee wife.”
Islaen wondered how big a scandal would be raised if she poured her wine over Mary’s elegantly coiffed head and sweetly said, “Iain’s wee wife is doing fine, thank ye.”
Iain looked at his wife thinking her voice just a little too sweet and was surprised at how flat and hard her eyes were. He knew he was neglecting her, lavishing far too much attention upon Mary, yet he could not seem to help himself. Neither the growing withdrawl of Islaen nor the increasingly belligerent glances of her brothers was enough to stop him. Mary was from a happier time, a time before his life had soured. He knew he could never really go back, yet he could not resist the urge to try to recapture a part of it.
“Aye, ye have Alexander, dinnae ye,” Lady Mary purred, then drew Iain into a discussion of a mutual acquaintance.
Frowning slightly, Islaen looked at Alexander and saw that he held the same suspicions she did about why Mary had said what she had. “Do ye really think that she would try that game?”
“Aye, the conniving slut.”
“Is she?”
“She is and she was. Aye and most like ever will be a slut. Iain ne’er saw it.”
“And ye ne’er told him.”
“Nay, I had already been through that with Tavis. Odd, her name was Mary too.”
“Near half the woman in the country are named Mary.”
“Och, weel, to be direct, and pardon an I offend, Mary did keep her maidenhead intact but t’was all that was untouched. To Iain, all was virgin. He didnae see it and she didnae let him. She kenned more tricks than the finest courtesan,” he muttered and took a deep drink of wine.
Although she blushed over his direct talk Islaen was also curious. She also felt sure that Alexander was a little less than sober and that that roughened his tongue. There was the slightest flush to his lovely skin and a shine to his beautiful eyes.
“Did Tavis hate ye then?”
“Nay, but until he found Storm our relationship suffered. It took a lot of healing and the lass wasnae really worth it. O’ course, he still bridles like a dog protecting its bitch whene’er I talk to Storm.”
“Tried to steal her once, did ye?”
“Aye, I did, but before she was his wife. I seem fated to lust after MacLagan women.”
The implication of his words and the way he looked at her made Islaen blush. That such a man would want her was quite flattering. Then she had to smile. He looked remarkably like a sulky little boy.
“There is a lass out there for ye, Alexander MacDubh.”
“Weel, she is hiding herself verra weel. I mark two and thirty years next week.”
“Wheesht, so verra old ye are. Bent with age.”
“Ye are a wretched wee lass.”
“I ken it. Ye will find a lass. Of course, ye will most like not see it at first and ye being such a bonnie rogue, it willnae go too smoothly at first, I am thinking.”
“A bonnie rogue, am I?”
“Aye and the poor lass will fash herself woefully o’er it, I am certain.”
“Poor wee lass. Weel, I will have to console her a lot.”
“Aye, a muckle lot.”
“I dinnae suppose ye need any consoling.”
“Nay, not the sort ye speak of.”
“A shame. Will ye settle for a wee dance then?”
She laughed and nodded letting him tow her out to mingle with the dancers. Many looked at them with knowing expressions and Islaen sighed. Clearly they thought there was only one reason a woman would have anything to do with Alexander, or he with a woman. When she caught a glance from Iain, Islaen could tell that he wondered the same thing as the others. It annoyed her as well as hurt. She was offended by his mistrust, yet could not help but wonder why, if he thought she and Alexander were having a liaison, he did nothing to stop it.
For the first time since Mary’s arrival, Iain found that he was easily distracted from her. The sight of Alexander and Islaen enjoying each other’s company thoroughly troubled him. He trusted Islaen but knew how easily Alexander could seduce most any woman. Iain knew he had shamefully neglected Islaen for another woman and now worried that she would be vulnerable to Alexander’s charm.
Inwardly he grimaced, a little ashamed at the way he wanted to violently stop her from having a lover while he was thinking of taking one himself. Mary’s hints that she was willing to take him to her bed were subtle but clear. Iain was finding it a temptation too strong to resist. As the evening wore on, Mary’s invitations grew stronger and he grew weaker.
Islaen heard the soft murmur of voices as she returned from visiting the garderobe. When she recognized the man’s voice, she slipped into the shadows, her heart beating furiously as it anticipated the pain it might soon have to endure. The couple hesitated before her hiding place and Islaen pressed deeper into the shadowed niche, her hands clenched into painfully tight fists as she fought the urge to dart out and scream her anger and hurt at the adulterous pair.
Mary frowned when Iain hesitated. She had thought her success at hand. Already she had begun to lay her plans for ridding him of his wife so that he might be free to wed her. In the four years they had been apart he had gained more of the riches and power she craved. Even better was his closeness to the king which promised even more money and
power.
“Why do ye hold back, my love?”
“Mary, I am a wedded mon.”
“Had I only come to court sooner I could have stopped that folly,” she breathed as she twined her arms around his neck and then kissed him with all the seductive skill she possessed, a skill she had begun to hone shortly after her first flux. “We were torn from each other’s arms,” she said huskily, pleased with his apparent bemusement, as she subtly urged him towards her chambers, “and forced to take others as our mates. Come, my love, let us not shy again from taking what is our right due to the love we share.”
Iain let her lead him along. He was bemused after her kiss, unable to think clearly, because it had not gone as he had expected it to. His passion had not flared to life despite the somewhat unsettling skill Mary had displayed. It had stirred slightly in response to sweet memory but nothing more. He found himself thinking of how easily Islaen could set him aflame and began to wonder if anything he could share with Mary was worth risking what he had with Islaen.
The pain that had begun to sear through Islaen’s insides when she had watched the pair kiss seemed to double when they continued on, Iain saying nothing else in protest. Giving a convulsive sob, she covered her face with her hands and began to weep. Just as she began to sag against the wall two strong arms encircled her. Islaen spared one startled glance to affirm the identity of who held her before collapsing against Alexander’s broad chest and giving herself over completely to her misery.
“What are ye doing here?” she rasped when she finally calmed down.
“I kenned ye were down this hall and wished to stop ye from seeing just what ye have seen.”
“Here, what are ye doing with our sister?” Malcolm’s easily recognizable bellow echoed through the hall an instant before Alexander was forcefully yanked away from Islaen.
“He wasnae doing anything wrong,” Islaen hastened to say as she saw how belligerently her brothers were eyeing Alexander.
“I but tried to console the lass.”
“Aye, and I ken how ye do that, Alexander MacDubh. Ye would console her right into your bed,” Malcolm growled.
“Islaen would never use me that way, sir.” Alexander then winked at her. “Howbeit, I am at her disposal if she wishes…”
“That be enough out of ye,” Robert said shortly, then placed an arm around Islaen’s shoulders in a gesture of consolation. “Ah, ye have been weeping. So ye saw the black scoundrel, did ye. Weel, dinnae fash yourself, sweeting. We go now to make him pay.”
“That was the other reason for my being here, lass,” Alexander said quietly. “I had a wish to stop a killing.”
“Nay, ye wouldnae,” she gasped, pushing away from Robert and looking at all her brothers, seeing the truth of their intentions in their taut, hard faces. “Ye cannae do it.”
“Lass, he has shamed ye. Aye, and hurt ye.”
“’Tis not your concern, Donald.”
“Ye be our sister and we willnae let him treat ye so,” Nathan hissed.
“I dinnae care.”
“Of course ye do. ’Tis clear to read upon your face.”
“Of course I care but nay enough to want him dead. Aye, there was a moment there when I did and a wee part of me is telling me I should urge ye to go after him, impale him and his whore to their adulterous bed. I cannae let ye do it, though. Ye would cut me far more than he e’er could. T’would not only be him that would bleed ere your swords touched him.”
Seeing that her words had drastically dimmed her brothers’ ferocity, Alexander gently urged, “Go to your chambers, lass.”
After a close look at her brothers’ faces, Islaen did as Alexander suggested. She felt a need to hide away for at least a while. Islaen just wished she could go somewhere besides the chambers she shared with Iain.
As soon as Islaen had left, Alexander looked at her brothers. They were an impressive array of tall, strong and handsome young men, even more impressive when one recalled that there were four more like them at home. Iain would be well matched in a fight with any one of them. Alexander knew it would not only be Iain’s blood that could flow, however, if they came to sword point. He was fond of Islaen, more fond than he knew he should be, and wanted to spare her the pain that would surely come if her brothers fought Iain.
“Ye cannae take up sword against the mon,” he said quietly.
“Ye defend him because the mon is your friend,” Malcolm growled.
“Aye, and because Islaen is my friend.”
“I am nay sure I want ye sniffing about our sister,” Nathan said coldly.
Alexander shrugged. “I care little. She will continue to hold my friendship no matter how ye snarl about it. Islaen does me the honour of liking me. Few women have.”
Duncan snorted in disgust. “They all like ye and far too much.”
“Nay, they like my face and form but pay little heed to what lies beneath. That is not the question in debate now, howsomever. Islaen has made it clear exactly why ye cannae take up sword aginst Iain. She loves the fool. She also loves all of ye. No matter how the battle fared the one whose hurt ye are so eager to avenge would be hurt e’en more. There is no sense to that.”
“He is right for all I hate to admit it,” Robert said quietly.
“So we let the dog pay naught for his crime against our only sister?” hissed Nathan.
“Weel, I didnae say that,” Alexander drawled. “A good beating might put some sense into his head. Aye, and I might just join ye.”
“Are ye sure ye are his friend?” Robert asked with a faint smile.
“Aye, but that doesnae mean I need approve of what he does. Nay, especially not when he turns his back on a good fine lass who loves him and trots after a whore. Mayhaps a good thrashing when the time is right will make him see that he reaches for dross and turns his back upon what is truly of value.”
Iain tore his mouth from Mary’s very eager one and stared at her. Her hands moved over him, undoing his laces with a speed and nimbleness that startled him. There was a greediness to her actions that almost repulsed him. It certainly did nothing to rouse his passion. He finally admitted that he did not want to be there. The freedom to enjoy her skill was not there. “I am no wencher,” he heard himself say to Islaen, yet here he was
doing just that.
He pulled out of her hold and began to redo his loosened clothing.
He knew Mary could stir him, that he could have an enjoyable tussle with the woman if he could but forget Islaen. That was what he now knew he could not do. Islaen and the promises he had made to her stood between him and the woman who now stared at him with a mixture of astonishment and growing anger.
“What are you doing?” Mary squeaked as she watched Iain straighten his clothes.
“Leaving. I ne’er should have come here. I am a wedded mon.”
“Ye would desert me for that child ye were forced to wed?”
“I made promises to her. I willnae break them. She has done naught to deserve that.” His eyes widened when she started to scream at him.
“Do ye ken what ye toss aside? I have refused better men than ye my favors. Can ye no see what we could have together? Combine our power and riches and we would be nearly kings! Can that udderless child give ye that? Ye are a fool, Iain.”
For a moment Iain said nothing, simply looked at her. The eyes he had thought so lovely were hard. Suddenly he knew he was seeing the Mary that had always been there. The one he had held and spoken of love to four years ago had never existed. Mary was a woman using any means, including her body, to gain power and coin. Four years ago Lord Cameron had had more than he so she had married him. Now she looked to him to satisfy her greed.
“Nay, not for leaving. I was a fool to think I could regain what had never been.” He started towards the door.
A little desperate, she grabbed him by the arm. “What of the love we shared? How can ye turn away from this chance to regain all we lost?”
“We lost nothing.” He somewhat roughly loosened her grip and opened the door. “I begin to see that old Cameron actually saved me from making a great mistake. I but pray that I havenae just committed a greater one.”