Joanna Fulford (6 page)

‘It surprises me that Neil should have shirked so serious a responsibility,’ he said.

‘He was a fool.’ Graham hesitated. ‘Isabelle will breed, my lord.’

‘Will she?’ Ban didn’t want to antagonise his host but at the same time he had to make his own position clear. ‘You know my family history so I need not repeat it now,’ he continued. ‘The essential point is this: as the last surviving male member of my line it is imperative that I get heirs to continue it.’

‘Of course it is. I understand that.’

‘Then you will also understand that I need to be sure.’

Graham frowned. ‘What exactly are you suggesting?’

‘A secret betrothal. Later, if matters turn out as planned, the arrangement would be formalised publicly.’

‘It is not without precedent but it would not be easy to keep the matter quiet.’

‘You may rely on my discretion.’ Ban paused.

‘It’s a risk.’

‘A calculated one, since you have already said you are certain of a favourable outcome.’

‘If I agree to this I expect the matter to be expedited with all possible speed.’

‘As soon as you like.’

For a moment Graham was silent, formulating his thoughts. Ban made no attempt to push him. The proposal was not without precedent and the circumstances were unusual. At the same time he knew that he wanted Isabelle Graham; had wanted her since the day he met her. However, physical desire was one thing; he couldn’t afford to lose sight of the bigger picture. He had a duty to his family, to the souls of his murdered kin. He had to be sure.

At length Graham nodded. ‘A secret betrothal it is then, for the time being.’

‘The only remaining question is whether the lady will agree to the arrangement.’

‘Isabelle will be ruled by me.’

Ban wasn’t surprised. It was a father’s responsibility to find a suitable husband for a daughter, and her duty to accede to his choice. If Graham spoke with such confidence it was because he knew Isabelle respected his judgement. Privately Ban wondered what her true feelings would be. Would she accept him willingly or would she secretly consider such a match beneath her? Beatrice had considered it beneath her. Of course, he’d been much younger then, and inexperienced, so smitten with a lovely face that he’d failed to see the character behind. That had not become apparent until he declared himself and asked for her hand...

For a moment she stared at him. Then she laughed. ‘Marry you?’

At first he mistook the nature of the laughter, taking it for surprise. ‘Aye, why not?’

‘My father would never permit me to marry a Sassenach lord.’

‘I will speak to him, talk him round.’

‘It’s not just that,’ she replied.

‘Then what? I have wealth enough.’

‘But where are your lands, my lord?’

His smile faded. ‘They were stolen from me.’

‘And you have no prospect of regaining them.’

‘I will get more.’

‘How? You do not wield the kind of influence that would gain you an estate.’

His jaw tightened. ‘I’ll find a way.’

‘That might take years, if you ever succeed. I cannot waste my life waiting on the event.’

‘Would it be a waste then, Beatrice?’ He paused. ‘We would be together.’

‘To live in the hedgerows?’

‘Hardly that. I can support you in comfort.’

‘But you cannot give me position.’

‘Does that matter so much?’

‘Of course it matters. My father is rich and powerful, the laird of fair estates. Should not my husband be the same?’

‘I cannot blame you for wanting it,’ he replied.

‘Well then.’

‘I thought... I hoped that your feelings for me were strong enough to offset that.’

Beatrice smiled coldly. ‘You rate yourself too high, my lord, if you presume to think so. I am not so negligent of the duty I owe to my family and my name as to throw myself away on a mere nobody.’

Stung now, he was goaded into retort. ‘The Thanes of Heslingfield are not nobodies. They come from a proud and ancient line.’

‘But where are they now? They have no power, no influence. They are nothing.’

Brian pushed the memory aside. He’d been a fool and paid the price for it. The naïve and idealistic lover was long gone and in his place was a grown man who knew the world he lived in. This offer was an opportunity, one he’d little thought to have. It would provide a foundation on which much might be built—in time.

‘We have an agreement then,’ he said.

Graham smiled and held out his hand. ‘You’ll not regret it.’

Ban clasped the offered hand and hoped the words were true.

Chapter Five

I
sabelle stared at her father in stunned disbelief, uncertain that she’d heard him correctly. ‘A secret betrothal?’

‘That’s right.’

‘A betrothal which will give him the rights of a husband?’

‘Correct.’

Disbelief was slowly displaced by outrage. Did the Sassenach thane really imagine she would agree to this? The very fact that he had suggested it showed the kind of regard in which he held her, in which he had always held her.

‘You can’t mean it.’

‘I was never more serious in my life.’

His expression supported the words, a circumstance that created the first stirrings of alarm.

‘Marriage is one thing; this is quite another.’

‘It is unusual, I’ll admit, but it is not unknown.’

‘This is little better than prostitution.’

‘It is no such thing. Nor would I have agreed to it if I thought so.’ Her father paused. ‘In essence betrothal is little different from marriage. The only variation here is that it will not be made public until you are with child.’

The visualisation of what that entailed fanned her rage to red heat. How Lord Ban must have delighted in creating this little scheme. That her father should actually sanction the plan must have afforded the very greatest amusement. How much his lordship must be enjoying the thought of her reaction.

‘I am not a brood mare to be covered by a Glengarron stallion!’

‘It is a wife’s duty to bear children and you have not done so.’

‘That wasn’t my fault alone.’

‘I have given you the benefit of the doubt thus far, but now it’s up to you to prove yourself worthy of my faith.’

‘I’d gladly prove it, but not in this covert, underhanded manner.’

‘You are a widow with no children and no dowry to speak of. God’s blood, do I have to spell it out?’ He glared at her. ‘You have one chance now and this is it, unless you’d prefer the cloister.’ Seeing that she remained silent he nodded. ‘I didn’t think so.’

She closed her eyes, trying not to give way to rising panic. Her father had spoken no more than the truth about her circumstances and her lack of religious vocation. She realised too that there was no way out of this: much as she wanted to reject this proposition a refusal to comply would leave the way open for Murdo. All he’d have to do would be to ask for her hand and it would be granted. She was under no illusions about what would happen then.

She licked dry lips. ‘When is this betrothal to take place?’

‘I have decided upon Thursday next.’

Her heart leapt towards her throat. Thursday was only two days away. ‘That’s too soon.’

‘Soon or no, it’s your betrothal day.’

‘This haste is indecent.’

Her father’s gaze grew steely. ‘Your opinion is irrelevant. You’ll do as you’re told. The betrothal will take place in my private chamber. I shall invite Lord Ban there, ostensibly to discuss business. It will be a simple matter for you to join us unnoticed. Everyone else will be about their work and it will be quiet enough for our purposes. It won’t take long.’

He was right: it wouldn’t take long to join her hand with Lord Ban’s and to speak the vows that would make her his. How easily a woman was disposed of. She’d had no say last time either, although then there had been a public wedding followed by lavish feasting and then the bedding ceremony, held amid ribald jests and laughter. How hollow that laughter had proved to be.

She shivered inwardly, recalling all the nights spent in Alistair Neil’s bed; nights she had come to dread.
Your late husband couldn’t get a cock stand.
Murdo’s mocking voice echoed in her head. The words were not entirely accurate though. Alistair had, occasionally, achieved an erection but it carried a price. She swallowed hard, seeing it all in her mind’s eye, her husband standing by the bed, slowly removing his belt, wrapping the buckle end around his fist...

‘Take off your shift.’

‘Please, my lord...’

‘I said take it off.’

Trembling she complied. When she was naked he nodded.

‘Lie down as I have instructed you.’

Reluctantly she obeyed, knowing what was coming and knowing it would be far worse if she tried to resist. She gasped as the belt descended across her buttocks leaving a fiery welt, her hands clawing the coverlet. At first pride kept her silent but she had quickly learned the folly of that. Since it was her cries that excited him he would continue to beat her until she did scream. When she cried out he flung down the belt and joined her, pinning her down, his knee forcing her legs apart. Then he took her from behind. It hurt, but her cries pleased him and, mercifully, that part of the procedure never lasted long, a minute or two at most before the small, probing member was withdrawn. Then he rolled off her, panting and sated. She shut her eyes, praying silently that this time she would conceive and that somehow his thin and watery seed might take root in her womb...

Isabelle had heard it said that sometimes women found pleasure in the act of intercourse but she couldn’t imagine how, even if the man were not violent. Alistair had dreamed up many ways of achieving his purpose, almost all of them painful, but he took good care that the marks he left on her didn’t show. Even if he had not, no one in that household would have questioned his behaviour. Nor would the law: it was a husband’s right to chastise his wife if he chose. It was his right to do anything he liked, and her duty to submit.

‘Are you listening to me?’

Her father’s voice pulled her up abruptly. ‘Yes, my lord, I’m listening.’

‘It won’t take long. When it’s done you’ll consummate the betrothal.’

Isabelle paled. ‘I will not; that is not until we’ve got to know each other a little better.’

‘Damn it, you’re no blushing virgin now and this is no time for airs and graces. The union will be consummated immediately and you will give yourself to Lord Ban whenever it pleases him thereafter. Is that clear?’

She swallowed her rage. ‘Very clear.’

‘I hope so.’

‘And just how is this arrangement to remain secret?’ she demanded. ‘I would not be the subject of servants’ gossip.’

‘There are ways and you will find them. I imagine Lord Ban will not lack invention there.’

‘I am quite sure he won’t.’

The sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on her father. He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’d do well to curb your acid tongue, my lass. No man wants a harridan for a mate.’

She lowered her gaze, quelling the urge to argue. Her father’s temper was close to the edge already. If she pushed him any further he might bring the betrothal nearer still or add some further humiliating conditions to the arrangement.

‘I beg your pardon. It’s just that this has happened so quickly; it wasn’t what I expected and it has left me unprepared.’

He looked a little mollified. ‘Ah, well, I suppose it has, but you must get used to the idea.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘The sooner you are with child the sooner you can live openly as husband and wife and take your rightful place in society. Remember that.’

She nodded mutely, not knowing which was worse: having to submit to the will of a stranger or, possibly, failing to conceive. All the old doubts revived. If it became evident that she was barren then she would be quietly put aside. The arrangements attending this betrothal were precisely to allow for that. She would be made to enter a nunnery; to remain there for the rest of her life, conveniently forgotten. Lord Ban would return to Glengarron and seek another wife. Either way he would emerge the winner having risked nothing. Her nails dug into her palms as impotent anger mingled with equally impotent resentment. In a man’s world the only option for a woman was obedience.

* * *

Ban received the news of his imminent betrothal with outward
sang-froid.
In reality he was a little disconcerted to discover that his words had been taken so literally. He’d expected to have more time. However, Graham was obviously keen to see his daughter plighted and, given the circumstances, perhaps there was little point in delay. He listened attentively while the other man explained the details. Ban nodded. It was a good plan; one that could be implemented with the discretion they all desired.

‘Afterwards, you may have the use of the chamber for an hour,’ his host went on. ‘I’ll ensure you’re no disturbed.’

Ban blinked. Whatever else he hadn’t been expecting that. He’d vaguely imagined that some quiet arrangement would be made that night whereby he and Isabelle might seal their betrothal. This was something else again. If he jibbed at the thought how much more would she dislike it? Yet if he demurred now how was that going to look? After all, he’d been the one to propose this.

‘I thank you for the courtesy,’ he replied.

‘Don’t mention it.’ Graham eyed him steadily. ‘After this you’ll be left to your own devices.’

For the first time Ban was forced to give serious thought to the possible time frame of events. A woman might conceive straightaway or it might take months. Then there were the practicalities to consider. It was easy enough for a couple to slip away and find privacy from time to time, but, equally, it would become increasingly inconvenient and the longer it went on the greater was the likelihood of discovery. That would be exceedingly awkward since it would put Isabelle’s good name in jeopardy and people could not be enlightened without full revelation of the truth.

The whole business suddenly began to look a lot more complicated. Up till now most of his liaisons had been with women of a certain kind who were paid for their favours and gave them freely. Everyone benefited. A series of furtive trysts was quite different. It occurred to him that Isabelle might have reservations about the matter. Quite understandable reservations, he now decided. However, he could hardly voice the thought here.

‘As you say,’ he replied.

‘Get her with child as soon as may be. I’d be loath to send her to a convent.’

A convent? Ban felt a twinge of guilt as it dawned on him that, if she really were barren and he had to put her aside, that would indeed be her fate. It was an unwelcome truth. However, if matters went as he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Isabelle would be his wife, openly and in all honour. Afterwards there would be plenty of time to grow closer, emotionally as well as physically.

‘I’ll do my best to prevent that situation,’ he said.

Graham nodded. ‘So will she, I’ll warrant you.’

Other doubts surfaced in Ban’s mind, vaguely uncomfortable doubts about why Isabelle would be submitting herself to his will. He quashed them. This was a matter of business not sentiment. Betrothals took place every day; formal marriages too in which the bride and groom had never previously met. They were wedded and bedded and there an end. Personal inclination didn’t enter into it.

‘Thursday it is then,’ he replied.

* * *

Having left Graham, Ban went to find Isabelle. They needed to talk, although it wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. However, he needed to create a right understanding between them, and honesty seemed to be the best policy there. Then she would have no false expectations. Having been married once, it was unlikely she would cherish any foolish ideas about love or romance. He hoped not anyway. Certainly he wouldn’t promise what he couldn’t deliver.

Isabelle was in the still room. She was tying bunches of lavender and the whole room was filled with sweet fragrance. The scent evoked old memories and for a moment he was transported back to his childhood at Heslingfield, watching the maidservants hang bunches of herbs to dry. The servants were long dead, slain when Heslingfield was destroyed.

Putting the memory aside, he stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him. Isabelle looked up, evidently startled to see him there.

‘Forgive me for disturbing you, my lady, but it is important that we should talk.’

She laid down the bunch of flowers in her hand. ‘As you wish.’

Now that they were alone together it seemed rather harder to find the necessary words, to strike the right balance. If she had been less attractive it might have been easier. While betrothal was a matter of business, what followed it was going to be intensely personal. It wasn’t an easy combination.

Isabelle waited with what she hoped looked like composure. However, she was keenly aware of the closed door and the sheer physical presence of the man. As he narrowed the distance between them the room seemed suddenly to shrink. With an effort she stood her ground. Ban halted a couple of feet away.

‘I have just been speaking with your father.’

Her pulse quickened. ‘I see.’

‘He desires our betrothal to take place on Thursday and I have agreed. It’s rather sooner than I expected, but perhaps that’s no bad thing.’

‘You mean there will be less time to discover each other’s faults.’

He surveyed her steadily. ‘I’m sure you have very few.’

‘I hope you continue to think so.’

‘There will be time to find out later. At present there are more pressing concerns.’

‘As you say, my lord.’

‘I want to be able to acknowledge the relationship openly as soon as may be.’

‘As do I.’

‘Then you will answer for your part in helping to bring this about.’

The inference was plain and it brought a pink tinge to her cheeks. ‘As you will answer for yours.’

‘You may depend on it.’ He paused but his gaze never wavered. ‘Give me an heir and you will occupy a place of honour at my side. All that you desire of worldly comfort shall be yours.’

‘My lord is all kindness.’

‘A husband should use his wife with kindness. You need fear no ill treatment at my hands.’ He hesitated. ‘It may be too that, in time, we shall grow closer in affection.’

Isabelle had no reason to doubt the first part. Ban was not as Alistair had been and that afforded considerable relief. The rest was uncertain. Could she learn how to please this man; be what he wanted in a wife? It seemed like a tall order.

‘It has been known to happen,’ she replied.

‘So I believe, although it is not an indispensable condition for a successful marriage. When all is said and done it’s a business arrangement. If there is respect on both sides it is enough.’