Authors: Stephanie Sterling
“Well ye see, Lady MacRae,” Isla began again slowly. “I was so terribly afflicted by this – this -”
“Madness?” the older woman snarled helpfully.
Isla hesitated, but thought it better not to contradict her mother-in-law. “Madness? Well, aye, if ye like,” she said, as lightly as she could manage. “But ye see, twas weighing so heavily on my heart that I found I simply had to confess my feelings to yer son.”
Lady MacRae harrumphed. “Hardly the actions of a modest young girl,” she said coldly. “However, nae wholly reprehensible.”
Isla couldn’t say
what
cause Lady MacRae to make the admission, but she was grateful for it. Perhaps it was just the old woman’s motherly pride, and her belief in the fact that her son
was
the sort of man young ladies instantly fell in love with.
“Well, perhaps, if ye think nae, Lady MacRae,” Isla conceded sweetly, trying to get her thoughts back on track. She hadn’t actually dared to look at her husband to see what he was making of her tale. “However, my timing was the problem.”
“How so?” Lady MacRae’s eyes began to narrow again.
“This - madness - came over me most strongly as I lay alone in my chamber one evening,” she murmured, staring down at her hands to give her a respite from her mother-in-law’s fierce stare. “I could nae shake it. So, I am ashamed to say, I went to seek out yer son.”
“In the middle of the night?” Lady MacRae asked for clarification. Isla nodded her head. “Ye were caught, of course?” she hissed waspishly. Again Isla nodded. There was beat of silence, and then Lady MacRae erupted with: “
Roan
! How could ye be so stupid?”
Isla opened her mouth to try to collect the blame as she had planned. However, Roan finally found his voice.
“It seemed quite prudent to me, mother, to marry Isla once we had been caught in such a compromising position,” Roan said, as calmly as if he had been acquainted with the story all along. Isla couldn’t understand the pang she felt at his choice to describe the arrangement as “prudent”.
“How so?” Lady MacRae demanded hotly.
“To avoid any further bad feeling between the Cameron clan and our own clan, and to obtain a perfectly suitable, pleasing wife for myself,” he said easily, as if he was discussing nothing of greater importance than the weather.
Suitable… pleasing
… the meek words echoed hollowly in Isla. She was quite certain that Lady MacRae had a few things to say about how suitable and pleasing her new daughter-in-law was. However, Roan had clearly had enough of the interrogation. He stood up, making their hurried excuses.
“Roan -” Lady MacRae continued, but by this time her son had gently coaxed Isla to her feet and was shepherding her out of the hall. He called an apology back to his mother, but didn’t otherwise pay the older woman much mind.
“Are ye all right, Isla?” he demanded, the second they were out in the corridor and afforded some privacy.
“Roan I’m fine -” Isla said sharply, pushing his hand away. She was embarrassed and annoyed by the fuss, and hurt by what he had said.
“Probably hungry,” Roan said, “Ye dinna touch yer food. I’ll bid the maid bring something for ye when we get back to our room.”
Our room?
Isla marveled at how easily that tripped off her husband’s tongue. It eased her hurt a little, even as she reminded herself that she had no right to feel hurt. Roan had made her no promises, or declaration of love or affection. She was in danger of forgetting the trouble and the lies that her marriage was based upon. She was almost ready to believe the story that she’d made up for her mother-in-law.
“- Isla?”
“Hmm?” She hadn’t heard a word Roan had said. “I’m sorry, what did ye say?” He looked at her anxiously, and asked for a second time what she would like him to order for dinner. “Naught,” Isla sighed. “I’m nae hungry.”
“Damn it, woman! I’m nae going to let ye starve yerself to death!” Roan snapped, losing patience with her morose mood.
“Why nae?” she said, finally breaking down as they reached the door to Roan’s room. “Ye’d be better off if I
did
starve myself to death!” she snapped and then rushed into the room and collapsed onto the bed.
The door was shut and then softly locked. The smooth chink of the mechanism was followed by the tread of heavy footsteps walking toward her. Isla tensed when she felt the mattress give, and then tensed further when a warm hand was laid against her back.
“Now then, lass,” Roan breathed softly, running his fingers in soothing circles up and down his wife’s spine. “What’s got ye so unsettled?”
Isla didn’t answer. She was struggling mightily against the urge to cry. Roan must have seen the gleam of tears dammed up in her eyes. He scooped her up off the mattress and bundled her into his arms, holding her tightly and rocking gently.
“My poor wee girl,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the top of her head. “Yer tired and hungry and worn out,” he paused, and sighed, “aye, and homesick too, nae doubt.” He tilted her head back so that he could look in her eyes. “What a brute of a husband ye have,” he frowned at himself. He dabbed a kiss against her lips. “What can I do to make it better?”
“Do?”
“Aye,” Roan murmured. He stroked his wife’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I need to thank ye for that pretty tale ye span at supper,” he said. “Though I told ye I would take care of it,” he did add with a slight sigh.
“Ye’ve taken care of so much though, Roan.”
Roan untangled their limbs and left Isla on the bed while he sent for Liane. When she servant arrived, she was sent away again to fetch a bowl of broth.
“Ye’ll feel better when ye have something inside ye,” Roan assured his wife.
Liane returned quickly with the humble little meal.
“Here now, drink this and ye’ll feel a good deal better I’m sure,” Roan said warmly, carrying the broth to Isla.
She took the bowl with a murmured “thank ye”, and then began to eat. At first, she merely took sips to appease him, but Roan was relieved when Isla eventually gave in to her hunger. By the time she had finished she already looked a little better.
Roan sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his own. “I’m sorry if I have been thoughtless today. I ken it must have been difficult, and I ken that I’ve been preoccupied with troubles of my own,” he added.
“Troubles of my making,” Isla said bitterly. She turned her head away from him.
“Isla,” he breathed, “ye ken I dinna blame ye for anything Graem said this evening, do ye nae?”
Isla turned back to him, a mixture of sadness and disbelief on her face. “Well ye should,” she muttered miserably.
“We can speak about it in the morning,” he conceded reluctantly. “Things will look clearer then,” he added, but didn’t give his wife a chance to respond. Instead, he dipped his mouth down until he could claim her rosy lips.
“Sleep now, darling,” he said huskily, chuckling when she instantly obeyed by closing her eyes.
He slipped onto the mattress beside her and kicked his feet under the blankets. He pulled the covers up over both of them, sinking down into the pillows and wrapped his arms around Isla’s with a very contented sigh. Without waking, Isla burrowed into the warmth of his chest. Just holding her made him feel so peaceful.
This was worth it all
, he reasoned hazily, as his eyes drifted shut and he joined Isla in slumber,
whatever else happened, this was bliss.
..ooOOoo..
The next time that Isla woke it was morning. She stretched - and was a little surprised by how much better she felt after a good night’s rest. She looked around the room with a great deal more interest than she’d shown before, feeling a pang of hunger, and a definite thirst.
A glance around the room caused her heart to fall however. Roan was gone. Isla was trying to decide between summoning Liane or pulling on her clothes to explore the castle on her own when the chamber door swung open with a mighty crash.
“Where is that nae good brother of mine?” a voice bellowed.
Isla blinked at the sight of the person standing in her doorway. It was a woman - though her height and build surely made her a match for any man. Long red hair hung down her broad back and her pale green eyes were flashing with fury.
Isla was sure that she had never seen her before, but something about her was almost eerily familiar. She watched in shocked silence as the stranger scanned the room. At last, her eyes lighted on Isla.
The woman’s expression, demeanor and even posture changed in the blink of an eye. A jolly smile settled on her plump lips and she strode toward the other woman with her arms outstretched. “Well, now. Ye must be Roan’s new wee wife! What a bonnie one ye are! I’ve nae wonder how it is that the rascal dragged ye home…and lying abed after nine bells. Well, I suppose he left ye exhausted!” she announced with a knowing waggle of her scarlet eyebrows.
Isla listened as the stranger talked. She didn’t seem to require any reply from Isla herself, but was quite content to carry on both sides of the conversation alone. When she again turned to the subject of Roan, Isla managed to murmur a question.
“Pardon, lass?” The woman flashed another amiable smile.
“I was just wondering, where is Roan?”
And who are you?
She thought, but didn’t speak the latter aloud.
“Gone to see the Laird, I reckon, although he was a late riser too. Ye can bet they noticed at breakfast! I put it in my mind to come straight up and see what the fuss was about. Ye got that brother of mine -”
“Oh! So you must be Bridghe MacRae?” Isla exclaimed, relieved to be able to put a name to the face of the woman good-naturedly tidying up the dishes from the night before.
“Aye, that’s me,” Roan’s sister nodded. “And yer Isla -” there was a tiny pause before Bridghe added the surname, “- MacRae.”
Isla nodded her head unnecessarily, but for the moment was saved from any further probing. There was a soft knock at the door and Liane arrived. She beamed with delight to see that her mistress was awake, and then eagerly bounded away to fetch the porridge as Bridghe instructed.
“Thank ye for coming to visit like this, I know it canna have been easy for ye,” Isla said quietly, once she was again alone with her sister-in-law.
“Why now lass, twas nae trouble,” Bridghe said softly, being very particular as she folding a pillowslip. “Tis nae as if I ignore family, and I was curious to see what sort of lass my wee brother would -”
“Nae, tis nae what I -” Isla began, but a pointed look from Bridghe silenced her on the implied “Cameron” matter. She couldn’t help wondering what trouble this effort at friendliness would really cost the other woman though - insults from some of the castle residences, a fight with her mother?
“I canna imagine what’s taking that girl so long,” Bridghe said, frowning at the door, and evidently considering their previous topic of conversation well and truly closed. Liane reappeared just at that moment and provided a distraction.
“I’m sorry I was so long,” she said, with a flustered little curtsy that nearly sent the porridge sailing onto the floor. Luckily Bridghe had the presence of mind to hurry forward and save the tray. “Miss Morag wanted to come and see the mistress. I said ye were nae dressed yet, mistress,” Liane said, her face looking truly unhappy for the first time since Isla had met her, “but -”
“But I would nae take nae for an answer.”
Isla watched half curious, half anxious, as a woman flounced into the chamber after Liane. The woman in question wasn’t so much beautiful, as stunningly attractive. There was nothing delicate, nothing subtle about her. Her dress was laced extremely tight, her face was rouged and her blonde hair was piled high upon her head. All in all, she fairly screamed what she was: a whore.