Authors: Hannah Howell
Upon reaching her chambers, Islaen washed up, undressed and donned her night rail. Snuffing all the candles save the one on Iain’s side of the bed, she crawled beneath the heavy covers. Bed had always been a nice place to huddle when she had felt sad or hurt but it did not work now. She was all too aware of how often and how passionately she had shared the same bed with Iain. There was a strong urge to go to the pair, to confront them, but she fought it. Pride helped. She had no wish to appear the fool before him and especially before Lady Mary.
The sound of the door opening abruptly stopped her tears. She could not believe Iain would come to her bed directly from Mary’s, yet it was clear that he had returned even though she did not look at him. When he reached out and touched her after silently getting into bed, she felt herself pull away although she did not really move. She could not stomach the idea of his touching her with those hands that had so recently caressed Mary.
Iain felt her skin recoil beneath his touch and felt pained. He had known that she had discovered he had gone to Mary’s chambers from the moment he had stepped into the room. Despite her obvious efforts to hide it she had been weeping. A little wryly he decided he could not have felt much worse had he actually bedded the woman. Feeling the way his usually welcoming Islaen retreated from his touch gave him the urge to get
down upon his hands and knees and beg forgiveness. Here was the proof of what he had already suspected, that no matter how much he wanted to keep a distance between them, he could not abide actually hurting her.
“I couldnae do it,” he said softly and felt her tense.
“Ye didnae bed the woman?” Islaen whispered.
“Nay, I couldnae. I willnae lie to ye, lass. I went to Mary’s chambers intending to bed the woman.”
Turning onto her side, Islaen looked at him, wondering if he knew how very important his honesty was to her. “I ken it. I saw ye in the hall that leads to her chambers.”
He grimanced, recalling the deep kiss Mary had given him. “Aye, I hesitated but not for long, eh? I wanted to go back to that time four years ago when she and I were in love.”
“But ne’er lovers.”
“Nay, ne’er lovers. I was that curious to ken what it would be like to bed her.”
“I can understand that, Iain,” she said quietly and she could for, although she would never admit it and would never follow through, she had felt that curiosity about Alexander.
“I think ye may be more understanding than I could be.”
“Weel, ’tis easy enough for ye didnae bed her.”
“Nay. I made promises to ye but I will admit that that wasnae the only reason I left her. T’was there but not the only one. I was seeking the past and I suddenly kenned that I wouldnae find it in her bed. Something told me that what I thought was the past, what I thought had been, was a lie. In truth the Mary I thought I loved ne’er really existed.
“There was something I saw in her eyes, something I have seen in the eyes of women from the past, the women I used to still a mon’s hunger, whores parading as fine ladies. When she kenned that I was turning away from her, she condemned herself with her own lips. She was ne’er a sweet lass forced to wed an old mon, but a grasping woman who chose the richest and most powerful of her suitors. Now widowed, she saw my rise in fortunes as reason enough to reach out for me. I dinnae think I care to ken how she meant to deal with ye. What little regret I had, and there was some, was ended when she showed me what she really was.”
It hurt a little that he did not say he turned from Mary out of love for her but Islaen told herself not to be a fool. For now it was enough that he had turned aside a beautiful skilled woman, one he had long thought he had loved, in honor of the vows they had exchanged. She might not have all she wanted from him but he had shown that he would see his vows as important and binding. Islaen knew well how many men never did.
She then found herself feeling bad for him. He had suffered a deep disappointment, the hint of it in his voice. Once he had loved a woman named Mary only to discover, after he had suffered the pain of losing her, that she had never existed.
Silently she began to make love to him. She kissed him, improving a little upon the skill he had taught her. When he tried to hold her, to take control of the lovemaking, she neatly eluded him. As she caressed his strong throat with soft kisses, her hands slowly stroked his body. She was emboldened to continue by the way his body began to tighten with passion beneath her touch, the way he trembled slightly as her kisses moved over his broad chest.
Tentatively she flicked her tongue over his flat nipple. His hands tightened their grip in her hair just as hers so often did when he did the same to her. Encouraged by that sign of approval, she began to lathe and suckle until he was squirming gently beneath her. She noted with some fascination that his nipples grew taut just like hers.
“Did ye like that?” she whispered huskily, knowing he had and made bold by that knowledge.
“Do ye e’en need to ask?” he croaked as her tongue flickered over his abdomen
“Weel, ye could just be being gallant.” She darted her tongue into his navel and felt him buck gently.
He just groaned as her kisses moved to his thighs. Her warm breath and soft hair caressed his loins and he felt as if he was on fire. A little wildly he recalled how slowly he had been introducing her to the intricacies of lovemaking. He almost laughed. It was clear that she did not really need to be treated so delicately.
“Iain?” she called in a passion-thickened, singsong voice as she gently nipped his thigh, then soothed the sting of her lovebite with slow strokes of her tongue. “Do ye ken the first night I came to your chambers?”
“Aye,” he answered a little groggily, feeling himself tremble as her soft lips brushed daringly close to an area that ached for their touch. “Our wedding eve.”
“Aye. I saw a couple in the hall. They made love.”
“Shameless.”
“Och, aye, verra shameless. The woman did something to the mon that I have oft wondered about when we lie together.”
“What was that?”
“Weel, I am nay sure how to explain it. It may be a whore’s trick.”
It took him a moment to catch his breath when she kissed the patch of skin directly above the tip of his shaft. “Then show me.”
“Ye will tell me if ’tis a thing I shouldnae do.”
“Oh, aye, I will tell ye.”
When she ran her tongue down the heated length of him he bucked rather violently and she cried out. “Iain?”
“Nay, dinnae stop. God’s teeth, dinnae stop,” he rasped, urging her mouth back to the spot it had abruptly abandoned.
He closed his eyes and reveled in the pleasure she gave him. When she took him into the moist warmth of her mouth he shuddered. Gritting his teeth, he fought to control a passion swiftly racing out of his control. He wanted to enjoy the pleasure of her intimate caress for as long as he could.
Islaen could sense that he was close to reaching his peak. She moved back up his body, straddling his hips. As she kissed him, enjoying the fierce edge of his passion, she slowly joined their bodies. When she sat up, she eased off her shift, excited by the way he watched her, then she tossed it aside. It surprised her a little that she could feel so hungry for him, so abandoned, when he had hardly reciprocated her caresses at all.
Iain felt the moist welcome of her body and shuddered. It was clear that her passions had been fully aroused by making love to him and the knowledge further frayed his tottering control. He watched her remove her simple shift with a seductiveness few practiced women achieved and, gripped her hips tightly, preventing her from moving. Iain was sure that if her body began to stroke his, his control would snap completely,
bringing too swift an ending to their loveplay.
With a soft growl, he sat up, his knees coming up slightly to help support her as, placing an arm around her, he arched her back away from him. The way she squirmed against him as he hungrily assaulted her breasts was enough of a movement to bring him to the very edge of release. When his hand moved to her hip and gently urged her to a more rhythmic movement her release came quickly. He pressed his face against her breasts as she clung to him and let her pull him along with her as she tumbled into the brief-lived but exquisite oblivion of passion’s apex. It was a long while before, still holding her close, he eased the intimacy of their embrace and laid back down.
“Does this mean that I am forgiven?”
Smiling sleepily as her body curled around his, Islaen drawled, “Weel, mayhaps. I will have to think on it a wee bit longer.”
“Let me rest a while e’er ye really forgive, if that wasnae it. I am nay sure I could live through the true forgiving.”
She joined in his soft laughter.
A frown touched Islaen’s face as she found herself awake. She did not usually wake until Iain began to stir but he was still sleeping soundly. The hairs on the back of her neck felt as if they were standing on end and, without moving or opening her eyes very wide, she searched the shadowed room for the reason for her tense wakefulness.
Suddenly a movement by Iain’s side of the bed caught her eye. Even as she admired the silent stealth of whoever approached them she grew taut with a readiness to act. No one came to a person’s chambers in such a stealthy way unless they intended some ill. She recalled Iain speaking of an assassin who stalked him and her blood ran cold. When she caught the glint of a blade in the moonlight she gave Iain’s inert body one mighty shove even as the blade lowered, then leapt up to light a candle knowing it would be impossible to battle the threat successfully in such darkness.
Iain gave a startled howl as he felt himself roughly thrust from the warm bed but was instantly alert. He knew who the softly cursing man was who tried to squirm free, kicking savagely at his restricting weight. In one clean move Iain rolled away and leapt to his feet. At that moment Islaen lit the candle and Iain was not surprised to find himself facing Duncan MacLennon. He simply wished he was not doing so naked and unarmed, the bed and MacLennon between him and his sword.
“Ye will die this time, MacLagan, and after ye, your wee whore of a wife.”
“Your vengeance is with me, MacLennon. Islaen has naught to do with ye.”
“She is yours. That is enough. Mayhaps I willnae kill ye too quickly. T’would be justice for ye to watch me take your woman as ye took mine. Aye, as ye lie dying ye can watch me force her to lie with me as ye forced Catalina.”
“I ne’er forced her.”
“Catalina would ne’er have lain with ye willingly,” MacLennon nearly screamed.
“She was willing to do her duty by her family.”
“She would have come to me out of love. Ye stole that from me.”
Islaen shivered as the man talked, unsettled by Duncan MacLennon’s insanity, but she wasted little time watching the two men stalk each other. Iain was unarmed and that was her main concern. Yanking on her shift she dashed to the chest where his sword lay, gleaming and useless on the top. When she turned back to face the men, plotting a way to get the sword to Iain, she did find a moment to appreciate the sight of her husband. Taut and wary, ready to repel the attack that was sure to come, the grace of his trim well-muscled shape was clearly displayed. She forced her gaze to MacLennon, however, watching him closely as she edged towards Iain, ready to toss Iain his sword at the first opportune moment.
She saw that moment when MacLennon became aware of her and cried, “Iain, your sword,” even as she tossed it to him.
The weapon had barely left her hand when MacLennon swung towards her. She whirled out of the reach of his sword but was not quite quick enough. A soft cry of pain escaped her as the blade scored the soft flesh of her outer thigh on its downswing. She hurried to get further out of his way but realized there was no real need. His attention had already returned to Iain. Careful not to draw the man’s attention again, she began to circle around the man in an attempt to get to the door and call for aid.
Even as Iain grasped his sword he had to put it to use, blocking MacLennon’s savage swing. He could not concentrate completely on his foe, however, for he had heard
Islaen’s cry. Taking a moment to glance her way he saw her trying to get to the door and, although there was a lot of blood on her leg, the smoothness of her movements indicated that the wound was a slight one. Giving into the urge to see to her welfare cost him, however. He poorly dodged a deadly strike of MacLennon’s and felt the man’s blade take a piece out of his side. The wound was not incapacitating but Iain knew the slow loss of needed blood could soon make it so. He took the offensive hoping to even the score or cut the man down before his loss of blood made him weaker than MacLennon.
Seeing that Iain was keeping MacLennon too occupied to bother with her, Islaen raced for the door and, flinging it open, screamed, “Murder! Fither, Robert, the rest of ye, come quickly. A mon is trying to murder Iain.”
A vile curse escaped MacLennon as he heard the swift response to her cries. He made a lunge at Iain’s loins, Iain leapt back, all too aware of his vulnerability. In that instant, MacLennon bolted for the window. He was disappearing through it as Iain dashed after him and Islaen’s kin tumbled into the room dressed only in their braes, their swords ready and barely in time to catch a brief glimpse of Duncan MacLennon.
“He went out the window. After him,” Islaen ordered a little hysterically, desperate to end the threat to Iain.
His sons immediately obeyed but Alaistair hesitated a moment, seeing the blood on her leg. “Ye are hurt, lass.”
“’Tis not bad, Fither.”
“Aye, but the lad is hurt too.” Alaistair decided he was needed more where he was and set his sword aside.
Islaen saw how Iain leaned against the window clutching his bleeding side and rushed to help him. She had been too intent upon the need to get help to see clearly how the fight had progressed. As her father helped her get Iain to the bed and insisted that she too lie down, Islaen wondered how much of Iain’s collapse was due to sheer disappointment that MacLennon had escaped yet again. Then a nearly frantic Meg, roused by one of her brothers, arrived to help her father tend their wounds.
Despite her protests, Meg, her father and Iain insisted that she drink a potion. Islaen was already succumbing to the sleep it imposed upon her when the first of her brothers returned. She heard just enough to know that Iain’s assassin was still free to strike again before she fell asleep.
“I thought the mon sought only ye,” Alaistair growled, noting with interest how his daughter clung to Iain even in sleep.
“So did I. He struck out at her when she tossed me my sword. Howbeit, he did speak on killing her too.”
“Then the mon must be killed and swiftly,” Malcolm growled.
“Fine words,” Nathan said wearily as he entered, the last brother to return, “when we cannae find the mon.”
“Faded into the morning mists like some wraith,” Donald muttered as he nudged Meg out of the way and sat down by Islaen’s side, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “I was sore eager to gain hold o’ him.” He looked at Iain and said coldly, “’Tis a wonder he found ye here at all. He might have found our Islaen alone and unprotected.”
Iain bit back a curse as he sat up and reached for his braes. Islaen had not told him that her brothers also knew of his going to Mary, but it was clear that they did. He
decided now was not the time to discuss that. Flushing slightly beneath the condemning gazes of Islaen’s kin, he sought to change the subject.
“I wasnae much protection at first,” he admitted as he struggled to get dressed with Nathan’s somewhat grudging help. “T’was Islaen’s quick action that saved me from being murdered as I slept.” He told them all what had happened.
By the time he was dressed, they had decided that there was little that they could do. A more watchful guard would be kept and a search begun. It satisfied none of them but it was all that could be done. As the MacRoths started to return to their rooms, Iain went in search of Alexander. Later he would seek an audience with the king. He doubted that either man could do much, but now Islaen’s life was also in danger and Iain wished to leave no possibility for her increased safety unexamined.
Islaen woke to find her brother Nathan sprawled at her side. “Where has Iain gone? He was hurt.”
Nathan rose and poured her some wine. “’Tis surprising he was here at all. That mad mon could weel have found ye alone had your husband nay crawled back here from his whore’s bed.”
After taking a refreshing drink of wine, Islaen said, “He didnae bed her.”
“Lass,” he sat down by her side, “we all saw him leave with the woman.”
“Aye, but he didnae bed her. He told me.”
“And ye believe him?”
“Aye. I willnae tell ye all he said for ’tis not really your concern but t’was enough for me to ken that he spoke true.”
“He meant to.”
“Aye. He said as much. He stayed true to me, though. ’Tis no small thing.”
“Nay, I can see that,” Nathan agreed reluctantly.
She could see that he would be slower to forgive than she would, though, so she adroitly changed the subject. After finding out what would be done about MacLennon she sent Nathan after Meg. Firmly ignoring the woman’s disapproval, Islaen got dressed and went in search of Iain. She wanted to be sure that he was not pushing himself beyond his strength.
To her dismay, she found Lady Mary. Seeing the beauty of the woman Islaen felt a pang of doubt, then shook it away. She had no reason at all to doubt Iain’s words. She would not let her fears make her mistrust him. Whatever Lady Mary said, Islaen would choose to believe Iain. Islaen did wish, however, that the woman had not towed Lady Constance along to witness whatever the confrontation resulted in.
“Have ye lost your husband,” Lady Mary smiled coldly, “again?”
“’Tis a big place. I presume ye havenae seen him.”
“Not since last night—in my chambers.”
“Och, weel, I am after more than a quick keek at his backside as he leaves me.”
“Ah, so he told you that we did naught and ye, like a dutiful wife, believed him.”
“Aye, I believe him and, an I didnae have more important business to attend to, I would look close at why ye wish me to think otherwise. Adultery is a thing to hide as the shameful sin it is, not something to boast about.”
“Iain said he didnae bed this woman?” Lady Constance demanded.
Even as Islaen wondered of what possible concern it could be to Lady Constance, Lady Mary laughed shortly, “She but says that to save face. And what husband would not
lie? Iain but decided that t’was too early to tell her about me, ’tis all.”
“M’lady, an he took ye t’was but the briefest of tussles, nay more than a quick toss up of your skirts and a hasty rut. ’Tis all he had time for atween the time I saw him walk away with ye to your chambers and when he returned to me. I think I will believe what Iain said, that he couldnae bed ye. Iain has his faults, as does any mon, but he doesnae lie.” Thoroughly disgusted, Islaen started to walk away.
“Nay, MacLagan doesnae lie,” Lady Constance said coldly. “Ye do, though, m’lady Mary. Ye didnae win the wager. I will have my coin back.”
“Ye will believe that scrawny fool?” Lady Mary screeched.
Islean hurried away from the resultant squabble. She felt sickened by the women. It seemed distastefully cold to her that they would turn the destruction of a marriage into a matter for a wager. Islaen felt a real need to leave the court and all its leeches and sycophants. She wondered if she could convince Iain to speed up their departure.
Inwardly, she grimaced as she had to accept the fact that even though she might convince him to leave now, they would be back. Iain was his clan’s representative at court, their ear to all the intrigues and possible benefits. She would just have to become hardened to the ways of the court as she did not intend to let him travel to such a pit of immorality without her. Islaen wondered how some of the men could look their wives in the eyes when they arrived home after the debauched way they had carried on.
Meg finally caught up with her and forced her to go and rest. Since she had just discovered that Iain was closeted with the king and her leg was throbbing some, she let Meg bully her into a rest. She was dismayed, however, when she not only fell asleep but did not wake until very late, the sun having clearly set a while ago.
Dressing quickly, she started towards the hall, sure that she would find Iain there. Concentrating upon getting there as quickly as possible she did not see Lord Fraser until she nearly bumped into him. Hastily taking several steps backward she noticed several things that filled her with dismay. There was no one about and Lord Fraser looked decidedly drunk.
“All alone? No hulking protectors about?” He began to advance upon her. “I have been waiting for just such a moment. I am nay as great a fool as young Ronald MacDubh. Attacking ye afore all in court was madness. They have banished him, ye ken.”
“Nay, I gave no more thought to the rogue after Alexander took him away.” She tried to elude his advance but was finding it difficult, the corrider being too narrow for any good evasive movements. “Now, if ye will but move aside….”
“Alexander, is it?” he growled, ignoring her request. “Have ye been gifting that pretty fellow with your favors then?”
“Ye are insulting. Ye are also drunk. I think ye would be wise to let me pass and then seek your bed.”
“An I go to my bed this night, lass, t’will be with ye beneath me.”
He lunged for her and she tried to avoid him but the train on her gown, small though it was, made her falter. She stumbled up against the wall and he took quick advantage of that, using his bulky frame to pin her there. Islaen struggled against his hold but realized with a growing panic that, drunk though he was, the man could hold her easily.
“My kin and my husband will see ye dead for this,” she gasped as he wrestled her to the ground.
“Such petty lordlings willnae be allowed to draw my blood. I will have the fair Lady Mary on my side as weel. She does hate ye, lass. She seems to think,” he panted as he struggled to pin her thrashing form firmly beneath him, “that, an I possess ye, young Iain will turn to her.” He tore open the front of her gown and frowned when, instead of the bared breasts he had expected, he saw a cloth wrapping. “What is this?” he muttered as he drew his dagger.
Islaen struggled to free her hands but he had her wrists pinned beneath his knees so firmly that she feared they could easily break. Trying to buck him off only wearied her, robbing her of breath. When he began to cut away her binding, she cried out softly for several times his dagger pricked her tender skin. He stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment when he finally cut away her binding and the look in his eyes made her skin crawl with revulsion.
“God’s beard, lass, why should ye try to hide such bounty?” he rasped as his hands greedily mauled her breasts.