‘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 abo
ut 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.’
For no apparent reason she felt a lump form in her throat. ‘No need to muddy the waters with romance then?’
‘None at all. I do not love you any more than you love me. Nor will I promise you my heart.’
‘I thank you for your honesty, my lord.’
‘I have no wish to lie to you.’
‘I’m glad.’ In a way she was; grateful too that he made no attempt to pretend what he did not feel and had let her know exactly what to expect from him.
‘Then we understand each other.’
‘I believe we do.’ She paused. ‘I will try to be a good wife to you.’
‘And I a good husband to you.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I don’t imagine that will be too difficult. May I say I look forward to our closer union.’
A rosy flush bloomed in her face. It was unwittingly becoming and he realised he had spoken the exact truth. That turned his mind in a more pleasurable direction.
‘Shall we seal the bargain, my lady?’
Isabelle felt herself grow hotter. ‘I... We are not yet betrothed, my lord. It would be—’ She broke off awkwardly.
Ban regarded her in cool amusement. ‘Improper?’ As her silence confirmed it his eyes gleamed. ‘I have seen you without your clothes on. It’s a little late to worry about propriety.’
Her chin came up at once. ‘That isn’t fair and you know it.’
‘Not fair? But you’re going to do the same again on Thursday.’
Isabelle was reduced to speechless silence. There were many things she would like to have said but, unfortunately, denial and refusal were equally impossible. Indignation was fuelled by his evident enjoyment.
‘I will do what I must, my lord.’
‘Then you will seal the bargain with me now.’
The words, though quietly spoken, were uncompromising, like the arm around her waist drawing her against him. He took the kiss at leisure, ignoring resistance until resistance was abandoned and she yielded herself to the embrace. Under the scent of lavender she breathed the scent of the man, warm, heady and dangerous, arousing sensations that were unfamiliar and unexpected.
He drew back a little, looking down into her face, his expression unreadable. Breathless now, she waited, heart thumping. He was alarmingly strong. They were alone and the place private. If he chose to pursue this... However, it seemed that was not his intention because his hold slackened.
‘I consider the bargain well sealed, my lady, and hold that kiss in token of many more.’
‘I told you, I will do what I must.’
‘Aye, and enjoy it too, I promise you.’
‘A bold promise, my lord. There is little pleasure for a woman in the marriage bed.’
He strolled to the door, pausing on the threshold. ‘Reserve your judgement until you have shared mine.’
With that he left her. As she listened to his retreating footsteps, Isabelle found herself trembling, though not with fear. Automatically she raised a hand to her lips where the memory of his kiss still lingered; a kiss that aroused all manner of emotion in her, but which meant only the sealing of a bargain to him. He would bed her the same way. She bit her lip. He had been honest with her about that. Theirs was a business arrangement. If it engendered warmer feelings that was good but it was by no means certain. I do not regard it as an indispensable condition of marriage. The only indispensable condition was that sh
e should provide him with an heir.
Chapter Six
Ban left the building and escaped into the fresh air, away from the heady and sensual smell of lavender and the recollection of that kiss. He had no idea why he’d done that. It hadn’t been his intention when first he went to speak with her. Nor had he anticipated the consequences; had not expected to feel quite so aroused or so tempted to follow his inclination. Fortunately common sense had prevailed. In two days she was his; he could be patient a little longer. The rest would follow soon enough.
He had been walking without any set destination in mind and his steps had taken him in the direction of the stables. It occurred to him that he could go and look in on Firecrest and make sure that all was well there. However, as he rounded the end of the building he checked in surprise to see a large group of men in the yard beyond. At first he thought they were all from Castlemora, but then he caught sight of Ewan and Davy in their midst. From their stance and their expressions he knew immediately that he wasn’t looking at a friendly gathering.
* * *
Needing to escape from the confines of the still room Isabelle temporarily put aside her task. It afforded too much leisure to think. Fortunately there were other domestic arrangements to deal with, particularly the matter of the evening meal. With tensions running as they were she didn’t want to risk incurring her father’s displeasure through some perceived slight towards their guest. Therefore it behoved her to speak with the kitchen servants and soon.
She hurried along the passageway to the outer door and had just gained the courtyard when she heard the sound of men’s voices. That wasn’t unusual in itself, but the tone was subtly different from their typical bantering exchanges. She paused, listening. The noise originated from the area behind the stables. It was the location that raised a question in her mind for it seemed covert somehow.
For a moment or two she hesitated. It was not her part to interfere with men’s affairs, and ordinarily she stayed as far away from Murdo’s mercenaries as possible. Just as she was debating with herself what to do, she saw Ban. He was closer to the stables than she and evidently heading towards the source of the noise. Curiosity strove with caution. He would deal with it. She ought not to get involved. Yet somehow his being there made it harder to resist. She hesitated for a few more seconds. Then, against her better judgement, she followed him.
Joanna Fulford Page 6