For a moment he surveyed her in silence and then made her a formal bow. ‘You look beautiful, my lady.’
‘I am glad my lord approves.’
‘I think the man would have to be dead who could not approve.’
Archibald Graham’s craggy features assumed a faint smile. Then he gestured to the prie-dieu across the room. ‘Shall we proceed?’
Ban took Isabelle’s hand and led her to the small wooden altar. Then he knelt, drawing her down beside him. Her father bound their wrists loosely with a strip of cloth. It took only a short time to give their mutual consent to the betrothal and make the required promises. Then Ban slid a ring on her finger, a fine gold band set with garnets.
Archibald Graham bade them rise. ‘It is done. You may kiss your betrothed.’
Ban leaned closer, his gaze holding hers for a moment. Then his lips brushed hers. It was a light and gentle caress; she might almost have said reassuring. Had he intended it thus? In truth there was very little of reassurance in the situation now.
Her father poured wine from the jug on the table and handed them each a cup before taking his own.
‘Let us drink to your union. May it be long, happy and fruitful.’
Isabelle drank obediently, hoping that the wine would take the edge off her nerves. She told herself it was ridiculous to feel nervous: she was no blushing virgin. She knew what to expect and it would soon be over. Next time would be easier. She darted a glance at the man who was now, effectively, her husband. He had given his promise not to hurt her. Things could be a lot worse. All she had to be was compliant. Eventually she might even be able please him.
Ban had not missed that swift anxious glance and guessed at some of the thoughts that lay behind it. I will do what I must. His fair betrothed appeared to have reservations about sharing his bed, reservations he intended to banish very soon. While the situation wasn’t what he’d have chosen, there was no reason why it should prove to be anything other than enjoyable for both of them.
Archibald Graham tossed back his wine and set down the cup. ‘I’ll leave you in peace. Just lock the door after me.’
With that he departed. With thumping heart Isabelle looked on as Ban turned the key in the lock. They were alone. For a moment or two neither of them spoke. Then he rejoined her and the room shrank around them until there was only the man and the bed. She tensed. He removed the cup from her hand and took her in his arms, his lips brushing hers, light, tentative, searching. Her heartbeat accelerated uncomfortably. Suddenly what had seemed like a mere practical detail began to assume an altogether different character. She closed her eyes, telling herself it was his right. He wanted a son; in order to get one he needed to get her with child. All she had to do was comply. She swallowed hard and a light sheen of sweat broke on her forehead. In her mind’s eye she could hear Alistair Neil’s voice: Lie down on the bed as I have commanded you... Her entire body stiffened. Hard on the heels of that response was panic. If she didn’t please this man, or at least give him what he wanted, she was finished.
Ban felt her tense and drew back, sensing her unease. ‘What is it, Isabelle?’
‘I... Nothing. Forgive me. It’s just the suddenness of it all.’
‘It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it?’ He smiled faintly. ‘And you have the advantage of me since I was never betrothed before.’
‘My advantage is not so great, my lord.’
‘Are you referring to previous or present experience?’
‘I was thinking of what went before.’
He nodded. ‘This must be a marked contrast: no celebration or public feasting, no wine or toasting.’
It wasn’t what she meant but wasn’t able to enlighten him just then. ‘Such things make little difference in the end.’
‘Perhaps not and yet I think this is not what you might have expected.’
‘I had no expectations before this.’
‘And now?’
‘I hope for the best.’
‘As do I.’
He drew her closer once more. Isabelle shivered, partly in fear and partly in anticipatory dread. This man was an unknown quantity and his touch aroused sensations that were entirely foreign to her; sensations that only heightened her uneasiness. He reached for the fastenings of her girdle and, unhurriedly, began to undress her. Her girdle fell to the floor, followed shortly afterwards by her gown. He drew off the linen kirtle beneath until only her shift remained, then picked her up and carried her across to the bed. Without taking his eyes off her he divested himself of tunic and shirt revealing the hard-muscled torso beneath. Her heart began to slam against her ribs like an unlatched door in a storm wind.
He came to join her, his hands on her waist drawing her closer. She could feel their warmth through the thin fabric. He bent his head so that his lips brushed hers, gently teasing at first and then gradually becoming more persuasive. She could feel the start of his arousal against her thigh. And his face faded and became Alistair Neil’s: You’ll take whatever I give you and like it... Isabelle froze, then tore her mouth away, panting.
Ban frowned. ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’
‘I can’t. I thought I could but I can’t.’ She struggled in his hold. ‘Please...’
Almost immediately she found herself free. Only too aware of the piercing blue gaze she turned away in acute embarrassment.
He frowned. ‘Look at me, Isabelle.’
Slowly, reluctantly she obeyed.
‘What are you afraid of? You must know I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘I...I can’t explain.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Ban lay back on the bed and for a moment or two he was silent. She cringed inwardly. What must he be thinking? What would he do now? To deny a man his rights was madness. It could only invite his wrath and an angry man was dangerous. She’d had her chance. Instead of seizing it she had just laid herself wide open to a beating and then rape. Had experience taught her nothing? She took a deep breath, mentally calling herself all kinds of fool.
‘I’m so sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me. A momentary panic...’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Panic? This is not the first time you have been to bed with a man.’
‘Forgive me.’
‘What’s to forgive?’
‘Opposition to your will.’
‘My will? I had rather hoped it might coincide with your own, but clearly it doesn’t.’
She licked dry lips. ‘Your will is mine, my lord. If you still wish to...to consummate this bargain I will do whatever you command.’
‘A tempting prospect, believe me. I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do with you.’
Her stomach roiled but she fought it, knowing that she had to retrieve the situation somehow, anyhow. No matter what he demanded of her now she must submit.
He sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re right. It is too soon; too sudden. Perhaps we need a little time to get to know each other better, or at least for you to become more accustomed to me.’
‘My lord?’ If he’d expressed a wish to fly she could not have been more taken aback. Almost immediately she suspected a joke at her expense but nothing in his manner indicated that he had intended it thus.
He smiled wryly. ‘There is no need to force the pace now.’
‘But you require a son.’
‘So I do and, God willing, we’ll get one, but not today I think.’
He rolled off the bed and retrieved his clothing. When he had dressed again he picked up her discarded gown and kirtle. ‘Here.’
Alarm mingled with relief. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this and yet he had just put into words what she had been thinking. They did need more time; at least she needed more time to come to terms with this arrangement. She climbed off the bed and took the proffered garments. Then, rather self-consciously, she donned them once more. When she had done so, he handed her the girdle and watched her fasten it.
‘That colour suits yo
u well,’ he observed. ‘Of course, any gown is helped by a lovely figure.’
She felt herself redden. ‘Thank you.’
To cover her embarrassment she lowered her gaze and smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. Ban smiled faintly and then turned away to pour some more wine. Then he handed her a cup.
‘It’s a fine vintage. It seems a shame to waste it.’
Obediently she took a sip. It steadied her a little. Then guilt replaced relief. ‘I want to thank you for your forbearance. It is more than I expected.’
‘And what did you expect? To be held down and raped perhaps?’
She lowered her gaze. ‘Well, yes. No. I mean I don’t know what I expected.’
He was dumbfounded. Her first response had been the true one and it raised some unwelcome implications. ‘I have already told you that I have never forced a woman.’
‘But we are betrothed so it’s not the same thing. Well, not exactly.’
‘Isn’t it?’ The blue gaze locked with hers. ‘It seems uncomfortably close to me.’
Uncomfortably close indeed if she associated him with the kind of men who perpetrated crimes of violence on women. War provided the excuse. The past five years had shown him what political expediency was prepared to sanction: atrocities masquerading as justice; rape, mutilation and murder committed in the name of a king’s ambition. Inevitably one became hardened in the end; learned to bury emotion. Self-preservation necessitated it. Now it appeared that emotion wasn’t as deeply buried as he’d imagined.
‘I will take nothing that is not freely given.’
‘I will do my duty, my lord.’
‘Aye, but not out of fear.’
‘I see now that such fear was foolish.’
‘I hope you do.’
‘I’m sorry I have failed you.’
‘Forget it. Let’s just chalk it up to experience.’
‘I will try to do much better in future.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you mean to tell my father about this disobedience?’
His cup stopped in mid-air. ‘Of course not. Why the devil should I?’
There were several things she might have said in reply but she held her peace. Ban put down his cup and took her by the shoulders.
‘This is between us now, Isabelle; no one else. I want this arrangement to work. The question is, do you?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good. Then we are agreed.’
‘I regret giving you reason to doubt it.’ She made herself look at him. ‘It won’t happen again.’
He nodded. ‘It is well.’
* * *
In fact Ban was aware that matters were far from well. That Isabelle should be afraid to share his bed was deeply disconcerting, as was the realisation of how much he wanted her. Taking her would have been simple but the use of force was out. The idea was distasteful in any context but where she was concerned it was downright repellent. Besides, it was certainly no basis on which to build an enduring relationship. He could only wonder what had gone before to make her so afraid. Recalling the occasion of their first meeting he winced inwardly. He’d hardly done himself any favours there. Even so, she was no virgin bride and therefore no stranger to the realities of marriage. Her fears were groundless but he’d have his work cut out to prove it. All the same he meant to succeed. If it meant time and patience then so be it. The prize was well worth the winning.
* * *
After she left him Isabelle retired to the bower to tidy her appearance and ensure that no tell-tale signs of a tryst remained. A rumpled gown and untidy hair would be enough to a discerning eye. Having made the necessary adjustments she lingered awhile, needing time and space to think. Events had gone so contrary to expectation that even now it was hard to take in. The sense of her folly only increased. Procrastination solved nothing: she had merely delayed the inevitable. Ban had been forbearing this time but he’d made it clear that he expected her compliance in future. Surely that wouldn’t be so hard: he was gentle and patient. What more could she ask for? Why on earth had she panicked like that?
The passing minutes provided no clear answers. In the meantime there were other matters requiring attention. When she had regained her composure she quit the bower and went to the hall. As she entered she saw her father speaking to one of the servants. He dismissed the man and then waited for Isabelle to approach. For a moment he surveyed her critically, his gaze quizzical.
‘Is it done?’
Crossing her fingers under the folds of her skirt she nodded. ‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good.’ He paused. ‘I pray for a happy outcome.’
‘And I.’
That at least was true. It went against the grain to lie to him but there was no way to explain what had taken place with Ban, even had she felt so inclined.
‘Succeed in this and your future is assured.’ He squeezed her arm gently. ‘I would see you safely settled and soon.’
‘You will, my lord.’
‘I hope so, but I suspect that time is running out.’ As she opened her mouth to protest he silenced her with a finger to her lips. ‘It’s the truth and it must be faced. The pains in my chest occur more often now and the effects last longer. Before I die I should like to see Lord Ban your acknowledged husband.’
A lump formed in her throat making it harder to speak. ‘He will be, and long before then.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Incidentally, I think him a better man than your last.’
‘So do I.’
She thought there was no possible comparison; Ban was everything that Alistair Neil had never been. Her behaviour this morning had been foolish beyond belief. She vowed then and there that it would not be repeated. All she wanted now was to forget about the past and move on.
Chapter Eight
Over the next few days, Ban used some of his time to better familiarise himself with the layout of Castlemora, committing to memory the location and function of its various buildings and the immediate environs. Local knowledge was going to be essential to his plans. He also made a point of meeting regularly with his men and listening to what they had to say. They mixed more freely with the household servants and had also ventured into the village nearby, and he knew they could be relied on to keep an ear to the ground.
‘Murdo and his crew are not well liked hereabouts,’ said Jock. ‘They’ve a reputation for brutality and the villagers fear them.’
‘As well they should,’ replied Ewan.
Inevitably the mercenaries were everywhere in evidence at Castlemora but, although they eyed the Glengarron retainers with ill-concealed dislike, they had offered no further insult.
‘It seems that three of them raped a local lass and got her with child,’ Jock went on, ‘but when the case was brought they swore blind she’d given her consent. It was her word against theirs. When the judgement went against her, the lass killed herself and the bairn with her.’
Ban shook his head in disgust. ‘Their kind has no conscience and obeys no laws but their own, or perhaps Murdo’s.’
‘Him they fear, my lord, and with good reason apparently.’
‘So I imagine.’
‘He takes good care that their more questionable deeds occur well away from Castlemora and that there are no witnesses. Any who speak out are invariably punished or else they meet with an accident.’
‘I dinna much like turning my back on the scum,’ said Davy.
‘Their kind is better kept in plain view,’ replied Jock.
Davy eyed Ban quizzically. ‘Will we be staying here much longer, my lord?’
‘For a while yet,’ said Ban.
His men exchanged knowing grins. He returned a smile. They had guessed his interest, although not the depth of his involvement and he couldn’t tell them. Much as he disliked keeping them in the dark about his intentions, he had no other option at present. The situation was too delicate to share. Although matters hadn’t got off to the best start he was hopeful of amending them. If everything wen
t as he hoped thereafter he’d be able to announce his betrothal soon enough. Then they could all go home.
‘The lady is fair,’ said Jock.
Ban’s face remained impassive. ‘Yes, she is.’
‘Rumour didn’t do her justice.’
‘Quite so.’
‘The man who wins her will be most fortunate.’
‘Indeed he will.’
Realising he wasn’t going to be drawn Jock let the subject drop and the conversation turned to other things.
Ban hid a smile, amused rather than annoyed by so transparent an attempt to pump him for information. In fact Isabelle had been very much on his mind. Since their betrothal the only real chance to speak with her had been when they met at table and, since the place was public, their conversation was confined to safe topics. After the disastrous episode following their betrothal she seemed a little more diffident, more eager to please. At the same time her smile had an anxious quality that he found perturbing. He didn’t want her to feel anxious or uncomfortable around him; on the contrary. Furthermore it mattered rather more than he could have anticipated. Her fear was an affront to manhood: so lovely a woman ought to enjoy intimacy, not dread it, and he wanted very much to instil that idea. The setback had not abated his interest in the least. If anything it had increased. The thought of her excited him, something he had not expected to find in a potential bride. In consequence he found himself looking forward to the day when he could take her to his bed openly and as often as he pleased. When he did he wanted it to be with her willing consent.
In his exploration of Castlemora he had located an old barn which was set apart from the main buildings but close enough to afford relatively easy access. It was used to store hay and grain. Being quiet and little frequented it thus provided a convenient place for his purpose since he and Isabelle could meet there discreetly. It carried an element of risk but there was no way around that. Discovery would be extremely awkward but, if anything, the possibility lent spice to the adventure.
Joanna Fulford Page 8