* * *
When he proposed the place to Isabelle she made no demur. The barn was out of the way and they were unlikely to be disturbed. Not that the fear of discovery was uppermost in her mind just then. Having had time to grow accustomed to the idea of their betrothal and to Ban’s company, she just wanted to get the business of consummation over with. After the first time it would doubtless be easier.
He was waiting when she arrived. His presence seemed to dominate the space somehow and he seemed disconcertingly at ease whereas she felt as nervous as a goose at the approach of Michaelmas.
He smiled at her. ‘I wondered if you would change your mind.’
‘No, I haven’t changed my mind.’
‘I’m glad. I know this isn’t easy for you.’
Her eyes widened a little. ‘I think perhaps it isn’t easy for either of us, my lord.’
‘I’d be the first to admit that the circumstances are not ideal but you have no reason to be afraid. Nothing that happens here is going to hurt you.’
‘I know.’
‘Then will you trust me?’
She nodded. He drew her closer, his lips brushing hers, soft, coaxing. As she relaxed a little the kiss became more assertive, his tongue flirting lightly with hers. He tasted pleasantly of mead, a heady sweetness that mingled with the scents of hay and wool and leather. His hold tightened a little so that she was pressed against him, his hands caressing her back. Their warmth sent a tremor along her skin. Tentatively she pressed closer. As she did so she felt the start of his arousal. Her pulse quickened but not entirely through apprehension.
He drew back a little, looking into her face. ‘Come.’
His cloak was spread out on the hay and he drew her down with him and then resumed where they had left off. He took his time, kissing, caressing, using every device he knew to please and arouse, unwilling to hurry this and lose all the ground he had won. She was prepared to trust him and he would ensure her trust was not misplaced. It was no hardship. He’d wanted her from the first, but what he felt now went beyond the thought of physical gratification. This woman excited him in ways that no other ever had. For all manner of reasons he wanted to prolong this experience.
Gradually the caresses became bolder, exploring her breast and waist and buttocks. Isabelle tried to follow his lead, returning his kiss, sliding her hands across his shoulders and thence to his back but the woollen tunic was a hindrance. She paused, fumbling for the fastening of his belt. At length she found it and unlatched the buckle. The belt came loose and was discarded. The tunic rode up easily, allowing access to the shirt beneath. Tugging at the fabric she managed to free it, then let her hands slide across the warm skin beneath, feeling the play of his muscles. His kiss deepened in response, became a little more demanding.
He guided her hand to his groin and with a sense of shock she felt his erection, huge and rock hard, quite unlike anything in her experience and, for a second, deeply disconcerting. Summoning her wits she began to stroke him, heard a sharp indrawn breath in response. She felt his hand along her thigh, the touch gentle but assured. His fingers slid between her thighs and thence to her sex. She tensed; then heard his voice, quiet and reassuring.
‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Nothing bad is going to happen.’
Obediently she made herself relax a little, permitting the intimacy. The light stroking movement created a sensation of unexpected warmth in the core of her pelvis. That too was disconcerting but not unpleasant. She relaxed a little more as he continued. A few moments later the warmth was followed by slick wetness. For a terrible moment she thought that her flux had begun but he seemed not to find anything untoward and went on stroking her. What had been pleasant became closer to pleasurable. Her pulse quickened a little.
Ban unfastened his breeches and his erection sprang proud. She closed her hand around the shaft, wondering how on earth her body was going to accommodate him. Surely it had to hurt. Even if it did there was no turning back now. She had to go through with this, couldn’t fail him a second time.
He raised her skirts higher until she was naked to the waist. She reddened, acutely aware of broad daylight and the vivid blue gaze surveying her lower body. Apparently he was not dissatisfied with what he saw because she saw him smile. A few moments later his knee parted her thighs and he slid into her, slowly, carefully, until she had the length of him. Isabelle blinked. It hadn’t hurt. As she was assimilating the fact he began to move inside her. That at least was not unexpected. Recalling what her former husband had commanded of her, she put her arms around Ban and raised her knees. He thrust harder, deeper, the rhythm increasing. Isabelle moved with him, praying she might please him this time. Then he might not repent of the bargain.
The action caused an unaccustomed surge of excitement in him. However, he reined desire in hard. No matter what, possession must not become violation. Nothing that happened here today must frighten or disgust her. Consequently he held back as long as he could but eventually release became inevitable. He had to hope he’d done enough to convince her that he didn’t intend to hurt her. This exercise was going to be oft repeated and when he took her in future he wanted her willing compliance.
He took his weight on his elbows and withdrew, surveying her keenly. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She paused. ‘That was...nice.’
He smiled wryly. ‘Indeed it was, but it’s going to get a lot better.’
‘Better?’
‘That’s right.’
She remained silent, uncertain what he meant. Things had already gone far better than she had anticipated. Alistair Neil had never treated her with such consideration. Submission to him had felt like subjugation. Submission to this man felt quite different. Exactly why that was she couldn’t have said; all she knew was the truth of it. Of course a woman could not expect to get pleasure from the act as men seemed to do, but Ban had just demonstrated that it need not be disagreeable. She had experience enough to realise that he had used restraint with her, hoping no doubt to allay her fear, and she was grateful. Such apprehension seemed foolish now.
Ban stretched out beside her, drawing her close. She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling oddly content. It would be no hardship to repeat the experience with him; quite the opposite in fact. If God allowed it they might make a child together. The possibility filled her with hope and longing. It would please her to give this man the son he longed for. It might also bring them closer. Meanwhile, she would have a baby, a small helpless being whom she could love and who would love her unconditionally. Ban had already told her that he didn’t love her but perhaps, given time, they might grow closer. It wouldn’t be hard to care for a man who treated her with gentleness and courtesy.
Ban too was lost in his thoughts. Things had gone better this time but there was a long way to go yet. He had been unable to arouse her as he’d hoped to. Clearly she was still too tense, too reserved for that. It was going to take a while to allay her anxiety and make her completely comfortable with him. It was a considerable challenge but he intended to meet it, to bring her to a climax with him.
When she’d experienced it once, she’d almost certainly want to do it again. Only then would she be relaxed enough for him to take things further and explore other possibilities. Imagination supplied a series of highly erotic images in which she initiated their sexual coupling. The result was a fresh wave of heat to his groin. He quashed it. It would be a mistake to force the pace. He wanted more than just to bed her again: he wanted her to enjoy it too. He wanted her to want him. Just where that thought had come from he couldn’t have said, but he recognised the truth of it. This woman was going to be his, body and soul.
* * *
For that reason he restrained the urge to follow up their tryst too soon. Instead he let several days go by before suggesting another. If Isabelle felt pressured she would be less likely to relax and that ran counter to his plans. In the interim he used the time to talk to her on a variet
y of subjects, drawing her out, listening, learning more about her. The tactic paid off. She began to lose the anxious expression she had worn before and to smile more readily. Ban saw it with approval.
The next time they met at the barn she was less tense and a rather more willing participant. Again he was careful, ardent but tender, seeking by every means to increase her enjoyment. Isabelle followed his lead, clearly wanting to please him. While he wouldn’t have described it as perfect sex, it was certainly an improvement.
* * *
Over the following week they built on it. The secrecy of these meetings combined with the limited time available lent them intensity and a certain excitement so that Isabelle found herself anticipating the next time they would be alone. It had become to her rather more than a business arrangement now. In spite of all former resolution her emotions had become involved too. She knew it was unwise at this stage, but somehow it had ceased to be a matter of choice. He filled her thoughts. His treatment of her was considerate and kind; she had never known such gentleness in a man. He was passionate but he never hurt her. Each time they made love it bound her more tightly to him. Except that he never actually spoke of love. She smiled ruefully at her own folly: their relationship was but new-fledged. It was far too early to be thinking in those terms. When she was carrying his child things might change. We may grow closer in affection. The notion resurrected all her former longing and offered glimpses of a future she had never thought to have.
She would have liked to discuss the future with Ban but it was a sensitive topic and she hesitated. Nor did he advert to it. She attributed that to his reluctance to make plans that might never come to fruition. He didn’t want to make any promises. Their conversations tended to focus on past or present instead. She could understand it but deep down it hurt too. In spite of the consideration he showed her now he would put her aside if he had to.
‘Is everything all right, my sweet?’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘Of course. Never better.’
They were lying on his cloak on a pile of sweet-smelling hay in an old stall towards the rear of the barn. The light was muted here, the quiet broken only by the occasional cooing of a pigeon in the rafters above.
‘You looked lost in thought.’
‘There is much to think about. My father’s health grows worse.’
‘God willing he will live a while yet.’
‘He doesn’t think so.’ She sighed. ‘It seems that Hugh will be laird before too long.’
‘He has all the makings of a worthy successor.’
‘I believe that too. It’s not Hugh who concerns me as much as Murdo.’
‘Surely he will serve your brother as he served your father.’
‘Murdo has too much power and he has abused it. Hugh knows that. I hope he may redress the balance.’
‘That may not be easy,’ said Ban. ‘Men like Murdo don’t readily cede what they have won.’
‘If my father had enjoyed better health the situation would not have arisen but, as his condition progressed, he was glad to delegate more responsibility. Many would say too much.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has happened.’ He paused. ‘But, if your brother is his own man, then he will eventually take back control.’
‘I hope so. Then perhaps Castlemora could go back to being the way it was. The atmosphere never used to be so tense, so...threatening.’
‘Why should you feel threatened by Murdo?’
She hesitated. It was dangerous ground.
‘Isabelle?’
‘He aspires to my hand.’ Seeing his expression she hurried on. ‘There was never any chance it would be granted.’
‘Did you want it to be granted?’
‘Good heavens, no! I detest him and he knows it. But, as you said, he’s not a man to give up easily.’
Ban’s eyes narrowed a little. ‘He had best give up all thought of you.’
‘He is no rival to you, my lord. Indeed I hope the futility of his ambition will soon become apparent.’
‘I will suffer no rivals, Isabelle. You belong to me or to no man.’
Her pulse quickened a little. ‘I am betrothed to you.’
‘That you are.’ He rolled, pinning her beneath him. ‘And it is my intention to make my claim on you very apparent very soon.’
‘Is something preventing you?’ It was provocative and as soon as she’d said it she was astonished at her own boldness. At the same time she knew that she wanted him to match his words to action.
His eyes glinted. ‘Nothing will prevent me, my sweet. I am jealous of my rights.’
‘Say you so?’
‘I do say so.’
‘I might refuse.’
‘You might try,’ he conceded.
The words were deliberately provocative in their turn and she tested his hold. It might have been steel. Ban surveyed her steadily.
‘Rebellion, Isabelle?’
She regarded him speculatively. ‘What if it were?’
‘It would be crushed without mercy until I had complete submission.’
‘Oh? And how exactly would you achieve that?’
He proceeded to show her. The method was swift and ruthless and devastatingly effective.
* * *
She relived it when she was alone in bed that night. The memory created an unwonted glow deep inside her, and once again she found herself looking forward to the day when their relationship could be declared openly. Their conversation suggested that Ban wanted that too. The mere mention of another man’s interest had brought out a fiercely possessive streak that was unexpected and, on balance, more pleasing than not. It was another indication that he already thought of her as his. His subsequent actions reinforced that notion strongly. She smiled to herself in the darkness. It was impossible to think of any other man when she was with him. Not that she intended to tell him, of course. He already had too much advantage.
* * *
Ban too had reflected on their earlier conversation since it shed light on some of the things that had initially puzzled him. Murdo’s attitude was one. If he entertained hopes of marrying Isabelle then his aggression towards Ban and Glengarron became more comprehensible. When Isabelle returned to Castlemora, Murdo must have seen that as a golden opportunity. Marriage to her would secure his position once and for all. He would also be gaining a very beautiful bride. The possibility that she might be barren evidently didn’t bother Murdo, or he was willing to take a chance. That such an ambitious man should do so seemed suddenly significant. Of course, it might just be that he was so deeply in love that it didn’t weigh with him, but, knowing what he did of Murdo, it seemed unlikely.
Ban frowned, conscious of undercurrents that he couldn’t identify. Usually he was good at reading men but something here eluded him. Moreover, he knew instinctively that it was important. Nothing in Isabelle’s manner caused him to think that she secretly returned Murdo’s feelings. Indeed she seemed to fear him. Either that or she was an accomplished actress. He rejected that notion. A woman in love with another man would have reacted very differently to their coupling. Whatever Murdo’s motivation Isabelle was already lost to him. As soon as she was pregnant Ban intended to acknowledge her as his wife. That would put paid to the upstart’s pretensions. It would put paid to anyone’s pretensions in that direction. No other man would touch her again. Effectively she belonged to him now.
When they met in public he was attentive but he also made sure that the correct forms of behaviour were observed. As his potential future wife Isabelle deserved to be treated with the utmost respect and her father would expect no less. He was also aware that other eyes watched them. There must be nothing to indicate that his relationship with Isabelle was anything other than it seemed. A prospective suitor was one thing; a secret lover quite another.
Unexpectedly he found an ally in Hugh. The younger man had evidently taken a liking to his guest and lost no opportunity to speak with Ban and to as
k him about Glengarron. His questions were intelligent and pertinent and he listened carefully to the answers.
‘My father sets great store by his friendship with Iain McAlpin,’ he explained.
‘As my brother-in-law does with him,’ replied Ban.
‘I have only met him once and I was very young then. To be honest I was too overawed to speak.’
Ban grinned. ‘Iain can have that effect on people.’
‘I have heard many things about him.’
‘What have you heard?’
‘Of his prowess as a warrior, his courage, his daring, his skill as a leader.’
‘All true.’
‘I’ve also heard he’s a dangerous man to cross.’
‘True again.’
‘Not that I have any desire to do so,’ Hugh went on. ‘In that respect his reputation is equally fearsome.’
‘He does not look on treachery with a forgiving eye.’
‘Neither should he. A man’s word, when given, should hold.’
‘So it should,’ replied Ban.
‘He would not suffer an enemy to rob or insult his kin, would he?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘What would he do in such a case?’
‘I imagine the matter would be settled at the point of a sword. Why do you ask?’
‘There is a certain matter I would have settled at the point of a sword.’ Hugh’s eyes were expressive of deep anger. ‘When I am laird it will be.’
‘Oh? May I ask who has so offended you?’
‘The Neils of Dunkeld.’
Ban was instantly alert. ‘Your kin by marriage, are they not?’
‘Not any more. Their treatment of my sister cancels all claims to kinship. Happily she is free of them and that worthless husband of hers.’
‘Worthless?’
‘Aye, a swaggering fool with a handsome face and a lying tongue. The world is well rid of him.’ Hugh frowned. ‘The world would be well rid of all of them.’
‘Perhaps it would. All the same, one must needs consider the ramifications very carefully. It is no light thing to start a blood feud.’
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