Joanna Fulford

  The ensuing thoughts were positively sinful. She smiled to herself, realising then that there had been a shift in her thinking and it had happened without her being aware of it. This was no longer just about being able to please him in general by seeing to his household and his comfort and being what the world would consider a dutiful wife: it was much more specific. It was about wanting to reach the man; about touching his heart. It would be no easy feat. What she sought was protected by emotional armour that had been forged by grief and loss and years of war. Even so, she had to believe it could be done, that she could somehow find a way...

  She was roused from her thought by the sound of men’s voices raised in jesting and laughter. The noise came nearer and footsteps sounded in the passage outside. Her heart leapt. The men were bringing her bridegroom. Suddenly the door was flung wide and he was carried in shoulder high. They deposited him at the foot of the bed with much lively banter and raucous laughter, ogling his bride the while.

  Ban bore it all good-humouredly but had no intention of being kept longer from his wife. Thus his companions were firmly shown the door. It took several minutes before the last of them was ejected and the door shut and barred behind them. He turned then to Isabelle, letting his eyes drink in each detail. Apparently what they found was pleasing for his gaze warmed.

  She remained quite still and waited, aware of nothing but the man. Her heart was thumping so hard she was certain he must hear it. His gaze never left her as he slowly divested himself of his clothing to reveal the hard-muscled body beneath. Her heart swelled with pride to think that the world knew that this man was her husband. She saw him smile and the blue eyes met and held hers.

  ‘You are so beautiful.’

  Then he reached for her, drawing her against him, his mouth on hers in a soft and lingering kiss. His hands slid beneath her hair, lifting its weight off her neck and shoulders, letting its silkiness slide through his fingers, breathing its subtle scent. His tongue ran lightly over her lower lip, suggestive, exciting. Of its own volition her mouth opened to him, her tongue flirting with his. She leaned closer and felt his arms tighten around her as the kiss grew more intimate. Yet for all that it was unhurried and infinitely persuasive sending warmth the length of her body.

  He smiled. ‘I’ve been dreaming about this all evening.’

  ‘So have I.’

  ‘Oh?’ His lips gently nibbled her ear lobe. ‘And what did you dream?’

  Isabelle shivered at the touch. ‘I am too embarrassed to tell you, my lord.’

  ‘That sounds deeply shocking.’ His tongue probed her ear.

  The shiver became a tremor. ‘Verging on sinful.’

  ‘Better and better,’ he murmured.

  His fingers tugged gently at the fastening of her shift. It slid lower leaving her upper body naked. His tongue travelled down her neck to the peak of her breast. Her breath caught in her throat. Then she was kissing him back, her lips finding the warm hollow where neck met shoulder. She felt his hands on her waist, gentle and warm, and then the garment slipped over her hips and fell to the floor.

  Ban’s eyes darkened with passion. The moonlight lent her flesh a faint iridescence like soft pearl. For a moment or two he drank in her soft curves, feeling his body respond. And then her mouth travelled lower, pressing soft kisses to his neck and breast, setting every nerve alight. Unhurriedly she sank to her knees in front of him, her hands brushing his waist and hips. Ban almost forgot to breathe as the implication hit him. Isabelle glanced up, a seductive and naughty expression that caused his pulse to quicken. Her mouth closed round him, her tongue teasing gently. He drew in a deep breath as every muscle in his belly grew taut and the familiar coil of tension formed in his loins. The exquisite sucking motion increased until it seemed his blood had turned to flame. Heart hammering, he slid his fingers through her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head, drawing her closer. Desire grew hotter and with it need. The tension tightened. With an effort he controlled it, letting the sensation build, carrying him to the brink. Somehow he found his voice.

  ‘Enough, my sweet, or I’m going to lose control completely.’

  She drew back a little. He raised her and led her two paces to the bed, tipping her backwards and then following her down, pinning her there with his weight. She would have twined her arms about his neck but he prevented it, clamping her wrists beneath his hands, his mouth on hers, searing, demanding. Excitement soared. He pressed her thighs apart and thrust deep and repeatedly, his need overtaking him now.

  Isabelle burned, every fibre of her body resonating from the feel of him, revelling in this fierce possession. The heat in her pelvis expanded in a ripple of pleasure, every muscle taut with it. She moaned softly. The thrusts intensified, harder, utterly dominant now, pushing her relentlessly to the edge. Isabelle screamed, half-swooning, her body bucking beneath him, carried on a cresting wave of pleasure. He came quickly then, unable to help himself, crying out, his body shuddering with glorious sensation. Ruthless, he held her there, in thrall to his will. Isabelle closed her eyes in total surrender, loving every second of that delicious tyranny.

  Eventually he drew back a little, breathing hard, caught between astonishment and delight.

  ‘Dear heaven, that was beyond words.’

  She thought that words couldn’t begin to explain or describe what she felt then. Once she would never have dreamed such delight existed. How could one be so completely subject to a man’s will and yet enjoy every moment of it? How was it possible to want a man so much? She smiled and gave him a sideways look. It was unwittingly sultry and vaguely mischievous. Ban saw it and grinned.

  ‘Have a care, vixen. Such an expression can only elicit one kind of response.’

  ‘Oh? And what is that, my lord?’

  ‘I mean to show you presently.’

  And he did, then and later.

  * * *

  When Isabelle eventually woke next day the sun was already high. She stretched luxuriously and then turned her head to find Ban propped on one elbow watching her. As her eyes met his he smiled.

  ‘Good morrow, Wife.’

  ‘Good morrow, Husband.’ Idly she traced a finger along his arm, her gaze taking in the silvery lines of old scars on his skin. The finger traced the course of the livid gash along his ribs and then continued upwards to his shoulder, to the site of the arrow wound. Close to it was another familiar scar, a long deep cut that ran from shoulder to breast, evidently the result of a savage downward slash from a sword. It had healed cleanly but she had seen enough injuries to know it must have been life-threatening. She had never asked him about it but now curiosity stirred.

  ‘How did you get this?’

  ‘It is the legacy of a Norman blade.’

  She looked thoughtful. ‘From the time you told me about? At Heslingfield?’

  ‘Aye. It would have done for me too, but for Iain and his men.’

  ‘Then I owe him and them a debt of gratitude.’

  ‘I also.’

  Isabelle pressed closer and kissed the scar. Ban’s arms tightened about her and she grinned, regarding him speculatively.

  ‘The sun is high, Husband.’

  The innocent tone brought forth an answering grin. ‘So it is, Wife.’

  ‘Is it not time we were up?’

  ‘I already am.’

  Glancing down she saw irrefutable proof of this and raised an eyebrow. ‘Was last night not enough to sate your lust, my lord?’

  ‘Not nearly enough, as you are going to discover.’

  Before she had time to say more he rolled, pinning her beneath him. Then his lips were on hers in a long and deep embrace. She could feel his arousal against her thigh and the answering heat in her pelvis. Recollections of the previous night only intensified it and she returned his kiss with equal ardour.

  Ban looked down into her face, his eyes dark with passion. ‘You play with fire, my sweet.’

  ‘Is that dangerous?’

  ‘Most assuredly.�
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  ‘How so?’

  He proceeded to show her and in considerable detail. The sun was much higher before they eventually left the sanctuary of the bedchamber.

  * * *

  Afterwards they walked together in the glen, following a steep track that led up the hillside. From the top the panorama of hills was spectacular and Isabelle surveyed it with awe.

  ‘It’s magnificent.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  They sat down on a convenient rock to get their breath back. Although she continued to gaze at the view every fibre of her body was aware of the man beside her.

  ‘I found it by chance,’ he went on, ‘not long after I came to Glengarron. I’ve come here often since, whenever I’ve needed a little time apart.’

  She nodded. ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘I needed quite a lot at first, to try to come to terms with what had happened at Heslingfield. Iain knew that and he left me alone.’

  ‘He reads men well. It’s what makes him a good leader.’

  He regarded her in surprise. ‘That’s a very astute observation.’

  She smiled. ‘Not mine, my father’s.’

  ‘Ah, but then he had many of the same qualities as Iain.’

  ‘He didn’t read Alistair Neil very well,’ she replied. ‘If he had he’d never have permitted the match to go ahead.’

  ‘He told me that your husband was often from home. It seems to me that he must take his share of the blame if you did not conceive a child.’

  ‘Even when he was there marital relations were...difficult.’

  ‘Difficult? How?’ As soon as he’d said it he winced inwardly. ‘I beg your pardon. That was a very impertinent question.’

  ‘It cannot be avoided any longer.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

  ‘I think I do.’ She reddened a little but, having committed herself thus far, knew she had to go on. ‘Alistair could not always perform his marital duties. When he did...well, he needed...he needed the stimulation of violence.’

  Ban frowned. ‘Violence? What sort of violence?’

  She drew another deep breath. ‘He liked to beat me. When I cried out it excited him, you see.’

  He did see. Suddenly a whole lot of things had just become clear and he was sickened. That any man should hurt a woman was beyond all bounds of acceptable behaviour. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Even as he said it he realised how trite the words must sound to her.

  ‘In a year of marriage I did not once conceive,’ she went on. ‘It was the reason the Neils wanted me gone.’

  ‘Why should they put all the blame on you?’

  ‘In such cases the woman is always to blame.’

  Ban had the uneasy feeling she might be right. Had he not listened to the voice of doubt without even speaking to her? There were always two sides at least to every story. Moreover, this account had major implications.

  ‘That’s in the past now, my sweet.’

  ‘Is it?’ Her anguished gaze met his. ‘What if it wasn’t just him? What if it was me?’

  ‘From what you’ve said I feel pretty sure that it wasn’t.’

  ‘You may still have married a barren woman.’

  ‘Isabelle, I suspect these fears are groundless.’

  ‘You don’t know how much I pray for that. I want to bear your children, Ban, not have you put me aside one day.’

  His jaw tightened. ‘I have no wish to put you aside.’

  ‘You might have no choice. You need direct male heirs.’

  ‘We’ll have them, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘That’s what Murdo said.’

  Ban’s eyes glinted. ‘Oh, did he?’

  ‘Ironically, he was the only person at the time who took my part.’

  ‘He must have had good reason.’

  ‘Murdo was ever well informed. It seems that some of his information came from whores who had lain with Alistair Neil. They said he couldn’t—’ She broke off, feeling her face redden.

  Ban regarded her keenly and then he laughed out loud. Isabelle grew hotter.

  ‘It’s no laughing matter.’

  ‘Forgive me, but surely you know what this this means.’ When she continued to stare at him he grinned broadly. ‘Your former husband was impotent, my sweet.’

  Isabelle’s heart gave a painful lurch. ‘Then...it wasn’t me?’

  ‘If Murdo is right it most certainly wasn’t you.’

  ‘Oh, Ban.’

  ‘It would also explain why he had no qualms at all about wishing to take you to wife.’

  Just then she didn’t know quite whether to laugh or cry. ‘I hate Murdo more than any other living man, but I hope with all my heart that he was right about this.’

  The very thought that it might be so lightened her spirits dramatically.

  * * *

  It seemed also to have affected Ban. At table that evening he was attentive and courteous as usual but he seemed more relaxed than he had erewhile. He laughed more, and took a larger part in the discussion. It gladdened her to see it. If this development could please him so much, how much more would he be pleased when she was with child? She allowed herself to use when now, rather than if. Smiling to herself she took a sip of wine and relaxed a little, allowing herself to be drawn by the convivial atmosphere.

  Ban and Lord Iain began to relate the tale of a distant exploit, of a cattle raid that had become a mud-splattered stampede in an unexpected thunderstorm. With impeccable timing one would interject with more details, piling one absurdity on another until their listeners were crying with laughter. Isabelle laughed too. The story lent another dimension to these men who, it seemed, were not infallible despite clever planning and could make themselves the butt of a joke. It only made them more attractive in her eyes. It occurred to her then that laughter bound men as effectively as shared adventures and success in battle, and guessed that their shared history was colourful, chequered and, at times, hilarious.

  She gave the conversation her full attention, absorbing every detail about Ban’s background so that she could flesh out what she already knew. Understanding of the past would provide added insight into his mental processes now. The survival instinct was strong in him and it had coloured his thinking for years, teaching him to separate emotion from events. And yet he was not incapable of feeling, of loving. With Ashlynn and with his young nephews the barriers came down. Might they one day do the same for his wife?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Now that his shoulder was growing stronger Ban had begun to exercise gently and, eventually, to ride again. His first trip was to visit Jock’s wife. As he had anticipated it wasn’t an easy meeting for either of them but it was necessary and, ultimately, he was glad he’d done it.

  ‘Jock would have been pleased,’ said Isabelle when they met later.

  ‘It was the least I could do,’ he replied. ‘Maggie and the children will be taken care of in the material sense, but they’re utterly bereft and nothing can change that.’

  ‘You miss him too, don’t you?’

  ‘He was a brave man and a good friend.’

  ‘I regret his loss more than I can say.’

  ‘You have no need to feel guilt, Isabelle. He would not want you to.’

  ‘All the same I do feel it, and keenly too.’

  ‘Then it’s time to take your mind off it for a while.’ He paused. ‘Would you care to ride out with me tomorrow?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘The glen is pretty at this season. You might like to see more of it.’

  ‘Yes, I would. Very much.’

  * * *

  They kept the horses to a steady pace. Apart from her concern over Ban’s current level of fitness, Isabelle wanted to be able to take in the details around her. Glengarron was certainly beautiful at this season with the purple heather on the hills and the clouds high in a late summer sky, dappling the hills with light and shadow.

  ‘I can understand why you have grown fond of thi
s place,’ she observed.

  Ban nodded. Not so long ago he had thought he wouldn’t live to see it again, never mind see it with the company he would most have sought.

  ‘It has become a second home; one I little thought to have.’

  ‘In that respect at least you were fortunate.’

  ‘More than I can say.’

  She smiled wryly. ‘Life never turns out as we expect, does it?’

  ‘Not very often,’ he agreed. ‘But then we live in uncertain times.’

  ‘I used to think that marriage would place me out of harm’s way; that somehow a home and husband would make me invincible.’

  ‘No one is invincible.’

  ‘True. It’s just that we don’t expect harm to come from those closest to us. It seems like the worst kind of betrayal.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘You speak from experience.’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘Beatrice?’ She stopped herself there, mentally cursing her tactlessness. ‘Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘I speak without thinking too often. I didn’t mean to resurrect a demon.’

  ‘No demon, at least not now. I have long seen her for what she was.’

  ‘It’s good that you have.’

  ‘She was part of a dream I once wove. It had no basis in anything other than wishful thinking and eventually I had a rude awakening.’

  She hesitated, but his manner now seemed more relaxed than before. It encouraged her to test the water a little further. ‘Did she love someone else?’

  ‘I believe she loved only herself. I merely entertained her for a while.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

  ‘She completely neglected to mention that, even while she was seeing me, she was betrothed to an earl.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I could scarce believe it either.’ He shrugged. ‘She only broke with me because the wedding was imminent.’

  ‘Good heavens. That must have been unspeakably hurtful.’

  ‘It was, but not nearly as hurtful as what followed.’