Beyond Reason

by Avril Borthiry

  In her distress, she whirled around and collided with Felix, who carried a tray of drinks. The tankards and goblets crashed to the floor, followed by an abrupt silence in the hall as all eyes turned to the source of the noise. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robert rise to his feet and start toward her, only to see him hesitate and sit down again. If he had taken a knife and stabbed at her heart, she doubted the pain would have been any worse than what she felt at that moment. Lord Montgomery's rejection of her had been made public.

  Desolation, like a dark spirit, possessed her. It filled her soul and ousted all her joy. She fled once again to her chamber and climbed into her bed, trying to find solace in the warmth of her blankets. All night she prayed, longing to hear the sound of her door opening, to hear Robert's whispered demand for forgiveness and feel his arms around her. But the door remained closed, and the only arms around her were her own as she hugged herself while weeping into her pillow. It all seemed so unbelievable.

  The morning sun did little to soothe her. Heartbreak squeezed her chest with an iron grip. Surely, she thought, what they'd shared had meant something. Surely he hadn't lied about his feelings. He couldn't be that cruel.

  Isobel flinched as the needle once again brought forth a drop of blood. With a cry, she flung the sampler to the ground, dropped her face to her hands, and wept.

  Moments later, a knock at the door had her reaching for a handkerchief to wipe away the tears. A surge of hope lifted her to her feet. Please God. Please.

  “Come in.”

  Disappointment crushed her when she saw Elias standing on the threshold.

  “My lady.” He studied her with a frown. “May I speak with you?”

  “Now is not a good time,” she said. “I'm... I'm not feeling well.”

  “I know. That's why I'm here.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I was in the great hall last night, Isobel. I saw what happened. I'm aware things are not...what they were.”

  “And, like everyone else at Glendennan, you think me a fool.” She swallowed a sob. “For that is what I am.”

  “I think no such thing.” He gestured toward the window. “Look outside. The day is pleasant and very mild for December. I thought you might agree to take a ride with me. Or a walk, perhaps? It would be beneficial, I think, to breathe some fresh air.”

  “By all things sacred,” she cried. “You as well? Is this some kind of false flattery that heartless men set aside for foolish widows like myself? Take a ride with me, Isobel. Come walk with me, Isobel. Let me tell you how much you mean to me, Isobel. God help me, I can't. No sir, I can't.”

  Consumed by misery and shaking with sobs, Isobel crumpled to the floor. A moment later, a pair of strong arms folded around her shoulders and lifted her back on her feet.

  “I have no motive here, my lady,” Elias said, his voice soft as he cradled her against him. “My only concern is your well-being. How about this? I noticed a small church at the valley’s head when I rode in. Perhaps we could go there. There's peace to be found in prayer, I think, and I'd be happy to escort you if you wish.

  She coughed on a sob and looked up into warm grey eyes. “Aye,” she whispered. “I think I should like that.”

  “Good.” His fingers brushed some tears from her cheek. “Meet me at the stables as soon as you're ready. I'll have Titan saddled for us.”

  A short while later, Isobel ran down the stairs and out into the courtyard. Fearful of further rejection, she prayed she wouldn't bump into Robert. To her relief, few people were about.

  Elias stood outside the stable, his massive horse saddled and ready. Remembering Elias's comment to the groom, Isobel slowed her step as she drew near the stallion.

  “Don't be afraid, my lady,” Elias said, with a smile. “Titan won't hurt you. Unless, of course, you threaten me in any way.”

  With some effort, Isobel returned the smile. “Then I shall be sure not to do so.”

  Elias lifted her into the saddle, settled himself behind her, and took up the reins. Encircled within the strength of his arms, Isobel tensed.

  “You're uncomfortable, my lady?”

  “Perhaps a little dizzy at the height,” she replied, blushing at his perception.

  Elias chuckled and signalled the sentry to raise the portcullis. “Aye, he’s a big horse right enough, but I’ll not let you fall, so don’t –”

  “Hold!”

  Robert’s command rang across the bailey, halting the rise of the gate. Isobel drew a sharp breath, her stomach twisting at the sound of his voice. He approached, his stride purposeful, yet tense, and Isobel noticed shadows of fatigue beneath his eyes. Perhaps, then, his treatment of her was not without some remorse. Or perhaps he had merely been carousing with his knights the night before.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, casting a brief glance at Elias before turning his gaze back to Isobel.

  “I’m escorting the lady to the stone church, my lord,” Elias replied. “She has a desire to spend some time at prayer. Perhaps I should have sought your approval?”

  “The church.” Robert expelled a slow breath and placed his hand atop her foot. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through her body. “Merely a brief excursion then.”

  Had she imagined the relief in his tone? Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she cursed inwardly at her emotional weakness. How could he torment her so? Determined to maintain a semblance of dignity, she tugged her foot free of his grasp. “I should like to leave now, my lord, if you please.”

  Jaw tightening, Robert stepped back and nodded. “To your care, then, Sir Elias,” he said, and signalled the opening of the gate.

  Chapter 17

  Elias sat in soft shadows at the back of the empty church, watching the small figure at the altar. Isobel had lit a candle before stepping back to kneel on the altar steps. She hadn't taken a hassock for her knees and he wondered at her discomfort on the cold hard stone. He saw her gaze lift to to the image of Christ for a few moments before her head bowed in humble reverence. Soft whispers of prayer, discernible yet unclear to him, drifted into the immaculate silence.

  Elias didn't need to hear the details of Isobel's discourse with God to know how she grieved. He'd felt Isobel's suffering with every breath that shuddered from her as they'd ridden to the church. Somehow, the agony in her soul had transcended the restrictions of her body and touched Elias's heart with invisible fingers.

  The lady was, for now, beyond solace.

  Elias leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and contemplated. He had no doubt Isobel would soon be leaving with him to return to Stanford. She couldn't possibly remain at Glendennan under such circumstances. Still, he wouldn't insist on their departure until he believed her to be ready. He had grown fond of her, recognizing her spirit and grace. She had enough of both, he hoped, to survive the weight of this sorrow.

  A sob echoed off the whitewashed stone walls and he straightened. The subtle shake of her shoulders bespoke of her tears and his heart went out to her. Bring her peace, Lord. The prayer was a silent but sincere offering, given as he rose to his feet and approached her.

  “Come, my lady.” He lifted her from the cold steps. “Sit with me. I'm sure God won't mind if you make yourself comfortable as you pray.”

  “You're very kind, sir,” she whispered, leaning against him as he settled her on a pew. “Thank you.”

  He said nothing, but sat back, content to wait until she voiced a desire to leave. Some time passed before she raised her eyes to him with an unspoken request to return to Glendennan.

  They heard the commotion in the bailey before they'd even passed through the gate. The previously quiet space now bustled with people, horses and wagons. Groomsmen and squires scurried around the stables, settling horses into stalls. Wagons, loaded with trunks and boxes, were pushed under the temporary shelter of the wooden ramparts until the contents could be unloaded. The thick grey walls echoed with voices. Banners flew proudly from poles that had been mounte
d on the castle walls.

  The wedding party had arrived.

  Elias felt Isobel stiffen against him. He watched as she glanced around nervously and heard the small sigh of relief that escaped her. Knowing what she feared, he scanned the crowd too, seeing no sign of Montgomery.

  “Sir Elias,” she said. “I wish to enter the castle through the west door, away from all this bustle. May I dismount here?”

  He pulled Titan to a halt. “Of course, my lady.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled as he lifted her down. “I am indebted to you.”

  Elias returned her smile. “Not at all. Although I would be honoured to escort you to the banquet this evening.”

  Isobel frowned. “Oh, no. I'm sorry. I can't possibly go to the banquet.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I should have thought it obvious, sir. I can't face...”

  “Him?”

  “Aye.” She nodded, her expression pinched with sadness. “Him. Them.”

  Elias studied her for a moment, hesitating over his next remark. He had no wish to add to her hurt. But he looked past her melancholy and made note of her stubborn chin and fiery hair. He already knew she possessed spirit – he had seen it. Decided, he voiced his thoughts.

  “Don't tell me you intend to hide yourself away this evening. 'Tis not what I would expect from the Lady of Stanford Manor or the niece of Lord Stanford. Rather, I would expect you to don your most beautiful gown, let that hair of yours speak for itself, and turn certain heads when you enter the hall on my arm.”

  Isobel looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. “I'm not certain I can do that, sir.”

  “And I'm certain you can. You have no reason to hide, Isobel. You've done nothing wrong, have you? So prove it. Let everyone, including Lord Montgomery, bear witness to your spirit.”

  “Methinks I should be offended by your boldness,” she said, the modest smile on her face belying her statement.

  “Are you?”

  Her chin lifted. “Not in the least.”

  “Good. Then I'll see you this evening.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “You look beautiful, m'lady.” Mary beamed at Isobel with obvious pride. Isobel wore a gown of cream silk that caressed her small curves with a perfect touch. The translucent veil fell around her shoulders, held in place by a simple gold coronet. Mary had braided only part of Isobel's hair. The remainder hung in glorious curls to her hips.

  “Beautiful is not a word I am accustomed to hearing,” Isobel replied, remembering who had last said it to her. A flutter of panic played in her stomach. “Oh, Mary, I don't think I can do this.”

  “Aye, you can, m' lady. Don't go doubtin' yerself.” Mary cupped Isobel's chin with a work-worn hand. “I don't believe Lord Montgomery means to cause you pain, my lamb.”

  “He has already done so.” Isobel sighed. “Are the servants laughing at me?”

  The maid fidgeted with Isobel's hair. “Well, 'tis true you're the topic of gossip, but don't let it bother you. Felix is a wicked man, with the lies and rumours that 'e spreads. Lord Montgomery should chuck 'im out of Glendennan, I think. Nasty bugger, is Felix, an' gettin' worse. There. All done.” Mary smiled at Isobel as a knock sounded at the door. “Now, away with you, and have courage, my lovely.”

  Elias's eyes widened when Isobel opened the door. Despite the obvious approval in his gaze, her nerves felt as tight as if she were bound by ropes.

  “Well now.” He lifted his elbow, inviting her hand. “This is sure to cast a stone into the waters of Glendennan. I shall look forward to seeing the ripples.”

  But at the doorway to the great hall she hesitated, her legs shaking and her throat dry.

  “I'm not sure this is wise,” she said, gripping Elias's arm.

  “We're not here to prove your wisdom,” he said, patting her hand. “We're here to prove your courage. This is better for the health of your spirit than hiding away in your chamber, believe me.”

  So Isobel swallowed her fear and stepped through the doorway. A brief hush descended on the crowd as they entered. Her courage, however, only went so far. Unable to bear the sight of Robert with Joanna, she purposely avoided looking at the dais. Elias ushered her over to a quiet table where she settled herself with her back to them.

  “Thank you.” She blew out a breath of relief. “I found that quite terrifying.”

  He chuckled. “You did very well, my lady. Methinks Montgomery's jaw did hit the table when he saw you.”

  Where courage lacked, curiosity took over. “Is she... is Joanna with him?”

  “Aye, she is.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “We'll not stay here overlong. The statement has been made to all and sundry that Lady Isobel is not defeated, so let me know when you wish to leave.”

  “Now?” Isobel gave him a wry smile and he laughed.

  “At least have a drink with me first,” he said.

  Not only did Isobel drink with him, but she even managed to eat a little, realizing she had not done so since the previous day. They left the hall in the midst of a troubadour's song that celebrated the betrothal. Isobel again avoided glancing toward the man she loved. Her heart ached with want of him, but in the depths of their celebrations, Isobel doubted that he or anyone else even noticed her departure.

  With a promise to meet Elias for breakfast, Isobel found herself alone in her chamber. Solitude and silence soon gave voice to her sadness. In an effort to waylay her growing melancholy, she grabbed her cloak and headed outside.

  Due to the influx of visitors, not a free stall could be found in the stables. Isobel's sad thoughts were pushed briefly aside as she wandered from door to door, looking at all the new horses. She stopped at Argyle's stall and gazed up at the large grey stallion. He whinnied softly and blew on her hand.

  “I'm sorry, Argyle,” she murmured. “I should have brought something for you.” His ears flicked forward and he threw up his head as a voice spoke her name from the darkness.

  “Isobel.”

  With a gasp of shock, she spun round to see Robert standing before her, almost ghostlike in appearance. The sight of him squeezed her heart until she felt it pulsing in her throat. His dark curls accentuated the paleness of his face, marred in turn by the shadows beneath his eyes. In the gloom, she could not make out his expression, but sensed the intensity of his scrutiny. His fists, she noticed, were clenched.

  “My lord.” She swallowed, fighting to calm her breathing.

  He released a sigh. “You look so beautiful, Angel.”

  Once, such a remark would have intoxicated her. Now, it seemed meaningless. Isobel frowned through her pain. “What do you want, Robert?” She gestured toward the doorway. “'Tis not me, but your bride who merits your attention now.”

  He sighed again. “There are things I must tell you before you leave. Things you should know.”

  Isobel shook her head, angry at the bitter tears that rolled down her face. “Please spare me. I've no wish to hear more of your lies, or the pitiful reasons for your cruel treatment of me. I feel foolish enough as it is.”

  He laughed, but it was a strange and sad sound. “You still doubt me. You still don't understand what you mean to me.”

  “Oh, I understand very well,” she said, hiccupping on a sob. “The sooner I leave here, the happier you'll be. You've hardly spoken a single word to me in two days. 'Tis very plain to see what I mean to you, Lord Montgomery. I mean precisely nothing. You have used me and made me the laughing stock of Glendennan.”

  Robert's face appeared to darken. Frowning, he took in a slow breath, looked down at the ground, and spoke in a calm voice. “I'm going to try and explain things to you, Isobel, and I would ask you do not speak until I'm finished. At least grant me that.” He raised his gaze back to hers. “Will you do that for me?”

  Her voice, she knew, was lost in the struggle with her pride. To speak one more word to him would reduce her to an emotional ruin. So, in response, she lifted her chin and gave a slight nod. He smiled a
t her, but it was a grim gesture that carried no joy.

  “There is nothing I want more at this moment,” he said, “than to take two simple steps forward and touch you, to hold you, kiss you, breathe in the scent of you. But I cannot. I dare not, for it would be my undoing, and I'm barely holding on. Even the sound of your voice brings me close to collapse.” He paused, his jaw tightening. Isobel saw him swallow and sensed his inner struggle. “The king insists that I marry Joanna. I – we – have not been given a choice in this. I've lost the fight for us, Isobel, and you are the victim. I've been cruel, but with selfish reason, for if I were to take you in my arms, even for a single heartbeat...” He closed his eyes for a moment, parting with a breath that seemed to exude pain. “If I were to do that, my resolve to let you go would fail. I'd lock you within these walls and keep you a prisoner forever. But know this, for it is the brutal truth. The woman I'm to marry is not the woman I love. The woman I love is right here, standing before me. You say you mean nothing to me? I swear before Christ, Isobel De Clancy, you mean everything to me. Everything. I love you beyond reason and will love you till I die. Never doubt it. I wish... I wish... Oh, God, help me.”

  Robert took a step forward, reaching out as if to caress her face. Isobel whimpered and closed her eyes, waiting for his touch.

  It never came.

  When she opened her eyes again, he had gone.

  In the darkest hours of night, Isobel's troubled mind refused to cease its lamenting. Robert's words played in her head, over and over again. His declaration had sparked a strange and fierce battle within her soul, the opponents being peace and torment.

  Sleep came as dawn's dreary light dragged itself over the eastern hills. When next Isobel opened her eyes, the morning had already aged a few hours.

  Remembering her promise to Elias, Isobel dressed and went in search of him. Despite her bravado of the previous evening, an anxious fear still persisted. Fatigue and emotional agony had frayed her nerves. She crept along the hallways of Glendennan with trepidation, fearful of meeting Robert or Joanna.