Highland Wedding

by Hannah Howell

  Storm decided it was not her place to tell him how easily Islaen could do that. “I should think so especially if ye have some sweet words for her as weel.”

  “Oh, I think I can manage a few,” he drawled, then sighed. “I pray I havenae lost my chance.”

  “Nay,” she picked up the tray, “I just do not feel that is so. Rest, Iain, and might I make a suggestion?”

  “Aye, what?”

  “Be sure ye have her where ye can talk all this out without interruption and mayhaps where ye can have a few days to prove to her that ye mean it. That might not come for a few days. There will be people about and she will need time to heal.”

  Iain sighed and nodded, recognizing the wisdom of what she said. He had many months of foolishness and neglect to atone for. There would be wounds to be soothed and he could not do that in a few snatched moments. Since Robert had sent word to the MacRoths, he suspected that a few snatched moments would be all he would get for a while.

  When he woke up next it was with a start. He bolted upright in bed and suffered a moment’s confusion, then knew what had awakened him. Islaen was crying out his name. He started to get out of bed and suddenly Alex was there.

  “At least put your braes on e’er ye stumble in there,” Alex said even as he helped Iain do so.

  “Where did ye come from?”

  “A pallet in the corner. T’was thought t’would be wise to watch ye close a while longer.”

  Even as he stood up Iain realized he would need the supporting arm Alexander put around him. The ache in his head had lessened considerably but he was by no means healed. As they started towards Islaen’s chambers, Iain cursed his weakness for it slowed them down.

  With the slow return of consciousness, Islaen was assaulted by the memories of the ordeal with MacLennon. The most tormenting of all the visions was Iain standing helpless before an armed MacLennon. She grew more and more afraid as she realized that she did not know what had happened after she had been knocked down by MacLennon. The thought that Iain was dead made her scream his name. She sat up only to cry out as her head throbbed with pain. Clutching her head she still struggled to leave the bed, driven by her need to see Iain, but Storm and Meg hurried over to stop her.

  “Lass, ye cannae just sit up and dash off,” Meg cried as she struggled to make Islaen lie back down.

  “I must see Iain,” Islaen protested but found that she was much too weak to fight Meg and Storm and was soon tucked back into bed.

  “Ye cannot see Iain,” Storm said firmly.

  “He is dead then, isnae he,” Islaen said in a flat lifeless voice. “MacLennon killed him.”

  “Weel, an he did, lass, he did a muckle poor job of it,” Iain drawled, arriving in time to hear her words.

  Her head ached so badly she found it hard to see clearly as she turned towards the voice. “Iain?”

  “Weel,” he slipped into bed beside her, “’tisnae Alexander climbing into your bed.”

  “Och, weel, mayhaps next time,” she jested, her joy at finding that he lived raising her spirits despite the pain in her head.

  “Islaen,” he growled and glared fleetingly at Alexander who chuckled merrily.

  She gripped his hand tightly. “I feared ye were dead, Iain. I couldnae recall how matters stood after MacLennon struck me. I must have been knocked out.”

  “Aye, for twa days.”

  “How did ye escape him?”

  “He fell right after he struck you.”

  “That was the scream I heard.”

  “Aye. Your blow to his head took a moment to work but work it did.”

  “He is dead then?”

  “Quite dead, Islaen.”

  “I should be glad of it and, in part, I am but I wish it could have been otherwise.”

  “It had to be, Islaen. He ne’er would have let us be. His madness demanded that he keep on until one of us was dead.”

  She nodded but carefully, in deference to her aching head. He was right. MacLennon had left them with no other choice. The only way to stop his madness was to kill him. She just wished she had not been the one to strike the killing blow. Despite all the man had done and had planned to do, something inside of her drew back in horror over the violence she had committed.

  “Come, Islaen, ye maun drink this potion,” Meg urged as she stood by the bed and held out a goblet.

  Islaen made a childish grimace and turned away, curling up at Iain’s side. “Nay, I willnae drink it.”

  Although he sympathized with her feelings, having had to put down a few potions in his time, Iain said a little sternly, “Be this any way for a grown woman and mither to act?”

  “Aye,” Islaen muttered, “and ye would act the same had ye drunk any of Meg’s vile potions.”

  “I havenae killed ye yet, lass,” Meg said crossly.

  “It has been a near thing a time or twa.”

  “Islaen,” Iain said with quiet firmness though he felt an urge to laugh.

  “Oh, verra weel.” She tried to sit up but started to feel dizzy. “Wheesht, I am weak.”

  Supporting her, Iain nodded. “Aye, so am I still but I can feel my strength returning e’en now. Ye were unconscious longer than I. T’will be a while ere ye can run about, lass. What is the potion for, Meg?”

  “Murder,” Islaen grumbled.

  Meg ignored her. “To ease her pain. I ken weel that her head hurts.” Meg nodded in approval when Islaen downed it and ignored the girl’s grimaces. “I made it weak for ye.”

  “Will it make me sleep?” Islaen asked making no protest when Iain settled her comfortably in his arms.

  “I dinnae need to give ye aught for that. Ye will sleep a muckle lot for a day or so, child.”

  “But I only just awoke.”

  “She is right, Islaen. I did the same.” Iain sighed and shook his head. “I couldnae stay awake long at all e’en when I tried.”

  “Weel, now that ye have seen how she fares, sir,” Meg said to Iain, “ye can go back to your own bed.”

  Resisting the urge to hold tighter to him, Islaen murmured, “Aye, ye neednae stay here, Iain, if ye dinnae wish to.”

  “I wish to. I am staying here.” He settled himself more comfortably in the bed as if to add strength to his firm pronouncement.

  “But I maun tend to the lass and all.”

  “Meg, Islaen and I are wed. I dinnae think I will see aught I havenae seen before.”

  “So gently put, my friend,” Alexander murmured as Meg gasped and Islaen groaned softly in embarrassment.

  For only a moment was Islaen concerned about a need for some privacy. She needed Iain more. Her fear that he had been killed still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “I think t’would be best an Islaen got some rest now,” Iain said softly as he felt his wife go lax in his hold. “An her kin travel here as swiftly as they did after the bairns came they will be here on the morrow. She will need rest to see them.”

  Meg frowned but nodded in agreement. “Aye and they will insist upon seeing the lass too. I will sit for now, m’lady,” she said to Storm. “’Tis your turn to rest. Aye, and Master Iain’s right. The MacRoths will come soon and there will be a muckle lot of work.”

  Islaen woke with a start partly because Iain had and partly because of a loud crash. Peering over the shoulder of a softly cursing Iain, she smiled. The still shuddering door explained the crash.

  “Greetings, Fither. Have ye nay learned to knock yet?”

  “Ye wouldnae have heard me,” Alaistair growled as he strode to the bed and studied his daughter, scowling at the bruises on her face. “Put up a good fight, did ye, lass?”

  “Weel, I wouldnae say being slapped around was much of a fight, Fither. Er, Fither, do ye think ye could wait but a moment for this visit? There is one or twa things I need to do ere I sit and talk.”

  At that moment Storm nudged her way through Islaen’s brothers who were gathered in the doorway. She efficiently moved everyone out into the hallway except fo
r Alaistair. Islaen nearly laughed as she watched her father nearly carry a startled Iain into the other room to see to his needs while Storm quickly helped her see to hers. Iain was still looking bemused when Alaistair brought him back and bundled him back into bed at her side.

  “I will fetch ye some food to break your fast,” Storm said as she started to leave. “Do not frown so, Iain. T’will not be gruel.” She opened the door and stared at the group of large MacRoth men. “I will bring ye a lot of food,” she drawled.

  “God’s toe-nails, has everyone come then?” Islaen asked weakly as her brothers filed into the room. “Nay, the big twins arenae here.”

  “Nay,” Conan said as he moved forward to kiss Islaen in greeting, “and we left that lad, Gamel, behind as weel. He was carrying on some about having failed ye. William plans to take him for a wee swim an he doesnae hush soon.”

  “Oh dear, poor Gamel. Weel, I had hoped ye would make him see things a wee bit less dreamily.”

  “He is a good lad, dearling,” her father said as he sat down by the bed, “and beneath all that hair is some wit when ye can get him to cease talking nonsense. Now, introduce your mon to Angus and Conan, then ye can tell me all that happened.”

  Even though she was certain Robert had told her father most everything, she dutifully obeyed. Storm and Meg arrived with food about halfway through the telling. Islaen ate and gave over most of the telling to Iain for she found that the memories of that horrifying time were still too fresh and disturbing to speak of calmly. By the time the tale was done, all questions answered, she was feeling weary. Her head did not ache half as much as it had but it still drained her strength. Leaning against Iain she felt his arm slip around her shoulders to hold her more comfortably against him.

  “Ye did yourself proud, lass,” her father said quietly.

  “She should have fled when I told her to,” Iain murmured.

  “That wouldnae have been Islaen. Ye needed help. Now I can see how ye think, lad, and the lass ought to obey her mon but I can see clear why she didnae. Aye, and approve of it. Ah, the bairns,” he expained joyfully as Meg, Storm and Grizel entered to deposit the children upon the bed.

  Islaen suddenly became aware of the fact that she felt no need to feed her children and looked at Storm with consternation as the woman handed her Padruig. “Storm, I dinnae think I can,” she whispered.

  “They have been fed. I had suspected that your milk had dried up and was prepared. The shock of your attack and your injury,” Storm shrugged. “They have begun to need more than milk anyways and they take well to goat’s milk. Grizel has had no trouble keeping them all fed although she has had to enlist the aid of a young girl for they all seem to become demanding at the same time. ’Tis not such a tragedy, Islaen,” she added softly.

  Although she nodded, Islaen was not quite sure she agreed. She felt a keen sense of loss. The time while she had held her sons close as she nursed them had been a pleasing time. There was also a small sense of jealousy concerning Grizel which she knew was wrong but was unable to fully subdue.

  “Here, lass,” Alaistair murmured as he bent forward in his seat to pat Padruig affectionately, “dinnae look so dowie.”

  Seeing Storm, Grizel and Meg slip out of the door, she smiled weakly at her father. “’Tis but foolish jealousy. I feel as though I lose them.”

  “Nay, ye cannae lass. E’en Liusadh will soon turn to ye more once her belly isnae her first and only concern, though the maid will e’er be dear to her. Many fine ladies dinnae feed their bairns, but if they wish their love ’tis there for them. Ye can feed them the goat’s milk and gruel so ye arenae missing out completely from their feeding time. Ye held them in your body for near nine months and the lads to your breast for six. The mark is upon them.

  “Here, lass, think on fithers. They ne’er carry the child in a womb nor feed it but there are few bairns that dinnae feel some bond to the mon whose seed made them.”

  “Aye, ye are right, Fither.” She kissed his cheek. “’Tis a loss I wasnae prepared for and felt it too deeply for a moment.” She glanced towards Iain who was smiling rather foolishly at his tiny giggling daughter. “Liusadh kens her fither weel already and beguiles him.”

  When his granddaughter turned her wide-eyed gaze his way, Alaistair smiled with a touch of sadness. “She has your mither’s eyes. Shame she got your rogue of a husband’s dark hair but she will be a beauty for all that,” he drawled, then looked at Iain and grinned. “Aye, that is a lass that will cause ye a time and more once she becomes more woman than child.”

  It was not long before Alaistair put an end to the visit. Islaen smiled sleepily as she watched her children carried out by their doting uncles. It gave her a very good feeling to know that, no matter what occurred in the future, her children would never lack for love. Yawning, she snuggled up to Iain and knew she would soon be asleep.

  “I dinnae think I like the way your fither grins so when he talks on the trouble Liusadh will be in a few years,” Iain drawled.

  Even though she laughed, she said, “She will give it to him too. Fither feels about each of his grandchildren as if they are his very own children. If Liusadh makes ye pace the floor, Fither will be keeping step at your side. If ye could see him with the others, ye would ken it.”

  “Islaen, are ye still upset about your milk drying up?”

  Due to his extended absences she was not accustomed to discussing the matter with him and felt herself blush slightly. “’Tis already passing. T’was unexpected. Aye, and I found myself prey to fears and jealousies. I feel as if Liusadh will ne’er be really mine and feared to lose the lads as weel. But, Fither is right. ’Tis but a small part of the bairn’s lives and I can find muckle another way to tend to them and love them. Fither wasnae there for me as a mither or nurse was but I couldnae love the mon more. When I kenned that I was greatly soothed.” She yawned widely.

  “Get some rest, Islaen.”

  “If ye dinnae want to sleep, Iain, ye neednae stay with me.”

  “I am staying.”

  There was a tone to his voice that both puzzled her and raised her hopes. He had sounded almost as if he made a vow. Before MacLennon had come she had thought there had been a change in Iain’s feelings but was afraid to hope. She wished she were not so sleepy for she would like to try and have a serious talk with him. It was time for them to stop hiding how they felt or thought, to stop trying to guess each other’s heart and mind, and be open with each other. However, that sort of discussion required that she have all her wits about her and they were hopelessly dulled at the moment. As sleep conquered her, she told herself firmly that if all she had accomplished was to bring him back to bed that would be enough for now.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Iain muttered and cursed as he and Alexander took a chest out to one of the waiting carts. It had been over a week since the MacRoths had arrived and they showed no signs of leaving. By the time he got any time alone with Islaen she was too tired to have any serious discussion. He was getting no closer to sorting out the troubles he had bred in his marriage.

  “Do ye feel inclined to tell me why ye are in such a dark mood? Are ye regretting leaving Caraidland?”

  Looking at Alexander as they hefted the chest into the back of a wagon, Iain managed to growl, “MacRoths, curse them.”

  “They are a great help. Ye will be moved to Muircraig in but one journey.”

  “Aye, that is true.” Iain sighed and leaned against the cart. “’Tis just that I am fore’er tripping o’er them and have no time with Islaen. When she and I reach our chambers of a night she can do naught but sleep.”

  “Surely if ye can maintain an abstinence of six months, ye can last but a fortnight,” Alexander drawled, his lack of sympathy obvious.

  “There is that but that wasnae what I was referring to. Ye see, Alex, I did think on all ye said about wasting time and all. The curse of it is, I decided ye were right on the day MacLennon attacked us.”

  “Ah, and ye
have had no chance to speak to Islaen yet.”

  “None. Storm felt t’would be best done when there is time and privacy to do it verra weel, to say what I must and make her believe it.”

  “Aye, she y have doubts. T’will seem almost a full turn-about.”

  Iain nodded. “I willnae blame her if she does doubt.” He shook his head and grimaced. “I begin to think t’will be anither year e’er I get the chance, though.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Have ye no suggestions about how I might be rid of the MacRoths yet not cause any offense?”

  “I dinnae meddle.”

  The scathing comment Iain meant as a response to that haughtily delivered lie was smothered by the arrival of two of Islaen’s brothers. By the time he had directed them in placing the chest they carried, Alexander had slipped away. Iain did not spot the man again until they were ready to leave Caraidland. Alexander was in the midst of the MacRoths and Iain frowned slightly, then told himself not to be so suspicious before looking around for Islaen.

  Islaen hugged Storm and fought an urge to cry. She wanted to start her own home, yet hated to leave Caraidland. Although Iain stayed in her bed, he had not made love to her yet and they seemed no closer to any sort of communication. She feared the loneliness she might suffer if that distance in their marriage continued even at Muircraig.

  “Come, Islaen,” Storm said, giving a trembling smile, “we will not be so far apart. ’Tis best that ye finally go to live in your own home with Iain and no longer share that of others.”

  “Is it? I am nay too certain of that.” Islaen hooked her arm through Storm’s and they stepped out into the bailey.

  “Is there still trouble between you?”

  “Nay, no trouble, but little of anything else either. MacLennon is dead and I ken weel that, though mayhaps nothing can fully ease Iain’s fear of childbirth, I have lessened it some, yet we move no nearer to any real bond. He shares my bed but he has yet to make love to me and we share naught else.”

  Storm had to bite her tongue to keep from revealing all Iain had told her in order to take the sadness from her friend’s eyes. “Give it time, Islaen. Mayhaps he but does not know how to start. As concerns the lack of lovemaking, well, ye have been very tired of late. I do not think ye were healed enough to bear the strain, joyous though it may be, of having so many kin visiting.”