by Sherry Ewing
Why was nothing ever simple? All he wanted to do was come home and begin his life with Lynet. He could see, even that would be denied him, as matters of the estate must needs come first. ’Twas not how he had envisioned the beginning of their lives together. Mayhap, ’twould have been better if Angus and Conner had never found him at all.
Reaching out for a bit of red wax, he held it over the candle ’til it dripped onto the parchment. The heavy seal of Urquhart felt unfamiliar in his hand, but he pushed the stamp down over the wax, sealing the document.
Leaving his solar, he made his way down through his barren hall and out to the stable in search of a runner to take his missive to Berwyck. Once he saw a horse saddled and the man on his way, he felt some small amount of satisfaction that at least Dristan and Amiria would soon know Lynet was safe. Remorse consumed him with his words to them of Rolf’s fate. He wished there were more he could have done, but the only other option available for him was to now pray for the soul of the knight who had so willingly sacrificed his own life for that of Ian’s lady.
Looking down at his attire, he went to his saddle, sitting nearby on a bale of hay. ’Twas still packed, and he took out fresh clothing bundled in cloth. He began making his way down to the loch. He needed to clean the filth off him afore he presented himself to his wife.
With thoughts of the next obstacle he must needs now confront, he tore off his shirt and plunged himself into the frigid waters of the loch.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Thank you for your service to me, but that will be all,” Lynet stated quietly with a need to be alone in her thoughts.
Her maid bobbed a short curtsey and, with a mumbled, “Milady,” quit the room.
The chamber had made a dramatic change since the completion of her bath. The maid who had been assigned to her had placed a screen to shield from view the many people entering the chamber whilst Lynet sat afore the fire to keep warm. ’Twas clear the servants began to set the room aright according to Ian’s specifications. Lynet was not privy to what had been going on whilst the young woman began drying her hair and bandaging the wounds at her wrists.
Once the door had closed behind those who had noisily busied themselves to see to their laird’s comfort, she was amazed at the transformation that had occurred in such a short span of time. A bed of some size she would soon share with her husband had filled the corner of the room. Instead of covers of cloth, pelts of fur had been placed upon it to keep them warm. A small repast had been laid out on a serviceable table so they might eat their fill, along with goblets filled with wine. Even the tattered trunk had been replaced by another made of heavy oak with sturdy leather straps to close it.
Apprehension filled Lynet, not knowing what was to be expected of her. She fingered the flimsy material of the robe gowning her trembling body. She wished she had been able to spend some time with Amiria so she would be better prepared on what was to come this night, but alas, ’twas not to be. She could only pray she would not fail in her naïve efforts to please her husband.
She rose from her seat by the fire and went to the alcove to peer out towards the loch. ’Twas a beautiful view with the blue and purple colors of sunset skimming across the exquisiteness of God’s canvas of life. A slight smile lit her face as she thought of how she would love to capture the scene afore her, if only she had some thread to work with.
A movement caught her attention, and her eyes drew to the person rising from the waters of the loch. She reached her hand to her throat as if to catch her breath that threatened to escape her. All he needed was a trident in his hand, and he would have completed the mental picture she had in her head of the Greek God Poseidon rising from beneath the depths of the ocean.
His reddish brown hair hung in thick wet strands to his shoulders as water ran like rivulets down the firmness of his bronzed chest when he emerged and strode onto the bank. Lynet tilted forward in order to gaze more fully at the vision making his way from the coldness of what she assumed had been his bath. His hose clung to the muscles of his thighs and she marveled at the sheer strength of the warrior who unknowingly tempted her from afar. She felt her maiden heart flip end over end inside her chest, knowing he would soon be at her side.
Watching his every move, she observed Ian reach down to grab a cloth, but halt within inches of the fabric touching his fingertips. Of a sudden, his head slanted upwards, almost as if he suspected her presence. Lynet scooted back from the window and into the shadows of the chamber, hoping she had not been found out, staring at the all but naked man. With her heart hammering away in her chest, she feared Ian surely could hear its beating, even at this distance keeping them apart.
She left the window, frantically searching the chamber for something to occupy her thoughts, yet there was nothing here familiar to her. Even a bit of thread to mend something…anything…would have been preferable to idly sitting with her nerves on edge, awaiting Ian’s pleasure.
Her footsteps led her to the table. With unsteady hands, she took a chalice of wine. It took every effort just to raise the cup to her lips. A small sip of the heady brew slid down her throat then down into the pit of her belly where it warmed her considerably. Lynet put the cup back into place in fear she might lose her wits if she continued to drink the spirits that were sure to cloud her thoughts and judgment. She needed a clear head for what was about to happen. She certainly did not wish to forget such a momentous occasion as when she and Ian became man and wife in every sense of the word.
Treading slowly back to the window, she attempted to glimpse yet another view of Ian, but he was nowhere to be seen. It gave her pause to wonder how much time she in truth still had afore he came to her.
She would not have long to wait, but the noise she heard outside the bed chamber was not one she was expecting. The sound of arguing reached her ears and caused goose bumps of anxiety to race down her arms. The door was rudely pushed open by a huge Scotsman who Lynet did not recognize. She gasped and clutched at her robe, wondering if they were under attack. She watched in fear as his eyes raked her from head to toe as though he was stripping her clothes from her body for his viewing pleasure.
Ian pushed past the man at the door and came to her side. She was enveloped into the warmth of her husband’s embrace whilst he used his own body as a shield from prying eyes.
Afore she could ask what was going on, another entered their chamber. His mother stood glaring in their direction with her lofty disposition, as if Lynet was far beneath her own exalted station in life.
“I can now see why you wished to attend your wife with all speed, Ian,” the stranger muttered in a low seductive tone. “Once clean, she is quite lovely. Mayhap, ’twill not be such a horrendous task you must perform, after all.”
“Enough, Uncle Edric,” Ian grimaced. “I will not have you besmirch my lady’s reputation, nor her tender hearted feelings.”
“Bah…her feelings are the least of your worries, boy. You must openly fulfill your obligations to the clan, lest you plan to relinquish the title. I have no issue with such a choice if your decision is to surrender your rights of Urquhart. Such an honor can then pass on to me, as your next of kin.”
Lynet peeked around Ian’s body and saw a servant come into the room. A white cloth was laid down in the center of the bed, causing Lynet to once more let out a gasp of surprise. Surely, this could not mean what she thought, or could it? From the amount of people, who she assumed were other leaders of the clan, hovering outside in the passageway, she knew her assumptions were correct.
“Ian, please…” she whispered, trying to keep from crying out at the cruelty he would inflict upon her that others were to witness their union. “Do not do this to me…to us.”
“Merciful heavens,” Fiona said as she went to open the door wider, “just get it over with, Ian, so I may return to my solar and resume my stitchery.”
“Aye, nephew, hurry along now, and do your duty,” Ian’s uncle all but prodded, trying to force him into action.
>
“Everyone out!” Ian shouted to the group and took a firm grip on his mother’s arm to usher her from the chamber.
His mother raised her arm to slap his face, but her son easily took hold of it. “You dare to defy me?” she fumed.
“Aye…mayhap, you should get used to it,” Ian replied. “I am my own man and will not be led about by my nose just because you gave birth to me.”
“We demand evidence of her─”
“By God’s blood, you shall have your damn proof. Now, get out!” Ian roared.
Edric was the last to leave as he gave Lynet another leer. “We shall listen at the door and await the substantiation of her virginity.” He left leaving the heavy oaken door slightly ajar.
If Lynet had been trembling afore, ’twas nothing to how she was currently feeling as she listened to the voices of clansmen loudly whispering amongst themselves in the passageway. Her hand rose to her mouth to choke back a sob of dismay. She turned towards the fire, attempting to hide her shame. Her hair hung in her line of vision ’til she saw her chalice of wine thrust afore her.
“Are you all right, Lynet?”
She grasped at the cup and took a large gulp of the liquid that went straight to her stomach. Coughing, she practically shoved the goblet back at Ian in her effort to find some way to control her nerves.
“All right? How can you ask such of me, when we have an audience just outside our door, waiting for us to perform like animals at some village faire?”
“’Tis common enough practice, Lynet, although ’tis not to my liking.”
“Then put a stop to it and ask them to leave us in peace.” Lynet looked pleadingly into those hazel eyes she had loved all her life. He did not give her the answer she had hoped for.
“’Tis expected…I am most sorry.”
A sigh escaped her lips as she resigned herself to her fate and how their marriage would proceed. “Very well…then let us be about this. After all…your mother has important work to do. She should not have to put off her stitchery, waiting for such an insignificant event as the two of us becoming man and wife, should she?”
She kicked off her slippers next to the bed and threw her robe from her shoulders to the floor where it floated in a discarded heap of silky linen. Careful not to disturb the cloth that would be the ruin of the beginning of their lives together, Lynet gently lay atop of it and folded her hands upon her stomach, not knowing where else to put them.
She closed her eyes and waited with baited breath for Ian to join her, yet, still there was no movement on his part. She glanced at him timidly beneath her lowered lashes. He appeared as though he were struggling with some inner demon attempting to take possession of him. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides ’til he, too, took a deep sip of his wine. His brow was furrowed, showing his disgust at what he was about to do. Lynet was unsure if the act of consummating their marriage was repugnant to him, or the fact the mutterings of those just outside the door seemed to rise in volume.
Lynet surmised he had come to his decision when he made his way to the bed. It dipped with his weight as he sat on the edge to remove his boots. Yet, still, he made no effort to touch her, and Lynet refused to give in to the fear that all but consumed her. She felt his hand upon her cheek as he turned her head so she had no choice but to look upon him. ’Twas such a tender expression on his face it touched her heart, and, for one fleeting moment, she thought he would relent in the course set afore him to prove his worth to his family.
“Kiss me, wife,” he whispered, leaning closer towards her as his arms made their way along both sides of her tense body.
She turned from him. “I will gladly do so once you close the door and tell them to go away.”
“You would refuse me?”
“How can I not, when you put them and their ways afore me…your wife?”
“’Tis not fair you would make me choose between my duties to my family and you, Lynet. You know this is the way of our people, so why do you fight me on this? We can make the best of this situation. I promise ’twill be better the next time.”
Another sob caught in her throat. “You should not make promises you may not be able to keep, Ian. ’Tis not very chivalrous of you, nor does it speak highly of your knightly vow you swore to protect me.”
Ian cursed beneath his breath and dug the heel of his palm across his eyes as if to rid himself of his dilemma afore he came to rest on top of her. He tried to kiss her, but she refused to let him soften what he was about to do to her. “Lynet…”
Tears racing down her cheeks, she gazed at him directly. “I shall hate you for this ’til my last dying breath,” she swore.
“Damnation!” All the fight went out of Ian as he hastily checked the door and sat up. “Be quiet and lift yourself up.”
Confused, she did as she was told and felt as he grabbed at the cloth beneath her. Taking a dirk, he ran the blade across the palm of his hand. The slice quickly pooled red with his blood that he dripped onto the whiteness of the fabric.
“Cry out, as if you are in pain,” he demanded of her and she let out a small scream. It must have satisfied those out in the passageway and served as justification she was no longer a maid. Lynet swore she even heard one person clap his hands in glee. She could only assume their happiness was for thoughts of her dowry filling the coffers of the estate. Lynet knew there was nothing inside of her to be pleased about, since she had denied her husband his rights to her body.
Ian continued sitting there on the edge of the bed, not moving. Lynet was still in shock of what he intended to offer the crowd outside their chamber. She lifted her hand towards him, and yet, afore her touch could ease the tension between them, he stood. Grabbing the fabric, he quickly strode to the door.
“Here is your proof,” he tossed the cloth out of the portal and slammed the door in the faces of those murmuring their words of encouragement.
Grabbing his boots, he made his way to the hearth and proceeded to don them. Ripping at the edge of his tunic, he tore the fabric ’til he was able to tie the cloth around his injured hand using his teeth to tie the knot. Lynet could only pray none would question the bandage.
Ian pulled off a chunk of bread and placed a piece of cheese between it. He came to the bed only to stare down at her ’til a rosy blush flushed her face. She clutched the fur at her side to cover herself from his roving eyes.
Still, he stood there in silence, ’til Lynet could take it no more. “Ian, I−”
He held up his hand to halt her words afore she could utter her apology. When he spoke, his words were layered with anger as tense as the air between them. “Do not ever question my honor again, Lynet, or so help me you shall regret it. I may not be as accommodating the next time.”
He gave her a brief bow and left their chamber, without another word. Alone once more with her thoughts, she could only ponder how she had had the nerve to stand up to him, but more importantly, how she would breach the rift she had knowingly put between them. ’Twas more than she had ever dared afore. For the second time in a matter of days, she shed tears for what she had lost. Gone was any respect Ian felt for her, as was evident in his parting look at her. She had the sinking feeling the love that had only just begun to bloom between them had suddenly vanished, and ’twas all her doing. What had she done?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Had it really been over a fortnight ago that Ian had stormed out of their chamber? He had made a decision that eve, and he would not go back on the promise he had made to himself. He had vowed he would not dare touch Lynet, lest she willingly came to him of her own accord. He should have known making such a vow would be a huge mistake.
Every night he came to their chamber in the hope she would reach out to him. Allowing her only a few moments to make some form of an effort, he would quickly come to the conclusion he was wasting his time. Each eve, he gave up waiting for a signal she would welcome him into her bed. Defeated, he would grab a pelt to lie down in frustration upon the floor
near the hearth. ’Twas not the first time his sorry backside had spent an uncomfortable night upon the ground, nor apparently would it be the last. The stone flooring was no different, except at least he did not have to worry about rocks digging into his sorry arse. And yet, furs and his plaid were a poor substitute for warmth when his wife lay but inches away from him. He must be the biggest fool in all of Scotland and England combined.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Ian took up the rake and again began the tedious task of tossing fresh hay into the now clean stall for his horse. ’Twas a mindless chore for the laird to be shoveling manure and mucking out the filthy stable, but he gladly put all his energy into such a menial job. At least the chore did not give him time to ponder the misery of his own failure when it came to his marriage bed.
“Ye would make a good stable lad,” Angus said with a chuckle from the doorway. “I have not seen the place so clean in a long while.”
“I am sure the horses will, at the very least, appreciate my efforts, seeing as no one else appears to care for the steeds’ wellbeing,” Ian replied. Finishing his task, he leaned the tool against the wall with the others. He picked up a rag and began cleaning his hands afore tossing it into a pile needing to be laundered. “I would ask why they have been so neglected. I could also ask the same with regards to the rest of the estate, but can most likely figure out the answer for myself.”
“Yer uncle has been busy.”
“Aye, as I said, I guessed as much. He does not leave me a great deal to work with, that is, if there was even anything of some miniscule value after my brother’s greedy ways.”
“Ye should not speak ill o’ the dead, even if he deserves it.” Angus pushed off the door frame and held out a flagon. “Here…this may help. We willna go lacking fer wine and ale. Food is an entirely different matter.”