The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle)

by Ashley York

  “Wheesht.” He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. Her body fit nicely into the crook of his arm. “Calum should not be dead and though I did not kill him, I fear I am to blame. I should have trusted my instincts. I did not care for Malcolm from the beginning. Forgive me.”

  Leaning her head back, she corrected him. “There is no need. You did all you could with what you knew.” She stroked his bearded cheek softly. “If you had had any indication of danger, you would have taken us out of there.”

  He closed his eyes and saw Calum’s smiling face. Tears stung his eyes again. Calum had shown a similar loyalty and faith in him during their last time together. He lowered his head to rest on her shoulder. His body racked with great sobs at the loss of the little boy, who had been so kind to him. He did not deserve to be murdered and especially not by such a worthless creature as Malcolm. Iseabail cried as well. They clung to each other in their grief.

  She caressed his face in her comforting way. He turned his lips into her hand to kiss her palm. The salty taste of her brought him back to reality. His grief was quickly being replaced by an even stronger emotion—lust. He picked his head up with a start and stared down into Iseabail’s eyes. She, too, had stopped crying. She glanced at his lips. His body hardened, responding immediately to her invitation. This woman deserved better than his lust. She was not a woman to be taken without a ring and a promise of fidelity.

  Taking her hand from his face, Seumas turned away, struggling to get his lust under control. He heard her come up behind him, and he waited. If she got very close to him now, he would make love to her because he could not stop himself. His only chance at abstaining was for her to keep her distance. He held his breath to see what she chose.

  He could hear her breathing behind him, smell her scent. He recalled how she had looked in front of the fire, her womanly body beckoning to be stroked, and again at the warm springs, her firm bottom rubbing against him as she sat on his lap. He felt near to bursting, his hard member throbbing for release. He turned to face her as he backed away.

  “Nae, Iseabail,” she reached out to him, “do not touch me. I cannot control myself. Not now. I am sorry.”

  He left her standing there when he walked off into the woods.

  Chapter 26

  Seumas was ashamed of how he had acted with Iseabail. She was not a woman to be used. She was a woman to be savored, to be joined with before God, and she was worth waiting for. He committed himself to abstaining, needing their first time to be special. She did not realize what silent offers she was making to him with the deliberate way she touched him or looked at him with desire in her eyes. She was a virgin who had been treated poorly by the men in her life.

  One man had already been inappropriate with her. Not knowing the details did not lessen his rage at the assault. She needed to be with someone she could trust. Even though he was fully functioning as a man again and wanted her more than his next breath, he would wait. This would be his gift to her.

  He could release the tension building within him, giving him pain, yet he did not want to. He had been without this part of himself for so long, even the uncomfortable sensations were welcome proof that he was complete once again.

  He sat down and looked through the darkness of the forest and breathed through the agonizing tightness in his balls. When he was on the cusp of manhood, he could be aroused by anything: a strong breeze, a shifting in his kilt, or nothing at all. His uncle had told him he was normal, and the embarrassing arousals would eventually quiet down. It would be only known by him and his wife, who would be very willing to see to it. That idea was more arousing than he had expected. He wanted Iseabail as his wife. He did so want her to “see to it.”

  Only half understanding at the time, Seumas had regarded his uncle as the dispenser of great wisdom. Although choosing the monastic life, Peter had once been deeply in love with a woman. They were to have been married until a tragic accident ended her life. His uncle never got over the loss, but his relationship with God filled him with more than he could ever have asked for.

  He had once been so quick to bring everything to God, knowing He heard his prayers because He had said He would. His childhood concerns seemed so silly now, and yet the Lord of the universe listened to him and cared about him. Seumas bowed his head.

  “Lord, is my time of testing over? Ye alone are good and to Ye I can bring all my concerns. Thank Ye, Lord.” Seumas sat there listening and trying to still his mind so he could hear what the Holy Spirit would say to him. It was with great peace and recommitment to God’s purpose for him that he returned to his beautiful Iseabail.

  She sat with her head resting on her bent knees. When she finally glanced at him, Seumas could see the look of shame spread across her lovely features, and his heart ached. He did not know why she appeared so disheartened, but he would find out and fix it. His Iseabail would never again wear such an expression.

  He softened his voice and asked, “What is wrong?”

  She shook her head but said nothing.

  With his finger under her chin, he tipped her head toward him. “Please look at me when I speak to ye, Iseabail.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but she nodded.

  Seumas motioned for her to sit beside him near the fire. He offered her a piece of the bread. She took it but did not eat. Seumas found he was famished and continued to eat as he spoke.

  “Do ye still have yer father’s will?”

  “Nay, it was lost at your friend’s castle, before—” He saw the movement of her throat constricting.

  “I had hoped ye had taken the cloak, but someone else must have. So we have no legal recourse against yer uncle.”

  “But he is dead, is he not? Did you not…”

  Seumas inclined his head in agreement. “Aye, Iseabail, I avenged yer murder, and yet ye are here, unharmed.”

  Putting her bread down in her lap, she turned to him. He could not have missed the look of determination as she started to speak. “You are wrong, though. I am not unharmed.”

  He forced himself to swallow. His throat was suddenly dry. “What are ye saying?”

  She took a deep breath as if to fortify herself. “I will tell you what I have not spoken of to any person before, Seumas, but you must understand why I am telling you. I-I…”

  “Please.” Seumas hoped to encourage her but was more than a little afraid of what it was she had to tell him.

  She exhaled. “I cannot go on. Too many things are unsettled between us.”

  “Is this not one of those things? I killed a man in cold blood for yer murder, and yet ye are here. If there is more to the story, should I not be told?”

  She shook her head, avoiding his gaze, and stood to pace the area. Lifting her chin, she turned toward him. His heart raced with fear at what she would say.

  Please, my lovely Iseabail, do not turn away from me—not when I finally know how deeply I love ye.

  As she started to speak, Seumas raised his hand to stop her. She frowned.

  “Iseabail.” He stood, taking both her hands in his. They were such small, delicate hands, but she was strong. He searched her face and knew her strength was what had gotten her through this ordeal. A weaker woman would have broken down by now. He feared he did not know the half of it.

  “I see that what ye have to say is tearing ye apart, but I want ye to know it will change nothing.” She opened her mouth. “Nae, Iseabail, hear me. Ye are my life. Ye are what will make me whole.” He lightly caressed her hand as he spoke. “When I returned from the Holy Land, I had been injured so that I was no longer able to be a man.” He searched her face. “Do ye understand what I am telling ye?”

  She nodded hesitantly.

  “I thought to never have a family, to never have a woman I could love, physically, but when I met ye, I realized love was not merely a physical act. It was about being willing to lay down yer life for another.” He brought her hand to his lips. “It was about wanting to see a smile on the other’s
face to brighten yer own day.” He kissed her open palm. “It was knowing ye had done all ye could for that person. This is how I feel about ye, Iseabail.”

  He looked for any indication of understanding.

  “And now ye have aroused me as a man.” He held her hand to his cheek. His voice broke as he spoke again. “I want ye, Iseabail. I want to make love to ye. I will do that only after I take ye as my wife. One as pure and good as ye deserves no less. I want ye as the mother of my children. I want to hold ye at night and make passionate love to ye, fulfilling ye as my woman, so that ye sleep in utter contentment. I want to keep ye warm, safe, happy. Will ye be my wife?”

  She pulled her hands from his and covered her face as she burst into tears.

  He stared at her in shock, unable to move. This was not the response he had hoped for.

  Mayhap these are tears of joy?

  He rubbed her back in an effort to comfort her. “I do not understand. Are ye happy? Or do ye not feel the same? What is wrong?”

  She lowered her hands, still sobbing uncontrollably. “I cannot...”

  Cannot? Marry him?

  It struck him like a blow. She did not love him. He straightened his spine and went to sit beside the fire again. He rubbed his bottom lip. This was not an option. How could he go on without her? The pain in his heart spread throughout his chest. If she did not love him, could not love him, he had no purpose for his life. Damn, how could he have been so wrong? Should he return her to marry Lord Somerset?

  Nae!

  He would not give her up for someone unless he knew she would be happy. That man could not make her happy. Seumas could, but if she did not love him, what was he to do? He could not very well bring her home to Mallaig if she did not want to be with him. He glanced toward her. She looked totally dejected, not like a woman who had a man pining after her. Something was not right, and he needed time to change her mind. Decided, he tamped down the disappointment that sat in his stomach like a boulder, packed up the few things around the fire and went to prepare his horse for the trip north. They would stop at his uncle’s. It was peaceful there, and she would have time to think. She needed time to realize her love for him.

  The rain came down in droves as they headed north, closer to the sea. Miserably cold and wet, they had not passed an inn. He tried his best to keep her protected from the elements, holding her in his warmth when she would allow it. He kept her close, where she belonged, and prayed she would realize it was true.

  When they had to sleep in the open, he put the blanket out for them to share. He did not expect her to protest since it was so reminiscent of their first meeting. He did not miss the worried glances she kept sending him as they ate, he simply did not understand them. After banking their fire, he lay down on the one dry spot of earth, his blanket covering him, and opened his arm to her.

  “Come, Iseabail.” She hesitated, her folded hands rubbing together showing her inner turmoil. “Ye will sleep here only, and I will know ye are safe.”

  He had spoken those same words to her when she was still a stranger. Now he spoke them with the conviction of a man in love. She did not seem to recognize his words because she came with leaden feet toward him and lay stiffly beside him then turned away. He could not be discouraged. He loved her too much to give up on her. She just needed time. He breathed in her heady scent. His cock stood at full attention. Covering her with his blanket, he gently pulled her to him. With monumental control, he suppressed his groan when her warm bottom shifted against him, wriggled into place, and finally settled down. It was a long night.

  The next day, Seumas was ready to burst. He wondered if sexual tension could kill a man. His arousal was unrelenting and embarrassing. He needed to clear his head and settle his body. Walking to the cliffs that overlooked the ocean, he took a deep breath of the fresh salt air. He loved the ocean and his thoughts turned toward his home.

  Not sure what kind of reception he would receive, he knew he would go first to pledge his fealty to the MacDonell so there would be no questions or incorrect assumptions because of Iseabail. He could not live as her father had, in a clan that was not his own. These were his people, and he belonged there.

  It was in the late night hours that they arrived on MacDonell land, and Seumas was overwhelmed by the sights of his childhood. With Iseabail’s armed wrapped tightly around him, he felt the world was finally right again. He did not understand why she had not realized her love for him, but he could wait until she did. He rubbed her hand, and she picked her head up from where she had fallen asleep against his back.

  “There, do ye see the light?” Through the mist, the light resembled a wraith.

  “Aye, Seumas, I see it. What is it? A monastery?”

  “It was where I spent many days as a young lad.” He patted her hand. “They will welcome us, even at this hour.”

  He spurred his horse on toward the castle on the hill overlooking the ocean. The wooden crosses lining the path to the entrance were the only visible signs of the faith that existed here. Seumas jumped from his horse and reached up to help Iseabail down. His gaze never left the wooden door, and he willed it to open.

  “That is the way in. One of the brothers should be here soon.” As if on command, the door creaked open, and a young man peeked into the night, his candle held high.

  “Who goes there?”

  “It is Seumas.”

  How he hoped it was a brother who knew him. He wanted to be welcomed and to share all this with Iseabail.

  “Seumas? The boy?”

  His heart soared.

  “The same, but now a man.” As he got closer, Seumas recognized Brother Timothy. “Do ye know me, Brother?”

  The man’s face lit up, and he opened his arms to hug Seumas tightly. “Seumas, how good to see you. What a great man you have become.”

  “And this,” he put his arm around Iseabail to bring her closer, “is Iseabail.”

  “Ah, you bring your lady to grace us.” Brother Timothy tipped his head to her. “A fair beauty, to be sure. Come, come, you must be tired.” He gestured through the open door as he spoke. “Come in and we will eat in celebration of your return.”

  Seumas smiled at Iseabail, and peace settled in his heart. Surely his happiness reflected in his face.

  He took one step into the entryway and was assailed by memories. With closed eyes, he breathed in the unique scent of the stone and the seasonings from the kitchen, which filled his senses.

  Grabbing Iseabail’s hand, he pulled her to the closed door across from the chapel. Throwing back the big wooden door that somehow seemed much smaller, Seumas was met by a sight he had never thought to see again. Rows upon rows of neatly-maintained vegetables, herbs and flowers brought him back to a simpler time, when watching the worm crawling along the grass was entertainment enough. A simpler time before he felt he had to save the world.

  Going right to the corner he remembered so well, he saw the leeks bursting through the ground, just itching to be collected. He laughed out loud and did not disappoint but fell to his knees and started to pick the vegetables. He could hear his uncle’s directions about how to select the best ones.

  “Wonderful!” Seumas exclaimed, holding a leek high in the air and feeling as if he had won a tremendous prize.

  “Seumas?”

  His head snapped up at the sound of the voice. He slowly turned to look at the old man who had come up behind him, recognition mixed with longing on his tired face.

  Seumas ran into his uncle’s arms, tears streaming down his face. “My God, Uncle Peter. I did not know if ye would be here. I have heard so many stories.”

  “Seumas, I thought never to see ye again in this life. Praise God ye have returned.”

  The two hugged and talked. Seumas looked to the door as it shut and realized Iseabail had left.

  “Iseabail.” He reached for her but she was gone.

  Uncle Peter took his hand. “Let me look at ye.” His gaze seemed to take in every inch of him and then,
putting his hand to Seumas’s cheek, he said, “I am so very proud of ye.”

  Seumas sucked in his breath. “What do ye mean?”

  “We are all very proud of how ye fought the infidel and returned home. Yers was a mission of love and faith, and ye did not disappoint.”

  Seumas’s eyes filled with tears. “Ye do not know the whole story.”

  “I know enough” The clear gray eyes seemed to pierce him as he spoke. “Ye went on this pilgrimage for all the right reasons, Seumas. Ye went for the glory of God and ye gave Him that glory. Ye blessed Him with yer obedience to turn back those who would defile His holy name. Now ye must walk in faith that God knows yer heart and knows all about ye. Trust in that. We are all very proud of ye.”

  The tears poured in earnest down Seumas’s cheeks. He closed his eyes to hear his uncle’s voice and, in it, the echo of his father’s. Peace filled him at the belief that God saw his true intentions and forgave him for not being able to stop others from defying His commandments.

  Seumas opened his eyes to see his uncle’s face lit up with joy. “I am so happy ye are here. Truly, ye have blessed me. I have waited so long for yer return, but now ye are here, and we shall celebrate.”

  Seumas sniffled and wiped at his nose. “How do monks celebrate?”

  “Ye shall see.” Peter shuffled out the door and turned toward the kitchen. “See to yer lady, Seumas. Timothy will be back to show ye to yer rooms.”

  Seumas shook his head in disbelief and turned to Iseabail who sat on the bench, her hands clasped in her lap. “I had no idea he was still alive. He looks wonderful.” The excitement had invigorated Seumas, but Iseabail stifled a yawn. “Let us find Brother Timothy and get ye to yer room.”

  He took her hand, and they headed in the opposite direction from the kitchen.

  “Do you really remember how to get around this place?” Iseabail gave him a doubtful look.

  “I spent many hours trying to get lost, but I would always find my way out. Aye, I know my way around just fine.” He beamed at his own childish accomplishment.