Highland Hero

by Hannah Howell

  She slid her hand down his side, savoring the feel of his smooth, taut skin. Isbel knew she would not get much sleep, and if she had her way, neither would Kenneth. A greed born of desperation gnawed at her. As she touched her lips to his, she knew this would be the very last night of lovemaking for her. Kenneth might well find another. A man in his position was expected to marry and sire children. She could not do the same, could not seek out a new lover. After he walked away, she would be completely alone except for his child. As Kenneth began to make love to her, she prayed that Pullhair was right, that this was the night she would conceive a child. It could be the only thing that kept her from complete despair.

  Kenneth silently dressed and donned his sword and padded jupon. For a long moment he stood at the side of the bed and stared at the sleeping Isbel. He wanted to crawl back in beside her, to hold her in his arms, despite a long night of lovemaking. He also knew that, if he gave in to that urge, he might never leave.

  As quickly and as quietly as he could, he slipped out the door. Kenneth wished he did not feel quite so much like a thief in the night. He hurried to the stables, saddled Wallace, and let himself out of the bailey. The only clear thought in his mind was to get away before he changed his mind.

  Isbel slipped out of bed, tugged on her night rail, and went to the window. It had probably been cowardly to feign sleep as Kenneth left the room, but she felt sure it was for the best. As she watched him ride away in the gray light of dawn, she placed her hand over her belly and prayed that Pullhair was right. If she could not have the man at least she could have some solace in bearing and loving his child.

  Chapter 8

  Isbel grimaced, straightened up, and rubbed at the ache in the small of her back. As soon as Kenneth had left, she had dressed and come to the stables to clean. It was hard, filthy work, and it almost succeeded in making her forget how alone she was. She just wished she could work through the night.

  As she stepped outside to draw water from the well so that she could clean off the stench of the stables, she tensed. Something was wrong. Never before had she felt afraid or threatened within the surrounding walls of Bandal, but she did now. It was as if all the magic that had protected her had suddenly been yanked away.

  She kept looking around as she washed up, anxious to get back into the tower house and bar the door. Even as she tossed the water into the dead garden near the stables, she knew it was too late. The gates of Bandal were pushed open and two men rushed in. She knew she had no chance of reaching the safety of the tower house but she ran for it anyway.

  The thinner and taller of the two men charged her, caught her around the waist, and threw her to the ground. The bulkier man quickly joined them and helped his companion pin her down. An icy hand clutched at her heart. She knew what they planned to do and her only clear thought was that they would not damage the child she carried.

  In her mind she screamed Kenneth’s name but she knew it was hopeless. He had left over an hour ago. Even if she could somehow touch his mind with her pleas, he would never be able to reach her in time. Realizing that she was truly alone, that even her spirits had deserted her, she struggled even harder. The skinny man sitting astride her raised his fist and Isbel prepared for the blow. She felt almost grateful when his knuckles slammed into her for the blackness swiftly followed.

  “Kenneth! Kenneth, help me!”

  Kenneth abruptly reined in his horse to a stop and looked around. He saw nothing yet fear clutched at his insides and that plaintive cry for help still echoed in his mind. It was Isbel’s voice, he was certain of it. What he could not understand was how he could hear her, for he was a full hour’s ride from Bandal.

  “Magic,” he muttered. “She tried to use her magic to draw me back, Wallace.”

  Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were not true. Isbel would never trick him like that. The fear in her voice had also been too real. Something was wrong. The pull he felt, the silent demand that he race home to Bandal, was not one of greed or selfishness, but one of terror and need. She was not calling for his love or his passion, but his strength and protection.

  He turned his horse back toward Bandal and spurred it to a gallop. Panic rose up in him but he forced it back down. It would not take him an hour to return to her for he was traveling much faster, but he was not sure he would be in time. Was the cry for help a premonition or was it torn from her own mind because she was already in danger? If it was the latter, he knew he could never reach her in time and he heartily cursed himself for leaving her at all.

  The sight that greeted Kenneth’s eyes as he rode through the gates of Bandal made him blind with rage. He screamed his battle cry as his horse reared to a halt, then he leapt from the saddle. The two men assaulting Isbel barely got to their feet before he was confronting them, sword in hand.

  Kenneth cut down the bulkier of the two men quickly, but the tall, thin man had managed to draw his sword by the time Kenneth faced him. The battle was fierce but short. Kenneth knew he had the greater skill, and his confidence in himself was justified in but minutes as he ended the man’s life with a clean thrust to the heart.

  He hastily cleaned his sword blade off on the dead man’s ragged jupon, sheathed his weapon, and rushed to lsbel’s side. Some of his fear and rage seeped away when he saw that the braies Pullhair had demanded she wear were still securely in place. Her clothes were torn and there was a vivid bruise already forming on her chin, but he could not see any other signs of injury.

  After hastily tending to his horse, all the while keeping a close eye on Isbel in case she began to wake, Kenneth picked her up in his arms. He carried her to the bedchamber he had used. The sight of Slayer basking in the light of the sun on the blankets was oddly comforting. The cat moved to sit at the end of the bed, watching as Kenneth tended to Isbel.

  First he removed her torn clothes then gently bathed her. It troubled Kenneth a little that she still had not stirred by the time he had her dressed in her nightgown. He frowned down at her, absently stroking Slayer as the cat moved to curl up at her side. He reassured himself by noting that her breathing was steady and even and her color was good.

  “Ye keep a close eye on your mistress, Slayer,” Kenneth murmured. “I have to clear away that refuse I left bleeding in the bailey.”

  The moment Kenneth stepped out into the bailey, he knew something was wrong. It took him another moment to believe what he saw. The bodies were gone and the gates were closed. He stared down at the bloodstained dirt for a long while, needing to reassure himself that he had truly fought and killed two men.

  “Ye do a fine job of cleaning up after the battle,” he said aloud, glancing around and not surprised when he saw nothing, “but where were ye when the lass was in danger?”

  He shook his head, no longer amazed at anything that happened at Bandal. A cry from within the tower house drew his attention and he raced back to the bedchamber. As he hurried to Isbel’s side, he noticed that Slayer had had the wit to move out of the path of his thrashing mistress. Kenneth gently restrained Isbel and talked softly, trying to pull her free of her terror.

  Isbel felt Kenneth’s presence before she heard him. Slowly his soft words of reassurance reached her mind. She ceased fighting his hold, her breathing steadied, and her heartbeat slowed. When she opened her eyes to see him watching her with concern, she forced herself to smile.

  “Ye came back,” she whispered.

  “Aye.” He rose to pour her a goblet of wine from the jug by the bed. “I answered your call.”

  She frowned at him and took a long drink of the wine he handed her. “Well, aye, I did call out to you, but ye must be mistaken. Ye could never have gotten to me in time, for I called your name but moments ago, when those men attacked me.”

  “But I am certain I heard ye cry out. Ye said, ‘Kenneth! Kenneth, help me!’ ”

  “I did, but ye must have heard that an hour after ye left in order for ye to return here when ye did. I was not in danger then. In truth, I w
as mucking out the stables.”

  Kenneth just stared at her for several moments then cursed. She was right. Those men attacking her could not have arrived many moments before he did. Isbel had called for him only when she had been attacked, and he had heard her cry about an hour before that attack had happened.

  “I have been made game of,” he said as he poured himself some wine and drank it down swiftly in an attempt to cool his anger.

  “I swear, Kenneth, I have done naught.”

  “Nay, bonnie Isbel.” He sat on the side of the bed, took her hand, and kissed her palm. “I dinnae point the finger of accusation at you.”

  “Then who?”

  “There are many possibilities. The faeries, Pullhair, e’en your cursed army of ghosts. They wished me to return, and they did what they had to to make that happen.”

  Isbel sipped at her wine as she thought over his accusation. She did not want to believe it, but could not refute it either. Too many things pointed to the truth of his charge.

  “But I am certain those two men were real,” she finally said.

  “Aye, very real. The blood soaked the earth they fell upon and it wasnae cleared away although the bodies were.”

  “Someone took their bodies?”

  “Aye, and closed the gates after them.”

  “Kenneth, did ye notice anything different about Bandal?”

  “Nay, ’twas the same. Aye, there was e’en that moment as I rode up to it where I wasnae really sure it was there. ’Tis as if a haze clouds it from view, but then all was clear again.

  “Yet when I stepped out of the stable, I felt something was wrong, something had changed. I recall thinking that it felt as if someone had yanked away all of Bandal’s protection.”

  She cursed and thrust her empty goblet at him. As he refilled both their goblets, she struggled to think clearly. By the time he sprawled on the bed at her side, handed her her wine, and draped his arm around her shoulders, she had come to a decision.

  “Ye are right, Kenneth,” she said, her anger roughening her voice. “Someone has made game of you. Aye, more than you. Me and e’en those two men. We have been naught but pawns in someone’s chess game.” She looked at him, saw his grin, and nearly gaped. “Cannae ye see it? First, ye hear me call out to you an hour ’ere I do so. Second, the protection around Bandal that has kept me safe for so long vanishes. Third, suddenly two men rush in and attack me. Fourth, ye ride in to slay the two men and save me.”

  “A true hero,” he drawled and laughed.

  “Are ye not furious? They play with our lives.”

  “Mayhap they think we are too stupid to ken what is best for us.”

  She turned to face him squarely. The man should be furious but he was not. He was not even faintly annoyed. It made no sense to Isbel. He had fled Bandal because he could not abide the magic, yet when that magic tricked him into returning, he laughed.

  “Kenneth, have ye suffered a blow to the head?” she asked, eyeing him warily when he just grinned.

  “Nay, love.” He tugged her closer and lightly kissed her. “Aye, when I first realized what had happened, I was angry, but that anger was mostly because of the danger they had put ye in. They allowed ye to be mauled and hurt just to get what they wanted. As I waited for ye to wake, however, I kenned I could forgive them their interference—this time.”

  “Weel, I am nay sure I can,” she mumbled as she stared down at her nearly empty wine goblet. “Now I must bear hearing ye say farewell again.”

  “Nay, for I willnae say it.”

  Isbel tensed, but continued to stare at her wine. She was afraid to look at him, afraid she was just dreaming the words. When he gently grasped her chin, careful not to add to the pain of her bruise, she almost resisted his attempt to turn her face back toward him. Even though she now faced him, she could not look at him. Isbel was terrified he would see in her eyes the hope and the love she felt for him or, worse, not notice it at all.

  “Look at me, Isbel,” he commanded.

  She slowly raised her gaze to meet his and felt her breath catch in her throat. There was a soft, tender expression upon his face, a warmth in his gaze, that she had never seen before. Although she told herself not to let her hopes get too high, Isbel felt taut and breathless with anticipation.

  “Are ye planning to stay a wee while longer?” she asked, inwardly cursing the tremor in her voice that exposed her fierce emotions.

  “Would ye like me to stay?”

  For the first time since he was a gangly youth, Kenneth felt uncertain. There was an expression on Isbel’s face that gave him hope, but he suspected it was easy to deceive oneself in such things. He knew what he had to do now, what he needed and wanted. Despite the passion she had revealed in his arms, he was just not certain she needed and wanted the same.

  “Ye dinnae like the magic that is Bandal,” she replied.

  “Isbel, my sweet, overgrown faerie, ye didnae answer my question. Would ye like me to stay?”

  “Only if ye wish to.”

  He laughed, amused by her vague responses and how they made him feel—more confident. The very fact that she could not bring herself to say a simple aye or nay told him that she was feeling as uncertain as he had been. Isbel was also afraid to expose her heart for fear such emotion was not returned. One of them needed to go first, to state clearly and plainly what they felt and what they wanted. Kenneth knew it should be him, if only because he had already left her once, but he was not sure he had the skill or the courage.

  “I feel as if we do some strange dance,” he said. “When I first heard you call to me, I fear my thoughts were unkind. For one brief moment, I thought ye tried to bring me back through some pretense, some trick.”

  “I would ne’er do that. And what purpose could it serve? Ye would surely discover what I had done and just leave again.”

  “It took but a heartbeat for me to ken ye would ne’er do that. Then I felt your fear. It became my fear. My only clear thought was to get to you as swiftly as I could and end the threat ye were under, end your fears. That need was so strong it was nearly a madness.”

  “Weel, I thank ye, but I think I will be safe now. The protection of Bandal has returned and I dinnae think they will play that trick again, whoever they are. The faeries are the ones I suspect.”

  “Isbel, I ken that ye will be safe, safer than e’en the king. That isnae what I am trying to say. The way I felt when I kenned ye were in danger told me that no matter how far I rode I could ne’er get away from ye. I am nay sure I could get away from the magic that surrounds ye and is within ye.”

  Her heart was pounding so hard and fast, Isbel was surprised Kenneth could not hear it. “Are ye saying that ye want to stay with me? That ye can now abide the spirits and all the rest?”

  “Aye, I want to stay. I need to stay.” He smiled when she clung to him for, although he ached to hear a few more words of love, the emotions she was revealing would suffice for now. “I kenned that ere I had passed through Bandal’s gates.”

  “But ye kept riding.” She pressed her ear to his broad chest and delighted in the steady beat of his heart.

  “Aye. I am very skilled at deluding myself. I had said I had to leave and I was hard at work denying all my heart and mind told me. When I sensed the danger ye were in, I realized I played a fool’s game, that I could deceive myself for a while, but only for a while. Soon the truth would come out and the truth was that I was making the greatest mistake of my life by leaving ye.”

  When he turned her face up to his, she readily accepted and returned his kiss. She offered no resistance when he gently pushed her down onto the bed, although she was astonished at how swiftly he removed their clothes. Their lovemaking was fiercely passionate, and she reveled in it despite the occasional twinge it gave her bruises. They lay entwined for a long time after their desires were sated, and when he finally eased the intimacy of their embrace, Isbel murmured her regret. She wanted to keep him close for fear he would change his mi
nd again.

  “Ah, Isbel,” he said as he rolled onto his back and tucked her up against his side. “Such passion comes but once in a lifetime. I cannae believe I was such a fool as to try and leave it behind.”

  “Are ye certain ye wish to leave all else behind?” she asked, terrified that he had not really considered the consequences of staying at Bandal.

  “I dinnae believe I need to turn my back on all I once knew.” When she started to speak, he stopped her protest with a brief kiss. “Nay, hold your warnings. I ken that few people can bear the magic of Bandal and ye have often suffered the sting of that fear, the loneliness it forces upon ye. I think there may be a few of my people who are nay so timid, but if not, I willnae regret it. I will have ye and any bairns we are blessed with. And though they be spirits and creatures of the shadows, there are a lot of, er, people about.”

  “I pray ye are certain, that ye truly ken what ye may give up, for I dinnae think I could bear it if ye left again.”

  “Why?”

  The words stuck in Isbel’s throat for a moment as she stared at him. Then she decided it was her turn to be honest and bare her soul. Kenneth had not spoken of love yet, but he had certainly been forthright, and he was going to stay.

  “Because I love ye,” she whispered and gave a squeak of surprise and a little discomfort when he hugged her tightly.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, realizing how he was squeezing her. “Now I am sure we will survive, no matter how apart from the rest of the world we are, for we will have our love to keep us strong.”

  “Our love?”

  Isbel knew she was trembling a little as she raised herself up on her elbows to stare at him. She was not sure which made her more unsteady, her anger or the fact that Kenneth truly cared about her. He could at least have the courtesy to say it clearly, she mused, and understood why she felt angry. Kenneth wanted the words from her but expressed his love in vague, sweeping statements.