“I ken what everyone says,” he said. “I will admit this, Ishbel . . . I am still angry with Vika. I dinnae think that I can ever not be, and I dinnae think I can ever forgive her. What she did to me . . . it wasnae something that I can forgive.”
“I don’t blame you,” Ishbel said. “I haven’t spoken to her in years, and I never wish to speak to her again. She had always been a snake, and yet not many knew about it.”
“I was one of the fools who didnae ken,” Angus said. “But I promise ye, I wouldnae judge another person simply because she resembles her. The things that the people in my clan say I’ve done . . . I havenae done them, ye must believe me. Not many do, but I am asking ye to believe me, because it’s the truth, and because I wouldnae lie to Cormag’s own people. He was like another father to me, and I wouldnae do anything to betray his trust, even in death.”
“I believe you,” Ishbel assured him. She reached over the table and placed her hand over his, and for a moment, Angus could feel her warmth on his skin, the soft touch of her hand.
Then, it was gone, as though Ishbel had remembered that he was the Laird of the clan and that holding hands with him was inappropriate, even in private.
The two of them fell into a long, uncomfortable silence. Ishbel busied herself with pulling a bannock apart on her plate, nibbling on small pieces as she tried to hide her awkwardness. At the same time, Angus drank even more wine, hoping that the alcohol would give him some courage, as well as some inspiration to turn the conversation around to something more tolerable.
It seemed to him that he had already drunk too much, though, if he were to judge by the words that came out of his mouth next.
“What would make ye happy?”
The question seemed to take Ishbel by surprise, and she blinked at him a few times, stammering as she tried to find an answer. She stood up and walked to the window, bracing herself on the windowsill as she gazed at the sky.
“I . . . I don’t know,” she admitted. “After what happened in Tayvallich, happiness has not been on my mind, but I suppose . . . I suppose perhaps I would like to travel. My mother always spoke of so many places, places that she had visited, and that was how she knew all her stories. I would like something like that for myself, I think. Perhaps I would learn my own stories, then, and I could pass them on to others like my mother did.”
Angus hummed thoughtfully at that. It sounded like a nice plan, one that he could see himself do one day, had he not been the Laird of the MacMillan clan, and having not had all the burdens that came with it. He wouldn’t change his position for all the travels in the world, of course, as he had dedicated his entire life to his people, but it was a nice dream to have.
“Where would ye travel, then?” he asked Ishbel. “Do ye ken?”
Ishbel gave him a small shrug. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Perhaps I would even go back to France, maybe in the end. It’s still my home, it’s still the place where I grew up. My only connection to these parts was my uncle, and now . . . well, now there is nothing to keep me here. Perhaps I’ll be happier in France, among the people that I know.”
It would be sad to see Ishbel go, Angus thought. He had quite liked her stories, and even before he knew who she was, he had planned on seeing her often, just so that she could read to him. Still, he had no claim over her, so if she wished to go back to France, then he would help her do so.
“I made ye a promise that we would have our revenge,” he said, as he stood up from his seat and joined her by the window. “I would like ye to stay until the Keith clan is brought to justice, but after that, I will arrange for ye to travel anywhere ye wish, as long as ye take care of yerself, aye? I made a promise to yer uncle, and even if ye leave my castle, I am still responsible for yer health and yer life. If ye wish to go back to France, then I will send some men with ye to have ye settled there, and I’ll give ye some coin, too. Lord kens that Cormag deserved as much, and I am sure that ye deserve it, too.”
Ishbel was stunned. She looked at Angus, her mouth hanging open for a few moments before a grin spread across her lips.
“Do you mean it?” she asked. “My lord . . . that is very kind of you, it truly is. You are a good man, no matter what the people say. I don’t know why they would say such cruel things about you, but I know it in my heart that you are good and pure, and nothing, no one, can change my mind.”
The warmth that spread through Angus’ chest was unlike anything he had ever felt before. As kind as Ishbel claimed he was, he knew that she was even kinder, and he could tell because she was the only person who had cared to get to know him before judging him simply because of some rumors and gossip.
He wondered how a creature as wonderful as she was could look so much like Vika.
Before he knew it, Angus was leaning closer, and he watched in those few seconds before their lips met as Ishbel mirrored him, meeting him halfway.
Ishbel kissed him with passion, her hands coming up to grab onto his shoulders, even as her lips were soft and gentle. Angus could taste the wine on her, sweet and tart, and beneath it all, he could taste Ishbel. She was warm and pliant against him, but at the same time demanding, her lips and her hands asking for precisely what she wanted. It made Angus grab her by the waist, pulling her closer to him, wishing that the moment would never end.
When they parted, Angus missed the warmth of her lips against his own, and he chased them for only a second before settling back onto his chair. Neither of them seemed to know what to say, then, and Angus wondered for a moment if he had done the wrong thing by kissing her.
It had been years since he had last felt that knot in his stomach, the one that came with attraction to another person. He had only felt such a thing with Vika before, and after what had happened with her, he had vowed to never allow himself to fall for another woman, but there he was, falling fast and hard for Ishbel. How could he not, though, when she was so sweet to him when she was so clever with her words and so wise for her age?
She was everything that Angus had ever wanted, and yet there was still something that was holding him back, a voice at the back of his mind telling him that he didn’t deserve it. He had had his chance with his late wife, and to love another woman so fiercely seemed wrong, even after all those years, and even though he had never truly loved his wife in the way a husband should have loved her.
“Forgive me, Ishbel,” Angus said when he regained his voice. “I . . . I dinnae ken what came over me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Ishbel said, though she sounded a little guarded, a little closed off. “If you ask me to forgive you, it means that it was a mistake, and . . . and I don’t want it to be.”
Angus felt his heart beat faster suddenly, and he cursed himself under his breath. He was the Laird of the clan, not some lovestruck lass, and yet he couldn’t help but act like one in Ishbel’s presence.
“Was it a mistake?” Ishbel asked. “If it was, then perhaps you should go, my lord.”
Her question echoed in Angus’ mind. He didn’t know if it was a mistake, but he knew that he didn’t want it to be one. It felt too good, too right to be a mistake, and yet he simply couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, any words. He remained silent, simply looking at Ishbel for what seemed like ages, and hoping that she would understand.
“You should go, my lord.”
With a nod, Angus turned around and left, once again staying silent. It was perhaps the worst thing that he could have done, and he didn’t know if Ishbel would ever forgive him for it. He didn’t even know if he would ever forgive himself.
When he was out of the room, Angus leaned against the door, sinking to the floor of the corridor. He wondered if perhaps he should go back inside and see where this newfound attraction would take him, but if he were honest with himself, he was afraid. He was afraid that he would be hurt again, and he doubted that he would survive yet another doomed romance.
Angus stood once more and gave the door one last glance. He even raised his hand, his fi
st ready to knock on the door, but he decided against it and walked away, heading back to his own chambers.
The next morning, he would have to make his decision.
Chapter Nine
It had been days since Ishbel had last seen Angus. In fact, it had been days since most people in the castle had last seen him, as he seemed to have locked himself up in his chambers, and only allowed his closest men and the one servant who brought him food inside.
A part of Ishbel worried that their encounter had broken him in some way. Perhaps it was self-absorbed of her to think that way, but she couldn’t think of a single other reason for Angus to lock himself up in his chambers and avoid her so suddenly.
Another part of her wished that they would have never had that kiss.
Ishbel had enjoyed it, of course. Angus was a handsome man and, despite what everyone else said about him, he had been nothing but sweet and kind to her, two qualities that made him more handsome than the lines of his jaw and the curves of his cheeks ever could. She had felt something stir deep inside her then, something more than simple lust. Angus had been the one to pull her out of the desperation in which she had fallen after her uncle’s death, from where she could see no escape until he dragged her out of it, and for that, Ishbel would always have a place in her heart for him.
Ishbel didn’t even wish that Angus would feel the same way for her. She had only just met the man, after all, and he owed her nothing, certainly not his love or desire. Having kissed him, though, having known the feel of his lips against hers, her body burning with desire, she couldn’t help but regret everything that had happened between them.
It would have been so much easier, so much simpler if there was nothing more between them than a tentative friendship forged in the dying breaths of her uncle.
A friendship between them would have been welcome, from Ishbel’s side, at least. Angus was an interesting man, even though he was hopeless when it came to telling stories, as Ishbel had only recently discovered, and she would have liked to talk to him more, to get to know him better. He seemed to need someone to talk to, someone who would listen to him without paying any mind to the rumors that circulated around the lands of the MacMillan clan.
Now a friendship between them seemed impossible.
She considered marching up to him, perhaps visiting him in his chambers, just like he had visited her only a few days prior. She considered asking him to forget about what had happened between them, to forget about the kiss, and simply pretend that it never happened, but the truth was that she didn’t dare to do so.
Angus was the Laird, and though she was certain that he was fond enough of Cormag to put up with some of her antics, doing such a thing would be too inappropriate, too daring and improper.
So, Ishbel decided that she would simply continue to live her life just as she did before. If Angus wanted to talk to her, then he knew where he could find her, and if not, well . . . then she would simply have to live with it.
She had only known him for a few days; after all, any wound that his avoidance would cause would be shallow and easily forgotten.
Ishbel went on with her day. There wasn’t much for her to do in the castle, not like there had been when she lived in Tayvallich, and she found her everyday routine rather dull. Sometimes, she would roam around the castle, peeking into the myriads of rooms that were scattered around its grounds. Other times, she would explore the land around the keep, though many guards had warned her that she shouldn’t be riding alone in the wild since she could never know when she would face trouble.
Ishbel didn’t pay them any mind; she was a grown woman; she could take care of herself.
“Lady Ishbel! Lady Ishbel!”
The shouts came from behind her, where she was walking through the courtyard, eager to get away from the castle once more, and she turned around to see a horde of children, all of them running delightedly towards her.
It seemed like she wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon, but Ishbel didn’t mind. If anything, entertaining the children was her favorite part of her routine. She looked forward to telling them stories, and she could spend countless hours doing so.
And they could spend countless hours listening to her.
Little Lilias was always the one to ask first out of all the other children, her long, blonde curls bouncing uncontrollably as she ran towards her. Perhaps being one of the oldest gave her some more courage than the rest of them had, but Ishbel suspected it also had something to do with her fearlessness.
One day, she would make an interesting woman, Ishbel knew.
The children were now standing in front of Ishbel, all of them looking at her expectantly, with matching grins on their faces. They didn’t even have to ask for what they wanted; Ishbel knew precisely what it was.
She smiled at them and gestured at them to follow her before she made her way out of the castle walls, the small army of children following her eagerly.
There was a small creek running by the walls, where trees grew tall and towering, and bushes filled the air with the fragrance of the flowers that they bore. Ishbel loved that idyllic place, and she found herself going there often when staying within the castle walls became too much for her, but it was too late for her to go any further.
It also just so happened to be the best place to take the children, not too far from the castle, but not in the middle of the courtyard, where they could become a nuisance.
Ishbel perched herself on a small boulder, as the children swarmed around her. Some of them, including Lilias, sat down on the soft grass, while the rest were happier to splash around the creek. All of them, though, gave her their undivided attention.
“Well . . . what story should I tell you today?” she asked.
There was a chorus of different suggestions around her, the children shouting over one another. Some suggested their favorite stories, while others demanded a brand new one, and Ishbel racked her brain to try and remember a story that she hadn’t told them yet.
Everyone in the castle claimed that Ishbel told the best stories, better than the most celebrated bards in the area, but Ishbel knew that she wasn’t nearly as good as her mother had been. Her mother, who seemed to weave stories out of thin air, never taking a pause to think, her tongue never stumbling.
There was a constant ache in her heart, but it was times like those when Ishbel missed her mother the most when she was reminded of how talented, how lovely she had been while Ishbel was growing up.
She could only hope that a part of her mother lived inside her, and that was why people wanted to listen to the stories, her mother’s stories that she had once loved to narrate.
“I think I shall tell you a new story,” Ishbel said, and she heard Lilias shush the other children so that they could all listen to her. All the children quieted down, and even those who were playing in the creek were now joining the rest of them on the grass, giving Ishbel their undivided attention.
“Once upon a time there was a maiden, fair and kind . . .” she said, as she began her story. She told the children about the maiden’s adventures, her travels, about the handsome man she met, who joined her eagerly. She told them about all the fantastical creatures that the two of them encountered, the dragons and the harpies that threatened to take their lives, the mermaids, and the sirens that threatened to take the maiden’s beloved away from her. She told them about their triumph over the monsters and about their love for each other; about their quests and about their very last adventure, that of their marriage.
The children listened to her, all of them sitting quietly. They gasped at the scarier parts of the story, worried about the two heroes, and laughed at the funny parts, making Ishbel laugh along with them.
It had been a long time since Ishbel had been a child, but every time that she spent time with them, she remembered what it was like to be so young and carefree, so fascinated by simple things like stories.
Ishbel missed that. She missed having no worries, and she missed
her mother and her uncle. Their losses had left a void behind inside her that she didn’t know how to fill or if she could ever even fill it, a void that seemed to grow larger every time that she spent her day with the children.
Still, they loved her, and they loved her stories. She couldn’t help but love them, too, and so it didn’t matter if the pain of her loss grew with every story that she told.
“Time to go back to the castle, little ones,” she said, as she stood up, ushering the horde of children back to the castle gates. There were protests, several of them, but it would be dark soon, and Ishbel reminded them that their mothers would be furious if they stayed out for too long, something that seemed to convince them to run back inside.
Just as she was walking back to the castle, the children already scattering through the courtyard as they returned to their mothers, Ishbel saw none other than Angus exiting the castle, and for a moment, she froze.
Highlander’s Veiled Bride: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highland Seductresses Book 2) Page 7