Then, she hid behind a stack of barrels, high enough and wide enough to hide not only her but several others.
She didn’t know why she hid. A part of her thought that she was silly and that perhaps she should come out and speak to Angus. Surely, they couldn’t spend the rest of their days at the castle without seeing each other or speaking to each other, and there was no better time than then when their meeting would simply be an accident. Ishbel wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse, and perhaps their conversation would even be pleasant.
But she simply couldn’t bring herself to come out of her hiding spot. Before she saw Angus, Ishbel thought that she would be fine with talking to him, that nothing he could say to her could rattle her, but now that he was right there, so close to her, she knew that she had been wrong.
Ishbel didn’t fear Angus’ rejection; she had already gotten that, after all, after he hurried out of her room following the kiss that they shared as though he was being chased. What she feared was the painfully awkward conversation that they were sure to have once they would finally speak to each other, a conversation that she would much rather avoid altogether.
So, Ishbel stayed were she was, hidden behind the barrels, as Angus walked around the courtyard, conversing with his clansmen. She stayed there for so long that eventually she sat down, even as she knew that the mud would cake her skirt beyond salvation, and she had to tighten her earasaid around her shoulders to fight the chill of the wind.
The moon was high up in the sky by the time that Angus finally decided to head back into the castle, and Ishbel, exhausted, did the same. She took great care as she walked to her chambers, making sure that she wouldn’t be seen by anyone, especially Angus, and in the end, she made it to her rooms without being spotted.
Or so she thought.
“What are ye doing, lass?” a voice asked, coming from the other end of the hallway, and Ishbel whipped her head around to see the housekeeper standing there, looking at her with concern painted on her face. “Look at yer skirt! What did ye do?”
“I . . . fell?” Ishbel said, hesitating a moment too long. “I fell. But I’m alright, truly, thank you. Good night!”
Before the housekeeper could say anything else, Ishbel disappeared into her room and leaned against the door, slowly sliding down onto the floor. On the other side of the door, she could hear Angus’ voice, clear as a bell, asking the housekeeper what was happening.
Ishbel only released the breath that she was holding when she heard Angus head back to his rooms. Even then, her knees were shaking too much for her to stand.
How would she ever face him again, she wondered. How would she ever be able to look at him?
Chapter Ten
Angus hadn’t seen Ishbel for several days, but she was also the least of his concerns. After they had that kiss, he had decided that he needed to either accept his attraction towards her and do something about it or deny himself the pleasure of companionship and simply treat her like any other clansman or woman in his castle.
He had never come to a conclusion because he had never had time to think about it, not when he was preoccupied with the Keith clan and the terror that they spread across his lands.
“We’ll send men straight to the Keith clan,” Angus told his clansmen, who had all gathered in his study once more. “This is about revenge, lads. They killed Cormag . . . they killed women and bairns, and we canna allow them to get away with such a crime.”
Many of his men, Euan included, much to Angus’ surprise, agreed with him, nodding and muttering among themselves. Others, though, were not so keen to agree.
“I dinnae ken about that, m’lord,” Peadar said. “I dinnae think that it’s the best course of action.”
The men were divided, it seemed to Angus. Half of them voiced their agreement with Peadar, while the other half protested against them, making it clear that they wanted a war with the Keith clan.
“’Tis a matter of honor!” Euan said, slamming his fist on the wooden table that sat by the door to the study. “How many of ye have trained under Cormag? All of ye, all of the young ’uns, at least! The man deserves to be avenged, and so do the men, the women, and the bairns that we lost to the fire! Who will do it if not us? Those bastards from clan Keith must die, do ye hear? An eye for an eye.”
“Aye, ’tis a matter of honor, but we canna be hasty,” Peadar said. “If we act like them, then we are no better than them. M’lord, ye should send some of the men to the Keith clan—”
Before Peadar could finish his sentence, there was an uproar around him, the men who were on Euan’s side protesting his suggestion immediately.
Angus pressed his fingers against his temples, feeling a headache suddenly coming, just like every other time that his small council of clansmen argued like children. It was something that seemed unavoidable, though, when he had decided to include men with such different opinions, and perhaps it was a good thing.
Perhaps hearing some other points of view would one day prevent them from a disaster, though he doubted that it would be that day.
“Let Peadar speak, lads,” Angus said. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
“Thank ye, m’lord,” Peadar said once the men quieted down. “I am simply saying that ye should send some men first to the Keith clan and talk about a truce.”
Now even the men who had been on Peadar’s side before were shouting at him, all the men voicing their concerns and their opposition to Peadar’s suggestion. This time, though, Peadar simply continued to speak, shouting louder than any of the others.
“We dinnae ken what drove the Keith clan to attack Tayvallich, but we canna risk more villages,” he pointed out. “This is about the lives of innocent people. Before we do anything else, we must ensure that our people willnae be in danger.”
Peadar’s words seemed to satisfy the rest of the men, and they fell silent once more. None of them could argue with what he was saying, after all, and all of them were just as worried as he was about the villages and their people. For all they knew, if they tried to attack the Keith clan, they would retaliate by burning yet another village.
“Peadar is correct,” Angus said. He had been so blinded by his own desire for revenge that he hadn’t realized the impact an attack on the Keith clan could have on his own people, the people who lived the furthest from the castle and were the most vulnerable in his land.
Avenging Cormag had been his one plan, his one desire, and he had even made a promise to Ishbel that those responsible for Cormag’s murder would pay for it. Now, though, he simply couldn’t keep his promise; he had to think about his people and what was best for them.
After all, he doubted that a hasty attack on the Keith clan would be what Cormag would want. The last thing that Angus wanted was to disappoint the man who had taught him how to act in times of attacks in the first place.
“’Tis what Cormag would have wanted,” Angus said, voicing his thoughts. If all else fails, then . . . weel, we will attack. But we owe it to Cormag to discuss peace first.”
“Shall we gather some men, then, m’lord?” Euan asked.
“Aye,” Angus said. “Five or six should be more than enough. No warriors, Euan, please. We need diplomats, we need men who willnae draw a blade at the first sign of trouble.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“I shall go, as weel,” Peadar said. “It canna hurt to have me go with the bairns, I’ll make them keep a straight head.”
Angus nodded his agreement. Peadar was right; if there was anyone who could stop his clansmen from unnecessary violence, that was Peadar, and besides, the man had seen more diplomatic missions than anyone else in the keep. His presence would be invaluable, Angus knew, and perhaps he would even manage to find out the reason behind all the hostility from the Keith clan’s side.
“Ye are to leave at first light, Peadar,” Angus said. “Ye can pick yer men if ye so wish, but remember that they canna be walking around the Keith lands provoking people.”
&
nbsp; “Aye, m’lord,” Peadar said. “I have just the lads for the task.”
With that, Angus’ council left his study, and once the door closed behind them, he was once again alone. The thought that he had been avoiding for days caught up to him then, once the clan’s matters had already been settled, and he let out a long-suffering sigh as he stood from his seat, taking the few steps that led him to the window.
He hadn’t seen Ishbel for days. It sounded impossible, since their quarters were close to each other, and yet it was the truth.
Perhaps she was avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding her, Angus thought. He didn’t know what to tell her, and he didn’t even know if she wanted to talk to him after everything that had happened between them—or rather, after what he had done.
He should have said something that night. He should have told her that it wasn’t a mistake, but he couldn’t explain to her why he couldn’t bring himself to be with her.
He didn’t even know if he knew the reason.
It had been years since Angus had lost his wife and their child, and many in the castle told him that he should remarry. His men often tried to convince him to do so, and Angus couldn’t blame them. He didn’t have an heir, after all, and if he didn’t remarry, then he never would.
Kirsteen had been a good woman. She had deserved more than she got when she married Angus, and he spent every moment of their marriage with that knowledge. Perhaps it had been selfish of him to marry her, to be with her for so long while he had never fallen in love with her, but he had made certain that her life would be as good as possible.
He wanted the same for her death.
Finding love, marrying another woman, it all seemed like too much of betrayal towards Kirsteen to Angus. After everything that the poor woman had gone through, Angus thought that she deserved to be the only woman to ever be by his side, at least.
Besides, Angus had a certain past with women that made him fearful of new relationships. Even though Ishbel was nothing like Vika—something that he had come to realize immediately after their first meeting—he couldn’t be so certain that he wasn’t setting himself up for a world of heartache. There was only so much heartache that he could withstand before he would finally break.
If he tried to avoid Ishbel for the rest of his life, perhaps his troubles would eventually go away, he thought.
It was a silly plan, a plan that was bound to fail since he would have to come face to face with her eventually; he would have to talk to her and pretend like nothing had ever happened between them, and though he considered himself fully capable of doing so, he wasn’t so certain if Ishbel could do the same.
It was all hopeless. Angus walked back to his desk and threw himself down on his chair with a heavy sigh, letting his head fall in his hands. Then, he had an idea.
There were only two people in the world who could tell him what he could do about his situation, and they were Cormag’s other daughter, Vanora, and her husband and Angus’ good friend, Donal, the Laird of the Cameron clan.
They were both people with whom he had grown up, people that he trusted with his life, and so they were the only people that could help him with his little conundrum.
It didn’t hurt that Vanora and Ishbel were cousins. Perhaps they weren’t too close, since Ishbel had grown up in France, but they were certain to be familiar with each other, at least.
Angus’ hand reached for a pen, and he began to write his letter to them, even though the last letter he had sent them had only been two weeks prior, and he hadn’t received a reply from them yet.
Dear Donal and Vanora,
I seem to be facing a predicament. I am afraid I have fallen for a lass, one that
Vanora kens well; your cousin, Ishbel. But I am a fool, and I am
afraid that I may have offended her. I am torn between confronting her
and asking for her forgiveness, and pretending that nothing ever happened
between us.
I am reaching out to you, hoping that you can tell me what to do. I am at a loss, and everything seems to be the wrong choice. I will follow your advice, no matter what it may be.
Your dear friend,
Angus
Angus read his letter to himself a few times until he was satisfied that it didn’t seem too desperate, too unlike a Laird, with just the right amount of drama to convey the urgency of his situation.
He was rather satisfied.
He was also quite certain that he would go mad, after all, before the letter with Donal’s and Vanora’s advice arrived at the castle. Everyone in his lands thought that he was mad already, though; he would simply end up proving them right, it seemed.
After he sealed the letter and gave it to one of his messengers, Angus decided it was time to retire to his chambers, though it was still early, the sun having set on the horizon only recently.
It didn’t matter; he couldn’t stomach the thought of a dinner with his clansmen, especially when he knew that Ishbel could very well be there, where it was impossible to avoid her.
And avoid her, he would. Angus decided that he would keep her at arm’s length, at least until he would receive a reply from his friends. He would hide whenever he would see her, and he would run away from her, claiming that he was a busy man, if she tried to speak with him.
He would soon realize, though, that avoiding Ishbel was not as easy as he thought.
Chapter Eleven
“How is it my fault, m’lord? This wench that calls herself my wife was unfaithful! What was I to do, other than punishing her the way she deserves?”
Angus was sitting on his chair in the hall, watching the woman that was kneeling in front of him. She was battered and bruised, her torn dress covered in caked blood. Her face was almost unrecognizable, her right cheek swollen and the eye above it shut, unable to open fully. Her hair was matted on her head, and her formerly intricate updo was now disheveled, pins hanging from her curls.
She looked like she had only recently been on the verge of death, and she didn’t dare raise her gaze off the floor. Angus could hardly blame her; the people around her, the crowd that had gathered there to witness the man’s punishment and that of his wife were whispering among themselves, calling the woman all sorts of names that Angus couldn’t even bring himself to repeat. They were a cruel crowd, and they didn’t care if the woman heard their criticism.
Angus took a deep breath. The woman, despite her being unfaithful to her husband, hadn’t deserved such a punishment, one that had brought her to the edge of death. Angus could understand the importance of good punishment, but that didn’t seem to be it.
“There willnae be such violence tolerated among my own people,” he said. “I understand why ye’d punish yer wife . . . there isnae a thing worse for a man than an unfaithful wife, and ye have every right to punish her, but ye almost killed the woman! Look at her! She can hardly move on her own, and who can say that she’ll ever recover from this?”
The man looked at his wife, where she was kneeling on the floor, trembling and sobbing quietly, so quietly that Angus could barely hear her.
There was nothing on the man’s face. Angus saw nothing; no remorse, no regret for what he had done to his wife, and that was what concerned him the most. He would hate to wake up one day and learn that the woman had perished in her own husband’s hands, when he could have done something to stop it.
Then again, she had been unfaithful to him. While death, or even such a terrible beating, seemed to be too harsh of a punishment, her husband had had every right to be furious with her and to wish to right her wrongs in any way he saw fit.
“But m’lord!” the man protested, and Angus could hear a hint of fear in his voice at the prospect of being punished, too, for what he had done to his wife. “She shared her body with another man! She was unfaithful to me when I havenae done anything other than love her our whole lives! Dinnae ye think that she deserved to be punished?”
“Aye,” Angus said. “I told ye before
, she did. But not that harshly.”
Angus fell silent then. He didn’t know what kind of punishment would be proper for the man, but he knew that he had to come up with something soon. The crowd, which was only mumbling moments earlier, was now growing louder, more curious, the men and women in the room sharing their opinions on the matter with each other.
He wished that there was someone to consult, but all the men in his council that he deemed wise enough to deal with such a matter were gone. Cormag was dead, while Peadar had left five mornings prior, heading to the Keith clan to discuss the terms of peace. Angus was now left with Euan and half a dozen young men like him, who were brilliant warriors, but not the best choice when it came to being consulted about a punishment.
Highlander’s Veiled Bride: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highland Seductresses Book 2) Page 8