"She is a bonnie lass but a wee one,” Colin MacLagan said to his sons when they had a moment alone.
Iain sighed and nodded. He had been tempted to linger in the chambers he and Islaen had been given, waiting for her to join him, so that he could avoid any time alone with his family. That, he knew, would only postpone the inevitable. They naturally had a lot of questions and he decided it might just help Islaen's settling in if he answered them as soon as possible.
"Aye, she is a good lass. Do ye ken the MacRoths?"
"Nay, not weel. Good people and the mon has a lot of sons."
Inwardly, Iain grimaced, knowing that his father wanted him to have sons, and answered reluctantly, “Eleven."
"Wheesht, there's a brood to be proud of. The lass is the only daughter?"
"Aye. The youngest child too."
Tavis grinned and winked at his wife who sat at his side, also a cherished only daughter. “Her kin have a heavy hand, do they?"
"'Tis nay too bad, though,” he half-smiled as he touched a fading bruise near his eye, “they guard her weel."
"I was going to ask ye about that,” growled Colin. “Ye arenae still at odds with them, are ye?"
"Nay, that settled it all."
"Men,” Storm grumbled in disgust. “Knock each other about, then shake hands. ‘Tis foolish."
"So Islaen said,” Iain drawled and Storm shook her head as the men laughed. “T'was a good fight. Her brothers are good."
"But ye are better."
"Aye, Tavis, but I willnae be if there is a next time. They watch and, if it works, they learn it."
"Why didnae they come here with ye?"
"The English had raided, Fither. They got word of it halfway through our journey."
"Bad?"
"Bad enough so they felt they had best get back home and see to things ere they came here."
As Iain continued to answer questions he realized that his knowledge of Islaen, her life and her kin was still somewhat vague. He also saw that he needed to be evasive. While his family would never intrude too deeply into his private affairs they were quite naturally interested in how his marriage was working. Finally, he muttered the excuse that Islaen might need his help in finding her way to the feast and left what had begun to feel like an inquisiton, though he knew it had not been.
"The lad is being verra coy,” Colin muttered. “Do ye have naught to say, Alex?"
Alexander straightened up from where he lounged against the wall, having eavesdropped upon the family conference in the ever filling hall. “Me? Now what would I have to say about Iain's marriage?"
Tavis's bright blue eyes sparkled with laughter although his voice was stern. “Ye always ken more than ye ought about other men's wives. I also ken that this time ye didnae come just to annoy me by flirting with Storm."
"How ye wound me, Tavis,” Alexander murmured, winking at Storm, who smiled and shook her head.
"Come, Alex, enough teasing. Tell us what ye know,” Storm urged gently. “Is it a good match? Will it work?"
"Despite Iain's effort, aye, I think it will. She is a good lass, Storm, a very good lass and she loves him though she willnae say it. She kens weel that Iain would flee that. Aye, the lass kens her mon very weel indeed."
"He clings to his fears,” Colin said with a sigh.
"Aye, he does but ‘tis not only her death upon a childbed that he fears. Death stalks him."
"MacLennon,” Tavis growled.
Nodding, Alexander told them of the attack upon Iain. So too did he tell them of Lady Mary's games. By the time he finished relating all that had happened in court the MacLagans were both dismayed and angry.
"It sounds as if they should have left court weeks ago,” murmured Storm.
"Most of that happened in the last few days but, aye, it will be better for them here. Is Maura still about?"
Thinking of the woman who had so avidly pursued Iain before he had gone to court, Storm grimaced. “Aye, though I believe she has set her aim at another. She is not wed yet, though, and not too far away either."
"Ah, weel, at least she is but one and not many as there were at court."
"Do ye really think the lass can pull him from himself? Stop him from being the cold mon he fights to be?"
"Aye, Colin, but it would help if MacLennon was dead. Until then,” Alexander shrugged. “Watch them when they come down to indulge in the feasting. Ye will see what I mean. If the matter werenae such a sad one t'would be funny. Iain catches himself softening and pulls back whilst poor, wee Islaen struggles to stop that retreat, wavering between sadness and anger."
"Well, what matters most this night,” Storm said firmly, “is that the girl is very nervous and we must put her at ease."
Islaen stared at herself in the mirror and then cursed softly, bringing a muttered reprimand from a harrassed Meg. She knew she was being a nuisance and perhaps foolish but she was desperate to look her best. Not used to her breasts being unbound she could only see a rather vast amount of bosom when she donned her fine gowns.
"I look the veriest whore,” she said sulkily, glaring at the soft rise of her full breasts.
"Ochane, ye will drive me mad,” hissed Meg. “Do ye mean to change again?"
"Nay, she doesnae."
Iain grinned when both women turned abruptly to gape at him. He had stood in the doorway watching Islaen fret for several minutes. It was rather amusing to watch her struggle to hide what most other women would flaunt. She would clearly need a while yet before she was used to seeing herself unbound.
"But, Iain, I..."
"Ye look fine, lass,” he said sincerely as he moved to stand before her.
"Are ye sure? I wouldnae want your kin to think me shameless."
"That they would ne'er think. Ye best come with me, lass, or t'will be little there is for us to eat."
She smiled weakly and let him pull her along with him. Her gown was lovely and well made, of the finest materials, but she was certain she was showing far too much of herself. She colored with nervousness and embarrassment when she entered the hall at Iain's side and all eyes turned towards her. It was not the best time, as far as she was concerned, to wear such a gown. As a stranger, and Iain's new wife, all eyes were upon her anyways. Now was the time to be extremely demure.
Seated at the laird's left, it did not take Islaen long to feel she had been given the best of seats. Colin was an open, friendly man and reminded her of her father in many ways. Within moments, she was feeling at ease.
It took a little longer to be sure she wished to be opposite Tavis's lovely wife, Storm. Never had she been so close to a Sassanach although there had been times when some more or less friendly contact had been made with England. That Storm was not only accepted by the MacLagans but loved helped ease the awkwardness as did Storm's friendly manner. It seemed as if Storm was more than willing to accept a new lady at Caraidland, even seemed genuinely glad of it. Tentatively, Islaen eased her wary stance, reaching for the friendship Storm seemed to offer.
It would be nice to have a woman friend, Islaen decided. She had Meg but Meg was more like a mother than a friend. Meg also had no experience with marriage and little with men. A woman to discuss things with, to confide in, could be very beneficial. Sometimes, Islaen mused, she felt very much alone as she struggled to adjust to marriage and being away from her home and her large family. Neither would it hurt to have some advice, she thought wryly. In her position, mistakes were costly. Storm had had ten years with the MacLagans, and Islaen grew more and more eager to discuss that, to ask questions.
Soon after the food began to disappear, musicians began to play. Islaen mused that Colin had managed quite an impressive feast despite the short notice he had received of their arrival. She wondered if the man had started planning it when he had been sent word of his son's marriage. It was something he was obviously delighted about, if somewhat cautiously.
Islaen decided that Colin's wariness was not directed at her. Colin evidently knew of his son's fears and problems. She wondered just how much Colin had done to try to change his son's opinions and attitudes. A faint smile touched her face as she envisioned the two strong, stubborn men in such a confrontation. Having seen many such confrontations amongst her brothers and father she had a very good idea of what it would have been like.
When the dancing began, Islaen found herself much in demand. It was a long while before she was able to retreat to a modestly quiet corner to catch her breath. As she finished a long refreshing draught of ale, she looked up to find Storm taking a seat upon the bench next to her.
"Do not look so wary, Islaen,” Storm said gently and smiled. “Might I call ye Islaen?"
"Oh, aye. T'would be most confusing if we called each other m'lady all the day long."
Storm laughed softly and said teasingly, “We shall save it for when we are annoyed with each other."
"Do ye think there will come such a time?"
"But of course. I have a fierce temper and I would wager that ye do as well."
"Aye, I fear ‘tis so."
"And it passes quickly."
"Aye, fairly so. I dinnae hold fast to it and pout."
"Good, then we shall go along fine. Tempers are a common thing here. They ne'er last and spite is rare. Iain has the calmest nature of all the MacLagan men, though Sholto is the more jolly. We all expect to be able to show our tempers, let free with them and not have to pay for days because we have done so."
"'Tis the way of it with my family.” She felt a pinch of pain over the still fresh separation.
Patting her hand in a gesture of sympathy, Storm said quietly, “T'will pass. Ye must find comfort in the knowledge that ye can see them when ye wish."
"It must be verra hard for ye to see your kin."
"Not as difficult as ye may think. We have grown very good at visiting without danger or suspicion. In truth, ‘tis the bandits, rogues of no country, who are the biggest threat. Phelan was very nearly murdered last year by the freebooters."
"I would think that he soon made them sorry that they had attacked him."
"Aye, most sorry, though he took a wound that kept him at Papa's all winter."
"Phelan resides here?"
"He does. Being Irish, he was wanted by few when it was time for him to begin his training. As soon as I was wed and came to abide here, Phelan joined me. Colin took him in hand and has oft expressed his pleasure in having done so.” Storm smiled when she caught the way Islaen watched her husband. “Alex is right. Ye do love Iain."
"Alexander talks too much,” Islaen grumbled as she blushed but she made no effort to deny Storm's assumption.
"At times, aye, but he spoke out this time for he recognized our need to know how matters stood."
"And Iain would say naught."
"Quite. Ye have a hard battle afore ye. I do not envy you it. Alex said ye knew all about Iain?"
"Weel, not all. I ken that he is afraid of childbirth."
"Aye, he is that."
"Why doesnae it help that he can see how weel ye do?"
"I truly do not know. Of course, it was very bad with Catalina. He was beset with guilt. I think you can cure him though, Islaen. Ye do not fear, do ye."
"Nay. All the women in my family are wee lasses but they have braw bairns and little trouble in the birthing of them."
For one brief moment Islaen was tempted to confide in Storm about what Iain had made her promise, and how she worked to deceive him. She resisted the temptation, however. Storm was offering friendship but Islaen felt it far too early to test that with such a secret.
"He also fears leaving you a widow."
Startled out of her thoughts by that quiet statement, Islaen stared at Storm. “What?"
"MacLennon."
"Ah, aye."
"The man haunts Iain and none can seem to find him so that the threat may be ended for all time. So many eyes seek the murderer out that I oft think he must turn to mist, gathering into the form of a man whene'er a chance to strike at Iain arises."
"I cannae believe Iain fears him. Weel, no more than any mon fears a knife at his back."
"'Tis not really MacLennon nor death Iain has fear of but of causing ye grief. He is a man with death ever at his heels. Iain thinks t'would be cruel to woo ye and win ye when MacLennon could strike at any time and succeed. Death is not often so clear to see, so near at hand. He sees it as unfair to bind your heart to him when he knows of this threat."
It was so logical Islaen could see the truth of it. She could also see the stupidity of it. The more she thought on it the angrier she got. She also felt the fury of helplessness. MacLennon could be haunting Iain for a long time. Unless Iain saw the man die he would always use that specter to hold her away from him.
"Sometimes I think that mon is half mad or a fool,” she muttered and Storm laughed softly.
"Ah, well, mayhaps. His intentions are good."
When Islaen succinctly said what Iain could do with his good intentions Storm laughed heartily. The woman was still laughing when Tavis collected her for a dance. Islaen sighed as she watched the couple leave her. There had been a look in Tavis's eyes when he had gazed at his wife that Islaen feared she would never stir in Iain's gaze.
Thinking again on what Storm had said about that threat of MacLennon, Islaen sighed with some exasperation. She began to wonder why she bothered. The wise thing to do might be to just go about the business of life and let her much-muddled husband sort himself out. If Storm was right there was a battle it was nearly impossible to fight. Only MacLennon's death would end Iain's reticence and Islaen knew she could not manage that on her own.
Inwardly, she grimaced. She knew she would not stop trying to reach Iain's heavily armoured heart. Common sense had very little to do with the matter. She loved and she ached to have that feeling returned. The love she felt for Iain constantly fought to be set free, to fully express itself and find some reward, some welcome. At times she had to bite her tongue to hold the words back. She badly wanted to know the full glory of love, one shared and returned.
Her frustration turned upon Duncan MacLennon. The man had no real right to a vengeance. Iain had done no wrong. If the man felt a need to blame someone for the loss of his love he should look to Catalina's family. They had been the ones who had taken her from him and forced her to wed another. Iain had but agreed to an arrangement between the families. From what she had heard and could easily guess, Iain had treated the bitter woman far better than any other man might.
She sighed again. All that made wonderful sense, but even if she ever had a chance to speak to MacLennon, the man would never heed it. His grief had turned him mad. Islaen suspected that he sought his own death as avidly as he sought Iain's. She could understand the man's madness, but she knew that would not help her find any forgiveness if he succeeded in murdering Iain. It could well be herself that next became some wild-eyed assassin for she knew her grief would run far deeper than she could ever anticipate or want to. Although it upset her to think it, she knew she would crave the man's death.
The irony of it all made her laugh bitterly. Iain sought to protect her from grief, yet that had been a lost cause almost from the moment she had seen him. Telling him was no good. She was sure he would then do whatever he could to kill the feelings he stirred in her. The way his mind worked she could almost guarantee it. To him it would probably seem the kindest thing to do. He would see the grief he caused her now as necessary to save her from a greater one later.
When he approached her she glared at him. She wanted to call him a fool, tell him of the pain he caused her now as he held himself away from her. It would gain her nothing, she was sure of it, but she thought it might make her feel better if only for a little while. She had swallowed so many words now, her belly ached from it.
"Someone has angered you?” Iain asked cautiously, noticing the glitter in her lovely eyes.
It was a supreme effort not to tell him just who but she mumbled, “My head throbs. It makes my mood sour."
He smoothed his hand over her forehead. “Ye have had a long day. Mayhaps we should seek our bed."
"How can ye do that?” she thought with an inner sad sigh, as she stared up at him. “How can ye stroke me with one hand, yet push me away with the other?” but only said, “Aye, t'would be best, if ye dinnae mind."
"Nay, ‘tis late and I feel weary myself. I will no doubt soon join ye."
Nodding she quietly retreated to her bedchamber, leaving Iain to make her excuses. It had been a long exacting journey from the court to Caraidland and she was weary. The two had little to do with each other but she did not feel guilty about letting Iain tell that lie. It was better than telling the truth. She did not think it would endear her to her new kin by marriage if she told them she was retreating to her chambers before she gave into the strong urge to throttle Iain.
"Wheesht, didnae it go well, lass?” Meg asked as Islaen entered her chambers.
"If ye had joined the festivities ye could have seen for yourself,” Islaen answered crossly as she ungracefully flung herself upon the bed.
"T'wasnae my place."
Islaen made a very rude noise and ignored Meg's scolding look. With little cooperation she let Meg undress her. She knew she was being awkward, even sulking, but she made no effort to shake free of her mood. A little petulantly, she told herself that she had earned a good sulk.
"Och, lass, it maun have been verra bad for ye. ‘Tis a rare mood ye are in,” Meg muttered as she started to brush Islaen's hair.
"Meg, can ye hate a person e'en as ye love him?” Islaen asked quietly as she sat still beneath Meg's ministrations.
"Of course ye can. I love ye, lass, and weel ye ken it, but there have been times when I was muckle pleased to strike ye. I ken little of the ways of men and women but I suspicion ‘tis much the same. Loving a mon doesnae mean ye like all he does or says."
"Nay, that would most like be impossible. Love just means that the bad things willnae drive ye away, willnae make ye leave."
"What has the lad done now? ‘Tis no wench, is it? Wheesht, I had thought we had left that trouble behind us when we left that brothel called court."
"Nay, ‘tis not a wench. I would be little surprised an one is about, one that might cause me a worry, but she hasnae shown herself yet. I am hopeful that whatever wenches there may have been have turned their eyes elsewhere whilst Iain was at court and that they arenae the sort to ignore the boundaries of a lawful marriage. I am most weary of that sort of trouble."
"Then what ails ye?"
"Oh, ‘tis Iain. Ye are right in thinking that."
"Ye cannot expect a locked heart to spring open with but one smile, lass."
"I ken it. Such a thing takes work. I have come across another problem or so I think. Iain has not spoken of it to me, ‘tis Storm who spoke of it, so mayhaps it doesnae exist. It seems Iain feels it would be cruel to try and win my heart."
"Cruel? How so? Though I have little trust in men, I cannae feel he would abuse such a gift, not purposely."
"Nay, he wouldnae, not e'en an he didnae return the love offered. He has too kind a heart, e'en an he does keep it well secured. In truth, what Storm said confirms that. She said he will ne'er woo me nor try to win my heart as long as death stalks him."
"That madmon MacLennon."
"Aye, him."
"Death stalks us all, lass. A mon usually kens that weel. I dinnae understand this."
"Neither do I. I would think ‘tis because he cannae fight this, not weel. The mon is as hard to catch as smoke. He lurks in the shadows, e'er at the ready to strike without warning. ‘Tis different than the normal way of things."
"How can ye fight such a thing?"
"I cannae, can I, and therein lies the reason for my anger with the mon. He seeks to save me from grief. I cannae tell him ‘tis too late for he would most like try all the harder to push me away, denying me e'en the little I can pull from him now. That I could not bear."
Meg had little comfort or advice to offer, and was wise enough to know that she could do no more than be there in case she was needed.
When Iain entered their chambers Islaen only briefly thought of pretending to be asleep. She would not play his game, pulling into herself, turning cold and withdrawn. Islaen suspected she could not do so even if she really wanted to. It was against her nature. Simply not speaking of the love she had for him was as much as she could manage. Words she could swallow, even though they sometimes choked her, but all the other signs of her love she could not restrain. They came easily, without thought and denying any control.
When he pulled her close, his hands lightly stroking her she placed her hand over his heart and felt its quickening beat. It beat with the thrill of desire but she wanted it to beat with love. She wished she could reach beneath his taut skin and tear away the wall there. As the strength of her desire disrupted her thoughts she prayed that someday Iain would give as freely of his love as he did his passion.