"He will, of course, immediately suspect me of having a hand in this,” Alexander said as he and Islaen neared Muircraig.
"An all goes weel, that shouldnae be any great burden to bear. I hope this works,” she muttered, beginning to feel nervous.
"Islaen, if ye but get him alone and employ but some of what I taught you, his capitulation is assured."
She giggled. “What vanity. Ah, but Alex, I am nay as pretty as you, nor do I have such a fine, seductive voice."
"I find your voice most seductive,” he murmured, reaching out to capture her hand in his and kiss it.
"Behave yourself, ye rogue. Beltraine will be jealous.” She patted her mount's strong neck and stared at Muircraig.
To her eyes the keep looked more than ready to be lived in. That opinion changed little the nearer they got. It looked strong enough to protect those who lived within from both hostile armies and hostile weather. She felt the pinch of hurt and insult and ruefully admitted that she had hoped to find some visual reason for Iain's neglect. If the keep had been in ruins, she would have had something to excuse him with, thus soothing her feelings. Instead, she found a place that the most exacting could find pride in.
As she rode through the gates she briefly felt an urge to turn around and return to Caraidland. Standing close to Iain was a woman Islaen had hoped never to see again. For a moment, all her fears swamped her but then she found her courage. She was not about to run away as if she was in the wrong. If he was using Muircraig as a trysting spot, then he was the one in the wrong.
"Easy now, lass. That she-wolf's presence doesnae mean there had been aught going on,” Alexander said softly.
Islaen was not so sure of that. Iain looked rather guilty to her. She fought for calm as she approached her husband, telling herself that Robert would not have allowed anything to happen. A small voice in her mind asked her just what Robert could have done to stop it and she ruthlessly shut it up. She would do Iain the courtesy of believing him innocent until he was proven otherwise. Fixing Lady Mary with a cold look, Islaen decided that she owed that woman no courtesy at all.
Iain stared at his wife in near horror. She had never come to Muircraig of her own accord before. He felt it was the worst piece of luck that she should come now. His mind went blank as he tried to think of an explanation for Lady Mary's presence. He could all too easily guess what his wife thought, especially when he saw how hard her usually soft eyes had gone. Forcibly, he shook himself free of his shock. It was an awkard situation but there was nothing for him to feel guilty about.
"Islaen,” he murmured and kissed her cheek, fighting to hide how stirred he was by the fresh, clean scent of her, “What has brought ye to Muircraig?"
"I but wished to see what has been done. Greetings, Lady Mary. Ye look weel."
"As do ye, m'lady.” Mary struggled to hide her fury over this interruption. “I hear ye are now a mother."
"Aye, m'lady. I dropped the litter near six months past,” Islaen drawled, then grinned when Alexander choked on a laugh.
"How witty,” Mary murmured, then tucked her arm through Iain's. “Iain was just about to show me Muircraig."
"Ye can see it verra weel from here,” Iain muttered as he extracted himself from Lady Mary's hold, “or mayhaps Robert will escort ye about.” He looked at Islaen's grinning brother who did nothing to hide a grimace of distaste at the suggestion.
"But, Iain,” Lady Mary pouted, “I came so far just to see you."
"So did my wife, m'lady."
The anger Lady Mary could not hide almost made Islaen smile but she scolded herself for such pettiness. She also reminded herself that the ease with which Iain was pushing Lady Mary aside was not really proof of anything. The woman was still a threat and, until she was more secure in her marriage, Islaen felt she would be a fool not to recognize that threat.
She found it difficult not to bombard Iain with questions as he took her around Muircraig. The presence of Lady Mary at Muircraig was but one of the many things she wanted explained. Islaen sensed, however, that direct questioning was not the way to get any answers from Iain. If he wished her to know, he would tell her in his own good time.
"Ye are right, Iain. We should be able to winter in this place,” she said as they returned to the bailey. “Are ye sure ‘tis not ready now?” She felt sure it was and that he knew it but was curious about what answer he would give.
"There are still a few things that must be done ere I feel it secure enough for ye and the bairns."
'Verra weel said,’ she thought wryly. Iain had clearly learned a lot from the courtiers who sought favor at court. He was pushing her away again, refusing her, yet made it seem as if it were all for her own good. She wished that she had such a skill with words.
Glancing down at his wife, Iain caught a look in her eyes that nearly made him wince. She did not believe him. He could not really blame her. Muircraig was secure and it would be comfortable. The work he did now was but extra strengthening of the defenses and a few slight additions to the living quarters to add to their comfort, ideas he had gathered in France and from foreign visitors to court. They were things that could be done while they lived there with little or no lessening of comfort or safety. He was hiding at Muircraig and he had the distressing feeling that she suspected as much even if she did not know why. He wondered why she did not question him about it for she was usually most forthright.
"'Tis time to eat,” he murmured as he saw the men start to put down their tools. “I fear all we have to offer ye is camp fare."
"Ye ken weel that I have no complaint about that. Howbeit, mayhaps such a thing will make ye more amiable to what I had planned."
She was looking at him in a coy, teasing way that made him ache to kiss her even as he wondered when and where she had learned such a trick. “And what is your plan?"
"I have in that pannier ye can see upon Beltraine a fine meal. All the best delicacies of Caraidland and some verra fine wine."
"There is a feast,” he exclaimed with open anticipation. “Far better than what sets in that pot all the men gather round."
"Aye, so t'would be almost unkind to dine upon such right afore their eyes. I havenae brought enough to share with all here."
"We could dine within Muircraig,” he said thoughtfully as he tried to shake the feeling that he was being gently drawn into a trap.
"On such a fine day? ‘Tis not often we have such sun and warmth to enjoy, Iain. I have brought a blanket to spread upon the ground and but a short distance from here is a muckle fine spot with clear water and a carpet of flowers."
"We shouldnae be off alone,” he murmured, hesitant to refuse her such a treat yet not sure he could resist all the temptations of being alone with her. “MacLennon still lives and but awaits a chance at me, at us."
Tugging him closer to her horse she pointed out the horn that hung from her saddle. “To call for aid if ‘tis needed. The place I saw is near enough to Muircraig that one blast upon this will be heard clearly here yet we will be private."
"Aye, t'would work an he gives us time."
"An he falls upon us so quickly and quietly, then all the men here wouldnae be enough protection. Ah, Iain, t'would be so fine. I havenae much time now to enjoy the few fine days the summer brings."
He sighed for he knew he would go. She was tied to home and hearth by the babes. Somehow she had managed a few hours of freedom and he did not have the heart to deny her simply because he had a fear that he would weaken in his resolve to leave her alone. When he saw Lady Mary moving their way he decided there was another good reason to go. He would rather chance breaking his vows of restraint with Islaen than stay within the reach of the persistent and increasingly annoying Lady Mary.
"Iain, where do ye go?” Lady Mary demanded as he called for his horse to be saddled.
"To dine quietly and privately with my wife, m'lady."
"But what of me? I am your guest,” she almost hissed.
"There are many here to see to your needs, m'lady. Ones such as Robert, Alexander or Phelan, wherever Phelan has hied to.” He was a little startled when Murdo brought his mount over. “That was quick."
"Weel, sir, Sir MacDubh said ye'd be wanting him saddled so I had done it afore ye asked."
Looking at Alexander who simply smiled sweetly, Iain murmured, “I see."
As Iain helped her mount, Islaen fervently hoped that he did not see. If he did, she was sure he would either stay at Muircraig or thwart all her attempts to put an end to the abstinence that was making her nights much too long. She breathed a sigh of relief when he mounted, then looked at her expectantly. If this plan failed she had but one move left to make and she was loathe to employ such drastic action. With a little smile she led him out of Muircraig.
Islaen spread out the blanket and watched Iain tether the horses. She wondered a little crossly why she had to love that particular man past all reason. If hers had been as so many other marriages were, she would probably find his aloofness and constant absences a blessing. She would find her happiness in running the household and making the greatest use of whatever prestige her marriage had brought her. Instead, she constantly tried to reach his heart and did not seem to know how to stop even though she seemed no closer to him despite so many months of marriage. A person with some sense, she thought crossly, would have given up by now.
Sighing a little as she set out the food she tried to ignore the fact that what she planned would probably solve very little. It might bring him back to her bed but a man in her bed did not make a marriage, not the sort she craved. She needed his love and she was beginning to wonder if everyone was wrong, if perhaps Iain MacLagan simply had no love to give. It was a thought that chilled her for it made the years that stretched ahead of them look frighteningly barren.
"Did ye leave something behind?” Iain asked as he sat down. “Ye looked mightily upset for a moment."
"Nay, ‘tis all here.” She smiled at him. “I feel certain I have brought all ye favor."
"Aye, and more than enough of it too. I think ye have some grand ideas about the size of my appetite."
"Weel, if there is much left o'er,” she murmured as she served him, “ye can keep it at Muircraig to add to your camp fare."
"An I do, I shall need to keep it weel hid for such as this would tempt the most honest of men to thievery."
He asked about the children, which did not surprise her but she had to bite back a sigh. It was good that he had such an interest in his offspring but it seemed as if they had little else in common.
She forced away such dismal thoughts. It would be impossible to enact her plan if she grew sad or angry.
Struggling to recall all that Alexander had told her she began to seduce Iain or so she hoped. At any moment she expected him to guess her game and hurry them back to Muircraig. She also worried that he would be totally unmoved, that she would see all too clearly that she had lost his passion. If that was true then she knew she had irrevocably lost.
There was also a look in his eyes on occasion that made her wonder if she was doing it right and it caused her to hesitate a moment to try to recall Alexander's instructions. As the meal progressed and she seemed to stir little more than confusion in him she grew frustrated. According to Alexander, Iain's lengthy celibacy should have made him highly susceptible to seduction and success should have come quickly, yet they had already finished the meal and were enjoying the sweet but he had not even kissed her. The only person she seemed to have seduced was herself for she was certainly feeling very warm and eager.
Iain watched his wife closely as she broke off a piece of sweetmeat and fed it to him. It was very nice to lie in the sun and be so waited upon but he felt sure she was up to something. She was constantly touching him, found every opportunity to lean close and brush her body against his. So too was she acting strangely flirtatious. Occasionally, she would hesitate and a cross look would swiftly pass over her face, but then she would renew her apparently unconscious assault upon his starved senses.
He crossed his arms beneath his head to keep himself from grabbing her. The resolve to leave her alone was crumbling swiftly. An urge to hurl her to the blanket and thoroughly ravish her was becoming too much to resist. ‘An I didnae ken her better,’ he mused idly, ‘I would think she was trying to seduce me.'
That idle thought stuck firmly in his mind. She was still innocent, still somewhat unpracticed in the arts of love, yet she had put herself in his bed the last time he had kept himself away from her. The more he watched her the more certain he became that she was trying to seduce him. It was subtle, even hesitant, but it was definitely a seduction.
For a moment he thought about hurriedly collecting up their things and returning to Muircraig, then hastily sending her on her way back to Caraidland. Then Alexander's words spun through his mind. Since the birth of their children he and Islaen had been little more than strangers. The fact that she would go to such lengths to draw him back to her if only in passion showed him how little she liked the situation between them. He admitted to himself that he did not like it either.
As she took far too long to clean away what meager crumbs might have stuck to his face, he came to a decision. He had wasted months of their lives and would waste no more. Neither of them gained anything from his faltering attempts to protect them from pain. He was past protecting and she was obviously miserable, caught in a marriage that was really not much of a marriage. All he could do was hope that he was not letting his starved body do his thinking for him.
"Islaen,” he murmured as she gently wiped his mouth, “are ye trying to seduce me?” He smiled when she blushed.
She thought that if he laughed she would definitely strike him. “'Tis so obvious?” she asked softly.
"Nay, I wasnae quite sure at first.” He studied the small face so close to his and ached to kiss her.
"Weel, I was trying not to be too obvious. I wanted ye to think that t'was your idea."
He laughed softly. “So what do ye do now?"
"I am nay too sure. I have used all of Alexander's suggestions."
"Alexander?"
"Aye. I felt t'was only wise to seek advice from an expert."
"So long as his advice was but words and not actions."
"He behaved himself most gallantly except that he kept laughing.” She smiled faintly when Iain laughed.
"Aye, he would. So ye have come to a sticking point, eh?"
"Ye were supposed to have succumbed by now."
She felt her heart skipping at an alarming rate. He was not stopping the game, not making any move to return to Muircraig. There was a soft, warm look in his eyes that raised her hopes. He seemed willing to fall in with her game but she could not be sure.
"Aye, I have succumbed."
"Ye look more relaxed than I had expected ye to. Are ye certain?"
"The question should be—are ye certain, Islaen. T'was a hard birthing ye suffered,” he murmured, frowning in concern as he recalled it.
"'T'was six months ago, Iain,” she said a little angrily. “I didnae need twa months a bairn to recover. Mayhaps a wee bit more than other women but nay six months."
"I thought we should wait until they were talking,” he drawled, then laughed at her horrified look.
"Wretch,” she grumbled and half-heartedly struck him on the arm. “Ye shouldnae tease me so at such a time."
"Nervous, sweeting?” He began to unpin her hair.
"Weel, aye. I wasnae sure I was doing it right."
"Ye were doing it right but before I grant ye your victory, is there naught ye wish to ask me?"
"Ask ye?” She found it a little difficult to think when what she had ached for for so many months was finally close at hand. “What do I want to ask you?"
"About Lady Mary?"
"Oh. I was just trusting you, Iain."
He traced the shape of her mouth with his finger and felt her tremble slightly. “'Tis verra good of you, little one. Lady Mary has been only a nuisance. I was trying to think of ways to make this her last visit. I will be honest with you, lass. A time or twa I thought on using her as the whore she is to ease the aching my abstinence caused me."
"I ne'er asked it of you,” she whispered.
"Nay, I forced it down our throats and t'was kenning that t'was my choice that kept me from Mary, that and the knowledge that she couldnae give me what I need."
"And what do ye need?” She clutched his shoulders when his lips lightly brushed over hers for she was so starved for him that that light touch was all she needed to set her aflame, her barely tethered desire leaping to full life.
"I need ye, lass."
"Ye are verra slow to show it."
"Ah, loving, the need is so strong I fear to hurt you. My urge is to ravish not make love slow and gentle as ye deserve."
He kissed her, a slow, gentle kiss as if he leisurely savored the taste of her. That leisureliness was belied by the way he held her. His arms gripped her tightly as he dragged her atop of him and pressed his hips against hers, both of them crying out at the contact. Almost frantically they moved against each other, their need for each other making them desperate to join.
"Islaen, my wee wife,” Iain rasped as he turned so that she was sprawled beneath him and his shaking hand burrowed beneath her skirts to clumsily remove her braes, “have ye e'er had your skirts tossed up like some crofter's wench and been taken with no finesse by a lust-crazed fool of a mon?"
She laughed softly. “Nay and weel ye ken it. ‘Tis fun?"
"Ye can tell me the answer in a wee while."
A cry of pleasure tinged with relief escaped Islaen when Iain joined their bodies with one fierce thrust. It was fast and furious, their release coming with a shattering unity. Their need for each other was too great to allow any gentleness or any lingering at the edge of desire's chasm.
Still not quite steady, Iain raised himself up on his elbows to look at Islaen. She lay beneath him, her eyes closed and her long dark lashes forming a thick arc upon her flushed cheeks. Although she seemed to be all right he frowned worriedly as he gently brushed the hair from her face. He had been rough, taking her fiercely. She was so tiny and delicate that he feared he might have hurt her with his lack of control.
"Islaen, are ye all right?"
"Aye.” She opened her eyes partway and smiled slowly as she put her arms around his neck.
"Are ye sure I didnae hurt ye?"
"Nay, ye didnae hurt me I am nay so delicate as ye think Iain.” She started to unlace his tunic.
"Weel, ‘tis not right to take your wife like some peasant slut."
"E'en if that wife quite enjoyed herself?"
"Did she now?"
"Aye, tell me, if that is how ye tumble some crofter's wench, how do ye tumble a tavern wench?"
He grinned as he eased the intimacy of their embrace so that he could help her remove his tunic. “Sometimes right upon the table."
"Ye could get splinters.” She grinned when he laughed. “Weel, we havenae got a table here."
"A shame,” he murmured as he watched her tug off his boots. “I would ne'er have a sweeter meal set out for me."
She blushed and busied herself unbuckling his sword. “I dinnae think I wish to chance splinters in my backside."
"I should put down a cloth of the finest linen to protect that sweet tail. Nay, dinnae put it too far away,” he commanded softly when she set his sword aside. “Mayhaps e'en a pillow."
"There is gallantry. What of the miller's wife?"
"On the sacks of grain, of course."
"Of course. Weel, we havenae got those either."
"No matter. They tend to shift about beneath ye and ye cannae keep a steady gait, can e'en be tossed out of the saddle."
Even though she blushed slightly she giggled at the image he painted. “'Tis a most absurd conversation we are having."
"Aye. Ask me about the blacksmith's daughter."
Eyeing him suspiciously as she removed the last of his clothes, she asked, “And how would ye tumble the blacksmith's daughter?"
"On the anvil."
She giggled and drawled, “Nay on the forge."
"No mon wishes to get that warm."
"Weel, we dinnae have an anvil, either.” She ran her hand over his strong thigh and saw his eyes darken with desire.
"We have a blanket."
"Aye. That we do."
She watched her hand move over his abdomen and was deeply stirred by the sight of his lean naked form. There was a playfulness about him, nearly a carefree air, that she had not seen in a long time. She felt her hopes rise. It could be that he had decided to put an end to much more than his abstinence, that perhaps he was ready to make their marriage a full one.
"This fine blanket is the perfect place for a mon to tumble his wife."
"Why, I think ye may be right,” she said, biting back a smile as she knelt by his side.
"There is a wee problem though."
"Aye? And what is that?"
"Just that the husband is lying here as naked as the day he was born..."
"And a verra fine sight it is, an I may say so."
"Ye may,” he said haughtily, smiling when she laughed. “As I was saying, the husband is naked and,” he glanced down at himself, “quite ready but the wife is still clothed. What do ye think ought to be done?"
"Someone best undress her then,” Islaen said softly but her words ended on a shocked gasp.
Suddenly there was a sword point at Iain's throat. She stared at it in horror then cried out as a hand painfully grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet.
Islaen felt her blood turn cold as a smooth voice murmured, “Oh, please, allow me to do the honors."