Cursing softly, Islaen struggled to keep pace with the men. Iain and the king were several strides ahead of her. Her three brothers, Calum, Nathan and Donald, kept pausing so as not to leave her behind. She wished fervently that she had not tried to be so fashionable. The houppelande she wore badly hindered her usual lithe, nimble stride.
Vanity, she mused, was a troublesome thing. She had wanted Iain to see that she could be as well dressed as any of the other women in court, women who were making obvious and strenuous efforts to catch his eye. Instead she was stumbling along like an awkward babe taking its first unsure steps. She might be fashionable but she was far from graceful.
"Why did ye wear the cursed thing if ye cannae walk in it?"
She glared at Nathan. “I can walk fine in my chambers. The ground isnae even here."
Calum snorted in scorn at her excuses. “Ye walk with less skill than Colin's youngest."
Annoyed beyond caution, Islaen started to angrily stride away from her brothers. Her foot caught in the long garment and, with a soft cry, she started to fall. Nathan tried to catch her, but she took him down with her. Being on the very edge of a small rise they started to roll. She tried to get out of Nathan's way but he tumbled over her, then she over him. When they came to rest at the base of the rise, Nathan landed on top of her. It was a full moment before Islaen was able to catch her breath. Then she began to curse a laughing Nathan and struggled to push him off of her.
When he finally moved, it was only to lie at her side still laughing. She could hear her other brothers laughing too, their laughter growing louder as they approached. Hearing Iain call her, she closed her eyes and wished heartily that, by some great miracle, she could simply disappear. It was a shame, she mused, that intense embarrassment could not be immediately fatal.
Iain was unaware of any trouble until the king, his voice trembling with amusement, pointed it out. He gaped at the sight of his betrothed tumbling down the small hill, her slim stockinged legs well displayed. By the time her brother got off of her, Iain was hurrying to Islaen's side. He had to fight the urge to laugh, something made very difficult by the king's amusement and Islaen's brothers’ hilarity. For one brief instant her stillness bothered him, but then he saw how tightly her eyes were shut and how she had clenched her hands into small fists. He reached down and gently grasped her by the arm, ready to help her stand.
"Come along, Islaen, ye dinnae appear hurt."
Hearing the laughter he could not fully keep out of his voice, Islaen was very reluctant to look at him. “Nay, I think I will but lie here until I disappear."
"I ken how ye feel, lass, but it willnae happen."
"Nay, I wager not,” she murmured and opened her eyes.
As he helped her to her feet she decided that his eyes, when touched with laughter, were beautiful. She stood quietly letting him tidy her up as if she were a small child as she wondered if she could bring that light to his eyes more often, preferably without having to embarrass herself.
"How did ye come to have such a tumble?” he asked.
"Wearing that cursed houppelande,” Nathan answered as he handed her one of her shoes that had fallen off.
"An it causes ye trouble why do ye wear it?"
After glaring at Nathan, Islaen put her shoe back on with Iain's support and answered softly, “I wore it for ye."
"For me?"
"Aye. ‘Tis the fashion and I wished to show ye that I can be as fashionable as all the ladies dancing after ye."
"Weel, I havenae noticed so many but ye need not go to such reckless lengths, wee Islaen,” he teased and started to remove her now disheveled houppelande. “I care little about such foolish trappings."
"Oh. Ye mean I near broke my neck for naught?” She flushed with embarrassment when the king himself laughed, for she had thought her words soft enough to be private.
Iain restrained his own laughter with an effort. She flattered him with her attempt to appear the most fashionable of ladies and he did not wish to reward that with laughter, a laughter she could wrongly interpret as mockery. It also amused him that she so openly admitted her ploy, harmless as it was. She was honest almost to a fault.
When they returned to the castle, Iain watched Islaen hurried away by Meg and sighed. Everything about the girl seemed to tug at him. She seemed to promise all he had ever wanted in a mate. It was going to prove to be a severe trial to maintain any distance between them but he would have to. Wondering why that thought should depress him, Iain suddenly realized that he had been neatly encircled by her brothers.
After pondering seven shades of red hair for a moment, he asked, “Did ye wish to speak with me?"
Duncan, the eldest of the seven at seven and twenty, growled, “Aye, about our wee sister."
"That is a surprise."
"We havenae much to say,” Duncan continued, ignoring Iain's sarcasm, “but say it we will."
"Aye,” Malcolm, an astoundingly handsome young man of just four and twenty, agreed. “Ye ken that we are muckle fond of wee Islaen."
"I had noticed that, aye."
"Ye be a cold mon, Iain MacLagan,” the twenty-six-year-old Robert said with no real criticism shading his voice, “and Islaen isnae accustomed to that. We will be ill-pleased if ye hurt her with your hard nature."
"Or elsewise,” Duncan growled.
All the brothers nodded one by one and slowly left. Iain soon found himself standing alone. As he moved to go to his chambers he contemplated the warning he had just been given. They had not said exactly what form their retribution would take, but he decided it mattered little. Neither had they said that they would be watching him all the time, but the implication that they would was clear. One needed little imagination to sort out the various particulars of the threat. Any hurt he dealt Islaen would come back upon him twelve-fold, for he was certain that the absent brothers and the father would also stand behind the threat.
As he made his way to his chambers, he saw the many signs of the preparations for his wedding. For a brief instant he felt the natural resentment of a man caught in a trap but he forced it aside. Such feeling could easily turn itself upon Islaen, and she did not deserve it. She was as trapped as he. He wondered how she felt about it.
"Why did ye wear this fool thing when ye ken how poorly ye move in it?” Meg grumbled as she tried to clean the grass-stained houppelande.
"I wished to impress Sir Iain."
"He's nay courting ye, lass. The marriage is set firm."
"Aye and it must feel like a noose about his neck. I just thought to ease the rub of the hemp by showing him that I could be as fine as all those other ladies that eye him so."
"Whores. Ye neednae fash yourself o'er them. Ye will be the mon's wife and none can be changing that."
Islaen decided there was little point in trying to explain her thoughts and feelings to Meg. When it came to men and matters of the heart they would never really agree.
What Islaen put her mind to was yet another way to show Iain that he was not getting such a bad bargain. By the next morning she felt she had one. As she stood impatiently while being fitted for her wedding gown she decided to show him that he could speak to her about most anything, that she could be the best and most trusted of confidants. She was fairly certain he could count upon his brothers for such a thing, but they had their own very full lives and might not always be there for Iain. A wife would ever be at hand.
Iain politely greeted Islaen when she joined him for dinner, but inwardly he frowned. There was a glint in her lovely eyes that he was already beginning to recognize. Her attempts to impress him were clearly not at an end despite the blunder with high fashion.
As they ate he began to see her game. It was a dangerous one although he knew she did not see that. If he allowed her to be his confidant she would soon be far more. All he could do was fight this newest lure she held out and hope he did not hurt her too much by doing so.
Silently cursing, Islaen decided that Iain was not being very cooperative at all. She felt as if she were banging her head against a stone wall. While he was never rude nor cutting, neither did he tell her anything. By the time they separated she had a terrible headache. Retiring to a bench removed from the rather large crowd of people in the hall she tried to soothe her aching head even as she wondered what it was she was doing wrong, if perhaps she was being too subtle.
"All alone, Mistress MacRoth?"
Biting back a curse, Islaen looked up at her unwanted intruder. Lord Donald Fraser was a man whose body and face revealed his tendency to excess. His attempt at high fashion only showed that his stocky figure was becoming more fat than muscle. What really unsettled her about the man was the look in his rather small grey eyes. They revealed his lusts. When he took a seat beside her, uninvited, she quickly became aware of the fact that the man was none too fond of soap and water.
"I had but sought a moment of quiet.” She was not surprised when he did not acknowledge her hint to be left alone.
"Aye, there are far too many at court. Your wedding will be well attended, much witnessed."
She nodded and struggled to be courteous. “'Tis a pity that Sir MacLagan's family cannae be here."
"What is a pity is that the king has sacrificed ye to a mon with no heart."
"Ye speak unfairly about a mon who is soon to be my husband,” she said coldly.
"Ah, lass, ye act brave and ‘tis honourable that ye strive to defend the mon, but all ken the truth."
"I cannae guess what truth they think they ken,” she snapped and edged away from him, wondering how he could keep getting closer yet not appear to move. “They trouble themselves with that which isnae their concern."
"None can help but be concerned when they see a young lass with your beauty given o'er to a mon who cares naught for any woman. ‘Tis well kent his heart was buried with his first wife. Aye and the warmth a wife needs. There is many a mon here who aches to give ye what a cold mon like MacLagan ne'er can. I am but one of many, but I pray that ye will see me more clearly than all the others,” he said huskily, his gaze fixed upon her partially agape mouth.
When his arm had slipped around her she had stiffened in surprise. As his words became understandable to her she gaped slightly. She could not believe the man would be so utterly audacious as to woo her before all the court, her betrothed and her brothers but feet away. When she realized he was actually attempting to kiss her she gave a soft cry of revulsion and leapt to her feet even as she shoved him away from her.
Taken by surprise by her abrupt retreat, Lord Fraser was unseated by her push. Islaen spared only one brief glance for her vilely cursing erstwhile lover before fleeing. Intending to seek the safety of the nearest of her protectors, she was pleased to see that that was Iain. Politely greeting the three people he spoke with, she hooked her arm through his and stood close by his side. By the time she spared another glance for Lord Fraser, the man was on his feet. He sent her a look that chilled her blood before striding away, and Islaen huddled even closer to Iain.
For a moment she bemoaned her cowardice, then told herself not to let pride make her a fool. Her brothers had once admitted to her that only a fool felt no fear, that men simply hid it well most of the time. It would also be foolish to think she could face one such as Lord Fraser alone. A person of her small stature was wise to accept her limitations. If Fraser got a hold of her, only luck would save her then. She certainly did not have the strength to fight a full-grown man. Wit and swiftness of foot were her best weapons and they only went so far. She would not, however, tell Iain all that had happened just yet, for she wished to avoid the trouble that could bring.
Her thoughts on Lord Fraser were abruptly ended when her attention was drawn by one of the two women talking to Iain. Lady Constance was fulsome and lovely. She was also brazenly flirting with Iain. A quick glance at Iain told Islaen nothing. If he noticed the woman's attentions, he was concealing it very well. Islaen found the attentions annoying. Her glare, however, only brought a condescending look from the older woman. Islaen wished she could think of a way to extract Iain from the others. When the woman used the slimmest of excuses to caressingly touch Iain, Islaen resisted the urge to slap her hand and decided to use the first opportunity to get Iain away from the woman.
Feeling Islaen's grip tighten slightly, Iain glanced down at her. “Ye are looking somewhat flushed, wee Islaen."
Considering how furious she was with the fawning Lady Constance, Islaen was not surprised. She also saw her chance to separate Iain from the small group. Resting her cheek against his arm, she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes.
"I feel so. Do ye think ye can walk me back to my chambers, Sir MacLagan?” she asked in what she hoped was an appealing faintness. “I should like to lie down for a wee while, I believe."
"Of course, sweeting."
The endearment startled her but Islaen struggled to hide that as he politely excused them. She saw that Lady Constance had noted it and did not want the woman to think it was anything unusual.
In but a moment, Iain was escorting her to her chambers. Unused to subterfuge, Islaen forgot that she was supposed to be ailing and strolled along with her usual liveliness. She suddenly became aware of Iain's steady look and glanced up at him, musing silently that it was easy to understand why Lady Constance so avidly sought him.
"I thought ye were ailing,” he murmured, wondering idly if she had any idea how lovely her eyes were.
He had not really thought her ill. When she had first reached his side, he had not only sensed her agitation, but also that she had rushed to him. Although her humour had drastically altered, he still wondered why she had originally hurried to his side. Something had clearly upset her and he wondered if he could get her to tell him what. He suspected Lord Fraser had something to do with it for he had seen the man approach her.
"Oh, aye.” She sighed. “Weel, nay. I just grew verra tired of Lady Constance slavering all o'er ye and wished to be away ‘tis all.” She frowned when she thought she saw laughter in his eyes, but it came and went too quickly for her to be sure.
Iain fought to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Slavering, eh?"
"Now, I willnae believe ye didnae notice the woman eyeing ye. Ye had to."
"Weel, I did ken that she was flirting a wee bit."
"Oh, aye, a wee bit,” she grumbled. “She near to tore her clothes off and threw herself upon ye."
"Ah now that I would have noticed."
"Ye jest but ‘tis true.” She shook her head. “I cannae understand it."
"Thank ye,” he murmured.
"Now her setting after ye I do understand. What puzzles me is that she would do so right afore me verra eyes. The ways of the court are a puzzle to me. Do they obey no laws?"
"The ones they wish to. Was it the ways of the court that sent ye hieing to my side?"
Islaen looked away hoping that, if she had to lie, he would not be able to read it upon her face. She did not really want to lie but neither did she want any confrontation between Iain and Lord Fraser. In a fair fight she knew Iain would win easily, but instinct told her that Lord Fraser would never fight fairly. Lord Fraser seemed to her to be the type to slip a dagger between a man's shoulder blades in the dark of night.
"Weel, aye, mayhaps. ‘Tis my first time here, ye ken."
She was easy to read, he thought with some amusement. “Ye didnae understand something Lord Fraser said? Or did?” he added quietly.
Cursing viciously but silently over his obviously keen sight, she answered with a false calm, “I am but unused to the ways of the courtier. ‘Tis naught."
"I had the feeling ye were most upset."
"That doesnae mean that there was aught to be upset about."
It was clear to Iain that she was not going to tell him what had occurred between herself and Lord Fraser. He wondered why for only a moment. She was no coward, he knew that instinctively, so what had sent her rushing to his side, trembling slightly, had to have been serious. He was certain she said nothing because she wished to avoid any trouble.
The mere thought of Lord Fraser forcing even the slightest of unwanted attention upon her infuriated Iain. He almost laughed, for he had not wanted the marriage yet he was already strongly possessive. Her actions might have been enough to deter Lord Fraser from trying anything else but Iain decided to keep a close watch upon the man.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Islaen hurried inside her chambers when Iain stopped before her door. She knew she had not fooled him for a moment with her elusive answers concerning what had happened between herself and Lord Fraser, but fortunately he had not pressed the matter. If he kept a closer eye on the man that could only be for the best. She decided to forget Lord Fraser and concentrate on her faltering campaign to impress Sir Iain MacLagan with her worthiness as a bride.
Contemplating the move that would checkmate Iain, Islaen wondered if she should make it. She had clearly impressed him with her ability at chess, a game he evidently liked very well, but she wondered if beating him at the game was going too far. Her brothers had never liked it. The last thing she wished to do was hurt his pride.
"Islaen, I swear I shallnae sulk."
Hearing the laughter in his voice, she grimaced and made her move, muttering, “Checkmate."
Seeing her pained look Iain could not restrain a soft laugh. “I think that hurt ye more than it did me, lass."
"Aye, she does look pained,” said a deep seductive voice.
Glancing up as Iain rose to greet the man, Islaen gaped. Never had she seen such a beautiful man. From his thick golden hair to his long, elegant and graceful body there appeared no flaw. It no longer surprised her that a voice could send shivers down her spine. As Iain introduced her to Alexander MacDubh, Islaen decided that such a voice suited a man like Alexander to perfection.
Subtly watching Islaen's reaction to Alexander, Iain suddenly understood why his brother Tavis, even after ten years of marriage to Storm, hated to have the man within feet of his wife. Islaen watched Alexander as if the man fascinated her. It struck Iain as highly contradictory that he did not want to be wed yet he did not want her to be drawn to any other man. Ignoring Alexander's amusement, Iain rather hastily agreed with Meg when the woman arrived to say that Islaen ought to take some time to view the preparations for the wedding.
"I hear the king arranged the marriage,” Alexander remarked as soon as Islaen had left.
"As he neatly arranged yours."
"True, but I think ye got a better bargain. Howbeit, I hear that many wish the bond broken ere it is e'en made."
"Ye have heard a lot for a mon who has but now arrived at court."
"Ah, weel, I had a talk with the Lady Constance."
"A talk, hmmm?"
"A short one followed by a kind lady's consolation for a lonely widower."
"Ye have been a widower for twa years. Ye bleed that ploy dry."
"And ye tell me naught. Have ye no words about the wedding or the wee sweet child to be your wife?"
"That child is nineteen.” He almost smiled at Alexander's surprise. “Lord Fraser and your cousin Ronald MacDubh wished to gain her hand. Neither is pleased that I now gain the dowry they hungered for. Aye and the lass. She has eleven brothers and a fither who would kill me in an instant if I cannae keep her weel and happy. Aye, I am to be wed but best ye not raise your tankard in salute unless ‘tis to wish me the luck to live ‘til the year's end."
"Especially with MacLennon still lurking about. Ye have stepped into a mire, have ye not."
"Aye and I am sinking fast."
"She seems a sweet lass. There could be some good to be found."
"Aye there could be, but I willnae seek it. She could wake up to find herself a widow but hours after she has become a bride. T'would be most cruel to play with her affections in any way when my life is in such danger."
"True and mayhaps ye run from the wrong things, Iain, my friend."
"I ken weel what I flee, Alexander."
"Do ye ken what ye can lose? I had no chance in my brief marriage. I wed a woman whose heart belonged to none, but whose body was given to all. The only good I gained was my wee daughter. Ye deny yourself all opportunity for some happiness. Aye and the lass."
"All I deny her is pain,” Iain said coldly, then abruptly changed the subject.
He did not think on Alexander's words again until he escorted Islaen into the hall for the last repast of the day. The way he planned to direct their lives was indeed unfair to Islaen, but he could think of no way to alter that. He was almost glad of Alexander's company as they dined, for the man kept Islaen from being too troubled by his remoteness. It was an appreciation that warred with something even he recognized as jealousy, as Alexander kept Islaen well amused, flattered her and flirted with her. By the time Iain escorted Islaen back to her chambers, he was not sure whether he considered Alexander a blessing or a curse.
"And what do ye think of Alexander?” he asked abruptly as they stopped outside her chamber's door.
A little startled by his question, as well as the fact that he had suddenly broken what had been an almost complete silence during the evening, Islaen answered, “He is verra nice."
"Verra nice, hmmm? An accomplished wooer of the lasses."
"Oh, aye, of course. A mon like that would take to wooing like a bairn to the breast of its mither. Do ye ken what makes him so good? He can do it and ye dinnae feel nervous or foolish or naught."
Smiling crookedly, he asked, “Nervous or foolish?"
"Aye. ‘Tis that voice of his, I am thinking. ‘Tis as soothing as a nurse's lullaby. He must get verra tired of people staring at him."
"Do ye think so?” Iain was finding her candid observations about Alexander amusing.
"Oh, aye. The mon kens how fine he looks but I dinnae think he is vain. An he lost his beauty I think he might regret that the ladies didnae fall into his arms as they did, but not much else. He might e'en be glad of it for then people would cease seeing naught but his beauty and look at the mon he is. I should not like to be so beautiful."
"Ah, but Islaen, ye are lovely."
"Nay,” she demurred, coloring slightly over his soft flattery. “I have freckles and my hair is too bold a color."
"I dinnae find it too bold."
"Ah, weel, ye may do so when ye see it loose.” She blushed when she realized when that would happen. “Ye have just seen a few locks slipping free, disobedient as my hair can be at times."
"Islaen, sometimes ye try too hard to be honest."
Her subsequent good night was subdued. Once inside of her chambers she leaned against the door and sighed. She felt riddled with guilt. She was not honest at all although she had tried to be on several occasions. The words stuck in her throat, however. There was a confession she had to make to Iain and time was running out. If she did not make it soon he would find out rather shockingly just how big a liar she could be.