The Laird's Captive Wife (15 page)

He noted the correction and wondered what she had been going to say. However, he knew better than to push her. A confidence could not be forced. He didn’t know why he had spoken to her of his father. It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow the words had come out anyway. Perhaps it was no bad thing. Certainly the tension of the previous evening was conspicuous by its absence.

* * *

Ashlynn retired a little later leaving the men to drink. Having returned to her room she undressed, laying her garments carefully aside. Once again their ugliness impressed itself on her mind. It was not a problem that would be easily solved since she had no money to buy cloth and thread, even if she knew where these things might be procured locally. The thought of asking Iain for money was anathema. Self-respect forbade it. Clearly he saw nothing amiss with the present arrangement and if he did not, she would not raise the subject. If anyone else found it a matter for remark, that was just too bad. Fine clothes were only a form of vanity when all was said and done, and yet she missed them all the same. They were something else she had taken for granted, like looking attractive. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did, especially now. Iain’s face drifted into her mind. Even if she were appropriately gowned would it make any difference there? Would he ever look at her in the way he had once looked on Eloise? Would she ever be able to influence his thoughts? Somehow she couldn’t see it happening any time soon. The knowledge of her powerlessness was oddly lowering. With a sigh she climbed into bed and burrowed under the furs for warmth.

However, sleep would not come and for a long time she lay awake listening to the sound of the wind in the chimney. She shivered, thinking how different it was from her chamber at Heslingfield. Thoughts of home revived the faces of her family and suddenly a lump formed in her throat. The last time she felt like this she had been in a hayloft and Iain had comforted her. The memory of his arms around her then only served to enhance her loneliness now. She tried to check it, to force the lump back again but it resisted every attempt and grew bigger, swelling in size until it threatened to choke her. Turning her face into the pelts she began to sob as though her heart would break.

* * *

Iain left his men carousing and made his way up the stairs. Truth to tell he was in no mood to drink for his mind was elsewhere. Ashlynn’s appearance at table that evening had served as a sharp reminder that his life had changed. While he had no quarrel with her presence, he had not lied when he had said it was unexpected—unexpected and oddly impressive in its quiet dignity. It could not have been easy for her. Nor could it be easy adjusting to her new life at Dark Mount. Though she never spoke of it he sensed her homesickness. Worse, it was something that he could do nothing to change. Heslingfield was gone for good. Only one small hope remained in that direction.

Having reached his room he took himself off to his bedchamber. He was in the process of undressing when he caught a faint sound from the next room. His brows drew together and he stepped closer to the connecting door, listening intently. The sound of sobbing was unmistakeable, great heart-wrenching sobs that pierced him to the core. For a moment he remained where he was, torn by indecision. His hand went to the handle, hovered briefly, then slowly withdrew. He retreated and, with a sigh, continued undressing.

For a long time after that he lay awake in the darkness, listening to the sounds from the other side of the door. He wanted to go to her and speak what words of comfort he could, but knew he must not. Not yet. This outpouring of grief was long overdue. In its shuddering sobs he heard all the fear and pain and loss that she had kept hidden behind the brave mask she showed to the world. He always knew it must erupt at some time, but he had not anticipated its depth and force. Nor could he ever have guessed how much it would grieve him to hear it.

* * *

Ashlynn woke late feeling heavy-headed, her eyelids swollen and pink-rimmed. Reluctantly she slipped from the bed and struggled into her clothes. Then she bathed her eyes in cold water. She had just finished when Morag appeared with a platter of food. She set it down on the table. Her glance went briefly to Ashlynn’s face and her expression registered concern.

‘Are you quite well, my lady?’

‘A slight headache,’ Ashlynn replied. ‘I slept ill last night.’

‘Can I fetch you anything?’

‘No, thank you. I shall be recovered soon enough.’

Morag seemed not entirely convinced but did not pursue it. When the servant had gone Ashlynn turned her attention to the food but, after a mouthful, abandoned the attempt. Her appetite had gone and everything tasted like ashes. Pushing it away she went to the hearth and stood for a time, staring down into the flames.

Eventually her attention was drawn by a knock on the door. She took a deep breath, mentally composing herself.

‘Come in.’

Iain opened the door and paused on the threshold. For a moment he surveyed her in silence, but if he noticed anything amiss he did not remark on it.

‘Good morrow, Ashlynn.’

She returned the greeting and waited, part of her wishing he would go and leave her alone and part curious as to why he was there. Then he stepped into the room.

‘I would like you to join me, lass. There is something I would show you.’

‘What is it?’

‘You’ll see.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse and he saw it.

‘Please,’ he said.

‘Is it a mystery then?’

‘If you come with me, all will be made clear.’

She hesitated another moment and then rose to join him. To her surprise he led her back to the staircase and down to the next floor. After following the passageway for a little space, he stopped outside one of the chambers. Ashlynn eyed him quizzically and waited, wondering what it meant. He vouchsafed no explanation but merely opened the door and stood back to let her enter.

The room was smaller than hers and even more sparsely furnished, but it was clean and warm with a cheerful fire burning in the hearth. On the far side an old woman was sitting at the edge of a bed. She looked up on hearing the visitors arrive and inclined her head in acknowledgement of their presence. Iain spoke a few words in Gaelic to which the woman responded briefly. However, Ashlynn paid no heed. Her attention had moved on to the bed which was occupied, apparently by one of the injured men who had been brought back to Dark Mount following the battle with the Normans. Then she became aware that her husband was speaking, and in English this time.

‘How is the patient today, Meg?’

‘A little better, my lord. Conscious anyway, though still very weak.’

Ashlynn looked from one to the other in puzzlement but Iain’s hand was under her elbow, drawing her further into the room. When they reached the bedside she looked down at the injured man lying there. He was very pale and his face was stubbled with many days’ growth of beard, the same tawny shade as the hair visible beneath the bandage. The eyes regarding her now were deep blue and staring as though they had seen an apparition. For a moment she stood transfixed and the colour drained from her face.

‘Ban?’

‘Ashlynn?’ The voice was weak but familiar for all that. ‘Is it really you?’

‘Ban!’ Then she was beside him, her trembling hands brushing his face, his breast, his hands. All were real and warm. ‘I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again in this world.’

‘I almost was dead. Fortunately the Normans thought so otherwise they’d have finished me off.’

Her incredulous gaze took in the bandages swathing his ribs and shoulder and the other round his head. For a moment she said nothing, and then suddenly burst into tears. The old woman put a comforting hand on her arm.

‘It’s been a shock for ye, lass. But the right sort of shock, I ken.’

Ashlynn was beyond speech and only sobbed the more.

‘You’re supposed to be glad,’ said Ban. ‘Now you’re like to drown me and finish what the Normans started.’

It drew a ragged laugh and she tried to dash away the tears with her hand. With the other she was holding one of his tightly as though, if she did not, he might vanish before her eyes. He eyed her critically a moment and then looked up at the man beside her.

‘I think I have you to thank for my life.’

‘Others must take the credit for that.’

‘May I know who you are and how my sister comes to be here?’

‘I am Iain MacAlpin of Glengarron.’ As he spoke the name he saw instant recognition in the young man’s face. ‘I met your sister by chance when she was fleeing from the Normans. She has since done me the honour of becoming my wife.’

‘Your wife?’ Ban stared at him thunderstruck for a moment before his gaze went swiftly to his sister’s face. For the first time he noticed the fading bruises there and his eyes narrowed. ‘Ashlynn, he hasn’t hurt you?’

‘No, certainly not!’ The words came out more forcefully than she’d intended but she would not have Ban under any kind of misapprehension on that point. ‘These came courtesy of a certain Norman lord.’

‘But how came you to be married? And to
him
of all men?’

She saw the anxiety in his face and the pain around his eyes. ‘It’s a long story, Ban, and it will keep for now.’

At this point Meg intervened. ‘Aye, it will. You’ll have time enough to catch up on all your news. Meantime, the laddie needs rest if he’s to recover his strength.’

It was a hint and Ashlynn made to rise but Ban detained her. ‘You’ll come back?’

‘Of course, I’ll come back.’ She smiled. ‘Do you think I’d leave you so soon?’

Only then did he release her hand. Reluctantly and with several backward looks she allowed herself to be led away. However, once the door closed behind them Ashlynn turned to face Iain, her face pale with contained emotion.

‘All this time you knew he was alive and yet you said nothing.’ Her voice caught on a sob. ‘How could you do that?’

‘Ashlynn, I…’

‘I thought everyone I’d ever loved was dead and you let me go on thinking it when a word from you would have made all the difference.’

‘It wasn’t like that, I swear it.’

‘What kind of man are you, Iain, that you could even consider such a deed?’

‘Will you at least let me speak before you judge me?’

Ashlynn bit her lip. He looked at her pale tear-stained face and waited. Then at length she nodded.

‘Very well. Say what you want to say.’

‘My men and I passed through Heslingfield not long after the Normans had left.’ Seeing her expression he nodded. ‘It was on our way north. Fergus and Dougal found your brother among the injured. He was unconscious but just breathing. We had no idea who he was, only that he was nigh unto death and certainly not one of the Normans. We tended him as best we could and put him in the wagon. I didn’t put two and two together until I heard you speak of your brother. Even then I said nothing because I thought the lad was going to die, and you had already lost him once. I didn’t want you to have to go through it again. You had already been through so much.’ He paused. ‘If I was wrong, I’m sorry. Please believe that, if you believe nothing else.’

For a long moment she said nothing, her eyes missing no detail of his expression. It spoke of remorse and sincerity. He saw her draw in a long shuddering breath.

‘I believe you did what you thought was best,’ she said at last, ‘but it was a decision you had no right to make.’ The blue eyes filled with tears anew.

‘If I’ve hurt you, lass, I’m truly sorry for it.’

The tone also sounded sincere and she wanted to believe that it really was but the tears spilled over anyway. Completely overwrought she had no way to stop them. Then she felt his arms around her holding her close.

‘Shh, lass, don’t cry. It’s all right.’

Suddenly he felt all the tension go out of her but her body shook as she wept on his shoulder. For some time they remained thus while he let her have her cry out. Eventually the tears subsided a little and she lifted her head to find him regarding her with deep concern.

‘I’ve been a fool. Forgive me, Ashlynn.’

Even as he spoke he realised that fool was an understatement; he should have listened to his inner doubts and told her long since. By seeking to spare her pain he had caused her far more. What he had never anticipated was how much her tears would hurt him.

She drew in another shaky breath, searching for the words, but emotion locked her voice in her throat as reaction set in. Her head swam. A strong arm caught her by the waist as she slumped, and another went under her knees, lifting her effortlessly. Then he carried her back upstairs and set her down gently in a chair by the fire. Frowning to see her pallor he put his own cloak around her and then poured some spiced wine, heating it with an iron from the fire, before handing her the cup.

‘Drink this.’

Obediently she took it. He watched her sip the hot liquid and with no small relief saw some of the colour return to her cheeks.

‘That’s better.’ Satisfied that she was recovering a little, he poured some wine for himself and pulled up a chair beside her.

Becoming properly aware of her surroundings for the first time Ashlynn realised with a start that they were in his room, the chamber where they had dined together on their first evening at Dark Mount. It aroused some mixed feelings. Iain, watching her closely, guessed at it. Her nerves were raw enough already before this morning’s nerve-shattering discovery.

‘I’d hoped to cheer you with the news but I see now the shock was too sudden. I should have prepared you for it first,’ he said.

‘It was a shock,’ she agreed, ‘but, as Meg said, the right kind at least. It was just a little overwhelming coming so soon after…after everything else.’

Iain’s jaw tightened, thinking that the ‘everything else’ to which she referred had been a fearful load for anyone to bear, let alone a fragile girl.

‘I had no wish to be the cause of further tears in you, Ashlynn.’

‘I know that now. It was just the discovery that I hadn’t lost everyone after all.’ She paused. ‘Ban and I were always close. He is only a year older than I am.’