The Laird's Captive Wife (18 page)

‘What was it you wanted to speak to me about, lass?’

She took a deep breath and seized her chance, explaining about her discoveries in the store room. Listening, Iain was taken aback and, in spite of himself, faintly amused. Whatever else he had been expecting it wasn’t that.

‘So I wanted to ask…may I put those things to use?’

She waited, wondering if he would be angry. However, his expression did not suggest it and his tone when he spoke was perfectly level.

‘You need not ask my permission, Ashlynn. This is your home now. Arrange it as you please.’

Footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of some of his men and with that he favoured her with a bow and left. For a moment she watched him go, feeling strangely bereft. Clearly he had no further interest in the matter or in her either. Turning away, she summoned a servant and bade him find Morag.

* * *

Some hours later Ashlynn surveyed her chamber with something approaching real pleasure. The cold stone walls were concealed now by the glorious tapestries, hanging there in many-coloured splendour. By her bed the bearskin rug covered a large section of floor. The bed itself and the chairs were adorned with colourful cushions. In one corner was the carved screen. The mirror lay on the table with the flagon and cups. Now that the fire had at last taken the chill off the air the overall effect was of cheerful cosiness.

‘It looks fine, my lady,’ said Morag, surveying it critically.

‘Yes, it does,’ she agreed. ‘Much less like a convent cell.’

They both laughed. Then Morag turned to go. Ashlynn saw her check slightly and turned to see Iain in the doorway. He stepped aside to let the servant pass and then came in, looking casually around. She experienced a moment of misgiving, wondering what his reaction might be. However, she needn’t have worried.

‘You’ve done a good job, lass.’

‘Thank you. I think so too.’

He glanced down at her and smiled faintly. All at once the room seemed a lot smaller and a lot warmer. The bed on the other hand seemed to have grown much larger. Her heartbeat quickened and in the name of self-preservation Ashlynn took a step away.

‘The tapestries are finer even than I expected. Where did they come from?’

‘France,’ he replied.

Her heart sank as an unwelcome possibility suddenly dawned. Had these things belonged to Eloise? Suddenly she was mortified. Why hadn’t such a possibility occurred to her before now?

‘They belonged to my mother,’ he continued. ‘After she died they were put away. I’d almost forgotten about them, but it seems fitting now that they should return to their rightful place.’

She let out the breath she had been holding, feeling almost weak-kneed with relief.

‘Did she die long ago?’

‘Aye, when I was four and ten. My father packed away everything connected with her, including me.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Although I was sent to France rather than the storeroom.’

‘That must have been hard.’

‘Not really. It was a relief in many ways. As I told you, my father and I were never close. He had a quick temper and frequently exercised it on me, whether it was merited or not.’

Although there was nothing remotely self-pitying about the tone of voice Ashlynn sensed the hurt beneath. Sensed it and identified with it.

‘Well, families are strange things, are they not?’

‘Aye, lass, they are.’

‘Children are vulnerable enough without having to contend with the enmity of a parent.’

The tone was even but he caught the wistful expression in her eyes.

‘We play as the dice fall,’ he replied, ‘and perhaps it makes us stronger.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You are strong in spite of your father,’ he said. ‘Strong and brave.’

There was no hint of mockery in the quiet tone and Ashlynn looked up in surprise. Then she shook her head.

‘My father’s word was reckless.’

‘Then he didn’t know you very well, did he?’

Disconcerted by the unforeseen direction of the conversation, Ashlynn changed tack. ‘Did you have no brothers or sisters?’

‘Three other siblings died in infancy but I have a sister living.’

‘A sister? What is her name?’

‘Jeannie.’

‘Shall I meet her soon?’

‘I doubt it,’ he replied.

‘Oh, she lives some distance away then.’

‘Not so far, but in recent years we have become—estranged.’

Ashlynn took a deep breath. ‘May I ask why?’

‘We quarrelled.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ She paused. ‘Could you not make it up again?’

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘This disagreement admits of no remedy.’ Then seeing her puzzled expression he went on, ‘It concerns Fitzurse.’

‘Fitzurse!’Ashlynn was genuinely astonished. ‘How so?’

‘Jeannie thinks I should give up my quest to find him.’

‘I see.’

‘No, you don’t. You have no idea.’

The tone was unwontedly harsh. She could hear anger and, beneath it, something that sounded more like pain. The expression in his eyes was glacial. One part of her mind quailed, telling her to back off and leave it alone. Yet the stronger part knew she could not. This must be faced. She needed to know, to understand. Instinctively she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

‘Then will you not tell me?’

For a moment she thought he was going to snub her as he had before, and tell her it was none of her concern. She saw him draw a deep breath as though to steady himself.

‘If anyone has a right to know I suppose it is you,’ he replied.

Her heartbeat quickened and she waited, unwilling to do anything that might break the mood now.

‘I told you that I was married before and that my wife had died,’ he continued. ‘Fitzurse was the man responsible for that.’

Ashlynn stared at him, stunned and appalled together.

‘My father had sent me to France in order to complete my military training. His sister was…is…married to a French nobleman, the Comte de Vaucourt, a man renowned for skill at arms. It was in their house that I met Eloise. She was…most beautiful. I believe I fell in love with her at first sight.’

As she listened Ashlynn kept her face determinedly neutral, hiding the turmoil of thoughts behind.

‘My feelings were reciprocated and, since there were no objections to the match from either of our families, we married. For a while we were very happy. However, I had a jealous rival.’

Ashlynn’s gaze met his for a moment. ‘Fitzurse.’

‘Aye. He had had designs on Eloise himself and took it much amiss that her hand should be granted to one he saw as a foreign interloper. That it was so clearly a love match piqued his pride even further. So, believing himself slighted, he planned his revenge.’

‘What did he do?’

‘The Comte de Vaucourt arranged a boar hunt and a large party rode out that day, including Eloise and myself. Somehow, in the course of the chase, she became separated from the rest. Fitzurse’s men were waiting and, seeing their chance, carried her off to his castle some few miles distant.’

Ashlynn paled, remembering her own encounter with Fitzurse and knowing too well what the man was capable of. Iain took a deep breath.

‘He raped her repeatedly and then, when he had done, gave her to his men. When they had had their sport they released her. We eventually found her in the fields not far from Vaucourt. Somehow she must have made her way back there. She was in such a state that only the greatest effort of will could have kept her going. Above all else she wanted to see Fitzurse punished, to be avenged. Having gained that holy assurance she seized the dagger from my belt and ended her life.’

‘Dear God.’

‘The shame was not hers but she could not live with it.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I sought redress through the law. Like a fool I thought that having right on my side must result in justice. However, when the matter was brought before Duke Richard, Fitzurse swore that Eloise had gone with him of her own volition, that it had been only the two of them involved. He had powerful friends who bore false witness to that effect. And since those same men had provided the gold to fund his wars, the Duke inclined to their part. I would have killed Fitzurse anyway and to hell with the consequences but, knowing that, my uncle had me forcibly returned to Scotland for my own safety.’

‘How did he do that?’

‘He drugged the wine one evening. I woke up on board a merchant ship bound for the Firth of Forth. I cursed my uncle’s name at first but, with the wisdom of hindsight, I saw that he was right. I’d live to fight another day. In the years that followed he sent me regular intelligence from France. In that way I learned Fitzurse had taken service with Duke William and was bound for England. Then I knew my turn was coming.’ He paused. ‘My one fear was that my enemy might have perished at Hastings along with all those others. Happily he did not.’

‘And you have sought him ever since.’

‘Aye, and one day we will meet.’

There could be no mistaking the cold purpose in his tone and Ashlynn shivered.

‘That day may be far distant,’ she replied.

‘One year or ten, it makes no difference. I shall keep my vow.’

As the ramifications became clear, Ashlynn knew a moment of deep sadness. Would the evils of the past never be exorcised? If they were ever to build a life together its foundations could not be those of hatred and revenge. And if they did build a future could he ever feel for her what he felt for Eloise?

Mistaking the cause of her silence he eyed her ruefully. ‘It’s not a pretty story. Perhaps I should not have told you.’

‘No, it isn’t pretty,’ she replied, ‘but I’m glad you did all the same. It makes so many things clear.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yes, among them why your sister should have asked you to give up your quest.’

He frowned. ‘Jeannie doesn’t know what she asks.’

‘I think she does. She wants you to move on.’

‘That is not possible.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Not until I have rid this earth of Fitzurse.’

‘I know as well as anyone why you hate this man, but we cannot alter what is past, Iain.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Let it go. Look to the future instead.’

Her touch, though gentle, was warm. He could feel it beneath his sleeve. The effect was both soothing and sensual. He forced himself to ignore it along with the haunting expression in her eyes. ‘There can be no future until this is settled. My vow was made in blood and it will be met in blood. I will not be forsworn.’

‘Will you sacrifice everything to that end?’

‘If needs be.’

‘Does that include me?’

‘This has nothing to do with you, Ashlynn.’

‘How can you say so? How can you even think it?’ she replied. ‘I too have cause to hate Fitzurse, but if I let hatred govern my life he will have won. Don’t you see?’

Iain’s jaw tightened. He could not doubt the sincerity of the words or mistake the plea in her tone, but nor could he cede the point. ‘You will deal with him in your way and I in mine.’

With that he turned and left her. She knew then beyond doubt that she was one of the things that would be sacrificed to this cause. Iain had married her only because he must. He wouldn’t let that get in the way of his ambition. Nor, she reflected sadly, could she hope to win his heart. Quite clearly, Eloise had it still.

Chapter Eight

I
n the meantime, Ban was recovering well from his wounds and Ashlynn observed his physical progress with satisfaction. Of more concern was his state of mind. He never spoke of Heslingfield or what had occurred there but the events had inevitably cast their shadow over him. Although he had not entirely lost his former cheerful demeanour he was subject now to long periods of silent introspection. She had no need to ask what he was thinking about; the expression in his eyes was more eloquent.

Typically, he wanted to get back on his feet and left his sick bed at the first opportunity. Ashlynn went to visit him one morning to find him up and dressed.

‘Ban, what on earth are you about? You’re not strong enough yet.’

‘I cannot lie there any longer, Ash. It has been weeks.’

‘Three weeks. If you’re not careful you’ll tear those wounds open.’

‘‘Tis but the shoulder I need to favour for a while. The rest are almost healed.’

‘I’d say the one to your head has addled your brain.’

‘Not so, sister mine. You fuss over nothing.’

‘True enough, I suppose. A blow there could never do serious damage.’

Ban grinned. ‘If I were not wearing this sling I’d make you pay for that impertinence.’

‘I’m trembling at the narrowness of my escape.’

Suddenly she became aware that he was looking past her towards the doorway, and turned to see Iain there. To judge from his amused expression he had overheard much of their exchange. Ashlynn appealed to him now.

‘My lord, tell him he should not be abroad so soon.’

‘Alas, I fear my words would fall on deaf ears for I detect a strong streak of stubbornness in your family.’ He came into the room and surveyed Ban keenly. ‘Besides, I think lying abed has but a finite charm.’

‘You speak truth, my lord.’ Ban regarded his sister in triumph.

‘This is a conspiracy,’ she replied.

Iain smiled. ‘Not at all, though I fear you are outvoted on this occasion.’

‘All right. I know when I’m beaten.’ Ashlynn fixed Ban with a speaking look. ‘Just don’t do anything foolish for a while, I beg.’

‘You know me.’

‘Yes, quite.’

* * *

In fact Ban showed remarkably good sense for several days, taking things slowly at first and contenting himself with gentle exercise within doors. However, he, like Ashlynn, loved to be outside, and before too long proposed a turn about the courtyard for some fresh air. It was with some misgivings that she agreed to accompany him, but she knew that even if she refused he would go anyway.

When Iain had said her brother was stubborn it had been no more than the truth.

In fact, her worries were unfounded. Ban showed no signs of a relapse and, as the days passed, the fresh air restored his colour and his appetite. Gradually he increased the time he spent out there and when the men were practising with swords he would linger to watch and gradually, through her husband’s agency, was drawn into their conversation. Finding him interested and knowledgeable the men accepted his presence among them and Ashlynn, observing from the sidelines, was grateful for it. He needed their company and with it a chance to think about something other than the past.