The Laird's Captive Wife (30 page)

‘They meant to kill you, Iain. They meant to make me watch…’ Her voice caught on a sob.

‘Ach, lass, I’m sorry.’ He drew her to his breast until her sobs quieted a little. ‘You should not have had to suffer for my fault.’

‘It doesn’t matter now. His plan failed. It’s over.’

Iain glanced towards the waiting men. ‘No, lass. Not yet.’

She looked up quickly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s one more thing I have to do.’

Her heart beat a little faster and with a sense of dread she followed his gaze to where his men stood. Then she recognised their prisoner.

‘Iain, you promised…’

‘I promised not to seek him out and I have kept my word. He has sought me.’

‘That is true, but even so I beg you…’

‘This must be settled, Ashlynn, and I mean to see that it is,’ he replied.

The tone was implacable and she knew that no words of hers would change his mind. They walked back to where Dougal and the others waited. In their midst stood Fitzurse, his hands bound. Seeing his sister, Ban hastened to greet her with a glad smile, folding her in his arms. Then, as he glanced down and saw her tear-stained face, his joy faded a little.

‘Dear God, are you all right, Ash? Did this scum hurt you?’

‘No, he did nothing, beyond holding me prisoner.’

‘I thank heaven for it.’ Ban threw a cold glance at the captive. ‘But this vermin will pay for his crimes in due course.’

‘Aye, he will,’ replied Iain.

‘It is your right, my lord,’ said Ban, ‘for yours is the prior claim. I acknowledge it and yield in obedience to the duty I owe you. But let his payment take into account the destruction of Heslingfield and the slaying of our kin.’

‘It will, good brother, I swear it.’ Iain looked at Fitzurse and then at Dougal, nodding toward the ring of stones. ‘Take him in there.’

His men moved into the ancient monument and formed up in a large inner circle leaving Fitzurse at its centre. Then each one drew his sword. The Norman darted swift looks around him but could find no way out. Moreover, the faces that met him there were cold and hard, entirely without pity or remorse. He licked dry lips. The Scottish laird strolled into the circle, a naked sword in his hand. He halted a few yards away.

‘Cut his bonds.’

When Dougal had obliged, Iain thrust the sword into the earth and left it quivering there. Then he drew his own blade and looked at Fitzurse.

‘Defend yourself.’

The tone was soft but there could be no mistaking the intention behind. Fitzurse edged forward, his gaze darting between the sword and his waiting opponent, half-expecting some trick. It never came; the other man made no move towards him. Then his hand closed on the hilt and the weapon was his.

The two men circled each other and Ashlynn caught her breath as Fitzurse rushed forward. Iain side-stepped, parrying the thrust easily. The blades engaged again as the Norman attacked with a rain of fierce blows. Each time his sword was met and turned aside. Then, without warning, Iain lunged. Too fast for the eye to see, his blade caught his opponent across the upper arm. The only sign of its passing was the sudden red stain that bloomed through the rent sleeve of the leather tunic. Fitzurse glared at it and then retaliated with another series of savage cuts. Again they were turned aside. Another swift lunge and Iain’s sword drew a deeper gash along the other arm. Biting back the cry of pain the Norman gave a little ground, circling once more, warier now as he looked for an opening. Then he darted in again. This time Iain gave ground. Fitzurse smiled and went after him. Too late he saw the feint. The Scottish sword opened a gash along his ribs. Fitzurse snarled, clapping a hand to his side, feeling there the sticky warmth of blood. In fury and desperation he laid on anew, succeeding in driving the other man back by the sheer ferocity of the attack. Sparks leapt from the edges of the blades.

However, no matter how hard he tried he could not penetrate his enemy’s defence and his sword met only steel or empty air. Another cut appeared on his left arm. He realised then that the Scot was playing with him, meaning to weaken him gradually, until he could step in and deliver the
coup de grâce
. Fitzurse knew a moment of panic. The wounds he had sustained were bleeding freely and the pain increasing. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He had fought many opponents but never one as fast or as skilled.

‘Why do you not end it?’ he demanded.

‘I’m not ready to end it yet,’ the Scot replied.

Fitzurse reeled away towards the edge of the circle, seeking blindly for some means of escape but was met with a ring of steel. Seeing there was nothing else for it, he turned and stumbled back towards his enemy. Iain let him come. The Norman laid on again, but his blows were wilder now and careless costing him a slash to the leg. He cried out as blood poured from the wound, staining the grass at his feet.

Ashlynn drew in a sharp breath, her gaze fixed on Iain’s face. It was utterly remorseless, the face of a warrior whose hand wielded death, a face that fascinated and appalled. Beside her Ban never moved, riveted by the spectacle before them, understanding now exactly what he was watching.

It went on for some time until Fitzurse, bleeding from a dozen cuts, sank to his knees, exhausted, his expression filled with loathing.

‘End it then, damn you.’

Ashlynn trembled, waiting for Iain to deal the death blow. It did not come. Instead he lowered his sword, regarding his enemy with contempt.

‘I’ll not take your worthless life,’ he said then. ‘I’ll leave your fate to a higher authority.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My king is well acquainted with your evil deeds already, and his views on those who violate the peace of his realm are well known. You’re going to Dunfermline.’ He turned away and gestured to Dougal and Fergus. ‘Get him on a horse.’

Fitzurse paled, knowing the swift death he’d looked for would not be forthcoming. In its place was something far worse. The realisation of how much worse filled him with desperate fury. He struggled to his feet and lifting the sword rushed at his enemy’s unguarded back.

Ashlynn screamed a warning. Iain spun round, sword raised to block the coming blow. As he did so Fitzurse’s injured leg gave way, throwing him off balance and on to the thrusting point. The Norman froze in his tracks, hanging there, an expression of shock on his face, before both legs buckled and he fell.

Ashlynn looked on in shuddering disbelief. Then she ran towards her husband and a moment later was in his arms. He held her close and for the space of several heartbeats neither one spoke.

‘I’ll not pretend to be sorry that he’s dead,’ he said at last, ‘but I truly intended to let Malcolm deal with him finally.’

‘It wasn’t your fault. Fitzurse was treacherous to the end.’Her voice caught on a sob. ‘I thought he’d killed you.’

‘But for your warning he might have done. I thank you, lass.’

‘I can scarcely believe he’s dead, that it’s over now.’

‘It’s over. Today the ghosts of the past have been laid.’ Even as he spoke the words he knew them for truth. The burden of hatred had been lifted along with all its corrosive power. Eloise could rest in peace for his promise to her was fulfilled, and he could move on. ‘Fitzurse can harm us no more. Or anyone else for that matter.’

‘I thank God for it, and for keeping you safe.’

‘I thank Him too, lass.’

‘If you had been slain today I would have died afterwards. If you were gone there would be no point in living, for without you I could never be truly alive.’

For a moment he was quite still, his heart full. The dark gaze burned into her own, intent, seeking the answer to an unspoken question. Ashlynn knew immediately what it was.

‘I love you, Iain. More than my own life.’

‘And I you, lass. When you were taken from me I finally understood how much. I have lived in dread since then lest history should repeat itself.’ He drew a shuddering breath. ‘But God was merciful this time.’

‘Yes, He was.’

‘It’s a gift I value above all else. You are most precious to me, Ashlynn.’

‘As you are to me, my lord.’

‘My love and my wife,’ he replied. Then he drew her close in a much more intimate embrace making further speech impossible.

Epilogue

A
shlynn sat on a sun-warmed rock by the side of the burn and turned her face to the blue vault of the sky where a lark was singing. The liquid notes spilled joy on to the receiving earth and seeped into the soul like a healing benediction. For a while she followed the progress of the bird until it was no more than a dark dot on the edge of heaven. She smiled and brought her gaze back to earth, letting it range along the wooded slope of the glen, taking in the new green on every branch and twig, breathing the scent of grass and loam where splashes of yellow and white announced clumps of celandine and anemone. In the distant fields cattle grazed and new lambs frolicked. The land had thrown off the icy shackles of winter and everything around seemed to rejoice in the knowledge.

She was so engrossed in the scene that she failed to hear the soft hoof falls on the turf behind her, only becoming aware of the approaching horseman when his mount snorted. Startled from her reverie she looked round quickly and then smiled, getting to her feet. The dapple grey stallion stopped a few yards away, its rider surveying her keenly. Then he returned the smile.

‘This is a most pleasant surprise.’

‘Indeed it is. I did not expect you back from the village so soon, my lord.’

‘My business there did not take as long as I feared it might.’

He brought his leg over the front of the saddle and dismounted, letting the rein fall so that the horse might graze. Then he came to join his wife, sliding an arm about her waist. ‘I swear you get more beautiful each time I see you.’

‘This is blatant flattery.’

‘Not so.’ He bent and kissed her soft mouth. ‘’Tis fully two hours since last I set eyes on you and I can avouch that your beauty has grown.’

Ashlynn laughed. ‘My beauty, or your lust, my lord?’

‘All right, my lust.’ He seized hold of her with a teasing growl and, ignoring her startled shriek, took a much longer and more intimate kiss that sent the blood coursing through her veins. ‘But what are you doing here, lass? Don’t you know how dangerous it is to walk out alone?’

‘It is too fine a day to be shut up indoors. Besides, there is no danger in walking alone in Glengarron. It is most strongly guarded.’

‘Glengarron is especially dangerous,’ he replied. ‘Have you not heard about the reputation of its lord?’

‘I have heard some rumours about that. Should I be worried?’

‘At this moment you should be very worried.’ He swept her up and then took another lusty kiss. Breathless and laughing Ashlynn struggled in vain. The dark eyes gleamed. ‘It’s no use to try and escape, lass. You’re in my power now and I’m minded to have my way with you.’

‘Alas, the rumours are true then.’

His lips brushed her cheek and neck and throat sending a delightful shiver along her skin. ‘Aye, they are, as you’re about to discover.’

Ashlynn giggled. ‘I beg you will be gentle, my lord.’

‘Gentle? Why so?’

‘Because I’m going to have a baby.’

The words stopped him in his tracks and all amusement faded. For a moment he stared at her, thunderstruck. ‘A baby? When?’

‘Next winter.’

‘Ashlynn, are you sure?’

‘Quite sure.’

A slow grin lit his face. ‘That’s wonderful!’ Then another thought occurred to him and he regarded her with concern. ‘But you should have told me before, lass. I wouldn’t have been so rough. Have I hurt you?’

‘No, you haven’t hurt me.’

Feeling somewhat relieved he set her down gently, letting his gaze travel the length of her but could detect no sign of the child beneath the smooth surface of her gown. ‘How long before it shows?’

‘Not long. Another month perhaps.’

‘How long have you known?’

‘I have suspected for a while, but I wanted to be sure before I told you.’

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Ashlynn regarded him askance.

‘Nothing terrible will happen if you kiss me again, Iain.’

Nothing loath he accepted the invitation. Immediately he felt the familiar spark leap between them but he controlled it now, unwilling to do anything that might harm her or their child. And so the kiss was gentle and tender, conveying without words the thoughts of his heart. Then they sat together on the rock, enjoying the solitude and the sunshine and the secret knowledge they now shared.

‘If our child is a son I would have him grow up to be a warrior like his father,’ she said. ‘If a daughter, then fair and wise.’

‘Aye,’ he replied, ‘and with her mother’s spirit.’

‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.’

‘Not so. I would not have a milk-and-water maid in her place.’

‘Whatever this child grows up to be, it will know its parents’ love.’

His face grew serious and he nodded. ‘Aye, lass, so it will.’

Having spent his youth finding out what fatherhood was not, he had a more than fair idea of what it should be. It was a role that, hitherto, he had only considered from a distance. Now it was about to become reality. The notion both scared and delighted him.

Unable to follow his thought Ashlynn eyed him quizzically.

‘Will you mind very much if the child is a girl?’

Drawn back to the present he returned her gaze. ‘No, lass. I won’t mind as long as you and she are well.’ He grinned. ‘Besides, there is time aplenty to sire sons.’

She laughed. ‘You sound very certain of that, my lord.’

‘I am.’ He bent and brushed her mouth with his. ‘For I could never long resist the enchantment you have cast. I think the spell will not be broken while I live.’

The sun was past its zenith when they strolled back to the quietly grazing horse. Having lifted her on to the saddle he mounted and turned for home, keeping the grey to a gentle easy walk. Ashlynn relaxed against him, enjoying the warmth of his chest against her back, secure in the protective circle of his arm. Here, with him, in the glory of the spring sunlight the shadows of the past receded. All around them new life quickened like the child in her womb giving promise and hope for the future, a future that, not so long ago, she could never have dreamed would be hers.