His Lady of Castlemora. Joanna Fulford
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never take no for an answer,’ he replied. ‘You should know that well enough by now.’
She tested the hold but it didn’t alter. ‘Let go of me, Murdo.’
‘You escaped me once before but I’ll not let it happen again.’
The tone was casual but its implications were not. Her heart thumped unpleasantly hard but she forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘You forget yourself. You may have a trusted position in this household, but it does not give you the right thus to presume.’
‘Not yet perhaps,’ he replied, ‘but know this: I intend to have a husband’s rights over you soon enough.’
That quiet assertion snapped the last fragile strand of her self-control. ‘Never!’
Tearing herself free of his hold she turned on her heel and ran off through the trees. He watched but made no attempt to stop her.
‘Aye, run from me, Isabelle,’ he murmured. ‘You won’t escape.’
Chapter One
Three months later
Isabelle urged the horse to a canter, wanting only to put space between herself and Castlemora for a while. In theory she ought not to ride out alone but Murdo and her brother had gone out hunting earlier so there was no one to prevent her. All the same, freedom was going to be short-lived. Her father might have decided to bide his time over the Neils, but he had not been tardy in seeking another husband for her …
‘Glengarron is an old ally. Marriage will serve to strengthen the tie.’
Her stomach turned over. Somehow she managed to control her voice. ‘Forgive me, but I thought the Laird of Glengarron was already married.’
‘So he is. I was speaking of his brother-in-law, Lord Ban.’
‘I see.’
‘He’s a Sassenach but that canna be helped.’
‘A Sassenach?’
‘It’s not ideal, I admit. On the plus side he’s a respected warrior with strong family connections, but, having no land, he canna be so particular in his choice of a bride.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘Nor I so particular in my choice of a husband?’
‘You canna afford to be choosy now.’
‘Perhaps it is the Sassenach thane who will be choosy.’
‘Why should he be?’ He eyed her appraisingly. ‘You’ve looks enough and the Graham blood to boot. No doubt some small financial inducement could be found as well. It should be enough.’
With an effort she held fury in check. ‘And if it isn’t?’
‘There’s always a convent.’
‘I have no vocation for the religious life.’
He regarded her steadily. ‘Murdo looks at you a good deal. You could do worse.’
‘I hardly think so.’
‘In that case I advise you to put on your finest gown and make yourself agreeable when Lord Ban arrives.’
Her mouth dried. ‘When is he expected?’
‘Very soon now. See to it that all necessary preparations are made to welcome him.’
The recollection of that conversation filled Isabelle with roiling anger. Nevertheless, she didn’t dare to disobey. Castlemora was ready to receive the guest. Meanwhile, she needed time alone to gather her composure and ready herself to face what was coming. For that she required some peace and quiet.
Holding her mount to a steady pace she followed the burn until it widened out into a pool beneath a stand of trees. Although it was just within the bounds of Castlemora land it was a secluded place and, ordinarily, she would not have come here alone. If Murdo ever found out, the fat would be in the fire. Over the years the master-at-arms had evolved a highly efficient system of intelligence. Almost nothing happened at Castlemora without him knowing. The hunt was a fortunate distraction.
Isabelle dismounted and tethered her horse. The sun was high now and the day hot. Her clothing was sticking to her back and the water looked inviting. She glanced around but the land was still; there was no sign of human presence as far as the eye could see. The temptation grew stronger. It ought to be safe enough for a while at least.
Ban smiled and leaned back against the tree, glad to be out of the saddle for a while. He and his companions had been riding since early morning, albeit at an easy pace to spare the horses. Their mounts were dozing in the shade while the men, having partaken of bread and cheese and slabs of dried meat, stretched out awhile at their ease. A little way off among the trees Davy stood watch. For all that the country seemed peaceful it never paid to be complacent. Ban had learned that through long experience. For five years he had ridden with Black Iain of Glengarron, watching, learning, training, his body growing hard and lean and strong, his mind sharp and focused. The stripling youth who had been saved after the destruction of Heslingfield was long gone and in his place the man, now a respected warrior in his own right. Being Iain’s brother-in-law had won him no favours. Ban was expected to prove himself like all the rest. He applied himself wholeheartedly, for by concentrating on the new life he could forget the old. Here the past mattered not. He was judged by what he did now. Though he was treated with civility enough by his companions he knew they watched him, judged him. It had been a matter of pride to be found worthy, to win their trust and acceptance.
He glanced across at his companions: Ewan, Jock and Davy, good men all, men he trusted at his back in a fight. They would stand by him as he would by them. They had been through enough adventures together to know it. Not that he expected to do any fighting in the near future. Delivering some horses to an old friend was hardly likely to be fraught with peril. He did it as a favour to Iain. Of the other, more personal, matter he had said nothing to his men. After all, he had not positively decided yet; could not decide until he knew more. A few days at Castlemora would doubtless clarify matters.
Unbidden his mind returned to the conversation a week earlier. He was playing in the courtyard with his young nephews when Iain appeared on the scene. For a while Iain watched the boisterous game, an indulgent smile hovering on his lips. When eventually they stopped for breath he dismissed the two children with the intelligence that he wanted private speech with their uncle.
‘Is anything wrong?’ asked Ban when the youngsters had gone.
‘No, ‘twas merely that I would ask a favour.’
‘What kind of favour?’
‘I need someone to deliver some horses to Castlemora. Archibald Graham asked me for some good breeding stock a while ago. I told him I’d look out for some likely animals.’
‘The brood mares from Jarrow by any chance?’
‘The same.’
Ban nodded. They were fine animals. However, it wasn’t a challenging undertaking and any of Iain’s men could have delivered them, so why was he being singled out for the task? As so often he sensed there was more here than appeared on the surface.
‘Would you mind?’ Iain’s tone was casual. That more than anything else set off alarms in Ban’s brain and he couldn’t help but smile.
‘Of course not.’ The assertion was sincere. Castlemora was no more than two days’ ride and the weather fine. Besides, he owed his brother-in-law a great deal and was glad to return