Laird Dunbar stepped closer to the bed and looked down at Isa, and a true smile broke through even for a moment.
“She looks like her mother, and she has the woman’s spirit. Agnes defended our castle once, and it was the story of legends. She had stones thrown down upon the men who attempted to break through the gate. The standoff lasted for weeks while I was on campaign for Robert. We’d only put aside our animosity months earlier, and I owed him my time and my fealty. The English eventually retreated when they began to starve. They thought they could lay siege and force my people out, but Agnes ensured I had a home to come back to that was still solidly within Scotland. Isa is much like her mother. She can withstand life on the border, but I don’t want her to have to.” Dunbar laid his hand on Ric’s shoulder and squeezed. “Take her back to court or offer your sword arm to another clan, but don’t stay here.”
Ric nodded, unsure of what to say. He wanted to accept Dunbar’s word, but he could not be sure that it was not spoken out of fear and worry that would later dissolve, leaving him still bound to the clan, nor could he be sure that King Robert would allow him to walk away.
The men nodded to one another, and Laird Dunbar slipped from the chamber.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next fortnight dragged on as though Ric had been caught in a bog. He did not leave his chamber once. Food was brought to him that he barely touched. He bathed with an eye on Isa at all times. He slept in a chair beside the bed, his hand resting on her arm, until Hagatha declared it was safe for him to sleep beside Isa without worrying about jostling her. He did everything to care for her, feeding and bathing her as well as talking to her throughout the day. He ordered Isa’s books be brought up, and Ric read to her for hours.
Alasdair had been ill from his injury but recovered sooner than Isa. Ric tried to convince himself it was because Alasdair was stronger, but he struggled not to hold the man’s speedy recovery against him when Isa barely made any sign that she was alive besides her shallow breathing. Alasdair sat with Ric every day, often taking turns reading, so Ric’s voice could rest. He kept Ric informed of clan matters and brought documents for him to sign and passed along Ric’s adjudications on disputes that Alasdair relayed to him. Ric appreciated the man he once wanted to throttle. He knew he would make the recommendation that Alasdair assume the role of chieftain at Barsalloch Point until he inherited the lairdship from his uncle.
It was on the seventeenth day after Isa’s injury that Ric finally knew they were making progress. The worst of Isa’s fever had broken after the first week, but it would come back at night. She remained listless even after the fever ceased plaguing her. Ric knew from his own experience that her body was still recovering from the wound, and the infection and fever, but he was on the verge of panic when Isa did not appear to be making any progress. Hagatha had been to see Isa twice a day since the fever broke, but she had no answer as to why Isa did not seem to be improving. She could only reassure Ric that Isa was not worsening.
Ric dozed beside Isa, his hand on her arm, when he awoke to her trying to shake it off. Her arms twitched then twisted before he could tell she was attempting to lift it.
“Isa? Isa, are you awake?”
No response came to his questions, but he noticed a healthier color was replacing the pallid tone her sunken cheeks had taken on.
The next day, Ric noticed that Isa moved her legs as if to kick off the covers. He asked if she was too hot, and when he removed the heavy blankets, she settled again. For the next three days, Ric witnessed small things that finally assured him that Isa would recover.
“Ric?” Isa’s throat felt raw and swollen, but she forced herself to say her husband’s name. She was too thirsty to ignore. “Ric?”
She knew she was barely whispering as she could barely hear herself, but Ric was at her side immediately.
“Isa? You’re awake?”
“Mmm,” was the best that Isa could respond.
Ric looked down to see Isa’s emerald gaze was clear and bright.
“Wa—” Isa grimaced as pain tightened her airway.
“Water? I have some here for you.” Ric eased her into a sitting position and put the mug to her lips. He only allowed a dribble at a time, knowing that too much too soon would make her ill, and he could remember how badly his throat had hurt the various times he recovered from an injury.
Isa sipped the cool liquid and it amazed her how much better she felt within moments of drinking the water. She reached for Ric’s hand when he put the cup back on the bedside table.
“You. Here. Always.” She could not form a complete sentence, but she forced the words out wanting Ric to know she was aware he had taken care of her.
“Yes. Of course. There was nowhere else I was going to be but beside you.”
“Crofts?” She tried to clear her throat but winced.
“Shhh. I will tell you everything, but you must continue to rest.” When Isa scowled, Ric chuckled. “I know you feel like you’ve been resting for ages, but you can’t expect to jump out of bed after three weeks of being unconscious.”
Isa gasped and shook her head.
“Not that long,” she mouthed.
“Today marks day twenty-one.”
Isa was not sure how to react to the news that she had been unconscious for so long and that her husband had remained by her side for the entirety of her recovery. She had often heard him reading to her or talking to her, and she even remembered Alasdair being there.
“Do you remember being injured?”
Isa nodded but then frowned as a memory niggled at the back of her mind. Suddenly, the conversation that had taken place over her as she pretended to be dead came rushing back.
“Graystone,” she croaked.
“I know he orchestrated the attack here and the one that killed my mother all those years ago. He, Hargate, and Bella concocted rumors to lure me away. Hargate attempted to ambush me on my way from discovering that there had never been an attack on our crofters or the MacLellans. Bella led me to believe you were already dead, and for that, among her other sins, she lost her life. I was horrified to see the castle under siege. I’d already believed that the keep had fallen and that Graystone would be in control. It came as a shock to me and to the men when the battle was in full force as we approached. I fought my way into the bailey, and Alasdair told me you were inside. He thought you were safely hidden, not being sewn back together. I rode back out and eventually found Graystone. He confessed to what he did my mother and suggested that he wished he’d had the opportunity to do the same to you. He died two days ago.”
Isa furrowed her brow and shrugged her confusion as she shook her head. She thought the man would have been dead before the battle ended.
“He paid recompense for what he’s done to my family.” Ric would not tell Isa details then, but he knew she would find out inevitably sooner more likely than later. She nodded and accepted his explanation.
“I love you, my heart,” she rasped. “So frightened you wouldn’t return in time.”
She grimaced from trying to say too much.
“I love you, too, my sweet. I knew I did before this, but I didn’t understand its depth until I nearly lost you. Your father was here.” Isa jerked, unprepared for the shift in conversation. “He has released me from his service. He is sending your sisters to serve the queen, and he’d like us to escort them there. He doesn’t want you to live here anymore. He suggested that we either remain at court, or I find a clan to hire my sword arm out to.”
Isa’s mouth made a perfect circle in surprise.
“Don’t do that. You know what it makes me think of,” Ric teased.
“Maybe tomorrow. When I can swallow,” Isa mouthed, and Ric coughed.
“You’re horrible,” he declared, but Isa shook her head.
“No. Very good. You’ve said so.” Isa grinned as Ric coughed again.
“Did you not hear the part about me finding a new clan for us?”
I
sa nodded.
“Sinclairs?”
“Yes. That’s where I hope we can go. I don’t know if Magnus and Tavish have left yet. I suspect they will have after all this time, but I will send a message to their father if the king agrees.”
Ric’s breath caught as the full radiance of Isa’s smile was turned toward him. He wrapped his arms around his wife, and she nestled against him as she had so many nights before, and it was only moments later that they were both asleep.
It was another fortnight before Ric was convinced Isa was well enough to travel. She had made rapid improvements from the day she awoke. Ric sent a missive to her parents as well as the king. He informed the Dunbars that he would be taking Isa back to court and was prepared to escort their other daughters. He requested an audience with the king to discuss his release from owing Laird Dunbar his fealty.
Isa was excited to see her younger sisters for the first time in nearly three years. They were young women and ready for their duties at court. Lady Agnes oversaw the packing and preparations while Isa continued to recuperate. Isa spent as much time with her mother and sisters as she was able to manage, but she was always happiest when Ric carried her to their chamber each night. They slowly resumed their intimacy, able to do more each night. They found they enjoyed the exploration of different ways to share their need and demonstrate their love. With limitations still keeping them from the vigor they had always experienced before Isa’s injuries, a deeper bond formed between them as they took their time.
When Ric finally agreed that Isa was ready for the long journey and Lady Agnes was convinced they were well prepared, Ric wrapped Isa in a plaid and passed her to Alasdair before he mounted MacLellan. Alasdair handed Isa up to Ric, where her husband wrapped a second plaid around them plus his cloak.
“I shall suffocate! You’re like a raging fire to begin with. I shall swelter under all these layers,” Isa argued.
“We shall see.” Ric nudged MacLellan forward and led their party out of Barsalloch Point gates. Neither Ric nor Isa looked back. “Let me enjoy holding you. I don’t get to do that nearly often enough.”
“Only every morning, noon, and night,” Isa scoffed.
“Precisely. Not nearly enough. There is too much time in between.”
Isa gave up and burrowed into the warmth of Ric’s body and the many layers. She slept most of the journey, but she could tell she was getting stronger. By the time they reached Stirling, she felt almost like her old self, but even with her returned energy, she was not looking forward to seeing the king.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isa slipped away from her chamber while Ric thought she was napping. She wound her way through the passageways until she arrived at the door to the scriptorium. She pushed the door open and looked around, pleased to see the monks had already left for afternoon prayer. Isa slipped inside and made her way to the bookshelf where her favorite book of history on the Romans in Britannia sat. She struggled to reach the tome, so she pulled a chair over to the bookshelf.
She had just wrapped her fingers around the spine of the books when two strong hands plucked her from the chair. She squealed and pretended to pull away, but she suddenly came face-to-face with her husband’s menacing glare. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Their kiss grew immediately into the uncontrollable passion that had always existed between them.
“I think I shall finally have my greatest fantasy come true.” Ric stepped away from the chair and swept his arm across the table before seating Isa on the edge. “I’ve wanted to make love to you on this table since I first discovered you in here.”
“And if someone walks in?”
Ric held up the key to the only door to the chamber. Isa grinned as she reached for the laces to his leggings. Isa’s head fell back as she moaned, but she needed to see Ric, needed to watch him. Ric grinned at her and shook his head before continuing to work Isa into a frenzy with his tongue and fingers. When her breath shuddered, Ric knew she was ready for him. He slipped into her sheath as her muscles spasmed around him. He circled his hips each time she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. Their breathing was labored as they both sunk into the pleasure of making love. They tumbled over the edge into their release together, and afterwards, Ric leaned over Isa as she reclined on the table. She stroked his hair as he kissed the exposed skin of her chest.
“At least we didn’t get caught this time,” Isa laughed.
“I remembered to lock the door this time.”
“That doesn’t do us any good when we’re in the alcoves.”
“You shouldn’t have wriggled so much, then the tapestry wouldn’t have moved.”
“That wasn’t me!” Isa swatted at him indignantly. “That was entirely your fault then, too.”
“And the gardens?” Ric gave her a stern look but could not keep a straight face.
“Well, that time might have been my fault. But it was only Lady MacAdams and Lady Gordan who found us. They’re both looser than an old man’s gums.”
“With their favors and their gossip,” Ric admonished, but once more, he could not keep from smiling.
Neither of them had felt any guilt over the times they had been discovered, or nearly discovered, trysting since they arrived at court. It cast no doubts in anyone’s mind that they were a happily married love match. Women gave up trying to catch Ric’s eye as it never strayed from Isa, and the men quickly learned that their life was more valuable than flirting with Ric’s wife. Isa was far less tactful in letting the men know that she was not interested than Ric was with the women. She had nearly gelded more than one man within their first week back at court.
“I came to tell you that the king has called us for an audience,” Ric stood up and refastened the ties at his waist.
“And we’ve kept him waiting while we—” Isa gestured between them and then at the table.
“I told him it might take me awhile. I believe the king understood my meaning.”
“Ric!” Isa spluttered in exasperation as she hurried to right her skirts and smooth back her hair.
They gathered up the parchments and books that were strewn on the floor near the table then left the scriptorium hand in hand. They made their way to the Privy Council chamber where they were admitted immediately.
“Good of you to join us, Lady Isabella.” The Bruce looked up from where he poured over missives. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”
Isa dipped into a curtsy but refrained from speaking.
“Sir Dedric, it is my understanding that you wish to live somewhere other than at Barsalloch Point. Lady Isabella, are you in agreement with this?”
Isa wanted to look at Ric before she spoke, but she would not let the king think there was any doubt in either of their minds.
“I believe the Highlands are beautiful in spring. In fact, I’ve heard they’re quite lovely during all the seasons.”
Robert guffawed as he looked at the woman who had arrived at his court as barely more than a girl. She stood before him, an experienced courtier, but what struck him most was how happy the couple was together. He thought back to his own wife, Isabella, who died too soon after they were wed. She had been a Highland lass through and through, having married Robert well before he made his fight for the throne. Now his only reminder of her was their daughter Marjorie. Robert cleared his mind of his rambling thoughts and looked once more at Isa.
“And did you have a particular place in mind?”
“Why, the wildest part of the Highlands must be the most beautiful. I believe Dunbeath would be a rather nice place to settle.”
“You’d like to go as far north as one can before falling into the sea,” the king mused.
“I would hope the Sinclairs would let us through their gates before that happened,” Isa played along with Robert’s teasing.
“Sir Dedric, is this where you had in mind?”
“It is, Your Majesty. I found I got along rather well with the Sinclair brothe
rs, and I would be honored to serve Laird Sinclair.”
“And what of your other commitments?” Robert’s comment was vague, but no one in the chamber misunderstood.
“You may have noticed that I walk much more quietly these days. My spurs were returned, entrusted with Lord Graystone’s head for safekeeping until both reached King Edward.”
“And where did the other parts of Graystone wind up?”
“The four corners of England, just as I promised him.”
“And Dunbar?”
“My father-by-marriage released me from my obligations several weeks ago with his express wishes that I take his daughter far from life on the border. Lord Alasdair has taken over as chief at Barsalloch until such time as he becomes laird.”
“As the husband of the laird’s eldest daughter, you could have made the argument to become laird upon the Dunbar’s passing.”
“Perhaps, but my wife is more important, along with our family.” Ric cocked an eyebrow and waited for the king to follow his hint.
“Are felicitations in order, Lady Isabella?”
“They are, Your Majesty. We learned of it yesterday.”
The king pursed his lips and glared at Ric.
“I would venture to say this situation was not such before Lady Isabella’s injuries, and I believe it has only been two months since she became alert again.”
“Nearly three months, Your Majesty?” Isa inserted. “We’ve been here for nearly a month of that time.”
A Spy at the Highland Court Page 25
