by Gwyn Brodie
Isobel inhaled sharply. '''Tis breathtakingly beautiful. So many stars. And 'tis uncanny how the moon is mirrored in the still loch."
From behind, Drostan wrapped his arms around her, enjoying her childlike excitement. Not that he blamed her, for no matter how many times he sat on the ramparts on such a night, he was in awe of what he saw. He leaned over and gently kissed her cheek.
She turned, slipped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
By the time Drostan raised his head a few minutes later, Isobel was clinging to his shirt, and his body was raging with desire. Never had a woman had such an effect on him. "'Tis late, lass. I'd best be getting you back to your bedchamber," he said hoarsely.
"Very well," she said breathlessly.
As he led the way, his body told him to stay the night, to satisfy a need so strong it defied definition. But instead, after seeing her inside, he went to his own bedchamber, knowing full well he would have a hard time finding sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Two nights later, after a quick trip to the garderobe, Isobel locked her bedchamber door and was headed back to bed when a knock sounded. After what had happened at the stables, and before, she feared Marcus would try to get her alone again. And now that Drostan had told her what he had found out, she was more afraid of the earl's son than ever. But with Will stationed just outside her door, Marcus would not be daft enough to try anything.
"Aye?"
"Issie, 'tis I," her father said. "I need to speak with you immediately."
The hour was late. Had her mother taken ill? She quickly unlocked the door and threw it open. "What has happened? Is it Ma?" she asked in a panic.
"Nay. I'm sorry if I frightened you." He walked past her into the room.
"Then what is it?"
He took a deep breath and exhaled. "You're a woman fully-grown, and 'tis time you wed and started a family of your own."
Isobel's heart pounded against her chest. "What are you saying?"
"The betrothal contract between you and Marcus will be signed on the morrow. 'Tis in your best interest, Issie."
"You mean your best interest, do you not?" She spun around and stared out the window into the darkness as she blinked back tears.
He came up behind her. "Marcus will one day become an earl and is the heir apparent to Hornridge Castle. As his wife, you'll want for naught." He placed his hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged it off and walked away, as tears blurred her vision. "Except for love."
He snorted. "Dinnae be ridiculous. You'll learn to care for Marcus in time."
She vehemently shook her head. "Nay, never. He's already lost two wives. Shall I be the third one he buries?"
"'Tis nonsense you speak, lass. Those young women's deaths were caused by illnesses; the earl has said as much."
"How do you ken for certain that Marcus dinnae rid himself of them? Do you think the earl would admit what a cruel and brutal beast his son has always been? Why just the other day, I feared for my safety when he kept me from closing the door to my bedchamber. A few nights ago, he kissed me, and I feared he would drag me into his bedchamber and force himself upon me. Do you remember my swollen mouth? 'Twas him that caused it. Then let's not forget the incident at the stables, where I feared for my life when he caught me there alone. 'Tis the reason Drostan now has a guard follow me wherever I go, and I'm certain you noticed the one mulling about outside my door.
He shook his head. "You apparently misunderstood the young man's intentions, and as for your description of Marcus, you dinnae ken what you're talking about. "
"You think not? Ask Laird and Lady Mackintosh what a horrible thing he did to Drostan when he was but a wee lad. And how unkind he was to their other children." Keeping her promise to Drostan, she did not mention his suspicions, though she wanted to. Her throat ached as she fought back a sob. "How could you wed me to such a vicious man?" She held back telling her father that her skin practically crawled every time Marcus came near her and that she could not imagine being bedded by someone like him. A shiver raced up her spine.
He shrugged. "He was young. Children are often cruel to one another," he said softly. "I'll leave you for now. Get some sleep." He kissed her cheek and left the bedchamber.
Drostan was the only man she loved or would ever love. She fell to her knees, buried her face in her hands and wept.
"DROSTAN?"
He opened his eyes, wondering if Isobel had called his name. Or had it been a dream?
A light tapping sounded at his door. "Drostan?"
The lass was out in the corridor. He wrapped his plaid around his waist and hurried to open the door.
Isobel rushed past him into the moonlit bedchamber, dressed in her nightgown and robe. "My father plans to go ahead with the betrothal. The agreement will be signed on the morrow," she sobbed, her anguish tearing him apart.
He exhaled sharply. A hard punch to the stomach would have been less painful. It appeared that his father, nor Isobel, had been able to change Laird Fraser's mind. He secured the plaid with his belt, then put his arms around her and held her against his bare chest. "Dinnae fash," he whispered against her hair, breathing in the soft scent of lavender.
"How can I not? Once the betrothal is signed and sealed, I'll have no choice but to wed Marcus."
He slid his finger beneath her chin. "Such a man doesnae deserve you, lass. You merit someone who will place your life above his own, and who will love and cherish you for the rest of your days."
Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "'Tis a kind, kind thing for you to say."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and drew her onto his lap. "The betrothal cannae take place if you're wed to another." Her hands moved across his bare chest, wreaking havoc on his ability to remain focused.
She raised a brow. "What is it you're saying?"
He grinned. "Will you marry me, Lady Isobel Fraser?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "'Tis most noble of you to ask, Drostan, but I dinnae wish pity."
He grinned. "'Tis not pity I'm giving you, lass. Have we not already declared our love for one another?"
She nodded.
"Well then, I want you to be my wife and share my bed for the rest of my days. And for that to happen, we need to get married. Dinnae you agree?"
Her enticing mouth spread into a breathtaking smile. "I wholeheartedly do," she said, throwing her arms around Drostan's neck. "I love you so, and have since that day you rescued me from the highwaymen."
He snorted. "You had a funny way of showing it then. You nigh broke my ribs."
"I promise to make it up to you," she purred, pressing her warm lips to his.
Groaning softly, Drostan deepened the kiss. Soon she would be his for all eternity—and he could hardly wait.
After a few moments of passion-filled kisses, she suddenly took her mouth away and looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry. "But how can we marry without Marcus, the earl, or my father finding out?"
"We'll perform a declaration of marriage this very night, and my brothers will serve as witnesses to the fact. When the sheriff in Inverness receives the signed proof of the declaration, he'll add us to the marriage register."
"I've never heard of such a ceremony," she said with a hint of skepticism.
He grinned. "'Tis true. No more than three years ago, my brothers and I were witnesses to my cousin Fergus and his wife Ellie's declaration of marriage."
"What about the hanging of the marriage banns?"
He shrugged. "I'll but have to pay a fine for not doing so. What do you say, lass?"
She smiled. "I say, I cannae wait to become your wife."
He grinned. "You've made me a happy man, Isobel Fraser. I'll wake the lads and meet you in the library."
She nodded. "First, I'll return to my bedchamber and change into my clothes."
After making sure the corridor was empty, he sent her on her way and quickly dressed, then went to knock on Ailig's bedchamber door. "Ailig?"
<
br /> "Aye?" his brother said sleepily.
"I'm in vast need of your help."
A moment later, Ailig stood in the open doorway, his broadsword in hand and as naked as a newborn bairn, blinking the sleep from his dark eyes. "Are we being attacked?"
Drostan grinned. "Nay, brave warrior," he teased. I need you to wake our brothers and meet me in the library as soon as possible. I'll explain everything then."
Ailig nodded and closed the door.
Drostan hurried to the library and went inside. "They'll be here soon," he assured Isobel.
She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead against his chest. "I'm afraid of what will happen if we fail."
His throat tightened. "We'll not fail, lass. I'll see that we dinnae," he promised, for as long as he yet breathed, he would do everything in his power to keep her from Marcus.
The library door opened, and his four sleepy, disheveled brothers entered the room—followed by their father and mother, with candles in hand.
"What is it you're up to, Drostan?" his father asked, closing the door behind him.
His mother snorted. "Have you not eyes, Jamie Mackintosh? The two are in love."
His father chuckled. "That I've kenned for some time."
Drostan grinned. "I'm glad the two of you are here. Isobel and I are about to make a declaration of marriage and need as many witnesses as we can get."
The laird frowned. "I fear Kinkirk will not accept the declaration unless 'tis registered and the marriage consummated."
Even in the dim candlelight, Isobel's face showed red.
Drostan nodded. "Aye, I'm most certain he'll not. But first thing on the morrow, I'll take a few guards and leave for Inverness. Once the marriage is registered, Kinkirk will have no more say in the matter."
"Perhaps we should get on with it then, brother," Ailig piped in. "Morn is not far off."
Drostan turned to face Isobel and took her hands in his. She had never looked more lovely with the candlelight dancing over her soft feminine features. "Lady Isobel Fraser, I vow before God and my kin that my heart belongs only to you. Each day when I wake, you are my first thought and my last each night as I fall asleep. I cannae, and I refuse to live my life without you at my side, I declare you as my wife until my last breath leaves my body."
Beside him, his mother quietly wept and wiped at her eyes.
His father slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Isobel's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she looked up at him and smiled. "Drostan Mackintosh, I vow before God and your kin that I have loved you from the first moment our eyes met. You and only you are the one I want to wake up to each morn, and in whose arms, I want to fall asleep each night. You, Drostan, are a man of strong character, compassion, and loyalty, who loves with all his heart, fights with all his might, and who will protect those who need protecting with his life. And the man I wish to be the father of my children. Thus, said and done, I declare you as my husband for all my remaining days."
"Kiss the bride, Drostan," Morgan urged, grinning.
And kiss her, he did. Knowing she now truly belonged to him heated his blood like a forge. He wanted naught more than to carry her up to his bedchamber and make love to her for days on end. But first, he had to make sure there was not even the slightest of chances Marcus could steal her away. He raised his head and smiled down at her.
His father sat down at his oak desk and took out a piece of paper. Bringing the candle closer, he dipped his quill into the inkpot, then wrote: The following people witnessed the marriage declaration between Drostan Mackintosh and Lady Isobel Fraser at Willowbrae Castle in the year of our Lord Sixteen Hundred and Twelve, on the tenth day of July. He added his signature below, then held the quill out to Drostan's mother. "Maggie, sign below me. You've finally succeeded in seeing our eldest son wed."
She chuckled. "I have at that, and couldnae be more pleased with his choice of a bride. I couldnae have chosen better myself," she said, a twinkle in her blue eyes that made Drostan wonder if perhaps Isobel had been her choice all along.
Isobel smiled. "Much thanks, Lady Mackintosh."
"Now that you are my daughter-in-law, you must call me Maggie," she said, then added her signature.
Ailig was next, followed by Morgan, Robbie, and Taran.
After everyone had signed, his father sprinkled the paper with ground ash to dry the ink and tapped off the excess, then cautiously folded the missive. Once he had sealed it closed with several drops of candle wax and pressed into it the Mackintosh clan crest of a wild cat, he carefully handed it to Drostan. "I pray all goes well, son. But if not, leave here knowing we are ready and more than willing to provide you with any help you need."
Drostan's throat tightened with emotion. He nodded. "I never doubted it for a moment. Much thanks to you all. Now, you should get back to your beds."
His mother kissed them both on the cheek, then left with the others. The library was soon empty except for the two of them, and he kissed her. He was more than ready to rid them both of their clothing and make love to her. But first things first. Reluctantly, he took his mouth away and looked into her dark eyes. They were filled with passion and mirrored a need as sharp as his own. The hunger they felt for one another would soon be satisfied—but not yet.
"I fear, Isobel, we'll not find sleep this night. As sure as the sun will rise on the morrow, Marcus and Kinkirk will try to find a way to make you his wife. Even after the sheriff has registered our declaration of wedlock, we cannae consummate our marriage if I'm in Inverness, and you're here at Willowbrae."
"Then let us consummate it here and now," she started to lift her skirts, but he stopped her.
"Nay, lass. As much as I'd like to make love to you, and believe me, I would; we need to make certain every necessary step is carried out to protect our union. Besides, when I make love to my wife for the first time, it'll be in a bed and with nary a stitch between us."
Her eyes widened, and her breath quickened.
He pulled her closer. "We must leave together for Inverness tonight, do you understand? There's no way in hell I'll allow you to remain here with Marcus while I'm gone."
She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. "Aye, I understand."
He gently kissed her forehead. "Now, return to your bedchamber and pack whatever you'll need, and leave the rest of the arrangements to me." He walked her to the door. "When you're ready, go down the servants' stair and out through the kitchen. I'll be waiting for you, with the horses, near the postern gate." He handed her the candle his mother had left behind. "And be careful, lass."
"I will," she said, then they quietly left the library.
Once he had made up his mind that he loved Isobel, there had been no turning back. Hell, he would have married her—even if she was not being pressured into a thankless marriage, for the lass had become his life, heart, and soul.
They parted ways at the top of the stairs. Isobel headed to her bedchamber, while he went to his own to retrieve his weapons. Strapping on his broadsword and dirk, he grabbed his targe and opened the door, then headed down the corridor to wake his brothers a second time.
He tapped on Ailig's bedchamber door, which was opened not by Ailig, but Taran. "We've been expecting you." He smiled.
Drostan raised a brow and entered the room, finding Robbie and Morgan perched on the edge of the bed beside Ailig. "Why did you not return to your bedchambers?"
Morgan grinned. "For the same reason you're here. Remember, big brother, we ken you well. We guessed you'd be leaving for Inverness tonight and would require our assistance. And that you'd not be leaving Isobel behind with that bastard, Marcus—especially with your suspicions as they are."
Drostan swallowed hard. These men before them were not just his brothers, but his good friends and confidants. "You guessed correctly. Fetch your weapons and horses, then meet me near the postern gate." He left the bedchamber and quietly made his way out of the castl
e, praying all would go well. And if not? Then all hell would break loose.
ISOBEL HURRIED TO HER bedchamber, praying no one would need to use the garderobe and catch her outside her room. She slipped inside and breathed a sigh of relief. What did one take when running away in the middle of the night with their husband? She smiled, still not believing she was married to Drostan.
After tossing a change of clothing and several small personal items into a blanket, she knotted the ends together, put on her cloak, then picked up the candle and opened the door. Seeing no one about, she stepped into the corridor. As she passed Marcus's bedchamber, she heard movement inside. Panic seized her as she blew out the candle and quietly hurried toward the servants' stairs, fearing all the while he would come out and find her.
Carefully feeling her way down the dark stairwell, she soon reached the kitchen. The brightness of the moon outside the window provided enough light for her to find the door. She stepped out into the night, closing the door behind her. In which direction was the postern gate? During her short stay at Willowbrae, she had not made it a point to notice. Just as she started to panic, the soft whinny of a horse nearby drew her attention, and she headed in that direction, praying 'twas the right one.
Drostan greeted her with a kiss to her forehead. "Did anyone see you?" he whispered.
"Nay." She decided to keep her earlier fright to herself.
"Then we'd best go." He took her hand and led her to where the horses waited.
"What about the guards?"
"Dinnae fash. All is well. When we leave here, remain silent until 'tis safe to speak, for voices carry on the wind." With the full moon still high in the sky, he helped Isobel into the saddle and secured her pack behind her. "My brothers will be with us, for I'd not wish to put your safety in jeopardy, nor would they."
She pressed her palm against his cheek. "'Tis no wonder I love you so."
