‘They have nothing to fear from me.’
‘But they do not cross you.’
‘That is why they have nothing to fear.’
It drew a smile from her. ‘And those men who do cross you?’
‘Only do it once.’
The words were lightly spoken but their import was not and she shivered inwardly. However, it was not totally due to fear. It was a feeling akin to one she had known before, when she and Ban were about to embark on another reckless adventure. It was not totally divorced from apprehension but underlying it was something else, something concerned with excitement and danger and the allure of the forbidden. Regarding him now, it occurred to her that the face she had earlier considered merely arresting was very much more than that, like the dark eyes burning into hers now. The expression there was familiar and disturbing. Shaken by the direction of her thoughts Ashlynn decided it was the wine talking and sought safer ground.
‘When can I see Ban again?’
‘You will see him tomorrow. As he grows stronger you will be able to visit him for longer periods.’
‘How long was he unconscious?’
‘Several days. Then he was delirious with fever. For a while even Meg thought he might not live.’
Ashlynn felt only relief and thankfulness. She had been hurt by his failure to tell her but that had been a misjudgement on his part, not done out of malice. She saw that now. In the immediate shock after finding Ban alive she had been overwrought and that, on top of the existing concerns, had caused her to overreact. The knowledge brought a sharp twinge of guilt. The reality was that he had given her back her brother, an unlooked-for gift of inestimable price.
‘I did not thank you for saving Ban but I do so now, and unreservedly.’
The tone was gentle and tender, different from any she had used hitherto, and the look that accompanied it likewise. It was also sincere, a realisation that warmed his blood more thoroughly than the wine. With an effort he controlled it.
‘You should rather thank Fergus and Dougal. ’Twas they who found him.’
‘But I think it was you who made it a rule never to leave injured men behind,’ she replied. ‘And you who had him brought here and tended. Were it not so he would never have survived.’
‘I’m right glad he has, lass.’
‘You have shown him much kindness. More than I could ever have supposed.’
‘You find it hard to believe then that simple kindness exists among the Scottish savages?’
She reddened a little. ‘The tales about you paint a different picture.’
‘Ah, and which particular tales would they be?’
‘Tales of murder and kidnap, of rape and theft.’
‘It is true I have killed many men but they had just as much chance of survival as I did. Every warrior knows the realities of combat,’ he replied. ‘I have kidnapped, but ’twas a man as it happened. His father tried to renege on a business agreement and I had to find another means to get what I was owed. I have known different women but never raped one. As to the rest I confess it freely, but I have only ever taken from those who had plenty to give.’
‘I’m glad to learn that you live by such a strong moral code.’
‘I live by a different code from the one you may be used to, lass, but it is not entirely without honour.’
‘No, I think it is not.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving Ban.’
The dark eyes met and held her own. ‘No thanks are necessary and I do not want your gratitude, Ashlynn. If you would kiss me let it be for myself.’
Chapter Seven
In the days that followed Ashlynn spent as much time as she could with Ban, though mindful not to tire him. He was still very weak but the terrifying pallor was gone and a healthier colour returned to his cheeks. Moreover, he could take nourishment now and, by the end of a week, was propped up on cushions and looking about him with interest. In the first days of their reunion they had not talked much, being content to know merely that the other was there. Later, as he regained a little strength, they spoke more, of different things, trivial enough in their way, each glad just to hear the other’s voice. Sometimes, when he was asleep, she would sit and watch him, willing strength to return and restore him to full health.
She had been sitting thus rapt in thought one afternoon when he awoke. She saw him smile.
‘Still here?’
‘Where else?’
‘I thought I would never see you again.’
‘Nor I you.’
For several moments the emotion was too great for words. Ban’s sombre gaze was fixed on her face for there was yet a shadow over the joy of reunion. He chose his next words with care. ‘There are still many things I would know, Ashlynn.’
‘I will tell you whatever you wish.’
‘Then tell me what happened after the Normans left. Everything that I have missed.’
‘Very well. But I warn you, it’s a long story.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Taking a deep breath she began to speak, relating the story as she knew it, of her treatment at Fitzurse’s hands, of her flight from the barn and her meeting with Iain. How he had saved her from the icy river and brought her along with him, and how she had discovered only later who he was. She spoke of the journey north and of her marriage, leaving out nothing, or almost nothing. His face darkened as he listened and she saw his hand clench on the coverlet.
‘He forced you to wed him?’
‘He married me at the king’s command. For Malcolm it was the obvious solution and the one to cause him least trouble.’ She sighed. ‘There could be no place at Dunfermline for a penniless, friendless girl and a Saxon to boot.’
‘You had me.’
‘I did not know that and Iain did not tell me because he did not think you would live. I genuinely believe that now.’
‘He has not hurt you?’
‘No. On the contrary, he has kept me from hurt, even at the risk of his own life.’
Ban relaxed a little. ‘I cannot say I like it, Ashlynn. The man has a reputation of the blackest kind. However, I owe him much.’
‘We both do.’
‘So it seems.’ He paused. ‘And if, as you say, he saved your life and has since treated you well then I have no cause to feel animosity towards him.’
‘He has treated me well. I have no grounds for complaint on that score.’
Ban shook his head as he tried to assimilate what he had heard. ‘It is most strange to hear such welcome and unwelcome things at once. Perhaps his reputation has become exaggerated.’
‘I think perhaps it has, but I can only speak as I find.’
‘And what do you find?’
‘A man of his word, a leader, a fighter, one whom other men follow.’ Even as she said it her mind added, a man unlike any other. ‘He lives by his own rules but he is not dishonourable.’
He shot her a penetrating look. ‘Do you love him?’
Ashlynn’s cheeks grew pink. What was love exactly? She had heard it described as all encompassing, unchanging in the face of time and adversity, a passion so strong that death could not conquer it. A passion she had only dreamed of. The kind of passion that Iain had felt for Eloise.
‘I…I respect him.’
‘I see. Well, respect is a good enough basis for marriage. ’Tis said the rest comes with time.’
Ashlynn bit her lip. She would not tell him that respect was as far as it was ever going to go, or could ever go. Unwilling to linger in such dangerous waters she turned the conversation to other things. However, her brother’s words stayed with her a long time afterwards. They might have comforted her had she not already known that her husband’s abiding passion now was for revenge.
* * *
Unbeknown to Ashlynn, Iain paid her brother a visit of his own. He had long meditated it but wanted to give her space and time on her own with Ban, and the young man a chance to re
cover from his wounds. However, he also knew that the lad did not view the marriage with favour. Ordinarily Iain would not have cared a fig for any man’s opinion on the matter but things now were not quite so simple. He could not live in such proximity to his wife’s brother and be at odds with him. The nettle must be grasped. Accordingly he chose his moment when he knew Ashlynn was not by and presented himself at the bedside.
While Ban did not greet him with open hostility his expression was carefully neutral. Iain concealed a smile knowing the lad was reserving judgement.
‘You are making good progress I see.’
‘Yes, I thank you.’ The tone was courteous but stiff.
Iain gestured to the stool that Ashlynn had not long since vacated. ‘May I?’
‘As you wish.’
For a moment they regarded each other in silent mutual appraisal like two combatants weighing each other up.
‘I think that there are things you must want to know,’ said Iain. ‘If you wish it you may ask what you will now and I will answer truthfully.’
For a moment he saw surprise in the blue eyes, then it was gone and the neutral expression returned. The lad was evidently better at hiding his thoughts than his sister was.
Ban nodded, his gaze never leaving the other man’s face. ‘It is true that I have questions to ask. Ashlynn has told me much but…’
‘But?’
‘There are things she did not say.’
Iain was quite sure of it. He waited.
‘I cannot pretend that I was overjoyed when I learned of your marriage.’
‘I had gathered as much.’
‘But she speaks well of you.’
Iain only just managed to hide his surprise. ‘Better perhaps than you think I deserve.’
‘You do have a certain reputation.’
‘True.’
‘However that may be, my lord, she has told me how you saved her life and how you took on the role of her protector.’ Ban paused. ‘For that I must thank you.’
‘Believe me, it is an honour.’
Ban searched that handsome face for any sign of mockery but he found none. The tone had been earnest too. Was it mere smooth courtesy or could it be that the man cared rather more than he let on?
‘My sister and I are very close. Her well being and her happiness are important to me.’
‘To me too. I promise you to look to the first, and that I’ll strive by every means for the second.’
Ban unbent a little. ‘She tells me that you have treated her well.’
For the second time Iain concealed surprise, feeling strangely pleased. His wife had demonstrated a degree of loyalty he had not expected. Did that stem from mere gratitude or could it be that she had warmed towards him of late? The notion produced an answering heat within, the kind he had not expected to feel again.
‘Did she so?’
‘Yes.’ Ban hesitated. ‘I must confess that when I first saw those bruises on her face I thought…’
‘That I had put them there?’
The young man reddened. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
‘It was a reasonable suspicion, under the circumstances.’
‘She told me what really happened and that you slew most of the bastards responsible.’
‘Aye. Now that really was a pleasure.’
The tone was perfectly even but Ban did not miss the glint in the dark eyes. It confirmed him in the opinion that his new brother-in-law was not a man to cross with impunity. Not that he had any intention of doing so. On the contrary, he was beginning to warm to him rather more than he had thought he would. For all the man’s dire reputation there was a directness about his manner and speech that Ban liked. Of his prowess in battle there was not the least doubt. However, the Laird of Glengarron had one more surprise in store. Crossing to the door he summoned the servant who had been waiting without. The man entered bearing a sheathed sword which he handed his master before withdrawing once more.
‘I believe this is yours.’ Iain reversed the weapon, offering it hilt first.
For a moment Ban was speechless. With a trembling hand he reached out and took it. One glance sufficed for the rest. Then blue eyes met brown. It was several more moments before he felt able to control his voice.
‘I never thought to see this again. Where did you get it? How did you know it was mine?’
‘It was found beside you after the battle. It bears the device of a falcon on its pommel, the crest of the Thanes of Heslingfield, I believe.’
‘Yes.’ Ban’s hand clenched round the hilt. For the first time it occurred to him that he was now the thane, albeit fugitive and dispossessed. The sword suddenly became a most poignant symbol of all that was lost, and his throat tightened.
Seeing the powerful play of emotions on his face Iain made a shrewd guess at the thoughts behind. From the moment he saw it he had recognised the quality and craftsmanship of the weapon but, looking at Ban’s expression now, knew it had significance far beyond its own intrinsic beauty.
‘It is a fine weapon. I thought you would be loath to lose it.’
With an effort Ban got his voice under control. ‘Indeed I would, my lord. It was a gift from my father. I thank you for its return.’ He paused. ‘It would seem that now I am doubly in your debt, and in truth I know not how I can repay it.’
‘If you wish to repay me then you will get well and make your sister much happier.’
Ban found nothing to say for he could not put into words what was in his heart. The dark gaze met his and held it for a moment.
‘Get well, Ban.’ Iain moved to the door and paused just long enough to bestow one last smile. Then he was gone.
* * *
Ashlynn closed the storeroom door and took a leisurely look around. When Iain had first shown her around Dark Mount it had been one of many chambers they had visited. This was the first time she had been back. Her gaze passed over a stack of empty wicker baskets and a pile of old sacks and moved on, coming to rest on several large chests. Initially they had rated no more than a casual glance but curiosity was roused now and there was time to indulge it.
The chests were heavy and banded with iron, the bolts stiff with disuse, but with perseverance she managed to slide them back and lift the dusty lids. A pleasant scent drifted out to greet her and she realised then that the box was lined with cedar. The reason quickly became apparent. Inside were heavy folds of thick-woven cloth. She ran her hand over the surface, tracing the outline of a colourful embroidered bird. It was beautiful and in spite of herself she gave a gasp of delight. Two other chests revealed similar tapestries, all perfectly preserved by the cedar lining.
Ashlynn’s appetite was whetted now. A further search revealed a large and slightly moth-eaten bearskin rug, a mirror of polished metal with an ornate frame, a wooden screen finely carved in the likeness of fruit and leaves and an elegant silver flagon with half-a-dozen matching goblets. Open-mouthed with delight she ran her fingers over the curved handle, marvelling at the workmanship and wondering where they had come from. Such things were made to be enjoyed, not hidden away and forgotten. Her own spartan chamber would benefit greatly by the addition of some attractive furnishings. That would involve asking Iain, of course. She bit her lip and closed the chest lid carefully.
* * *
For two days she had hesitated over the matter before deciding that cowardice was never going to solve the problem. Having made up her mind she went in search of Iain. Knowing he was unlikely to be in his chamber she tried the hall but it was empty of all save servants so she made her way downstairs. She was only halfway down when she heard the din of what sounded like fighting. For one dreadful second her mind was filled with Normans in helmets and chain mail. Then common sense returned. A swift glance out of the lower door revealed the truth: the courtyard was full of men locked in close physical combat or paired off for sword practice. The air rang with the sound of clashing steel and shouts of derision or encouragement. Her startled gaze moved quickly from t
he wrestlers to the swordsmen, seeking her husband out. Then she saw him and her breath caught in her throat.
Like the rest of the men he had stripped to the waist, apparently unconcerned by the cold air, but the rest were an irrelevance now. Her attention was riveted on Iain. She had not thought before that a man’s body could be beautiful, but that had been quite wrong. His arms and torso might have been sculpted so clearly delineated was the heavy musculature beneath his skin. Dark hair tapered from the broad chest and led the eye to a narrow waist and hips and thence to long, muscled legs.
Even though she already knew something of his ability, Ashlynn was still drawn to watch, held by the lithe power of the man and the skill and control with which he fought. He moved tirelessly, testing his opponent’s ability, looking for a weakness and when he found it exploiting it ruthlessly. Recalling her lessons with Ban she smiled ruefully. Against such skills, her own were puny. All at once the incident with the robbers returned and she knew without a doubt that she had been lucky. But for the element of surprise she would have been skewered. Given a fair fight she had no doubt Iain could have accounted for his attackers single handed. Even Ban, whose skill she respected, would have been hard pressed to hold his own against him. With that knowledge came the first stirring of pride, as unexpected as it was genuine.
At the end of the bout Iain sheathed the sword and donned his shirt and tunic again. She watched Dougal stroll across to join him. They exchanged a few words and then were joined in turn by one or two others. In a short time the group was engaged in animated discussion. From the accompanying gestures it seemed to be about the finer points of sword play. Once she saw Iain look round, his eyes scanning the spectators. They saw her at once and she felt again the power of that casual regard. Would he disapprove of her presence here? His expression gave no hint of annoyance but then it was often hard to tell what he was thinking. Her pulse quickened. Would he come over now? She hoped he might. His men already had a low opinion of her and, if she went to join him, they might take such an interruption ill.
However, Iain remained where he was, apparently seeing no reason to leave the present company. Around them the exercise continued, drawing his attention that way. He must have made some quip for she saw his companions laugh. The conversation resumed. Ashlynn bit her lip and turned away. The message was clear enough. He was busy and she was unwanted here. She should go.
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