Highland Wedding

by Hannah Howell

  Feeling his hand tearing at her braies, Islaen briefly gave into helplessness. As he tore her skirts in his nearly frantic attempt to get them out of his way, she realized there was one last weapon she had. The corridor they were in was dark and little used but sound carried far. There could be someone nearby and the fear of being seen in such an ignominious position now paled next to what she felt about what Lord Fraser was about to do to her. Opening her mouth, Islaen managed to get out several hearty screams of her husband’s name before a swearing Lord Fraser stuffed a handkerchief in her mouth, nearly choking her in his effort to silence her. She could only pray that someone was near enough to have heard her.

  Iain hesitated, frowning as he decided which way to go. There was a little-used passageway just ahead that would save him a few minutes and, pressing his hand to his throbbing side, he decided he would use it. He glanced at Alexander who strolled companionably at his side carrying a wellladened tray of food.

  “I can take that from here,” Iain said, not sure he wanted Alexander along, especially if Islaen was in their chambers.

  “Nay, ye cannae. Your poor wee wife will get naught if hands as unsteady as yours are carry this.”

  “I didnae say it was for Islaen,” Iain muttered and wondered if he sounded as much like a sulky child as he thought he did.

  “Nay, ye didnae. I had just hoped ye might be taking an interest in your wee wife at last, ’tis all.”

  “Ye are far too concerned with my wife, Alexander MacDubh.”

  “’Tis hard for a mon not to be when he has held the poor weeping lass as her husband pants after a whore. Aye, and when he has been the one she has had to talk with because her husband is rolling his eyes at that whore and nay speaking a word to her.”

  “Shall we just forget Lady Mary?”

  “Aye, if ye have.”

  “I have.”

  “Just when did ye start to forget her, an I may be so curious?”

  “’Tis nay your concern but t’was moments after I entered her chambers.” Iain looked sternly at his friend. “So, there is no wife for ye to take to your bed for a wee bit of consoling ere her husband starts to look about for her again.”

  “An I took your wife to my bed, friend,” Alexander said softly, “t’would not be but to console her and ye could look about all ye liked after your wenching paled, I wouldnae be giving her back.”

  Before a stunned Iain could make any response to that a scream ended the tense silence between them. Even as Iain recognized his name in that desperate cry he recognized the voice that delivered it. He raced towards the sound only dimly aware of the sound of Alexander tossing the tray aside and following him.

  The sight that met his eyes blinded him with a rage that burned away all aches and weariness. With a feral growl he lunged for the man sprawled on top of Islaen. He pulled Lord Fraser off of Islaen and threw the man against the wall, then leapt upon the man.

  Islaen was stunned by her abrupt rescue. One moment she was braced for the horrifying completion of her rape and the next an enraged Iain was hurling a far heavier Lord Fraser through the air. She met Alexander’s concerned gaze blankly as he crouched over her. With an odd detachment she realized she was beginning to shake.

  Taking the gag from her mouth, Alexander took one startled look at her bruised breasts and then began to tidy her tattered clothing as well as he could. “Ye have been keeping secrets, lass.”

  “They are too big,” she said dazedly.

  Helping her sit up, he gently kissed her on the forehead. “What a great fool ye are for such a wee lass. Now, set here for I feel I must stop your husband from killing Lord Fraser. The mon deserves it, but t’would cause a great scandal.”

  Not fully taking in what she saw, Islaen watched Alexander forcefully restrain Iain from delivering any more blows to a badly battered Lord Fraser. When Iain finally stopped, Lord Fraser slid to the floor and did not move again. Wrapping her arms about herself in a vain attempt to stop her shaking, Islaen stared up at her husband when he crouched before her.

  “Is he dead?” she whispered.

  “Nay, I think not. Did he rape ye?”

  “Almost.” She felt the tears she had held back begin to flow. “I want a bath,” she said shakily.

  When Iain reached for her Alexander stopped him. “Ye opened your wound when ye were tossing yon scum about. I will carry the lass.” He helped Iain stand, then gently picked Islaen up in his arms. “Dinnae scowl so, Iain. Ye would most like drop her. Ye will need what strength ye have left just to get yourself back to your chambers. What about him?”

  Glancing at Lord Fraser Iain needed a moment to resist the urge to rouse the unconscious man so that he could hit him again. “Leave him. Someone will find him an he doesnae crawl back into his hole of his own accord.”

  As they hurried to Iain’s chambers both men tried to get Islaen to stop crying. She had gained some semblance of control by the time Meg, fetched by Iain’s squire, arrived. As Meg took her behind the screen to help her scrub herself clean and tend to her small wounds, Alexander tended to a distracted Iain.

  “Did ye see what that animal did to her?” Iain growled. “I should kill him.”

  “And have all the world ask the reason? Do ye wish the lass to suffer that shame? Ye ken weel that none will believe he didnae possess her and many will think her to have been willing, that she cried rape to save herself from your wrath.”

  His wound cleaned and reclosed, Iain took a deep drink of ale to still the throbbing. He recognized the truth of Alexander’s words but cursed the unfairness of it. The silence that would be necessary to save Islaen from the blackening of her name especially galled him when Meg tucked her up in bed at his side and he saw the bruises Fraser had inflicted. Somehow he would make the man pay even if he had to wait years to do it.

  Islaen said little as Alexander and Meg said their good-nights. She lay stiff and silent at Iain’s side even after they were alone. The bath had helped calm her but she still felt defiled. Although she knew she was not at fault, had done nothing to invite the attack, she could not help but fear that Iain would now be repulsed by her, see her body as soiled by Fraser’s mauling. From what she had dared to view of her sore body, there did not seem to be any part of her that Iain could view without being reminded of Fraser’s brutal attack.

  Iain gently pulled her into his arms, felt her tension and felt a renewed anger at Lord Fraser. “Dinnae come to fear me too, lass.”

  “I dinnae fear ye, Iain. I dinnae ken how ye can bear to touch me.”

  “Wheesht, lass, it wasnae your fault. If we werenae so battered that t’would cause us more pain than pleasure I would love ye thoroughly right now to let ye see clearly how weel I can bear to touch ye, aye, want to touch ye still.”

  After lying in the comfort of his arms for a while, Islaen began to believe him and relaxed. Once her fear of his rejection was eased she felt weariness overtake her. The day had been long and too full of danger. Despite her aches and pains she cuddled up to Iain and knew she would soon be asleep.

  “Better, lass?” he asked softly, caressing her hair.

  “Aye, better, but, Iain?”

  “Aye, lass?”

  “Can we go home?” she whispered, not wishing to push but desperate now to leave court.

  “Aye, lass. On the morrow an I can manage it, but by the next day for certain,” he swore and soon felt her relax in sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  “Are ye sure ye can ride all the way?” Iain asked as he helped Islaen mount what he thought was far too much horse for her.

  “Aye, Iain, I will be fine. Beltraine brought me all the way here. He can take me back too. Can ye not, me fine beastie?” she softly cooed, patting the stallion’s strong neck. “Do ye think your mares will be pleased with this new blood in your stables, Iain?”

  “The horse is yours?” he asked in some surprise even as he began to mentally pair the fine stallion with several mares at Caraidland.

&nbs
p; “Aye,” replied Alaistair as he rode up beside his daughter. “He took to her, so as he grew I decided she might as weel have the great brute. She is a muckle fine rider, lad, and can handle such a horse.”

  When they started on their way she did not even look back. Glancing at Iain she was glad she had overcome her lingering terror from the attack enough to insist that they remain at court two extra days so that his wound closed properly. He had been ready to leave as he had promised, having worked hard to clear away all his remaining business, but she had seen that he was not quite ready for the long ride home.

  Despite her near retreat from court society and her preoccupation with Iain, she had noted two changes in court. Lord Fraser had simply and abruptly disappeared. Considering the beating Iain had given the man Islaen was not sure how Lord Fraser had managed to leave but, since a few of his kin and all his men had also vanished, she suspected the family had managed his swift but quiet exodus to avoid scandal. Lady Mary had also disappeared and Islaen was sure the woman had fled out of fear that Lord Fraser would implicate her in his reprehensible act. Islaen had never mentioned Lady Mary’s part in the attack to Iain and was not sure she should. It was enough for her that the woman and Lord Fraser were gone. She fervently hoped she would never have to set eyes upon either of them again.

  By the time they stopped for the night, Islaen felt exhausted and ached as if all her fading bruises had been renewed. Even the wound upon her leg throbbed a little. She realized that Iain was also suffering when he grumpily apologized for not having a tent for them, sulkily adding that he had not anticipated towing a wife back to Caraidland. Iain was not a cross-tempered man and she knew instantly that his wound troubled him.

  She suspected there was an added reason for his gruffness when they bedded down for the night. When her backside came up against his loins as he held her close there was no ignoring his arousal, an arousal that would have to go unsatisfied. With her kin, Alexander (and she still puzzled over his sudden desire to leave court) and all their men-at-arms ever near there would be no chance of finding the privacy needed to satisfy Iain’s needs. Or her own, she mused with a sigh. She doubted they would be able to do anything about those particular desires until they reached Caraidland, and that was several days away.

  On the third day of their journey, she and Alexander, with Meg’s concurrence, removed Iain’s stitches. His wound had healed nicely, Islaen decided as she helped him with his tunic, although MacLennon had succeeded in leaving yet another scar upon him. She then became aware of the fact that her brothers had gathered round.

  “What do ye want?” she asked suspiciously.

  “We mean to have us a wee talk with your husband,” Nathan replied.

  One sharp glance at their faces told her it was not talking they had in mind. Her suspicions were strengthened by the way Iain’s men were bristling. They sensed the threat facing Iain.

  “Weel, ye arenae going to do any talking.” She sneered the last word. “Get away from here.”

  “Islaen,” Iain said quietly as he stood, “I think ye best stay out of this.”

  He was idly amused by the way she stood before her much larger brothers, with her hands upon her slim hips. She looked like a small hen ready to defend her chick. This time, however, it would indeed be best if she stayed out of it even though he knew it was going to make her furious.

  Silently signaling his men that he would take care of the matter alone, Iain prepared to leave with Islaen’s brothers. He knew they intended to do their talking with their fists and that he would undoubtedly be nursing many a bruise for the rest of the journey to Caraidland. However, he understood why they were intent on doing it. He knew he would do the same if he had a sister. There had also been a tension between him and Islaen’s kin since the night he had gone off with Lady Mary. Iain knew this confrontation would put them back on a more companionable footing, something he was eager for. He did, however, feel a little slighted when he saw that Alexander was aligned with Islaen’s brothers.

  “Ye as weel, Alex?”

  “Aye. Me as well.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Islaen snapped as they started to move away, but when she reached out to restrain Iain her father caught her up in a hold that was gentle but very firm. “This is the greatest of foolishness, Fither.”

  “Weel, most women think that of a mon’s business. No harm in ye lads having a look,” he said to the hovering men-at-arms who immediately hurried after the others. “Now, lass, will ye set here an I release ye?”

  “Aye,” she answered with cross reluctance, “for I ken I will do no good chasing after them. They willnae hurt Iain badly, will they?”

  “Nay, lass. Truth is, I will be muckle surprised if some of the lads dinnae come back a mite bashed themselves.”

  Iain fully intended to give as good as he got when Islaen’s brothers halted and Nathan murmured, “This looks as good a spot as any to have our wee talk.”

  “She willnae be pleased by this,” Iain said calmly as he took off his tunic and handed it to one of his men.

  Doing the same, Robert drawled, “Nay, I suspicion she will burn our ears a wee bit as she should have burned yours.”

  “Aye, but she is an understanding lass.”

  “We arenae and we did warn ye,” growled Nathan.

  “Aye, ye did. So how is it to be then? All of you?”

  “Nay, that wouldnae be quite fair,” murmured Robert.

  “Weel, then, two at a go. Alexander makes it even.”

  “Wheesht, ye are a boaster, are ye not?” muttered Duncan.

  Glancing at all the bared chests of his opponents and seeing that, despite the slender build of some, they were a strong collection, Iain thought he was too, but drawled, “T’will get the business done faster. I havenae supped yet, ye ken.”

  “Me and Alex will have at ye first,” growled Duncan as he advanced. “I mean to knock ye on your arse, MacLagan.”

  He did just that but Iain quickly recovered. His main objective was to down his opponents as quickly as possible in order to have enough strength to get through all of them without too many injuries. Duncan was good but his method was easily guessed and Iain soon sent him down. Alexander went down an instant later and, although he was fully able to get up and continue, simply began to laugh.

  “I had forgotten how cursed quick ye are, Iain.”

  “Had enough then?”

  “Aye. I just wanted a wee knock or two.”

  Malcolm and Leith were next. Iain saw that the MacRoths were indeed fighting men. They had clearly watched him closely, learning his manner of fighting. It was a lot harder to bring them down.

  By the time he faced the twins, the last pair of opponents, Iain was surprised that he was still standing. He knew he had done himself proud, something aided by the fact that his opponents were considering a good knock down enough to end it, even if they were still conscious. If he had had to fight each one until they were totally incapacitated he felt sure he would never have gotten past the first four.

  He knew he had been right about what the fight would accomplish when he heard Calum say, “Mayhaps we ought to let him catch his breath first.”

  “Dinnae be daft. If we do that he will knock us on our arses,” Donald said cheerfully, then charged Iain.

  Iain sidestepped Donald’s charge and booted the youth in the backside much to the amusement of his men. He was not quick enough to elude Calum’s charge, however, and hit the ground hard. Donald was quick to join in and Iain was not really able to discern who was doing what to whom in the ensuing melee. He was barely conscious when the fighting ended, the twins collapsing beside him upon the ground. Wincing as he partly raised himself up on his elbows, Iain saw that neither was unconscious, that they had simply quit, deciding that they had had enough.

  “Who won then?” he rasped and everyone laughed.

  “Weel,” Robert said as he helped a groggy Leith to stand, “we best get back so that Islaen can glare and mutter
.”

  “Mutter?” Iain mumbled as two of his men helped him to his feet.

  “Aye, mutter.” Nathan shook his head. “She mutters when she is too angry to think of what she really wants to say or to get the words out clear and all.”

  When the men finally staggered back into camp, Islaen glared at them. Iain looked terrible but she had seen the results of too many fights and knew that he was not nearly as bad as he looked. She also noted fleetingly that he had indeed given as good as he had gotten. When she heard them jesting and talking about the battle as if it was something wonderful, she was sorely tempted to leave them all to wallow in their own blood and grime.

  Muttering about the incomprehensible foolishness of men, Islaen gathered up what she needed to tend to Iain. Stalking over to where his men had helped him to lie down, she gave him one fierce glare and then set about tending his bruises and abrasions, muttering all the while about the silliness of grown men. She wondered crossly why he kept smiling.

  Glancing around she decided her help was not really needed elsewhere. Since she had already eaten and Iain refused her grumbled offer of food, she decided she might as well turn in for the night. Still grumbling, she prepared for bed and then joined him beneath the blankets. When he laughed softly she turned to glare at him.

  “Just what do ye find so amusing? Do ye enjoy the pain of being bashed about?”

  “Nay, though it was a good fight. Nathan’s right,” he said with a smile. “Ye do mutter. I will be fine come morning, little one.”

  “Humph. Ye will be as stiff as a wet cloth put out of a winter’s frosty morn.”

  “Aye, most like but t’will pass. It was a thing that had to be done.”

  “So ye all tell me but I dinnae understand it.”

  “Nay, I didnae think ye would. Truth tell, I cannae really explain it. There was anger sitting atween me and your brothers, lass, an anger I earned, I ken that weel. We beat it out of us ’tis all. Ye will see. T’will be there no longer.”