by Carol Arens
He seemed to think about her words. When she lifted her head up, she could imagine him tilting his down and kissing her. She did lift hers and inhaled the warm, masculine scent of him, so close to her, wishing he would...
‘It is getting too cold for you to traipse around the village like this,’ he said. His concern warmed her, too.
‘Would you...?’
She stopped before asking him to do something for her. If word came that the pass was cleared of the early snow, and chances are that it would before winter set in for real, she would be gone. So, she did not want to ask him to change something for her. Still...
‘Go on, Isobel. What is it you want?’
His deep voice grew a bit huskier then, sending shivers unrelated to the wind down her spine, and she thought about what she really wanted from him. Then she shook herself free of this madness he caused in her.
‘Would you permit me to have one of the looms moved into the keep so I can continue to work on it there?’
He remained quiet as they passed through the gate and rode up to the keep. When he stopped there, a boy ran up to take his horse. Athdar handed her down and she was sad for the loss of his heat. The winds buffeted her on the steps until he jumped off the horse and wrapped his arm around her, guiding her up to the door and through it.
He was not going to allow it. She could tell by his delay that he would not. She waited until they were inside so she did not have to shout against the winds. Isobel needed to make her case for this change to the way he did things here.
‘Nessa said there is a loom, unused, in the storage room below. I could set it up...here,’ she said, pointing to the first corner of the hall as they entered it. ‘The sunlight will make it bright enough during the afternoon for me to work here.’
‘And this will please you?’ he asked.
It was not what she had expected him to say. He’d shown her the hospitality of his clan and his home so he did not have to do anything for her.
‘And it will keep you from freezing because you walk from one side of the village to the other, visiting each of the women who weave for our clan?’
He knew what she did each day? She thought that as long as she kept herself out of his way, he cared not. But he was keeping track of her during the day?
‘Aye, I know what you do with your days, Isobel,’ he said, almost reading the questions in her thoughts. ‘I hear reports from my men because you visit their wives and mothers. I hear reports from Padruig because Nessa is happier than she has been in a long time to have such an accomplished weaver among us. And I hear from Broc about how much you are helping Laria as she prepares for the winter and to move into the keep.’
Part of her was embarrassed that he knew so much, but more of her was thrilled he’d taken note of what she did. She nodded at him and smiled. ‘It would please me greatly, Athdar.’
For a moment it was only the two of them there. The noises and chatter of the hall faded away and Isobel swore she could hear the breaths he took. Her heart pounded as he stepped closer and took her hand in his. She gazed at him as he leaned his head down and touched his lips to hers. Isobel stood up on her toes so that she did not lose contact with his mouth. This kiss, so different from the first one, had barely got started when he abruptly ended it.
He stood very still and she finally heard what he clearly had—the voices coming closer and closer. His wide shoulders and height hid her from their view and he was giving her the opportunity to move away before this scandalous behaviour was seen by anyone. She did as he indicated and took a pace back away from him just in time, for Broc appeared at his side.
‘You may be our guest for the whole of the winter, Isobel,’ he said. ‘Or we will have to send you through the lowlands and out to the sea to get home.’
‘I think I would not mind being here all winter,’ she said to Broc, though the whole time she stared back into Athdar’s eyes. He broke contact with her gaze first.
‘Broc, the lady asked if she can have the old loom from the storage room brought up here,’ Athdar said to his steward.
‘You are making her work for her meals, then?’ Broc jested.
‘It would please her to do so,’ Athdar said, glancing briefly at her. ‘And I know how much you like to please our guests.’ He smacked Broc’s shoulder and nodded to her. ‘See to it?’
She watched him leave, speaking to several others as he made his way through the hall to the small chamber he used as a place for his records and rolls. Once he’d gone, she turned to Broc. May as well get this handled, she thought.
‘So, would you like to come with me to find out if the loom is in any condition to bring out?’ Broc asked.
‘I would like that.’ Isobel took off her cloak and carried it over her arm as she followed Broc.
It took only a short time to find the disassembled loom, which Broc told her belonged at one time to Lady Lilidh MacDougal, Athdar and Jocelyn’s mother, before being stored away at Jocelyn’s departure and her mother’s death. With the help of some of the kitchen workers, they had the loom’s pieces carried to the corner of the hall.
* * *
She spent the rest of the afternoon working to assemble the frame and to begin to hang the weights. To her surprise, the men found another, smaller loom and brought it out from the storage chamber to the hall. Broc was convinced it belonged to Lady Jocelyn as a child, her practice loom where she learned her skills. Jean told of Jocelyn’s first attempts to use it and entertained them as the men worked now to set up both of the looms, side by side.
Soon, their usual tasks called them away and Isobel knew it would take several more hours to get the looms set up and working. Since Nessa would see them when she arrived to take supper in the keep, Isobel was certain she could gain her assistance on the morrow.
* * *
Supper came and went. The pleasant companions at table made the meal go quickly and Isobel found herself fighting to stay awake after the busyness of the day. She and Glenna returned to her chamber and she fell into bed, expecting to be asleep quickly.
First, it was the maid’s snoring that kept her awake.
Then the howling winds and rain that began some time later slammed against the stone walls and wooden shutters.
Finally, Isobel realised that she was not ready for sleep; her thoughts kept going in different directions and would not quiet. Giving up the fight, she climbed from the bed and, having a care not to wake Glenna, she wrapped her heavy woollen shawl around her shoulders and left the chamber. She found a lantern hanging on the wall, so Isobel took it with her, guiding her way through the darkness.
Some people did sleep in the hall, though now they placed their pallets near the hearth for the warmth they could claim. Walking down the stairs to the back corner, she put the lantern down on the floor and studied the wooden beams and pieces. The stone weights lay in a pile, ready to be strung and placed over the main beam to hold the warp threads in place as the shuttle worked the weft, over and under, tightening the growing fabric after every pass.
She sat in the near dark, attaching the ends of large balls of spun threads that would be used. Occasional snores or coughs echoed through the hall and she remained as quiet as she could be, using her body to keep most of the lantern’s light blocked. How much time passed, she knew not. She continued to sort and organise the parts and pieces until she felt sleep’s call. Placing everything where it could be used on the morrow, she rose, picked up the lantern and walked quietly back to her chambers.
* * *
She was driving him to madness.
With each passing day that she remained in his keep, in his village, in his world, she stole a bit more of his resolve until he wondered how he could continue the farce of resisting her.
Isobel had breathed life back into his home and his people...and into him. Sh
e had done what years and wisdom and fortune had not—she had made him want to try again. His sworn oath was crumbling more each day and with each smile and cheerfully done task, with each gracious favour and suggestion, she made him want her.
And he did want her.
Although he had much more experience in the physical pleasures than she, he’d thought about those two simple kisses they’d shared more than he’d thought about any previous ones. Even those of his first love faded now and the ones in more recent memory paled when he compared them.
Those kisses would be his downfall...and hers if they were not careful. He sensed her curiosity and budding passion and knew she wanted to know more. He prayed nightly that the snow would recede and save him from the desire for her that grew with every encounter.
He could not sleep and decided to go down to the small chamber off the hall and review some documents he’d found from his father’s time. When he walked into the corridor, he heard sounds from below. Leaning over the stone wall, he saw her, in the corner, moving some of the pieces of the loom and sorting through the pile of weight stones.
He wondered how it felt to be those stones, resting in her hand, encircled by her fingers. He reacted as he expected, growing hard at the thought of her touch. As he watched in silence, she organised the threads and began tying on some of the stones. After a while, she slowed and stopped. Picking up the lantern from the floor, she began walking towards the stairs...and him.
Not wanting to frighten her or startle her and cause a scream, he backed up against the doorway and waited for her to approach. When she reached the top of the stairs, he lifted the latch of his door, jiggling it enough to warn her of his presence, but not to scare her. Instead of fear, her face brightened when she realised it was he.
‘Athdar,’ she whispered, smiling. ‘I thought you might be Glenna following me.’ She held the lantern up higher, revealing that he wore a shirt and trews only. And revealing her undergown and shawl. ‘I hope I did not wake you?’
‘You did not. I am having some trouble sleeping this night, Isobel.’ He looked past her towards her chamber. ‘And where is Glenna? Is she not supposed to attend to you?’
‘The girl works unceasingly all day, Athdar. And then she sleeps like the dead.’
She did not understand that she’d just given him both an excuse and a reason in revealing Glenna’s pattern. The girl would hear little or nothing that went on outside the chamber, nor in it, he suspected, once she retired for the night.
Done waiting, done resisting, done...just done, he took the lantern from her and put it on the floor.
‘Isobel,’ he whispered, sliding his fingers into her hair and drawing her close. ‘I want to kiss you, lass.’
He could feel her breath against his face, they were so close, but he waited for her to object to his attentions. When she did not, he lowered his mouth to hers the way he’d wanted to for days...for weeks...for ever, it seemed.
She sighed against his lips at the first touch and leaned into him, opening to him. He smiled at that, almost laughed really, and then placed kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her chin and the edge of her jaw before joining their mouths and tasting the wonderful essence of her with his tongue. He plunged deeply within and then mimicked the movement another part of him wanted to take, sliding in and out. Tilting his head so that he could access every part of her mouth, he kissed her until she was breathless as he’d wanted to do.
When she drew back from him to take a breath, he kissed down the line of her jaw and on to her neck. She lifted up towards him, seeming to urge him on, but he did not trespass further. Touching, tasting her skin, licking and nipping his way back to her lips, he discovered that she had grasped his shirt and her shawl had fallen away from her shoulders.
She did not move away. She did not stop him. She pulled his shirt, bringing him closer to her. Dar dropped his hands from her head and stroked down her arms before sliding his hands around to her back and embracing her. Pulling her up against him hard, he had no doubt she could feel his rigid flesh between their bodies.
But did it frighten her? Nay, not his Isobel. She let out a slight gasp and then met his gaze. ‘Kiss me again, Athdar.’
And he did. He wrapped himself around her, lifting her up to meet his mouth and taking hers. The feel of her tongue against his nearly undid the control he was struggling to keep strong. He stopped and let her explore his mouth, ignoring the blinding need to lay her down and fill her with himself. Every touch of her tongue, every time she clutched at his shirt and slid her fingers unknowingly across his nipples, his body screamed for him to break free and take her.
Then a sound from below broke into the heated haze surrounding them and he lifted his mouth from hers and listened. Other than the sound of their breathing, both of them panting from the pleasure, none other came to them. But it gave him a chance to realise that he had crossed a line with her.
A very desirable and pleasing line, but one that an honourable man did not break with an innocent unless there was an understanding between them. When he attempted to step back, she resisted, tightening her grasp on his shirt and leaning against him. She let him go, but watched him with wide, intent eyes. Uncertain of what to say, he waited on her to speak, expecting she was overwhelmed by the power of the passion between them. When she did not, he finally found words.
‘Do you regret this?’ he asked softly as he leaned over and picked her shawl up from the floor.
‘Regret?’ She shook her head. ‘I regret only that you stopped.’
Did she have no idea of the enchanting temptation that she was to him? Of the danger someone like her, her, presented to him? Clearly not.
‘Someone had to or...’
‘So you regret...this?’ she asked. ‘That you acted this way, then?’ Sadness seeped into her voice. Something he never wanted to hear there.
‘My behaviour has been less than honourable towards you, Isobel. You should go now.’ He whispered that warning, praying she would understand how close to disaster they now stood.
‘I should go? To my chamber? Back to Lairig Dubh?’
She put a pace’s distance between them and crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the shawl tight over her breasts. Breasts that had recently been pushed up against his chest. Nipples that had tightened against him even if she was unaware of it. Considering the path of his thoughts, there was only one answer.
‘Both.’
Her gaze narrowed and, for a moment, he recognised the same glare her father was so famous for being sent in his direction.
‘You would send me away?’ she asked.
‘This was wrong,’ he said, nodding at the area around them. ‘No man should touch you that way, kiss you that way, unless you are betrothed.’ He knew she waited on that offer, but it was not coming. It could not come from him.
Instead of going to her chambers, she stepped closer, studying his face. Then a mutinous expression filled her face and her lower lip curled. No matter what she would say, Athdar understood he was in trouble.... Big trouble.
‘You would send me away out of fear?’
Had it been so clear in his expression, then, that she could read it?
‘Aye. Fear,’ he answered, crossing his arms, as well, but more in an attempt to keep himself from grabbing her once more. ‘Fear of you. Fear for you. Fear that I will take your virtue but am unable to offer you more than that passion. Fear that I will—’
He stopped himself then. He could not admit wholly the control his past yet held over him, not to her. His true fear was that he would break her heart and be unable to protect her. That whatever deadly fate had stalked the other women in his life would pursue her. Now, looking at her face and in her eyes, he knew that if anything happened to her, it would be the death of him.
‘You must go,’ he whispered. ‘Back to your cha
mber. We will talk about the rest in the morning.’ He pointed down the dark corridor towards the room.
‘Tell me why? Tell me why this promising beginning cannot continue towards something else? Is it because of Mairi’s death? Or Seonag’s?’ She reached up and touched his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. ‘I do not believe you are cursed, Athdar.’
‘Neither did they. Neither did Tavia. But they are dead now, are they not?’ He could not stop the frustration and resignation from bursting through now. She’d unleashed it, first with her innocent passion and now with her insightful questions. ‘Any woman who ties herself to me dies. I will not risk you.’
‘Well, I do not regret what happened between us, Athdar. And I will not act otherwise.’ She lifted her chin and watched him, and though he should say words that would scare her away, he just did not want her to believe he regretted what happened between them this night or over these past weeks.
He placed his finger under her chin and lifted it even higher. Then he leaned over and touched his mouth to hers, just to feel the heat and the passion that simmered inside of her once more before he sent her away. Her mouth, with its mutinous firmness, softened under his touch and her lips moulded to his. Then he lifted his head and stepped away, allowing his hand to drop.
‘Regret that? Never? But you...you I will always regret.’ Not taking the chance of her misunderstanding, he made it clear between them. ‘Nothing more can or will happen between us, Isobel. Nothing. So return to your chamber and, on the morrow, we will find a way for you to return home.’
Other than a slight narrowing of her gaze, she did not react. She stared at him for several moments before turning away from him. She gathered up her shawl and picked up the lantern from the floor before walking back to the end of the corridor and her chambers. Nothing, not a word or gesture, spoke of her acceptance of his decision or her abidance of his orders. Instead, she tilted her head as though studying him before lifting the latch to her door and going inside.
Athdar returned to his chamber. He should have felt content that she understood the situation between them and that nothing more could come of this desire and attraction they each had for the other. He undressed and climbed into his bed, but as he lay down and tried to find sleep, the truth struck him.
