Harlequin Historical November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2

by Carol Arens

Isobel lay quiet and unmoving then until his breath changed back into a slow, deep, easy pace. Deciding that she was much too awake to sleep, she slid from the bed, picked up his plaid and left the chamber. Her feet took her to her destination before her mind even knew it and she stood before the loom in the hall. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark and then sat before it, picking up the shuttle.

  * * *

  Her hands had moved more by practice than sight, adding several rows of new weaving before the sun’s light began to brighten the day. Realising she should not be seen here, Isobel climbed the stairs and went to her old chamber, seeking out her clothing and other belongings so she could dress. The scant choice of gowns and not many personal items there reminded her of her need for more—at least until she could send for her things.

  The thought made her homesick for a moment. What must her mother think of her escapade? How would she react when news of this newest wrinkle in things arrived in Lairig Dubh? She tried not to think about her father’s reaction, but they would have to deal with that and the laird’s as well. She thought Jocelyn might be able to temper Connor’s opinion of this unsanctioned marriage, but her father?

  Somehow, though her father could bluster and intimidate most everyone, her heart told her that he would be hurt by her actions more than angered by them. His anger he would no doubt aim at Athdar. After seeing her father take on Rob Mathieson when he came to claim her cousin Lilidh’s hand, she knew the damage he would rain down on Athdar.

  Well, what would be, would be, and she doubted that anyone short of Connor, and possibly not even he, could stop her father from seeking his own satisfaction for Athdar taking her in marriage without his consent.

  Mayhap ’tis better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission?

  Lady Jocelyn’s words repeated in her thoughts. She had little doubt that either action would have displeased her father in the matter of her marriage. So, they would face his wrath when next they met him.

  In the meantime, she wanted to take the first steps to help Athdar and to begin their future. So, while weaving she’d sorted out her plan and decided to speak to Athdar for permission to make some changes here at the keep in anticipation of winter.

  She was rolling her stockings up when the door flew open. Tossing down her gown, she turned to find Athdar standing in the doorway with a strange look in his eyes.

  ‘What is the matter?’ she asked, going to him.

  ‘I woke up and you were gone.’

  ‘Did you think I’d come to my senses finally?’ she asked, jesting, but speaking what she suspected was what he’d thought.

  ‘Aye.’

  She smiled at him and shook her head. ‘I could not sleep so I went to the loom to avoid waking you.’

  ‘When?’ he asked, dragging his hands through his hair and rubbing his face.

  ‘An hour or so ago, I think.’ She shrugged.

  ‘More than that, I think,’ he replied.

  ‘It matters not,’ she said. ‘’Tis something I do when I cannot sleep. Do you mind?’ She stopped then, coming to a realisation that she’d not thought of before. ‘I supposed that now I must get your permission for my actions?’ He squinted at her. ‘As my husband, I suppose you can tell me what to do.’

  He laughed then, a true and hearty laugh, and Isobel liked the look and sound of it. His face lost most of the haunted look and she could see the younger man who lived within him. His deep voice echoed in the laughter and she smiled.

  ‘Spoken by a woman who has never been married,’ he said.

  ‘As I am,’ she answered. ‘Mayhap I should seek out Nessa and Jean for counsel on such matters?’

  He wiped his face then and shook his head. ‘Aye, as your husband I am entitled to tell you what to do or not do, but as a man who has done this before, I have learned it’s best not to try that.’ He stepped back as she walked out the door. ‘What plans do you have for this day?’

  ‘I thought of that while at the loom,’ she said. ‘There are a few things...’ She paused, not certain how he would respond to her desire to not only move things around in his home, but to bring in an outsider to see to some tasks he now did.

  ‘Are there some changes you wish made here in the keep? Or in the village?’ he asked. When she frowned, he shrugged. ‘Every woman I have ever known wants something moved or changed. So, have at it.’

  ‘You do not mind?’ she asked. ‘Should I tell you or rather ask you beforehand?’

  ‘Nay. Though we did not accomplish it the more traditional way, you are lady here now. It is your home. Do as you wish.’

  Mayhap his past experiences being married had led him to this manner of thinking about his wife’s place? Her own mother exerted quite a bit of control over their household, though if you asked her father he would deny it. As would Connor about the amount of autonomy that Jocelyn had over Lairig Dubh. But, thinking about it, she realised that her mother and the lady always found a way to make their husbands believe that changes had been their ideas. It seemed to make changes more palatable.

  ‘My thanks, Athdar. I will not change anything significantly without your permission, of course.’ She faced him. ‘I am going to the kitchens to speak to Jean and Ceard. Will you be down to break your fast soon?’

  ‘Have a care if you think to suggest changes to anything in Ceard’s kitchens,’ he suggested. ‘He does not take well to changes in the way he runs his kitchens.’

  She nodded and went on her way, pleased that he would give his support. Many greeted her as she walked through the hall and in the kitchen. Ceard even paused and called her ‘Lady MacCallum’ twice in their conversation. She noticed that Jean glared at him several times during their talk and suspected that the cook’s wife had more control of the cook’s kitchens than his laird realised.

  A short time later, she sat at Athdar’s side as they broke their fast with steaming bowls of porridge, served up with brown bread and butter. Filled and refreshed, she bid Athdar farewell as he headed out to the village to work with the men there, repairing and readying several of the cottages and outbuildings where harvested crops were stored.

  * * *

  She spent her day much as the past days, part of the time with Laria and part working the loom. It would take her some time to learn all of her duties and to begin oversight of many tasks left to others in the years since there was a lady in place here. One thing she did see to, something she thought sorely missing, was the care of Athdar’s chambers. It took some time to do, but she hoped he would be pleased by it.

  Soon, the men returned to the keep as the sun set and supper was ready to be served.

  But all she could think about was the night that would follow.

  * * *

  Athdar thought that he might have accomplished something good in a very bad way. And all day long, as he worked along with his carpenters and masons to make repairs to some cottages damaged in recent storms and to enlarge two storage barns on the edge of the village near the fields, he thought about Isobel going about her own duties.

  Mairi had been more than competent and a wonderful helpmate to him as he became laird on his father’s passing. Two years older than he, she had brought a certain quiet grace to the hall and they got along well as they learned to love each other. Everything seemed brighter then, coloured by their love no doubt, and many things were done the way she did them even now.

  Seonag was, by the time he remarried, a younger lass, but her skills did not lie in running his household so much as managing the estate records. She had a keen mind for numbers and it was then that Athdar had stopped using a cleric to do that. She also taught him how to, so he continued after her death.

  After that, various women among his older cousins and such took over some of the duties while Broc and even Padruig handled others. He would always hear Seonag admonishing
him about keeping the numbers well, so he held on to that for more sentimental reasons than anything else.

  And now? Isobel had a kind heart and he did not doubt that the changes she wanted involved helping some of those she deemed in need. Her visits to the village and to the weavers who worked in their own cottages were at the centre of it, he thought. She also had an extensive education and a sharp mind, so she could be an advantage to him in many, many ways...though right now, his body could think of one.

  He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts about Isobel, he never realised that all the other men had stopped working and now stared at him. Athdar shook off his reverie and looked at them.

  ‘What is it? What?’ He put down the mallet he used and wiped his hands on his trews, trying to remember what they were speaking about just a moment ago.

  Broc nudged the man standing next to him. ‘Did I not tell you? In spite of all his arguments all these years, he has taken to marriage like a pig in shit!’ Athdar realised he must have looked like a moonstruck lad standing there, unmoving with his tool poised to strike...and not.

  ‘The lady will put an end to his drinking,’ another man said.

  ‘Already did, from the looks of him.’ Connal smacked his back and laughed. For a man recently entrapped by Isobel’s charm, Athdar suspected Connal understood her appeal.

  And though he did not feel as though she controlled him as a wife to a husband yet, Athdar knew to a certainty that she could...very easily...very quickly.

  So, being trapped for honour’s sake and in reparation for what he’d done to her was not a bad thing? Not if she could forgive him? Mayhap by this marriage not being his choice, things would work out? If he did not pursue it, she might be safe from the curse that seemed to strike every woman he chose.

  ‘Enough!’ he said, waving them off. ‘There’s work to be done here.’ He tried to say it in a serious tone, to warn them off this teasing and taunting, but it came out on a laugh. ‘I have a new wife to get back to, so let’s finish this.’

  Athdar knew that it was not like that between them, but he hoped that it could be. If he did not seek out a wife, if it happened without intention, then things might work out for them. This handfasting might be the answer to the curse he felt had followed him for his whole life.

  * * *

  The day passed slowly for him. Every time he glanced up at the sun to estimate how much more daylight they had, it seemed to be standing still in the sky. Each task completed was followed by another and another and yet another. He dared not complain or ask about the unending work or he would face more taunting.

  Finally, the sun began to slide down the slope of the western sky and they gathered up their tools and supplies. There was more to be done on the morrow, so plans were made about where to meet and who would do what before they returned to their cottages or the keep. If Athdar’s steps were a bit rushed or if he reached the keep ahead of the others, no one said a word. Though many, many knowing glances were thrown in his direction!

  He did not see her when he entered the keep, so he sought out his chambers to change from the filthy clothing he’d worn for working into something less so. He opened the door to find the room within transformed into something...comfortable.

  Athdar walked in and discovered more surprises awaiting him.

  A bucket of water, still steaming, a basin, a bowl of soap and a washing cloth sat on one of his trunks.

  A clean pair of trews and a shirt lay on the bed waiting for him.

  A pitcher of ale and some bread.

  A fire, well set and well tended, warmed the room.

  All of this was different from what usually awaited him—nothing. An empty, cold chamber, his garments in the trunk, water for washing outside in the barrel next to the stables.

  Isobel had clearly embraced her role as lady and wife as it came to seeing to his comfort and Athdar found he liked this.

  * * *

  He had washed and dressed quickly, wanting to find and thank her. Admonishing himself for nearly running down the stairs and through the hall, he slowed himself to a walk and looked for her. The hall began filling with those who took their meals with him here, so he went towards the table at the front. Reaching it, he spied Isobel walking in from the kitchens. He did not sit, but met her halfway and took her hand.

  ‘My thanks for...’ He glanced towards the upper chambers and kissed her hand.

  ‘Everything was to your liking, then?’ she asked, with a becoming blush rising into her cream-coloured cheeks. He noticed that she did not take her hand from his.

  ‘Aye. I felt well tended.’ He laughed then and kissed her hand again before releasing it. ‘My thanks, Isobel.’

  She began to speak, but not the way the self-assured Isobel usually did. This time, she stammered a bit, looking embarrassed by his compliments. Then, distracted by something behind him, she took his hand and led him to the table.

  ‘Supper is ready,’ she said in a loud voice.

  Though he did not know what she’d planned, it was apparent that the women in the hall did. They pushed and tugged and directed everyone to sit as Isobel did...as he did. Then, the doors to the kitchen opened and servants brought out platters of food.

  As they ate, he noticed her signalling to servants and watched their prompt actions in reply. It had not taken her long at all to make a few changes. None of the servants, or even Ceard or Jean when they came out of the kitchens, seemed bothered by the changes. His cup was filled and his plate full, so he was pleased. From the expression of satisfaction in her eyes and from the matching ones on those serving the meal, Athdar understood she’d involved them in this change and they did it for her.

  ‘So,’ he whispered as he leaned in towards her, ‘how did you accomplish such a magical thing? Ceard is not known to be co-operative about changing the way he runs things.’

  ‘I pointed out that these few, small changes would mean his chores would be completed earlier each night. He seemed pleased by that idea.’

  She’d found the man’s weakness and used it against him. It was a lesson he would need to be wary of when dealing with her, he thought.

  ‘Fear not, though,’ she whispered. ‘There will also be a pot of stew or porridge waiting for anyone carrying out their duties past suppertime.’

  So, she’d not missed the one thing that was Jean’s concern while getting Ceard to comply with her wishes. Masterfully done.

  * * *

  They finished the meal and she motioned for him to stand, a signal set by her for the other servants to clear the table. He found he liked having everything there until finished.

  ‘I noticed the board set and ready in my chamber. Does this mean you are ready for a challenge?’ he asked, taking her hand and marvelling that she let him do so. A good sign—she was becoming comfortable with his touch.

  ‘Aye. A challenge for certain,’ she said, nodding and smiling at some of those following her directions without her uttering a word to them. ‘No quarter asked.’

  ‘And none given, lady,’ he replied.

  It was a custom in Connor’s home to say that and declare it an honest, no-holds-barred match. Whether the players be men or women, they were expected to play to the best of their abilities, no matter their opponent. He’d never noticed she’d never promised that in their earlier matches, leading him to the realisation that she’d let him win more than he thought she had.

  As they climbed the steps leading to the bedchamber, he also knew he stood no chance of winning any game against her if they played in the privacy of a bedchamber. His mind would be on many, many things and none of them would involve which piece to play. More likely than not, he would be thinking about how to get her out of her gown or into his arms.

  As he was at this moment.

  So, if he wanted to put her at ease with him
and even the balance of power in the game, he would need to come up with a plan that would bother her as much as her nearness in the face of his good intentions not to rush her bothered and stymied him. By the time he lifted the latch of his door and opened it for her, he’d come up with something simple and nefarious at the same time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She could not catch her breath.

  Oh, not from exertions, but from the way he spoke and looked at her. Isobel had feared overstepping in some of the changes she’d made but from his expression as he noticed them, she thought him very pleased.

  As she worked this day, going from place to place in the keep, speaking to servants and others who called it home, she realised it was not truly a home—only a place to eat and sleep. Saddened by that and the lack of care that Athdar lived in, she decided a few things needed to be seen to quickly.

  His chamber was the first.

  She’d noticed the lack of care for him and his clothing when they had first arrived. Oh, she did not fault any of the household servants, for she learned that he had warned them off going in his chambers, giving them leave to do so only once a sennight or so. And though she could claim rightful reasons for her lack of an adequate number of garments now, he had no such claim. From speaking to the woman, Coira was her name, who saw to the laundry, Athdar would bring his clothing to her when he needed it cleaned. Isobel discovered one whole trunk contained worn-out or damaged garments that he never wore.

  Coira had shown her to the storage closet where additional lengths of fabric and extra garments were and she availed herself of several for both her and Athdar. If she remained, if this handfasting stood the tests that would face them, she would see to it that his garments were completely replaced.

  It was what a wife would do.

  Now, he walked close behind her and she could hear his uneven breathing. It reminded her of the night they had kissed in the corridor and her body reacted, remembering the heat and the pleasure she had found with his mouth touching hers. If he kissed her now like he had then, she would not object. Nay, she would even encourage him in spite of the fear of him discovering the truth about her.