Highland Vow

by Hannah Howell

  “I dinnae wish to actually see and hear how badly I have lost my gamble,” she whispered.

  “Because ye gave all that any lass can give a mon?”

  “How could ye ken that?” Elspeth worried that there was some look she carried that told Payton she was no longer chaste.

  “I ken how ye think, lass, for we have e’er thought alike. Ye want the mon—a mon who feels tied to another. I suspect ye looked at the problem of Isabel, gathered what knowledge ye could, and quickly saw the bitch for what she is. Since there was no need to respect the woman’s claim on Cormac, ye decided to turn him your way. And how to do that, how to catch and hold a mon who believes himself in love with another? By giving him everything, by holding him close and warm, by seeping into his blood and heart, and by feeding his want until that too belongs to you.”

  “Ye think ye are so verra clever, dinnae ye?” she grumbled.

  “Weel, aye, I am.” He met her look of disgust with a wide grin. “’Tis what I would do, lass. I would try to make my lover see only my face, crave only my touch. If my lover wavered, undecided, I would want to be sure I have left enough need and joy in heart and mind so that, if I had to leave, my memory would refuse to be shaken off. Aye, and mayhap the change of heart I sought in my lover would come once I was gone.”

  “I am a coward.”

  Payton laughed softly and hugged her. “Nay, just reluctant to be hurt. Only a fool wouldnae hesitate to have her heart broken. Ye are no fool. I wish I could assure ye that there will be no hurt dealt, but I havenae seen ye and that fool together. I cannae judge. All I can do is tell ye to stiffen that bonny backbone and face it, put yourself in his sight to remind him he now has a choice. If he is too much the fool to take it, if he cannae see that a vow made to a whore isnae one that should be kept, I will be right here, lass, ready to take ye home.”

  She leaned back and eyed him sternly. “And ye willnae go and speak to him if he does prove to be a fool.”

  “Cannae I?”

  “Nay, ye cannae. This is all my doing. I saw what I wanted and I reached for it. If I get my hand slapped away, ’tis my fault. I didnae e’en stop when I realized there was far more to fight than another woman, that there was this tangle of vows and honor and Cormac’s need to clean away the stain his parents have soaked their names in. I dinnae need my kinsmen rushing in to repay some imagined insult with their fists or their swords. The decision was mine and mine alone. In truth, the mon was verra hard to seduce.” She smiled faintly when Payton laughed.

  “A gentlemon, eh?”

  “Verra much so and all knotted up with thoughts of all he owed me and the Murrays.”

  “But ye overcame all of that.”

  “Aye.” She blushed faintly. “I discovered that what my mither told me was true. I am like her. I felt what he felt. I kenned that he desired me. ’Twas odd, and a bit of a shock, when he first kissed me.”

  “I have always wondered on the truth of that,” said Payton, his beautiful eyes alight with interest. “I fear I scoffed at such things. I felt it all carried the taint of magic, of some romantic imagining.”

  Elspeth nodded. “So did I. Aye, and I was most embarrassed to hear my own mither speak of such things. But I swear to ye, Payton ’tis the truth. I felt his desire. It fed my own, intertwined with it, and I think, in some small way, he felt the same. ’Tis verra difficult to explain, for I am nay sure I understand it.”

  “It may be born of the same thing that helps ye tell when someone is lying.”

  “Ah, aye, some odd gift that aids me in feeling what others feel. ’Twould explain a lot.”

  “So ye should feel more sure of yourself, more able to confront Cormac, for ye must ken what he feels.”

  “Some, aye. The desire, the gentleness, e’en a caring. But I also feel his confusion, his doubt. Aye, and his pain. I ken that I have made him happy, and if not for Isabel and a vow made, he would be mine without question. But there is an Isabel and there is a vow, and the conflicts I have raised in him concerning that woman, and mayhap his own honor, have made him verra unhappy. I fear I didnae have enough time to turn him completely, and I also fear he hasnae had enough time to decide what he wants or what he really needs. Yet ye are right: I must face it.” She pulled free of his light embrace and took a deep breath to steady herself. “The moment of truth is upon me and I cannae stay here hiding from it.”

  “I pray ye will find the truth ye need.” Payton kissed her on the cheek.

  “I pray I do as weel, but be prepared to leave this place. If I find that he is still caught tightly in Isabel’s web, that he cannae e’en consider that there may be a way to end the tight bond of his youthful vow, I willnae wish to stay here.”

  “Not e’en to fight for him?”

  “I have done that since escaping Sir Colin’s hold. If all I have done isnae enough to make him at least hesitate to return to Isabel, then I shallnae linger at his side.” She started to walk toward the inn. “I just pray that, if he chooses to cling to that bitch, I can control my hurt and anger enough to depart with some scrap of dignity.”

  “Isabel,” Cormac cried in surprise as the woman stepped quietly into the room. “Ye said ye would send for me.”

  He eased himself up into more of a seated position against the bed pillows. The walking he had just done may indeed have strengthened his legs, but for the moment, it left him as weak as a babe and he cursed the ill timing of her visit. Cormac would have liked to face her clearheaded and steady on his feet. He realized that he also wished she had not come to him in the room he shared with Elspeth. What puzzled him was that he did not feel embarrassed to have Isabel see him sprawled on the bed he shared with his lover, but he did feel that he was betraying Elspeth in some way.

  “I couldnae wait to see you, my dearest love,” Isabel said as she hurried to his side of the bed and took his hand in hers.

  “Nay? ’Twas ye who said I must wait to see you.”

  She tensed as she heard the distinct sound of a small child babbling. Her gaze lit upon the large basket and the small child contentedly playing with its toes. She grimaced with distaste at the sight of it as well as the huge gray cat seated next to the child, watching her with what she felt was a steady, malevolent look in its yellow eyes.

  “Yours?” she asked.

  “Oh, nay, Elspeth rescued them. The bairn was cast aside to die and the cat was being tormented.”

  Isabel studied him through narrowed eyes, hoping he saw the look as a flirtatious one cast from beneath lowered lashes, and not the wary perusal it was. Matters were worse than she had realized. Cormac had not yet kissed her, had not even made an attempt to do so. She could see none of that desperate hunger in his gaze that she had become so accustomed to. The little Murray bitch was obviously keeping him well satisfied. But should she display a jealous anger, or should she be hurt and tearful, or should she just simply pretend that the Murray woman did not even exist?

  She decided to get angry first. If he reacted badly, she could always resort to tears after that, pretending the anger was bred of her pain. Cormac always weakened when she cried. When he attempted to soothe her, while his sympathy was strong, she had always been able to steer him in the direction she wished him to go. At the moment, that was as far away from skinny Elspeth Murray as she could push him. She would try to do it without revealing her secret, but if forced to it, she had one very strong weapon to use—something that would surely pull Cormac back to her side and keep him there.

  Cormac was hers. She had taken his innocence, and although she suspected he had not been completely faithful to her, she felt sure that he had strayed only a few times. He saw her as a sweet innocent, a victim ill used by her family and her husbands. Isabel found that both amusing and enchanting. Cormac was also handsome, young, strong, and virile. Perhaps a little too virile, she mused, for three times she had tried to rid herself of his child. He was her creation and the one true constant in her life. He gave her love, more faithfulness tha
n any other, honor, and gallantry, and she knew she deserved none of it. She had no intention of losing all that, however, and certainly not to some little woman from a clan whose only claim to reknown seemed to be their skill at breeding.

  “Are ye afraid your lover will catch us together?” she said, her voice holding a tempered sharpness.

  “Isabel,” Cormac began. Then he paused to fight a strong sense of resentment, for he knew now that Isabel had been no virgin when they had first lain together. So, too, had she bedded down with four husbands and, if rumor was to believed, a few lovers as well. She had no right to condemn him, especially when they were more often apart than together.

  Then he sought for the understanding he had always felt before. Isabel had not chosen any of her husbands and he had no proof that she had taken any lovers. The trials they had suffered through were not of her making. Cormac could sympathize, but suddenly, he knew that he would not allow her to sharpen her tongue on Elspeth, nor demean what he and Elspeth shared. It was, perhaps, time for Isabel to return a little of the vast amount of understanding he had always shown her.

  “Elspeth isnae your concern,” he said cooly, but stroked the back of her hand a gentle caress intended to soften the harshness of his words.

  “How can ye say that, my love?”

  He shrugged. “I doubt I can make ye understand. Elspeth has saved my life not once, but twice. I owe her and her clan more than I can e’er repay. She and I are friends.” He was a little surprised to realize that he meant that wholeheartedly. “’Tis all ye need to ken.”

  Friends? Isabel thought. She had the feeling Cormac would never call her a friend. That meant that Elspeth already held a part of Cormac she herself had never reached, and that enraged Isabel. He was slipping away from her. She could feel it, hear it in the coolness of his voice. Isabel convulsively tightened her grip upon his hand, ignoring the frown he sent her way.

  “I am sorry,” she said with what she prayed was an appropriate contriteness. “I fear her presence at your side has preyed upon my mind. E’er since I saw her, I have feared that she would take ye away from me. ’Tis why I pushed ye away at first, thought to make ye wait. ’Twas naught but jealousy speaking.”

  Her evident unhappiness plucked at his guilt, although it was neither as strong nor as swift to arrive as he felt it ought to be. This was the woman he had pledged himself to, the woman he might well be marrying very soon. There should be no secrets between them and yet he felt no urge to confess or apologize.

  He hugged her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she sat down on the bed and gently pressed herself against his chest. Despite not having held her for almost a year, he felt not even the faintest flicker of lust. He told himself it was because she was unhappy, needed soothing not seducing, but he did not really believe himself.

  “Ye have no cause to be jealous,” he lied, another first with Isabel that did not cause him as much unease as it ought to.

  “I could not bear to lose you, Cormac.”

  “That can ne’er happen, Isabel. We are pledged.”

  “I ken that I have no right to hold fast to you. I should release ye from that vow we made when we were nay more than bairns. Selfishly, I dinnae, and I force ye to be alone. ’Tis just that I need ye so. Ye are the only good thing in my sad life, my only source of joy. Without your love to keep me strong, I would simply wither and die. But I must nay condemn ye to sharing my misery.”

  Her words were spoken in a soft, tremulous voice, her sadness clear to hear. Cormac knew he should immediately swear his devotion, repeat his pledge, and then make love to her. Yet he suddenly felt as if they were acting out some strange, almost morbid play. He grew and changed, Isabel grew and changed, husbands and lovers came and went, yet this remained the same. Isabel bemoaned her selfishness and hinted at setting him free, and he assured her that he wished only to be with her. At the moment, he felt no inclination to do that, and that both astonished and dismayed him.

  For ten long years he had faithfully uttered the words she now waited for. They should come easily yet they remained locked inside of him. He felt angry over her demands. Had he not proven his devotion time and time again over the last ten years? Was he not here, having raced to her side yet again? And despite Elspeth’s place in his life, had he not immediately sent word to Isabel that he had arrived and meekly accepted her demand that he wait to be called? How much more assurance could the woman need?

  Something was seriously wrong. Something had changed. Cormac felt none of the biting hunger he had always felt upon seeing Isabel. He could not even feel that the lack of lust was due solely to having spent himself in Elspeth’s arms but hours ago, yet it made a reasonable excuse and he clutched at it. A little voice in his head was advising him to look more closely, to open his eyes and see that he was free of Isabel, even hinting that there were ways to break his pledge yet keep his honor, but he ruthlessly silenced it.

  Cormac refused to accept that he had wasted ten years of his life or, far worse, had played the faithful fool for that long. He did not want to think that he had mistakenly locked himself into a vow he could not, would not break, but would always regret. It was just that he was tired, that he had thoroughly sated himself in Elspeth’s soft arms. The infatuation he suffered needed time to fade. Soon all of the old feelings Isabel had always stirred in him would return. It would all be all right soon. He just had to wait a little while.

  “Cormac?” Isabel pressed when he continued to sit there, silent and brooding.

  She kissed the hollow near his ear, something she knew he really liked. Isabel was stunned when she felt him tense beneath the touch of her lips. He did not actually move away, but she felt him retreat in some way. Matters were far, far worse than she had thought. Then she heard a faint noise near the door, the soft rustle of a skirt across a rush-strewn floor. It could be a maid, but instinct told Isabel that it was Elspeth Murray. She might have trouble pulling Cormac back to her side, but it could be done in time. It could be done a lot quicker if little Elspeth Murray was gone, and that was something Isabel felt she could do. All she needed was a few minutes before Cormac saw that Elspeth had returned. She placed her hands on Cormac’s cheeks and pulled his mouth down to hers, hiding the fury she felt when he was slow to return her fierce kiss.

  “Ah, Cormac, my love,” she whispered, though loud enough to be heard by the person near the door, “how I have longed for you.” Keeping her hands on his cheeks, she held him facing her, although she noticed that his gaze wandered a little. “There is still a fire between us.”

  He had felt none, but heard himself say, “Aye, Isabel. There has e’er been that.” Cormac told himself it was not a complete lie, for once he was himself again, he felt sure that fire would return.

  Knowing it was going to be difficult to pull ardent confessions from him at the moment, Isabel struggled to turn their discussion in the direction she needed it to go. If she asked just the right questions or phrased her words in just the right way, she could pull free words that could easily sound ardent and full of love. Cormac did not actually have to declare his heart was hers and hers alone, but Isabel felt sure she could make it sound very much as if he did. She fought the urge to turn and assure herself that the one she wished to overhear all of this was actually standing there.

  “After so many years, so many shared nights, surely ye cannae cast me aside like some weel-gnawed bone?” she said.

  “Nay, of course not,” Cormac began, irritated that he would have to remind her yet again that he was not a man to break his word.

  “Oh, ye have made me so happy. I was so afraid, Cormac.”

  “There is nay a need to fear, sweeting,” Cormac said as he stroked her hair. “I am here for ye, as always. Just as I promised.”

  “I can always depend upon your love, cannae I?”

  “Of course.”

  Cormac spoke absently, mostly out of habit. This was what he always did. This was what he had come here for. He pa
id little attention to what she said, however, for his thoughts were on the kiss they had just shared. It had been pleasant, but little else, and he began to think the cause was far more than weariness and well-sated passion. He had also found himself worrying that he could be caught kissing Isabel, that Elspeth could discover them together. In fact, he wanted Isabel to go away, and since he had been dreaming of this reunion for months, that made no sense at all. He decided to obey that urge, however. He would tell her whatever was needed to soothe her and get her to leave. Then he would be able to do some clear thinking.

  “I am so glad ye came to see me again, my love,” Isabel said, brushing her lips over his. “I believe that there is hope for us this time, that finally we may be able to be together as we have always wished to be. Are ye nay happy?”

  “Of course, Isabel. How could I not be? Is it nay what I have sought for ten long years?” So why did he suddenly feel so trapped? he asked himself and found no answer. “But mayhap ye should leave here ere we are discovered.”

  “Oh, I care not,” she declared with what she felt was an admirable display of passion. “I am done with hiding how I feel about you, how we feel about each other. ’Tis past time we grabbed hold of what we crave and cast aside all propriety and fear of danger. We should herald our love from the North Sea to the Thames.”

  Cormac barely stopped himself from shouting, God nay! He should be ecstatic that Isabel was finally brave enough to freely proclaim her love, but all he could think of was that Elspeth would hear and be hurt. Yet again he thought that something strange was happening and he desperately needed to be alone to figure it all out.

  “I am glad, Isabel, and often have I wished we could do just that. Howbeit, I believe a little caution would be wise just now,” he said gently. Then he noticed that she looked ready to weep and hurriedly kissed her. “We are older now, too wise to indulge in such headiness, such rash actions. Let us proceed with just a little discretion.”