by Terry Spear
It was hard for Marcus to know what kind of man John truly was from the little Isobel knew of him. He turned to the Chattan brothers. “Have you a feel for the situation?”
“Aye,” Kayne said. He was the third eldest brother. “The man is adamant that he wants Isobel returned at once to her rightful place.”
“And then married off to someone that King Henry approves of so John can win favor with the king?” Isobel asked, sounding bitter.
Marcus didn’t blame her. He wasn’t about to allow her cousin to return her home. “We are wed,” he reminded her, in case she needed reminding.
She smiled at him, then frowned. “Under your laws. John may not agree to yours.”
“You are no’ leaving with him.” Marcus had not expected this development at all. Once John had her da’s title and lands, Marcus assumed that’s all he’d care about as long as Isobel was happy. The greedy bastard.
Kayne said, “We have disarmed his men, the twenty he brought with him as we would do any that are no’ our allies or kin. We back you in this, Marcus.”
“Many thanks to you and your kin,” Marcus said.
As soon as they reached the gates, two of the Chattan brothers led the way, the rest of the party following. Several men hurried to take their mounts, while Marcus helped Isobel down from her horse.
He took her arm and strode with her and the others toward the keep, but before they reached it, Edana rushed out, always the family greeter, and hurried to see him and Isobel. She beamed, her dark hair shimmering with red as she looked like she wanted to throw her arms around Marcus and give him a hug, but because he was holding onto Isobel’s arm, she hesitated.
He let go of Isobel and gave Edana a hug. “Cousin,” he said, with great affection. Then he turned and took Isobel’s arm and introduced her. “My dear wife.”
Again, Edana hesitated, and then she smiled broadly and wrapped her arms around Isobel in a warm embrace. “Cousin,” she said, fondly. But then she whispered, “Forgive me for saying so, but you are no’ at all like your cousin John. He is a pompous bore. He has only just attempted to claim your da’s title and hasna even earned it.”
“I agree,” Isobel said. “I will tell him what I intend to do.”
Edana again smiled brightly at her, and said to Marcus, “If you will release Isobel long enough, I will take her to the guest chamber and have a bath prepared for her. She can come down when she is ready to see her cousin.”
“I will go with her,” Marcus said.
Edana lifted a brow.
“In case anyone has any ideas about trying to run off with her.”
As they entered the keep, Edana smiled again. “For protection, aye. I will ensure you have more time to clean up then,” she said to Isobel.
“Where are John and his men?” Marcus asked.
“In the great hall, feasting. They wanted to come out to see you, but my father said no. He is sitting with them still and sent my brothers instead.”
“Good.”
Edana led the way up the narrow, curving stone stairs until they reached the fifth floor of the tower. “This chamber looks onto the loch and you will have enough privacy on this floor. I have already instructed the servants to bring up a bath, and,” she said, motioning to the bed, “I have set out one of my gowns for your use, Isobel, suspecting you had naught with you when you had to flee from the men who killed your escort.”
“Did the knight live that Marcus’s clansmen took back to my father’s keep?” Isobel asked.
“Aye.”
“And my kinsman?” Marcus asked.
“He is here, eating with the others. Like John, he wished to see you, but my father asked that he remain at the table. He didna want anyone to leave but my brothers.”
Several men suddenly entered the chamber, some carrying a wooden tub, others carrying buckets of water to fill the tub.
As they continued to parade in, deposit their water, and then leave again, Edana, Marcus, and Isobel remained silent. When the tub was filled, the servants left the room.
Edana asked, “Will you need a maid to help you?”
Marcus shook his head.
Edana chuckled. “You are so much like Angus. I canna decide if he gets it from you or you from him.” She paused at the door. “Would you prefer to eat here? I can send up food for you, if you would rather eat in the chamber.”
“Aye,” Marcus said, then looked at Isobel to see her preference.
She looked frazzled now that she’d removed her cloak and set it aside, half her dark brown hair in curls about her shoulders and trailing down to her hips.
“Aye,” she said, nodding as if saying the word was not enough. “I am tired from all the traveling. If it would not appear too ungracious, I would prefer to see everyone on the morrow when we break our fast.”
“Aye, I will tell my father what you wish. He said ‘tis up to the two of you, and he said that he wants to know why his favorite cousin hasna visited in so long. Though, of course, he says so in jest, knowing how busy you are with taking care of your clan.”
“I will come down and visit with him…after a time,” Marcus said.
Edana grinned. “I willna tell him in case you change your mind.” Then she gave Isobel and Marcus another hug and quickly left the chamber, closing the door as she departed.
Marcus strode across the floor and bolted the door, then turned and saw Isobel struggling to pull her gown over her head.
“Let me help,” he said, hoarsely, the thought of seeing her naked and in the bath already stirring his loins. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect way to end their journey today, no men and bairns in the same room as them. All alone and finally able to make love to his beautiful wife like he’d wanted to as soon as she was old enough to do so. Now all that had changed, not in an entirely good way as he wished her da had lived and given Marcus his permission freely to wed the lass.
***
Angus, Gunnolf, and Niall backed up Angus’s wife’s brothers as John Pembroke stood behind the table where he was to be seated, looking for any sign of Isobel, no doubt. Angus couldn’t have been more pleased that his cousin by marriage and good friend, Marcus, had taken his beloved Isobel to wife. The man had piercing blue eyes, his dark brown hair curling at his shoulders, a beard making him look older than Angus thought he was. Mayhap five and twenty.
John’s men had taken his cue and also rose, but Tibold, chief of the Clan Chattan, asked them to please take their seats, though the men did not.
Edana quickly entered the great hall and joined her da, leaning down to whisper something in his ear.
Tibold nodded. “Lady Isobel will see us in the morn. She is weary from her journey and—”
John scowled. “I wish to see her now.”
“That willna be possible. She is in her bath by now.” Tibold smiled.
“Where is this McEwan who was said to have saved my cousin?” John looked over the other men that had joined them, Marcus’s kinsmen, but Angus was certain Marcus would not leave his wife for the rest of the night.
“He has other matters to attend to.” Tibold’s determined look told the man he would send him and his men from the keep if he did not abide his rules.
Angus and the other men would back him up with might, if necessary.
For the longest time, John remained standing as if he couldn’t decide if he should push the issue or give in.
Then, in a hostile way, John dropped to his seat and bumped the table with his abruptness, a scowl still plastered on his face. “We will take our leave in the morn after we break our fast. Mayhap after she has slept the night, she will feel rested enough to travel.”
If she was rested enough, she would travel to Marcus’s castle, Angus thought, as he watched John’s men take their seats. Angus suspected that Marcus would prefer that Isobel stay here a while longer and when they were ready to go, Angus and his cousin, Niall, and their friend Gunnolf, and his wife’s brothers would also ride as escort to en
sure Marcus and Isobel and his kin arrived safely.
Angus and Edana took their seats on the other side of her da while they listened to John complain. “I do not know why the man would bring her here and not return her to her own people.”
Tibold said nothing, just continued to eat his deer and drink his ale. Angus knew his da by marriage wasn’t about to explain anything to the Norman that he didn’t wish to.
“Mayhap he didna believe she would be safe if Lord Wynfield had it in mind to send her again to serve the English queen,” Angus said.
“Lord Wynfield is a fool. Once I return, he will have to find work elsewhere. It is my duty to ensure my cousin has a proper husband.”
To earn favor with the king, Angus thought cynically. John didn’t care one whit what Isobel wanted. Now that her da’s nephew had taken on the title, there was no real reason for Isobel not to wed Marcus, except because John wished to use her as his pawn.
“You know that Isobel has pledged her heart to Marcus.” Angus was not sure how much John knew about the situation, but he wanted to make John aware that they weren’t about to turn her over to him.
John gave a disgruntled laugh. “She knows it is not her choice. Just as when her father was alive. But aye, I was in attendance at one of her dances and saw the way she looked at him and the way he looked at her. ‘Twas obvious they had feelings for one another.”
“One of her suitors sent men to kill Marcus. Now he has had her father murdered and slain her escort before they could reach Winchester. Think you, if you decided some other husband for her, that you wouldna be marrying her to the villain? Although, now that you have stepped in to take your uncle’s title, mayhap none of her suitors are that interested in marrying her.” Angus hoped that would be the case and then John would give up the notion of marrying her off to someone else. If he had to give away some of his newly acquired property, would he decide he’d rather not and just hand her over to McEwan?
“She has a substantial dowry,” John said coldly, as if it bothered him that she still had means and that he had not gained all her da’s properties upon his death. He fingered the brown bread disdainfully. “Where is this McEwan? I wished to thank him personally.”
Tibold said, “With his wife, I suspect.”
“He has a wife? Here?” John sounded shocked.
“Aye, here,” Tibold said.
Angus smiled at the laird.
“Then why would Isobel wish to wed him?” John asked.
“She loves him,” Angus said.
“But he is married.”
“Aye,” Tibold and Angus said at the same time.
Gunnolf and Niall chuckled.
But Angus suspected they would have trouble once John learned that Marcus’s wife was Isobel.
Chapter 13
Marcus helped Isobel out of her garments, though he was not a practiced lady’s maid and he had a lot to learn. He was trying hard not to pull her hair or fumble with her ties, and he felt like a green lad.
She smiled up at him, her expression lighthearted and affectionate, just the way he loved for her to be. She pulled at his tunic and gave a little tug.
“Your bath first, lass. If I strip out of my clothes first, you will never have your bath.”
She chuckled wickedly and helped him with removing her clothes. And then, naked, her hair covering her breasts, the rest of her skin bare to him, she seemed a wee bit shy, as she quickly climbed into the bathwater. It was a small bath, only one person could fit in, and he was wondering if one of his men could create something larger for two to bathe in when he returned to his keep.
He took the cloth from her that she had started to use to wash her arms, the water high on her chest, her long hair floating on top of the water, some of it wet enough to cling to her breasts. He started to wash her back as she pulled her hair forward and she leaned over a bit.
“You are beautiful, Isobel,” he said, his voice already turning husky with need. Just the sight of her naked, the desire to brush the hair away from her breasts, to see the dusky nipples that he’d barely glimpsed, peeking between strands of her silky hair.
“You are also,” she said.
He smiled at her declaration, no woman having ever said that about him, though only Isobel’s comment would have interested him.
Then he washed her hair with the soap Edana had left for them. Once he was finished with Isobel’s hair, he swept the cloth across her breasts. She leaned back against the tub, closed her eyes, and purred.
He was done in, his groin tightening with need, his blood hot with desire. He slid the cloth over her breasts again, his hand feeling her nipples grow erect, as he paused to enjoy them. He couldn’t touch her and see her like this without wanting her with rampant longing.
Then he ran the cloth lower, over her legs and pushed them apart to see her dark curly hair at the apex of her thighs and washed there.
“Ahh,” she groaned and started to rise from the tub. He quickly dropped the wet cloth and grabbed a much larger one to dry her. He wanted to wrap her in it and carry her to the bed, but he needed to wash the dirt and mud off himself from all the traveling through the wet region before he joined her there.
He helped her out of the tub and guided her to sit by the fire. “I will wash up quickly and then we will retire so you willna catch your death.”
“Aye, hurry.” She looked sweetly at him, her skin so soft and clean.
“Aye, of that you can be sure.” In no time at all, he had discarded his sword and scabbard, sgian dubh, boots, his plaid, and tunic on the floor, then got into the bath, noticing that she was watching him the whole time, appraising him, seeing just how aroused he was, which had the effect of making him even harder.
She was attempting to dry her hair without showing off her body too much or at least trying to keep herself covered so she’d remain warmer by the fire. She kept revealing a slim leg, a full breast, a nipple as she toweled her hair with one edge of the cloth.
He would have sat in the water longer, but he vigorously scrubbed himself down as quickly as he could, then surged up from the tub and grabbed the lengthy bit of cloth to dry himself. Once he had managed that, he joined her at the fire, pulled the cloth from her hands, and began to dry her hair. He kept the front of his body against her back to warm her. The fire helped to warm her front, while he attempted to dry her hair the best he could.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, still drying her hair, but holding her close. “I love you, Isobel. I always have.”
“Oh, Marcus.” She turned in his arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her luscious, naked body against his. “You know I have always loved you. Even when you were impossible.”
He chuckled and dropped the cloth, then grabbed her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “I have never been impossible.”
She laughed. “Aye, you have.”
He set her on the bed, then climbed in beside her and yanked the curtains closed.
“Your wound,” she said, with real concern.
“Healed, a scar, but it doesna bother me much now.”
“May I see?”
“It probably isna pretty to see.”
“Turn over. Let me see.”
He really hadn’t wanted to. She was beautiful and he didn’t want her to see him all scarred up.
She gingerly touched around the scar. “It does not hurt?”
“Nay, no’ any longer.” He turned then and saw the tears in her eyes.
“Ah, lass.” He felt moved by her tears, but he didn’t want her to feel bad again over what had happened to him.
He kissed her mouth, raking his hand through her damp hair. She touched his arms, his back, his waist, exploring like she wasn’t able to earlier, just like he had never been able to with her.
Her lips were sweet on his, her mouth softening against his. He treasured her, had loved her for her smiles and flirtatious ways directed only at him, how witty and clever she was, and how she neve
r shied away from work or duty. But mostly the way they had shared a secret love for one another, when they were permitted naught more.
But now…now she was his.
The urge to plunder her was great, as much as he burned to have her, but he attempted to slow his racing heart, to drink in her sweet scent from the soap made from the aromatic herbs of fennel, lavender, and lime, to enjoy this first moment of bliss that he had feared he’d never experience.
He cupped a breast and ran his thumb over the nipple, already taut with expectation. She shivered a little, and he leaned down to lick the nipple as her hands moved to his head, her fingers raking through his hair. His touching her and her touching him made him steel hard for her as she moaned a little when he swirled his tongue around her nipple.
She rubbed her foot against his leg and he smiled to see her unafraid and eager to touch him. He hadn’t known what to expect from the lass who was inexperienced in the art of lovemaking, but she proved to make his blood heat and his heart pound with her sizzling touches. Though he was certain she didn’t realize just how much she did.
He groaned as her leg moved higher on his leg, and he pushed it back against the bed, then ran his hand down her hip, and over her dewy curls at the apex of her thighs. He began to stroke her, to ready her for him, to make her even wetter, to soften, to accept him before he made the plunge that would claim the lass for his own.
Her hands had stilled on his waist, her breathing nearly ceasing as she gave into the feel of his stroking her.
He smiled at her, loving that she was so caught up in the moment, that naught else seem to exist. Then he began kissing her again, stroking her at the same time, her hands again moving over his muscles, touching, kneading, drawing him even further under her spell.
“Oh, oh,” she panted out and he smiled again before he inserted a finger into her wet sheath, feeling as deeply as he could go, enjoying the sensation of her body rippling with pleasure. “‘This might be uncomfortable for a wee bit as you welcome me in,” he whispered against her ear, not wanting to frighten her, but he didn’t know if her mother or Mary or some other woman had warned her what the first joining would be like.
