“She is quite content,” Patrick interrupted, his hand firm upon her wrist. Isabel wanted to jerk away. There was no need to treat her like a child. But when she glared up at him, she saw an unexpected warning to be silent. The dark cast to his face made her hesitate.
She suspected it would be best not to draw her husband’s anger upon her. “I have only arrived this day,” Isabel said. “I am certain when my husband brings me to the mainland fortress, my accommodations will improve.”
There. Surely MacEgan would have to bring her to his home now. But instead his steel eyes met hers with unyielding force. He would not be swayed by words. “In time.”
“On the morrow,” she argued.
“When I have deemed it safe,” he growled. Isabel bit back her frustration. He wasn’t going to relent, especially not in front of her father’s man. Well, then, she would not give up either. She wasn’t about to let him exile her alone upon Ennisleigh.
To Sir Anselm, Patrick commanded, “Take the boat back to the mainland. At dawn we will discuss enlarging the rath to accommodate your men.”
Her heart sank. She’d thought he would go back with Sir Anselm. The idea of spending this night with him rattled her nerves even more. She had expected a night of discomfort in the broken-down fortress. But at least it would have given her a chance to plan her next move.
Sir Anselm studied Isabel, and she held his gaze. He was silently asking about her welfare. She hesitated, then braved, “Will I see you again soon, Sir Anselm?”
He inclined his head. “If my lady wishes it so.”
“You will have other duties to concern you.” Patrick cut him off, sending her a warning look.
The Norman knight retreated to the boat, and Isabel expelled a sigh of regret when he was beyond their shores. “I suppose there isn’t any hope of you leaving also?”
“Not yet.”
“A war could break out,” she offered, panic roiling inside her mind. “You might be needed.”
She wanted him far away from her. Though he claimed he had no intentions of taking her virginity, something about this man unraveled her senses. There was a wildness to her husband, of a man who would let no woman tame him.
Patrick took her hand in his, gripping her palm as if to prevent an escape. Though his grasp was meant to guide her towards the fortress, goose bumps rose up on her arms.
What did he want from her? Was he trying to keep up appearances, behaving like a husband? She didn’t understand him. Then, too, a small part of her wondered if he did not find her appealing. Though men had called her beautiful, they had also accused her of being haughty. More than once, her father had bemoaned her lack of suitors. And she didn’t know what she’d done wrong.
Isabel cast one last look at Sir Anselm’s disappearing boat and the torches flickering upon the opposite shore. A shiver crept across her at the finality of her fate. “I am cold.”
Patrick paused a moment and took the ends of her woolenbrat. He lifted the shawl to her shoulders and wrapped it around her. Though his hands only brushed against her skin, his light touch felt intimate. “I’ll take you some place where you can get warmer.”
Her cheeks flamed, and she closed her eyes, wishing she’d never spoken. “It isn’t necessary for you to stay with me. You could always go back to the mainland.”
“I will, yes. But later.”
Later? What were his intentions in the meantime? She quelled her apprehensions and blurted out, “Bring me back with you. I promise I won’t be in your way.” At least then, he would be more occupied with the people than with her.
He regarded her, his resolve steady. “I would not bring a woman in the midst of a war. And that is what it is,a chara. A silent war where any wrong move will bring bloodshed.”
Isabel huddled inside the length of wool, wondering what more she could do. She didn’t like remaining behind, but convincing her husband would take time.
They stopped before one of the huts and he rapped sharply upon the door frame. He spoke a few words in Irish, and his commanding tone brought immediate results.
A young family, a husband and a wife, answered the door. Behind them, Isabel saw small children sleeping upon pallets. After another command from Patrick, they roused the children and took them outside. Without argument, they opened the door to another hut and ushered the little ones inside. Isabel caught a glimpse of another family inside and worried about such a crowded space.
“You forced them out of their home at this hour?” she said, aghast. “What of their children?”
“They obeyed their king’s command.”
She could not believe what he’d just done. “It is their home.”
“And they will be well compensated for the use of it. It is only temporary, and they know this.”
“There is a perfectly good donjon over there.” She was lying, of course, for the remains of the dwelling did not have a serviceable roof.
