Chapter Seven
Ifhismotherwerealive, she’d flay his hide for treating a woman this way. As Patrick hammered pegs into the palisade wall, he took out his frustration upon the wood. Isabel had asked for peace between them. Friendship, even.
Though her request was innocent enough, he couldn’t see them becoming friends. Their lives were too different.
He glanced up at his dwelling and saw her standing at the entrance, his cloak wrapped across her shoulders. Even soaking wet, she carried herself like a queen. She reminded him of one of the ancient female warriors, fearless and bold.
He still could not believe she’d swum the channel. A more reckless move, he’d never seen. She defied every command he gave.
And Christ’s bones, she captured his attentions Though he knew he would never share her bed, it didn’t stop him from desiring her. The innocence of her hands upon his just a moment ago had sent needs blazing through him. Deep mahogany eyes stood out against her gentle face and the shining gold of her hair. Her mouth tempted him like Eden’s fruit.
Patrick hammered another peg and split the board. Cursing, he tossed the wood aside.
“Brother, you should not be doing such work,” Trahern cautioned. “You are the king. It is beneath you.”
Patrick knew it, but he’d be damned if he stood on ceremony. He’d only been a king for less than a year, and it struck him as arrogant to stand back and watch the others sweat and toil.
“I’ve a need to do the work.”
He picked up his mallet and slammed another peg in place. Only an hour ago, the Normans had given their oath of allegiance while they stood near Baginbun. Even Sir Anselm.
Though each man had pledged himself, Patrick had not missed the fury and resentment in their eyes. It was a small step forward, but he didn’t trust any of them. His reward, in return for their oath, was the promise of permanent living quarters for the men. He supposed that was why the men had agreed, for all seemed tired of living within tents. And, he suspected that the words meant little to them. Their hearts were loyal to Thornwyck and their countrymen, not the MacEgan tribe.
Trahern glanced in the direction of the donjon where Isabel stood. “I thought you said she was going to stay on Ennisleigh.”
“She was supposed to. The woman swam across the channel.”
Trahern expelled a low whistle of admiration. “Not something I expected from a noblewoman. I’ll admit it, she has courage.”
“She won’t listen to orders. I swear by the gods, I’ll have to chain her down for her to obey.”
Trahern chuckled. “Were it me, brother, I’d chain her to my bed.”
The thought of Isabel lying naked upon his bed was a dangerous one. His imagination could think of several things he’d like to do. Gods, he needed her to remain on Ennisleigh, away from his sight. It was easier not to think of her or be tempted by her. “I’m taking her back to the island after she’s dried her wet clothing by the fire.”
“Why send her back? She’s done no harm.”
Because if he didn’t send her far away, he didn’t trust himself not to claim what rightfully belonged to him. “I don’t want her becoming part of our tribe. After Lughnasa, I’m setting her aside. We’ll have driven the Normans out by then, and Thornwyck as well.”
His brother’s face turned troubled. “I hope you’re right. But you married her upon English soil. It won’t be easy to divorce her.”
“With enough gold to bribe a Church council, anything can be done.” Patrick didn’t concern himself with the Norman politics. “We both know it’s best for our people if a tribeswoman is our queen.”
“Is that what you want?” Trahern asked quietly.
His brother seemed to see past his words, as if knowing how much he desired Isabel. “It is the good of our people we speak of.”
Trahern picked up another mallet and joined him in the repairs. “Does she know the marriage is not permanent?”
“No. And there is no reason to say anything yet. Let her believe what she wants. I vowed I’d give her freedom. And so she shall have it, upon Ennisleigh.”
Trahern shook his head. “I’ve a feeling your new bride will have a lot to say.”
“I will speak with her this night.”
“You should do more than talk, brother. It might ease that foul mood of yours.”
His brother’s hint did not go unnoticed. But he would not share Isabel’s bed. There could be no child between them. He wanted nothing to bind them together after they separated.
