She shrugged as if her husband was tedious.“Must it be now, Stewart?”
“Open it!”Stewart commanded and, when she did not move, opened the trunk himself.
Isobel expected it to contain some trinket that she could easily find boring, but instead, the most wondrous length of blue cloth spilled into her lap as Stewart seized the trunk and dumped it.She was sitting before the fire and this cloth was illuminated by the firelight in such a way that she gasped aloud.It shone, gleaming with silken threads.It was soft and supple, woven so fine that it was a marvel beyond compare.
And it was vibrantly blue.
The same hue as her eyes.
Fergus!
“A lover’s gift,” Stewart snarled and seized the cloth from her lap.It was a wide piece, long enough for a kirtle even though she was tall.Maybe even enough for a short pelisse as well.Isobel cried out against her will as the cloth was snatched away and felt it slip through her fingers.
Stewart balled it up and knotted it, anger in his gestures.“A man who sends a gift like this has an expectation,” he growled.“Do not be so fool, Isobel, to even think of fulfilling it.”And he strode from the hall with the cloth, fury and purpose in his every step.
Isobel knew what he would do.She rose and went to the door, holding her belly as she watched Stewart stir up the blaze in the bailey that the sentries kept to warm their hands.
She closed her eyes as Stewart threw the cloth into the fire, his expression savage as it burned.She felt sickened that he should destroy her gift rather than see her happy—or elegantly garbed—and turned back to the board.It was then that she noticed that there was still something in the chest.
Needles, so fine and sharp.And silk thread for the embroidery she had never practiced much before her wedding.Isobel seized them both and tucked them away, hiding them from her husband.
Her stomach roiled and she was sick yet again in the bucket that was always close at hand.God in heaven, how she hated pregnancy.She thought of Fergus saying farewell to her, recalling how beautiful she had felt in his presence, and yearned to feel that way again.
“Do not be so foolish as to lose this one, as well,” Stewart muttered from the portal.“I wed you for sons, and I will have sons.Do not deny me in this or any other matter, Isobel.”
“Nay, my lord,” she managed to say.“Of course not, my lord.”
But rebellion had been awakened in Isobel.Aye, for with sharp needles in her possession and Fergus handfasted to a pagan, she once again had the means to see her own advantage secured.
This time, she would wed for her own benefit.
She and Fergus had lain together once, because she had begged him, but neither Fergus nor his whore knew that Isobel had not conceived before Stewart claimed her.
She could ensure that Stewart had no opportunity to share the truth.
Though the rainwas merely a mist for the first hour or so, by the time Leila went to the smithy, it was falling steadily.It fell with even greater vigor when she visited Margaret, and ended any discussion of her visiting the gardens.By the evening meal, the rain was falling in sheets.It did not cease and this amazed Leila.She could hear it drumming on the roof, smell it in the air that wafted into the hall, and see the rivulets of it winding their way across the floor.No wonder the hills were so green!
The fires in the braziers smoked more and the stone of the keep radiated a chill that penetrated to her very marrow.Leila wrapped herself in a fur pelt from the bed and looked out the window of the solar into the darkness, wondering about Fergus.
He was late.
He had missed the evening meal, even though they had delayed it, and she knew he was not one to break a pledge.
The sun was gone, the clouds allowing no light from moon or stars.Did he know his way well enough to find it in such darkness?Could his horse have slipped and been injured?Could a path have been washed out?
Could Stewart MacEwan have taken exception to Fergus’ visit?
Could Isobel have made a demand of Fergus that he found impossible to deny?
Only one day wedded and Leila’s chest was tight with fear for their future together.She clutched at the pelt and stared into the night, worrying as she seldom had before.It was the powerlessness of her situation.There was not one thing she could do to aid Fergus.She could not even ride out in search of him, for she had only the most vague idea of the location of Dunnisbrae.
She could not help but feel that Isobel had won...something.And Leila feared the import of that.
“And so you reside in a land you must find hostile,” Calum said from behind her and she jumped, startled out of her reverie.She turned to find him in the doorway of the solar and wondered how long he had stood there, watching her.
“It is very beautiful,” she admitted.
“And very cold, compared to Outremer,” he said, coming to stand beside her.“Have you ever seen such rain?I would wager not.”
