Chapter Nine
A frown touched Islaen's face as she found herself awake. She did not usually wake until Iain began to stir but he was still sleeping soundly. The hairs on the back of her neck felt as if they were standing on end and, without moving or opening her eyes very wide, she searched the shadowed room for the reason for her tense wakefulness.
Suddenly a movement by Iain's side of the bed caught her eye. Even as she admired the silent stealth of whoever approached them she grew taut with a readiness to act. No one came to a person's chambers in such a stealthy way unless they intended some ill. She recalled Iain speaking of an assassin who stalked him and her blood ran cold. When she caught the glint of a blade in the moonlight she gave Iain's inert body one mighty shove even as the blade lowered, then leapt up to light a candle knowing it would be impossible to battle the threat successfully in such darkness.
Iain gave a startled howl as he felt himself roughly thrust from the warm bed but was instantly alert. He knew who the softly cursing man was who tried to squirm free, kicking savagely at his restricting weight. In one clean move Iain rolled away and leapt to his feet. At that moment Islaen lit the candle and Iain was not surprised to find himself facing Duncan MacLennon. He simply wished he was not doing so naked and unarmed, the bed and MacLennon between him and his sword.
"Ye will die this time, MacLagan, and after ye, your wee whore of a wife."
"Your vengeance is with me, MacLennon. Islaen has naught to do with ye."
"She is yours. That is enough. Mayhaps I willnae kill ye too quickly. T'would be justice for ye to watch me take your woman as ye took mine. Aye, as ye lie dying ye can watch me force her to lie with me as ye forced Catalina."
"I ne'er forced her."
"Catalina would ne'er have lain with ye willingly,” MacLennon nearly screamed.
"She was willing to do her duty by her family."
"She would have come to me out of love. Ye stole that from me."
Islaen shivered as the man talked, unsettled by Duncan MacLennon's insanity, but she wasted little time watching the two men stalk each other. Iain was unarmed and that was her main concern. Yanking on her shift she dashed to the chest where his sword lay, gleaming and useless on the top. When she turned back to face the men, plotting a way to get the sword to Iain, she did find a moment to appreciate the sight of her husband. Taut and wary, ready to repel the attack that was sure to come, the grace of his trim well-muscled shape was clearly displayed. She forced her gaze to MacLennon, however, watching him closely as she edged towards Iain, ready to toss Iain his sword at the first opportune moment.
She saw that moment when MacLennon became aware of her and cried, “Iain, your sword,” even as she tossed it to him.
The weapon had barely left her hand when MacLennon swung towards her. She whirled out of the reach of his sword but was not quite quick enough. A soft cry of pain escaped her as the blade scored the soft flesh of her outer thigh on its downswing. She hurried to get further out of his way but realized there was no real need. His attention had already returned to Iain. Careful not to draw the man's attention again, she began to circle around the man in an attempt to get to the door and call for aid.
Even as Iain grasped his sword he had to put it to use, blocking MacLennon's savage swing. He could not concentrate completely on his foe, however, for he had heard Islaen's cry. Taking a moment to glance her way he saw her trying to get to the door and, although there was a lot of blood on her leg, the smoothness of her movements indicated that the wound was a slight one. Giving into the urge to see to her welfare cost him, however. He poorly dodged a deadly strike of MacLennon's and felt the man's blade take a piece out of his side. The wound was not incapacitating but Iain knew the slow loss of needed blood could soon make it so. He took the offensive hoping to even the score or cut the man down before his loss of blood made him weaker than MacLennon.
Seeing that Iain was keeping MacLennon too occupied to bother with her, Islaen raced for the door and, flinging it open, screamed, “Murder! Fither, Robert, the rest of ye, come quickly. A mon is trying to murder Iain."
A vile curse escaped MacLennon as he heard the swift response to her cries. He made a lunge at Iain's loins, Iain leapt back, all too aware of his vulnerability. In that instant, MacLennon bolted for the window. He was disappearing through it as Iain dashed after him and Islaen's kin tumbled into the room dressed only in their braes, their swords ready and barely in time to catch a brief glimpse of Duncan MacLennon.
"He went out the window. After him,” Islaen ordered a little hysterically, desperate to end the threat to Iain.
His sons immediately obeyed but Alaistair hesitated a moment, seeing the blood on her leg. “Ye are hurt, lass."
"'Tis not bad, Fither."
"Aye, but the lad is hurt too.” Alaistair decided he was needed more where he was and set his sword aside.
Islaen saw how Iain leaned against the window clutching his bleeding side and rushed to help him. She had been too intent upon the need to get help to see clearly how the fight had progressed. As her father helped her get Iain to the bed and insisted that she too lie down, Islaen wondered how much of Iain's collapse was due to sheer disappointment that MacLennon had escaped yet again. Then a nearly frantic Meg, roused by one of her brothers, arrived to help her father tend their wounds.
Despite her protests, Meg, her father and Iain insisted that she drink a potion. Islaen was already succumbing to the sleep it imposed upon her when the first of her brothers returned. She heard just enough to know that Iain's assassin was still free to strike again before she fell asleep.
"I thought the mon sought only ye,” Alaistair growled, noting with interest how his daughter clung to Iain even in sleep.
"So did I. He struck out at her when she tossed me my sword. Howbeit, he did speak on killing her too."
"Then the mon must be killed and swiftly,” Malcolm growled.
"Fine words,” Nathan said wearily as he entered, the last brother to return, “when we cannae find the mon."
"Faded into the morning mists like some wraith,” Donald muttered as he nudged Meg out of the way and sat down by Islaen's side, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “I was sore eager to gain hold o’ him.” He looked at Iain and said coldly, “'Tis a wonder he found ye here at all. He might have found our Islaen alone and unprotected."
Iain bit back a curse as he sat up and reached for his braes. Islaen had not told him that her brothers also knew of his going to Mary, but it was clear that they did. He decided now was not the time to discuss that. Flushing slightly beneath the condemning gazes of Islaen's kin, he sought to change the subject.
"I wasnae much protection at first,” he admitted as he struggled to get dressed with Nathan's somewhat grudging help. “T'was Islaen's quick action that saved me from being murdered as I slept.” He told them all what had happened.
