"Take him a meal. What excuse do ye need? Ye are his wife and ye see him little."
"Or mayhaps I but wish to see how near to done he is, what Muircraig looks like."
"Quite so. ‘Tis to be your home. He would ne'er think it strange that ye wish to look upon it."
"So, then, when I draw him off to be alone with me, I seduce him."
"Aye."
"I am nay sure I ken how."
"It should not be hard to do. I would think a man having been without for so long should be easy game."
"Aye, an he has any passion left for me,” Islaen whispered, voicing her fears. “T'was all I had and I fear I may have lost e'en that."
"I do not believe that but I know the fears that plague you and only Iain can cure them.” Storm reached out and took Islaen's hand in hers in a gesture of sympathy. “'Tis hard to love yet not know if that love is returned. I know that well. I dare not tell ye that he loves you but I do feel certain that he cares, he cares a lot. The way he has acted each time ye have been in danger shows it."
Islaen tried to remember that as the days crept by. She tried to use it to lift her sagging spirits and quell her fears. Unfortunately, she knew that the man Iain was could account for how he had acted when she had been in peril. He was a man who would always stand to protect those smaller and weaker than himself.
It was a week after her talk with Storm that Islaen woke in the middle of the night. A noise in the chamber next to hers told her what had woken her up. Iain had returned. She lay tensely in her bed, but was not really surprised when all went quiet and he did not show.
Silently she slipped from her bed and crept into his chambers. She simply had to look at him. It felt as if it had been years since she had caught even a glimpse of the man she called husband.
Staring at him she felt worry twist her heart. She felt guilty too for she found herself a little glad that the way their lives were at the moment was not doing him much good. He looked haggard and worn. He certainly did not look a man content with his life for even in his sleep he looked troubled, the lines of worry not fading with sleep's relaxing hold.
She wished he would confide in her even as she feared the knowledge of what troubled him. MacLennon was still a threat but she could not believe that was all of it. Something else preyed upon him and she felt frustrated that he gave her no clue as to what that was. It left her prey to her own fears and she had the feeling that they were worse than the real problem. Sighing, she clenched her hands into fists to resist the urge to touch him and crept back to her own bed.
In the morning she found Iain in the nursery. She ruthlessly quelled an attack of jealousy over how he sought out the children yet worked so hard to avoid her. No matter what happened between herself and Iain she knew she should be glad that he loved the children. Children needed a parent's love and, from what she had seen, too few gave it.
Inwardly bracing herself she entered the nursery. She had vowed that he would find no reason in her words or actions to justify his neglect and she intended to stick to that vow. It was getting a lot harder to do, she mused. The urge to beat him soundly with a heavy, blunt object was harder to resist, she admitted to herself as she sat down across from him.
"They seem to have grown apace each time I see them. They will soon be walking."
'Probably by the next time ye decide to grace your family with your presence,’ she thought crossly, then took a deep breath to cool her anger before answering, “Aye, Morogh can pull himself to his feet e'en now."
He laughed and gently ruffled Morogh's wine-red curls. “He will be a devil, I am thinking."
"Aye, Padruig is much quieter. My fither feels ‘tis Liusadh we must watch, though. He said that e'en before we kenned that she would survive. Fither felt that a wee lass who could hold off death whilst still a bairn was one who would be a right devil."
For an hour they spoke of and played with the children. Then the boys began to fret, wanting their meal. Without thought, unused to Iain's presence, Islaen began to nurse Morogh. She blushed when she caught him staring at her. For one moment she met his gaze, then he hastily left. She was almost certain she had seen wanting in his eyes, that blaze of passion that had been so long absent, yet, she mused, an he felt so why did he do nothing about it? Sighing, she forced her full attention to her children as Grizel hurried in to see to Liusadh's feeding. She was growing weary of trying to understand her husband. It only gave her a headache in the end.
Once away from Islaen, Iain hurried to his chambers. He splashed cold water on his face several times but it did no good. With a groan, he sprawled on his bed and indulged in a lengthy, colorful bout of cursing.
When Islaen had put their son to her breast Iain had felt every lustful inclination he had worked so hard to subdue spring to life. He had come very close to taking her, there on the floor in the midst of their children. Before he actually succumbed to such a rash urge he had fled the room. Fleeing had not stilled his urge for her, however. He briefly wondered if he should just give in and return to her bed.
It was not easy but he shook away that temptation. He had to keep on as he had been. It was best for both of them. He had seen that he could not walk any middle ground with Islaen. It was all or nothing. Although it twisted his heart he had decided that it would be nothing and would stay with that decision. After seeing how weak he was in the nursery, he decided that he had better make this visit a short one, that he had not yet gained the strength he sought. When he greeted a guest to Caraidland a little later he wavered in that decision.
"Alex,” Islaen cried with delight when she entered the hall that evening and he rose to meet her. “When did ye come?"
"Only a short while ago.” He kissed her hand. “Ye look as lovely as ever."
"Flattery. How is your daughter? Weel?"
"Aye and I am anxious to see how your brood has grown. I ken weel how swiftly bairns change o'er the days."
Although she told herself to be careful, for Alexander still looked at her with wanting, Islaen enjoyed his company as they dined. He could make her laugh and feel womanly, neither of which Iain had done in a long while. When she caught Iain sending dark looks at her and Alexander she paid him no heed. If he did not like Alexander talking to her, then he could keep her company himself, she thought crossly. He did not want anything to do with her but it seemed he wanted no one else to either.
When Islaen retired for the night, Alexander turned his attentions to Iain. “I can see how pleased ye are to see me."
