She nodded. That sounded like an excellent idea.
He looked out the window again, pressing his nose to the pane as he turned left and right. “I think I know where we are. There is an inn an hour or so north of here. I thought we would rest there and wait for my men to join us.” He looked to her. “Can your stomach wait until then?”
“Of course, I can. It is only anxiety that makes it rumble so.”
“I do not want you to be anxious around me.” He opened both his hands. “You are safe with me. I cannot promise what will happen in Scotland, but you have nothing to fear from me.”
Except the consummation of their marriage tonight.
“You do not seem convinced.”
She swallowed. “I married you of my own free will. Whatever is to come, it was my choice.”
“Damned by faint praise. I chose you as well. Surely you know that I protect what is mine.”
She looked at her hands. “I know that people are different in private than they are in public.” She squeezed her fingers tightly together as she met his gaze. “We need to learn about one another in private.” She bit her lip. “You said your thoughts are hither and yon. Would it help to share them with me?”
“They are things I must remember about people you haven’t even met, except for my aunt. You know her.”
“I have a good memory,” she said. “Perhaps if you told me?”
He looked doubtful, but then gave in with a shrug.
“You could hardly be worse than I am right now.” He took a breath. “Very well, wife, let us test each other’s memory, shall we?”
A game, then. It was how her mother had taught her with rhymes and quizzes, letters scratched in the dirt, and water stroked onto rock that faded in the sun. She could read and write as well, but paper and ink were dear, and so she learned to memorize lists as if they were written out before her in black and white.
She squared her shoulders and faced him. “I will surprise you,” she vowed.
“That would not be the first time,” he answered. “First, I must tell my brother to measure the bread loaves. I believe the baker is shorting him. Next, my aunt mentioned something strange about one of her new girls…”
The list trailed on, one after the other in no discernable order, while Iseabail set her memory to the task. And that worked very well indeed…for a time.
Chapter Eighteen
Reuben knew hehad a good memory. What a joy to discover that Iseabail’s was excellent. No matter what he said to her, she remembered it. And when he tried to trick her, she challenged him. Carefully at first, because she was a cautious woman, but then with increasing strength. Especially once he demonstrated that he was pleased when she disagreed with him.
And what a revelation that was for them both. The first time she said, “No, that is wrong,” he experienced such a surge of joy that he giggled. It was not a manly sound, but it was an honest one and she read it as such.
“Youwantme to catch you,” she stated as she leaned forward. “You like it when I am as clever as you.”
He shook his head. “I like it when you are cleverer than I.” He blew out a breath. “I cannot do everything, and so few people can match me.”
She did not comment except to lower her gaze as if she were a demure miss. But he had long since deduced that her quiet demeanor was to encourage people to underestimate her. He was not that foolish.
“When we arrive at the inn, I shall call for ink and paper. I would like you to write all of that down in a letter to my solicitor. He will see that everyone is told what I want.”
“So I am to become your secretary?” It was not spoken in insult, but as simple question. She was trying to understand what her role in their marriage was.
“If you would like that, I should be grateful. I find my penmanship is not enough to garner respect.”
“Only a fool judges a man solely on his penmanship.”
And yet, so many solicitors believed him to be a fool merely because his letters appeared as so much chicken scratch. “And now,” he said, “I should like to hear all about your home. What does your uncle do every day? How many men does he have and what do they do? I need to understand everything I can about your home, and then you can test my memory.”
Information was the first task in any endeavor, and so he pressed her for the tiniest details of life at her castle. It worked his memory hard, especially since he had little knowledge of how a castle functioned. He viewed it as a tiny upright city with the bakery in one corner, the livery in another. A tower for the classroom, another for the armory, and two large rooms as taverns. It boggled his mind as he imagined all these workers crammed together like a rookery and yet she talked about fresh air, moments when there was not a soul around for miles, and how everything had to be created by themselves, as there was little that could be bought without great expense and time.
It was as though she talked of a fantasy place, and yet he hung on her every word. Indeed, he pressed her always for more. More stories, more memories, more snippets of life in Scotland. And the more she spoke, the more she relaxed. No longer did she flinch every time he moved abruptly. Indeed, she smiled a few times, especially when she spoke of her parents.
