Chapter Eight #3
He shrugged, as if it were all so very foolish.
“Because my wife will never mourn me the way you mourned Dyce,” he said.
“You see, Marian and I were ushered into a somewhat forced marriage. I was young and foolish and I let her seduce me, and when she told her father, he demanded I marry her, so I did. But there was no love between us. Not even affection. It was a brief tryst, a bad decision, that became my life. Her father, and my father to an extent, saw it as a strategic marriage between two powerful families. But Marian has never honored her vows, as you have realized. What you saw… with the French knight… that was not the first time such a thing has happened.”
He seemed quite ashamed of it. Resigned, but ashamed. This time, Isabeth squeezed his hand. “May I make a confession?” she asked softly.
He looked at her somewhat ironically. “Of course.”
“Dyce told me about your marriage,” she said, leaning forward and putting her free hand over his hand, the one that was clutching her fingers.
“He told me everything and he was so very sorry for you. I already knew that she did not honor her marital vows long before I saw the French knight and mayhap… mayhap that was why I was so angry with her. You are a kind and thoughtful, handsome and honorable man, Ronan. She is a fool for not seeing how fortunate she is to be married to you.”
He smiled in spite of himself. This deliciously sweet, compassionate and adorable woman was comforting him when he was supposed to be the one comforting her. It would have been so easy to…
“The only people who tell me that are relatives who must say such things,” he said, trying to distract himself from less than proper thoughts when it came to the new widow. “I have never heard it from someone I was not related to.”
“It is true,” Isabeth insisted. “And since we are spilling our confessions, I have another to make.”
“What’s that?”
The smile faded from her lips as she sat back in her chair, gently pulling her hands from his grasp. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to tell him what she was about to tell him while she was holding his hands. Nay, it didn’t seem right at all.
“You say that you are envious of my marriage to Dyce,” she said. “Truly, there is nothing to be envious of. Much like your marriage, we were more or less forced into ours. Wait… that is not entirely true. I was forced into it. Dyce wanted to marry me very much, but I… I did as I was told.”
Ronan had to admit he was quite sorry she’d pulled away from him and resisted the urge to reclaim her hand. “But you two were very happy, it seemed to me,” he said.
She shrugged. “He was very happy,” she said.
“Dyce was in love with me the moment he met me. He waited impatiently until I came of age, and that very day he asked my father for my hand. My father agreed and we were married immediately. I was never courted. I never had the chance to know other suitors or meet other men. I had known Dyce more than half my life and he was like a brother to me but nothing more. I was forced to marry my brother and there were times in the beginning when I would lay awake at night and weep because of it. To not ever know the touch of a man I loved as a wife should love a husband is quite tragic. I almost feel like my life was stolen away from me in a sense. But Dyce was a good man and I respected him greatly, so I had no right to be unhappy. But whatever you were jealous of, Ronan… it did not exist. I do not know if that gives you comfort, but it is the truth.”
Ronan considered that carefully. Truthfully, he was surprised because he always thought there was great love between Dyce and his wife.
The way Dyce told it, the woman lived for the mere sight of him, but as he thought on it, he realized that it was always Dyce who spoke fondly of his wife and whenever Ronan saw them together, it was Dyce who hovered and Dyce who showed affection. Isabeth simply went along with it.
“Odd,” he muttered. “That we should both be in marriages we were forced into. But yours is far more successful than mine. At least you honored your vows, no matter how you felt about Dyce.”
Isabeth smiled faintly. “As I said, he was a good man,” she said. “He was honorable and true and he took great care of me. I always felt guilty that I could not return his feelings, though I did my best.”
“Did he know?”
She hesitated before nodding. “He knew,” she said with regret. “But it wasn’t anything we ever spoke of. It was simply the way of things between us and we had a good life together. There was nothing to be unhappy over.”
Ronan was coming to think he’d been very selfish thinking he’d been the only one in all of England with such a horrendous marriage.
Not that Dyce and Isabeth’s was terrible, because it wasn’t, but the circumstances of their marriages were similar.
Marriage of convenience, of strategy. But Dyce had fared much better than he had in that regard.
At least he’d married a woman worth loving.
“So now you have a new life ahead of you,” Ronan said. “When the time is right, should I help you find a new husband? Mayhap that is what you would wish for instead of living in a foundling home. Mayhap you want a chance to find a man to love?”
Isabeth shrugged. “I’ve not thought on it, to be truthful,” she said.
“I know that Dyce would want me to be happy, but I also feel as if I would be doing him a disservice by marrying again. I’ve always thought a woman was only good for one marriage.
To marry again… what man would want a woman used by another man? ”
Ronan grunted as he stood up. “A woman like you could command a very fine husband who would be more than willing to overlook your first marriage,” he said. “I would not worry overly if that is what you wish to do.”
She watched him stretch his legs, moving to the hearth he’d tried so hard to stay away from, and hold out his hands to warm them.
“I have nothing to offer,” she said frankly.
“I have no great dowry or lands or titles, so a second marriage for me is not expected. And… and it is not as if I can bear a new husband a dozen children. After ten years of marriage to Dyce, I’ve not been able to produce one living child and were I to marry again, I am sure my husband would expect children. ”
He eyed her. “But you carry a child now.”
Isabeth nodded. “Aye,” she said. “But it is still very early. Something can still go wrong as it has in the past.”
“How many times?”
“Three. This is my fourth pregnancy in ten years.”
Ronan had to admit that he felt some pity for her.
A woman who couldn’t bear a child was like a man who couldn’t fight.
Both were useless, at least in his world.
But then again, Marian had yet to bear an offspring of de Wolfe blood in ten years, so the truth was that he didn’t have any heirs after ten years, either.
Perhaps he and Isabeth were more alike than he realized.
“I think you are worrying about things that you should not worry about,” he said.
“I promised to take care of you and your son and I shall do that. Nothing will happen as long as I am around. I shall find the best physic for you to help you safely deliver the child. It is what Dyce would want, don’t you agree? ”
Isabeth drew in a deep breath as if to fortify herself and realized there was still hope. “Aye,” she said. “He wanted this child so badly. He already has a name.”
“What?”
“Maxwell.”
Ronan grinned. “That’s a Scots name,” he said.
“I shall have to have a talk with your husband about that. Once he is in his crypt, we shall have a long discussion about why you do not name an English child after the Scots. However, my grandmother was Scots and she named one of my uncles after her clan, so I suppose I am speaking out of both sides of my mouth.”
Isabeth giggled. “I could not convince him to choose another name, either.”
Ronan shrugged. “Then Maxwell it is,” he said. His gaze lingered on her for a moment as he finished warming his hands by the fire. “Now, if that is all of the confessions we have between us, I shall bid you a good night. It is late and you must get some rest.”
Isabeth stood up, taking a few steps in his direction. “It seems that you and I have become much better friends over the past several minutes now that we know each other’s secrets.”
His smile broadened. “We are family now, you and I,” he said. “Dyce has made us that.”
“He has,” she said. “But had you not possessed the sense of honor that you do, then his requests would have fallen on deaf ears. Thank you for not being deaf, Ronan. I shall never forget it. Or you.”
There was great sincerity in her face and perhaps something more.
Or perhaps Ronan only saw more. Whatever the case, he felt compelled to take her hand and bring it to his lips for a sweet kiss.
She was so tender and delicious that he kissed her hand a second time before gently letting it drop.
With a final smile, he left her chamber, heading out into the dark manse.
And leaving behind a lady with a thumping, slightly giddy heart.