Chapter 10 #2
Perhaps he’d bring her a book, then. On his last trip to London a few years back, he had purchased the recently published epic poem by Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene.
A romance of King Arthur and his glorious faerie queen, an open allusion to Queen Elizabeth, told in the tradition of Virgil.
It was one of his favorites, and somehow he knew instinctively that Isabel would love it. It reminded him of her:
Her angel face,
As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.
Having completed his morning dress with a quick tieback of his hair, Rory headed to the library. The sooner he took care of this the better. Last night was best put to rest.
Ironically, in her search for Rory, Isabel discovered the very library that she’d set out for last night, on the second floor of the Fairy Tower.
The room was small but charming. Shelves of leather-bound books lined the tapestry-covered walls, large windows provided abundant natural light, and comfortable chairs surrounded a large, highly polished wooden table.
Margaret, looking no bigger than a child, was seated at the large table and obviously engrossed in a matter of some import, for she did not notice Isabel standing at the door.
Isabel watched with amusement as Margaret repeatedly tapped the feather of the quill against her temple, immersed in thought.
Her nose wrinkled and her lips quirked perplexingly as she studied the rolls.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Isabel said.
Margaret lifted her shiny blond head, the flowing curls neatly tied back in a long braid.
The black patch hid most of her features, but not the shaky smile of greeting.
“Good morning, Isabel. What a wonderful surprise. And in truth I’d welcome anything to get me away from these accounts.
” She pushed back from the table with obvious delight.
“My head hurts from the strain of trying to keep all these numbers straight. I must admit, I find this the most tiresome and difficult part of my duties since Geoffrey, the old seneschal, passed on. We have not been able to find a replacement as yet, and I have been forced to keep the accounts. And with Michaelmas approaching, the accounts for this year must be finished before I can begin the accounts for next year.”
Isabel moved around the table to look at the ledgers.
She turned to Margaret with an embarrassed but understanding smile.
“I hope you do not consider this too forward, but I could help you with the accounts.” Somewhat abashed, she elucidated, “At court, I discovered that I have a rather peculiar skill for such work. I see sums clearly in my head without much thought. Queen Anne often had me look over her own household accounts. Truth be told, you’d be doing me a favor.
It would bring me pleasure to have something to occupy my time. ”
Margaret looked at her as though she had suddenly grown wings and a halo.
She grinned, and deep dimples like Rory’s appeared in her face.
“You are not serious. You wish to do this drudgery? You would be the first in this keep for as long as I can remember. We have always struggled to find someone to manage the accounts. James, the bailiff, can help you with the rents from the lands and livestock, and Deidre can help you with the expenditures for food, supplies, and visitors this year. Are you sure you would not mind?”
“Consider it done.” Isabel smiled broadly.
Margaret was so excited, she jumped out and gave Isabel a quick hug before seeming to realize what she had done. “Forgive me.” She blushed. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Isabel dismissed her embarrassment with a smile. “Nonsense. I told you I’ve always wanted a sister.” She took Margaret’s hands in hers. “And now I have one.”
Margaret beamed.
Alex stuck his head in the door. “What are you two conspiring about?” he asked, his voice laden with exaggerated concern.
Both women jumped apart guiltily, Isabel recovering first. “Good morning, Alex. Margaret and I have just decided on a most opportune arrangement. A way in which I might help her with her duties.”
His face immediately lost its jocularity. “Are you feeling well, sister?” he asked, concerned. “Have you been working too hard?”
“Stop fussing over me, Alex. I’m fine. It’s only that I’ve never had a head for numbers.
” Instinctively, Margaret looked to Isabel for help.
Isabel understood her frustration. Big braw men like Alex and Rory’s first instinct was to protect.
But their oversolicitousness in treating Margaret as if she were a fragile piece of porcelain that could break at the wrong word was surely not only tiresome, but, Isabel suspected, also prevented her from healing.
“We’ve decided that I’ll keep the accounts,” Isabel said. At Alex’s look of surprise, she explained. “I know, it must seem odd, but surely as Margaret was already performing these duties, it must not be impermissible to have a woman act as seneschal.”
“It’s not that, Isabel.” Alex turned to Margaret with a meaningful stare. “Have you cleared this with our brother, Margaret?”
Margaret’s face fell. “I had not thought of that, Alex. Of course, you are right. I need to speak with Rory. Isabel, I’m afraid that I’ve accepted your generous offer without aforethought.
I must obtain Rory’s permission first.” She paused and continued in a contrite, weak voice, “I’m not sure he’ll approve of our arrangement. ”
Isabel knew why. Not only would Rory be wary of her poking into his financial concerns, he also wouldn’t want her involved in the household management when he intended to send her back.
Responding to his sister’s obvious distress, Alex said, “Well, maybe we could keep it a secret amongst ourselves for a little while. Rory has been very busy, and perhaps we might wait a wee while to bring it up. Until then, there is no reason why Isabel could not help you with the ledgers.”
Both women smiled at him, but it was Isabel who moved quickly across the room to place a soft, grateful kiss on his cheek.
Isabel was moved by Alex’s desire to bolster his sister’s newfound confidence.
But she didn’t anticipate the movement of his head, and her lips landed near the edge of his mouth.
Rory heard none of their conversation as he entered the library.
His attention was held by the sight of Isabel’s full, sensual lips landing precipitously close to his brother’s mouth. He froze. Something akin to a gunshot exploded in his chest.
It took him a minute to clear through the haze of rage. He’d seen enough to know that the kiss was nothing more than a spontaneous show of gratitude for something, but the effect was no less devastating. The strength and intensity of his reaction told him far more than he wanted to know.
He clenched his jaw and cleared his throat.
Isabel jumped back with such a show of guilt on her face that Rory wondered how he could ever have suspected her of snooping last night.
She gave away her emotions on her face—even when, like now, they weren’t warranted.
Though he’d have to insist that she not bestow kisses, harmless or not, on anyone.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” he asked lazily, masking his reaction.
“No, of course not,” Isabel said too quickly.
“No,” Margaret assured him at the same time. They looked at each other, and Rory watched them exchange some silent form of communication.
They were up to something. But when he looked to Alex, his damn brother just grinned.
He’d deal with Margaret and Alex later, but right now he needed to speak with Isabel. He hadn’t come directly to the library. Colin had intercepted him with a missive that he could not ignore.
“If you two aren’t too busy, I need to speak with Isabel.” Rory thought he detected a bit of reluctance, but they did his bidding. When they’d left, he turned to notice Isabel eyeing him warily.
“It was nothing,” she explained.
“I know. But you shouldn’t be kissing anyone other than your husband.”
She lifted a brow at that and seemed about to offer a reply, but she refrained. Instead she said, “I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
She put her hand on his arm. “I wanted you to know that I truly was searching for the library last night. And nothing else.”
They stared at each other for a long while, and something passed between them. He believed her. One side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Well, it looks like you’ve found it.”
Isabel returned his smile, and Rory felt a strange skip in his chest. A skip that turned into a full-fledged leap when she reached out to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. He wasn’t sure whom she’d shocked more. The strange intimacy of the act took away his breath.
Heat filled her cheeks. “It had come loose.”
His throat thickened. Nonplussed, he turned his gaze. “I came to tell you that I must be away.”
The blush slid from her face. “What?”
“I’d planned to take the cattle to the fair at Port Righ next week, but it appears I cannot delay.
” Though only twenty years old, the fair at Port Righ grew each year in popularity, attracting more and more people from beyond the Isle.
The Islanders brought their goods, usually sheep, cows, linen, and cheese, twice a year to sell or trade.
“You will be back soon?”
Rory shook his head. “I must leave for Edinburgh directly after the fair.” He masked his anger.
James’s missive had reminded him of the onerous duty of all the Island chiefs to present themselves in Edinburgh once a year before the Privy Council to show their “good behavior.” Ever since James had assumed power in his own right nearly fifteen years ago, he’d been tightening his grip on the Highlands and the Isles with a series of new laws—the General Band—aimed straight at the heart of the clan chief’s authority.
Rory and the other Highland chiefs chafed uncomfortably under James’s unwelcome bridle.
For hundreds of years, the Highlands and Isles had existed almost as their own fiefdom: a Gaelic kingdom under the dominion of Clan Donald, the Lords of the Isles.
But since the forfeiture of the Lordship over a hundred years ago, the largely ineffective Scottish central government had, by necessity, led to the rise in power of the clan chief.
Now the king sought to change that shift in power by weakening the authority of the clan chief.
Presenting themselves at court was just another way James sought to remind them all of that shift.
Instead of giving voice to his frustration, he said simply, “The king has requested my immediate presence.”
Her eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “You’re going to court!”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“But this is grand. I was just telling Margaret—”
Rory told her brusquely, “I’m afraid I must travel alone,” and he could read her disappointment.
“I see,” she said. But she didn’t.
“Alex will be in charge while I am gone.”
She didn’t say anything. He turned to leave, but something held him back.
The memory of last night was still too fresh in his mind, as were the sensations that rocked his body.
He’d leave the book for her, but she needed to know something else.
He tipped her chin and forced her gaze to his. “Never believe that I didn’t want you.”
Her gaze softened. Before he could stop himself, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a hard, fast kiss. A real kiss, not like the one she’d given his brother. This kiss was of possession. A reminder to leave her with.
When at last he released her, he left without a backward glance. Not wanting her to see how difficult it was for him to do so.