Chapter 26
A little rebellion now and then
is a good thing.
—Letter to James Madison, 1787
Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826)
U.S. president, political philosopher, architect, inventor
Alysandir’s brothers began to bid her good evening. Isobella stood and walked beside Barbara. She got as far as the door.
“Mistress Douglas, I would have a word with ye,” he said.
Barbara squeezed her hand, and Isobella glanced quickly at Colin, who gave her a sympathetic look before he ducked through the door, dragging Barbara along with him.
Isobella turned, and her heart began to pound at the dark look of desire she saw gleaming in the depths of his eyes. Her own heartbeat began to escalate. She was held immobile and speechless for a moment, as if caught in the blinding reflection of headlights. Her mouth was dry. Her heart pounded. Her body grew warmer beneath the heat of his gaze.
She felt hypnotized and completely under his power. So much so that she was not aware she made a small moan of distress and suddenly found herself in his arms. Nothing was more treacherous than her own body or so capable of betrayal, and it left her with her defenses down. The warmth of his body penetrated hers and left her weak, and she melted against him.
He pulled her so close her leg was pressed against his knee. She tried to step back, but he caught her, and the next thing she knew, she was in his lap. It was, by her estimation, a rather awkward landing, remindful of the clumsy puffins, but with the heady pull of attraction between them, that did not seem to matter. She felt her body melt into his until it was difficult to discern just where hers ended and his began.
His lips closed over hers tenderly, moving slowly over her mouth, gentle, yet demanding. Without breaking the kiss, his hand slid over her skirts until it reached the hem, where it disappeared. Instinctively, she shuddered and started to pull back, but he sealed her mouth with another hot, impassioned kiss as his hand moved higher until he was at the juncture of her thighs. He found and pulled the drawstring and peeled away her undergarments. While he increased the pressure of the kiss, his hand began to stroke her.
She wanted to cry out from the sheer pleasure of it. He was whispering words in Gaelic against her skin, and her heart began to pound in unison with the tempo of her body. Again… again… and again until she wanted to cry out in agony. Oh, God, she couldn’t stop him even if she wanted to, for she wanted this as much as he. Her breathing was slow and thick, and she found her legs parting of their own accord.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, sweet Isobella, open yerself to me and dinna hold back.”
Hold back? Was he crazy? She couldn’t hold back even if she wanted to. Her body had taken control, and she shamelessly writhed in his arms, moving in rhythm with each stroke of his hand until the intensity, the liquid warmth, the words he whispered against her hot skin were more than she could bear. She began to pant and press against his hand until she cried out and her body collapsed against him.
He tied the drawstring, pulled her skirts back down and held her until her breathing was back to normal. She wasn’t certain if he would let her up, but when she made the attempt to stand, he let her go, saying nothing but keeping his gaze upon her face.
“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked weakly, as she strove to control her rapid breathing and still her runaway heart.
“Ye would have preferred to talk?”
“I wanted to know why you detained me.”
“Ye did say ye had trouble sleeping.”
She had an acerbic retort ready when she suddenly burst out laughing.
There was a gleam of wicked delight in his eyes. “Tell me on the morrow if it worked.”
***
It worked. But Isobella did not tell Alysandir that it worked, nor did she tell him that, with the help of his sisters, she found a room in the main part of the castle for Bradan. The room was one floor above Isobella’s room with a small corner fireplace and two windows with a view of both the sea and land. After much pillaging, the girls found a few odds and ends of furniture and a nice feather bed the perfect size for a boy. A small wooden table with two chairs would serve well enough for a desk where Isobella could begin his studies, using three books she had found in Alysandir’s library.
When she brought Bradan to see the room, he was both awed and terribly frightened. “The Mackinnon doesna care if I have this room?” he asked, while turning his head this way and that to survey his new room and its contents.
“He will not bother you about it,” Isobella said, not missing the way Barbara and Sybilla both closed their eyes and crossed themselves, while Marion had her head down and stared at the floor.
“We will start your lessons in the morning after we break our fast,” Isobella said.
***
The lessons were going smoothly that first morning, but Bradan was nervous, so Isobella distracted him by showing him maps. “This is what the world looks like, Bradan. This is Scotland, and if you will look here, this tiny little brown spot is the Isle of Mull.”
While he studied it, she placed a larger map of Mull that she had sketched next to the first. “This is another map of Mull.”
“’Tis bigger.”
“Yes, they are pictures of what Mull looks like, because it is much, much larger than this map, isn’t it? Now watch, and I will put an X where Màrrach is.” She marked the spot, and his eyes widened. “See, this is the Atlantic Ocean and the beach where I met you, and way over here is the island of Iona, where your great uncle, Lachlan Mackinnon is the abbot.”
“’Tis where Barbara was.”
“Yes, and over here where this X is placed is where the Macleans live at Duart Castle, but we dinna want to go there. They are on the ocean, too.” He put his finger on the blue water. “Have you ever heard of the Sound of Mull?”
“Aye. The Duke of Argyll lives across the Sound of Mull.”
“Very, very good, Bradan. How did you know that?”
“I heard the guards talking aboot it. They dinna like Argyll.”
She ruffled his hair. “Observant, lad! Now, this water is the Sound of Mull. Here is Duart Castle, and over here is Argyll. And over here is where the Atlantic and the Sound of Mull come together.”
They spent the rest of the day with her introducing short sessions of learning the alphabet and then letting him try his hand at copying the letters. That afternoon, they went down to the beach and drew letters in the sand and wrote a few words. He wanted to learn how to write her name so she showed him both Isobella and Alysandir.
Then they sat on a boulder and ate a scone and talked about oceans and countries, the sky and stars and constellations. And before they returned to Màrrach, they watched the tide come in and wash away all they had written there, as one would erase a chalkboard at the end of the day.
That night when she lay in bed, she kept seeing the wonderment in Bradan’s eyes and thought it must have been the same expression on the face of the first caveman who made fire. How much we take for granted in the twenty-first century, she thought, and felt blessed to be the one to open this beautiful little boy’s eyes to the universe he was part of.
Several days later, Isobella encountered Alysandir on the stairs, just as she was returning to her room. Before she could greet him, he grabbed her upper arm and escorted her to her room and closed the door behind them.
“You are angry.”
“I am beyond angry, Isobella. Ye have gone too far with this and without my consent.”
“What can it hurt to treat Bradan in the manner he deserves?”
“What do ye mean by that?”
“He is your son, whether you want to accept him as that or not. You only have to look at him to see he has your face, your coloring. He is tall and slender like you. For heaven’s sake, Alysandir, are you blind? Everyone at Màrrach knows he’s your son, but they do not speak of it out of respect or fear.
“I’m not saying you have to claim him, but he is your legitimate issue, your flesh and blood, and because of that, he should be afforded a place to sleep that is better than that of a stable hand. I am appalled that you would let him go uneducated. If you should never marry again and have a son, Bradan could be your heir. Would you have him be an illiterate lout if the mantle of chief is placed upon his shoulders?”
She watched the muscle in his jaw work, but she wasn’t finished. She figured she had already gone this far, so she might as well wade into it with both feet. “If it would make things better in the eyes of your clan, punish me for what I have done, but don’t take it out on Bradan. He has been punished enough for being born.”
“I canna allow ye to disobey me. You will confine yerself to this room and take all yer meals here until I decide what to do with ye.”
She nodded, and before she could speak, he departed.
The next morning, she was up early, and she debated only a moment whether she would disobey him. Soon she was on her way to the beach, where she found Bradan, and they walked together, talking about the ocean and the changes in his life. He wrote their names in the sand, and they finished their morning school lessons and then stopped to share the lunch she brought.
“Have you ever been inland… away from the sea?”
“Aye, I go there when I want to look for birds and nests or to catch a fine troot in the burn.”
“Did you see any big stones that stand straight up like they are pointing to the sky or a cave with drawings?”
“Aye, there is a cave near the kind of stones ye speak of not so verra far away, but ye canna go into the cave except when the tide is oot.”
“Can you take me there?”
“Aye.”
“Would it be better if we went on horseback?”
“I canna ride a horse.”
“I want you to show me where the cave is. We will go to the stable for a horse, and you can ride behind me.”
They returned to the castle, but the grooms refused to give her a horse. She found Colin who not only ordered her a horse saddled but also one for him. “I shall accompany ye so Alysandir willna lop off my heid wi’ a claymore for allowing ye to go.”
He ordered a sidesaddle for her, but Isobella quickly said, “Please give me a saddle like you would ride. I don’t know how to ride sidesaddle, and I don’t have time to learn today.”
If she hadn’t scandalized everyone at Màrrach by now, she soon would, for she not only ordered a horse saddled, but she asked Colin to find her a pair of trews she could wear under her skirts. Once she had climbed onto the saddle, Bradan was boosted up behind her.
The cave was almost an hour away. They were fortunate that Colin brought a torch as Bradan suggested, and he lit it before they entered the cave. Inside, they found two stone slabs covered with ancient markings which Isobella immediately identified as Celtic. Bradan found two flints and a bronze pin, while Colin found a bone-scraping tool. Two pottery vessels were unearthed near a circle of blackened stones that had probably ringed a fire. One of the pottery vessels broke when Colin lifted it.
Upon close examination, the relic showed signs of residue inside, and Isobella wished she had some twenty-first-century tools to date her finds. She would have to find a way to preserve the artifacts and to leave as much information as possible for future archeologists. She didn’t want them to be stolen or damaged by anyone who did not recognize their true value to mankind. However, she knew that finding the artifacts was one thing. Finding the right place to stash them was another.
Time passed quickly, and the sun eventually began to drop toward the horizon. She knew they did not have time to look any longer, for the torch would be out soon and the tide would be coming in. Neither Colin nor Bradan thought their finds were half as remarkable as Isobella did. She, on the other hand, could not contain her excitement as they rode back to Màrrach. She needed to find a way to document the site and preserve the major pieces… that was her first objective.
She was still lost in similar thoughts as they arrived at the castle gates. Bradan abandoned her immediately by saying he needed something from his room. Shortly after Bradan disappeared, Colin said, “Mayhap I will see ye at supper.”
He seemed just as anxious to leave her as Bradan. “Where are you going?” she asked.
Colin rubbed his midsection and replied with charming affability, “I am off to the kitchen to find something to quiet my hunger afore my stomach decides to digest my doublet. Would ye like me to fetch something for ye?”
“Thank you, no,” she said. “I think I can wait until supper.”
They parted ways, and she continued down the hall, passing Alysandir’s library.
“I would have a word with ye, Mistress Douglas,” a voice called out from the room.
Oh, my, she thought, I must have really offended him. She knew she might as well get this over with, so she walked into his library and stopped before his desk. “You wish to discuss something?”
“Aye,” he said, looking her up and down. “Where have ye been dressed like ye are?”
“Digging in a cave some distance from here. It is by the sea and its mouth fills with water when the tide is in.”
If she had told him she was frolicking naked in the ocean, she did not think he could have looked more astonished or angry. When he spoke, his words were cold and perfectly measured. “I thought I forbid you to leave the castle. I explicitly told ye yester eve that ye were confined to yer room until I decided what to do with ye. Ye deliberately disobeyed me.”
Her hands flew to her mouth. Oh, dear Lord, she thought. She had forgotten all about that. “I forgot, Alysandir. Truly, I—”
He slammed his hand down on a stack of papers which, thankfully, muffled the sound, just before they slid off the desk and onto the floor.
She made a move to gather them, but he shouted, “Leave them be!”
She took a step back. “I forbid ye to go wandering out alone, and if ye ever disobey me again, a trip to the dungeon might be in order. Ye would do well to remember that.”
“For your information, I was not alone. Bradan and Colin accompanied me, and it was all terribly exciting. You won’t believe what we found. I want to go back tomorrow.”
“Didn’t ye hear what I just said? Are ye not aware of the danger of wandering into caves, especially along the seashore? If the tide had come in, ye would have had no way to escape.”
“I know, but Bradan is very knowledgeable about the timing of the tide.”
“Bradan! I grow weary of hearing that name, and I rue the day I allowed you to befriend him. I warned you…”
“Yes, I know you did, and I am ready to take my punishment. Have you decided what it will be?”
That seemed to catch him off guard, and his tone was somewhat tempered when he said in softer tones, “I will think upon it, but if you go wandering off again, you may find yourself captured and in the hands of the Macleans.”
“Perhaps that would be the best solution for both of us. I wouldn’t be a burden to you any longer, and I would be with my sister.”
“If ye disobey me again, it will be an end to yer freedom. If I have to lock ye in yer room, I will. Do not test my patience, for I am fast running out where ye are concerned.”
“And it will be the end of the friendship that we have found. Shall I remind you that force is not a remedy? Even if it were, I do not respond well to it. I can be persuaded to go along with reasonable requests, yet demands from overbearing tyrants don’t do anything but bring out my rebellious side.”
He raised his brows in obvious surprise at her outburst, but his words were hard, harsh, and final. “If you find yourself captured, mistress, Bradan goes back to the tower, and his schoolwork will be terminated. That should control yer rebellious side.”
“You wouldn’t dare use a child as a pawn,” she said.
“Aye, I would, and ye are welcome to try me and find oot. I will brook no more disobedience from you.”
“Disobedience can be a virtuous undertaking. It has paved the way for many discoveries and motivated scientists and explorers. Would you like me to tell you about them?”
“What I would like is for ye to stop turning my life upside doon. Ye seem to have a rather curious way of distracting me and creating difficulties wherever ye go.”
“I am sorry if you think I create difficulties for the pure pleasure of it. That is not the case. You seem to find fault with everything I want to do. I cannot sit twiddling my thumbs and staring out the window all day. I am horrible at knitting. I cannot thread a needle. I sing like a lovesick goose. I cannot read your poetry so that anyone can understand what I am saying. I am an educated woman. I like to be active, to learn, to expand my knowledge, and stimulate my mind.”
“Yer mind is over-stimulated as it is.”
“Perhaps, but it would be nice to have a kind and considerate jailer.”
“God, would that someone could send me a quiet, understanding prisoner!”
She sighed and decided to remain quiet, or they would continue this “tit for tat” for the rest of the evening.
He stood, and the chair scraped the floor as he leaned forward and placed both hands on his desk. “Ye are a great deal of trouble, Isobella. Would that I could stuff a sock in yer mouth and clap a padlock on yer mind and have done with it.”
“I could sooner reason with a block of wood than get anything through your thick head. It seems impossible for us to discuss anything. We can’t agree. Perhaps we should try again and start over at another time when we have both had time to think about it.”
“The quickest way to end a battle is to lose it, but I can see that ye never give up, even though surrender is oft more palatable than resistance.”
“Well, I daresay we are well suited in that regard, although I am your prisoner and you have the advantage of me.”
“Nay, not yet, but I will, and soon.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she replied and left.
She had class with Bradan the next morning, and that afternoon she taught him and several other children how to make kites. Since she was forbidden to go to the beach, she convinced Gavin and Grim to take Bradan to the beach so he could fly his kite. She gave them basic lessons in the courtyard, and by the time they went to the beach, they were followed by half the castle. Isobella stood on the parapets and observed, occasionally cupping her hands around her mouth and yelling orders to add more to the tail or to let out more string.
For the rest of the day, she did not see nor hear anything of Alysandir—or the Black Douglas, for that matter.