Chapter Twenty-Four
Ismay stood on the battlements of Tor Castle and drew her arisaid closer around herself.
With a deep inhale, she filled herself with the fresh clean scent of the earth bathed in snow.
She looked out over the white hills and glens stretching out around her and thought about the first time she had stepped into this place.
She’d had no idea what she was in for, temporarily living with a clan chieftain again.
She had followed that chief—or Lochiel as the Cameron chief was called—into the unknown on the sheer basis of him keeping his word about one thing.
But her father was correct about there being a single thing needed to know if a man was trustworthy or not.
Her Cameron chief had kept every word he made to her.
The last vow he had made to her was that they would visit the house at Ben Nevis in the spring and live there for a few months, without the pressures and responsibilities of being chief. His most trusted kin would handle them all until Constantine returned.
She loved him for the freedom he presented to her, but she didn’t care where they lived or what they did, she would be happy. She would love only him for the rest of her days on the earth and beyond.
She almost wept thinking about him, so tall and lean, built and fashioned by swinging a sword. Thinking of his countenance, she felt herself go flush in the wind.
She fanned herself and giggled inwardly.
It was extraordinary the way another person could make her perspire in the winter.
He was thoughtful and always filled with compassion with those who were important to him.
But it was her eyes that saw passionate love and steadfast devotion in his gaze when he looked at her.
She heard the door to the stairs creak open. She wasn’t worried about being alone anywhere in this castle, Constantine had not lied when he told her his men were safe.
They had forgiven her for killing chief MacDonald and even still protected her when they thought she was in jeopardy.
Like when Fionn and Lachlan tried to stop her from going to bathe in the loch, or when Geoffry followed her every step for a fortnight until she spun on her heel and snapped at him.
She never complained about them to Constantine.
He had more serious gripes to settle. She also did not want to get them in trouble with him, and for that, they had told her they would consider her a sister.
Ismay liked that idea. She’d never had siblings.
Now she had dozens, including brothers who frustrated her and made her laugh moments in between.
She owed Hilary much for losing her betrothed thanks to her, among other things.
But Hilary treated her as a sister too—a close sister in whom one confides.
And Joan, her dearest friend, who never once turned her loyalties away from Ismay.
They were all invited to visit the house at Ben Nevis when she and their Lochiel left Tor.
When his arms snaked around her, she didn’t leap away, afraid of who it was. She knew the rhythm of his breath against her neck when he dipped his warm lips to her.
“What are ye doin’ up here, my love?” he asked into her ear.
Ismay closed her eyes to relish the warmth spreading through her from his body.
“I was remembering how I followed ye through the doors of this castle fer the first time. My fearful thoughts told me the worst about ye, but ye turned those thoughts on their heads and reached gently for my heart. I am so happily yers that I feel as if I have wings and I can soar right off these battlements, on this wind.”
He laughed behind her, reverberating through her. When he spoke, his breath was warm against her temple, the cadence of his voice like a fire in the cold. “Then mayhap to keep ye here with me, I should make ye unhappy.”
She shook her head and covered his arms with hers. “I dinna think ye can make me unhappy, husband.”
His arms drew her in deeper. “I never want to be the cause of yer unhappiness—so tell me what you think about this, Bethia has returned from the MacMillans. She wants me to fergive her fer her disloyalty and let her live here again. I told her she had my fergiveness—”
Of course she had it. That was who Constantine was. Hard and unforgiving on the outside, but soft and inviting on the inside.
“—but I dinna think she should return here to live. She was Alison’s close friend and Alison is gone from here.”
Alison was gone from here. Ismay didn’t know whether to be happy about it or sad for Constantine. “My love,” she said softly, tilting her head up to him, “Alison was part of yer life. I dinna expect ye to ferget her.”
“I willna ferget her or Katie, but although they will live forever in my heart, they were. Ye are. Ye are everything to me, Ismay. My life is yers. I love ye more than I can say.”
She smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “Then dinna say anything. Just show me.”
Without any more provocation, he took her hand and tugged, leading her to the stairs.
She giggled and hurried along with him. Was this bold seductress truly her? Had she ever—even on her best day—imagined teasing her husband? He freed her from her fears and taught her how to fight a stronger enemy, should one ever come upon her again.
It had only been a short pair of months since she found him—or he found her—she wasn’t sure which.
It didn’t matter. They had found each other.
It did not feel as if they had known each other all their lives.
It felt as if they had just met, awakened as one struck by lightning.
One who had stopped living. Part of Constantine had died when he lost his wife and babe.
Part of Ismay had died twice. Once as a child when she lost a huge block of who she was, or who she could be. Then again when her father had died.
She and Constantine had been brought back to life in each other’s embrace, in each other’s intimate smile, soft words. She still felt those cracks of lightning go through her when he touched her or told her he loved her—which he did often, at night, in his deep, purring voice when they were alone.
“There ye are!” Hugh met them on the stairs. “Ye have unexpected guests waiting fer ye in the Great Hall.”
Constantine waved him away. Ismay wasn’t sure why Hugh was still caring for the castle and the duties that came with being a steward when his Lochiel made him his lieutenant commander.
“Tell whoever ’tis that I canna meet with them—”
“’Tis General Monck’s emissaries from France.”
Constantine stopped. So did Ismay. Why had the Royalist general sent his emissaries here? Did it have something to do with the exiled king?
Constantine would be a fool to refuse them, and her husband was no fool.
Turning to her, he offered her an apologetic smile as if he needed to. He didn’t. She would have sent him off if he didn’t go on his own.
“I will see ye tonight, wife,” he promised.
She nodded, happy because she knew he would keep his word.
She watched him hurry off and prayed silently for peace to reign. She would go sew with Hilary and Joan while she waited for him.
Her friends already knew who was there, thanks to Lachlan telling Joan. “Imagine if the king returns?” Hilary set down her needle to exclaim with enthusiasm. “Och, there will be dancing in the glens.”
“Not everyone is a Royalist, Hilary,” Ismay reminded her. In fact, there were other Camerons outside of Lochaber who sided with the Presbyterians. “I’m thankful my father sided with the Stuart monarchy.”
“Aye, ’tis a good thing to have in common, Cousin.”
Ismay glanced up at her and smiled.
Poor Hilary was still unwed, and it seemed as if she would remain that way for a time. She didn’t blame Ismay though.
“Whyever would it be yer fault?” Hilary had told her. “John MacBain chose to go against my cousin, and thereby me as well. Why would I want a man like that?”
Ismay didn’t know why any woman would, but still, Hilary often looked away and smiled warmly while something crossed her thoughts. Ismay guessed it was John MacBain by the way Hilary scowled just as darkly a moment later.
“Och!” Joan slammed her sewing into her lap. “I canna sit here another moment waiting to find out if our men will have to go back into battle fer the king.”
Ismay paled. She did her best not to think along those lines, but Joan was correct. The men of Lochaber would be called to fight for the king to whom they swore such staunch support.
Constantine didn’t want to fight. What would his heart be like this time when he returned from the battlefield?
“Let us take a walk,” Hilary suggested.
Joan gave her an incredulous look. “I wasna speaking of venturing oot. ’Tis freezing oot there, Hilary.”
“Come.” Ismay set down her sewing and stood up. “The brisk air will do us good.”
“Lady!” Joan looked up at her, betrayal staining her eyes.
“Do ye think ’tis too cold for a quick swim?
Now Hilary and Joan shared the same look of disbelief. Hilary was about to stand but rethought her position and stayed seated.
Ismay laughed quietly and shrugged her shoulders at them, then left.
As she suspected—and hoped—she heard the lasses’ footsteps hurrying after her. She rolled her eyes heavenward though when Joan shouted out to Lachlan and Hilary did the same to Fionn and Geoffry, that Ismay was off to swim in the icy loch!
She wasn’t going to actually do it. She wasn’t mad in the head, risking freezing to death.
She simply was trying to lure her friends outside so the three of them could talk.
But Lachlan joined them and wasted no time telling her that he would never let her freeze to death.
Geoffry (surprisingly) was next, threatening to toss her over his shoulder and bring her back if she didn’t listen to him and stop this instant.
He wouldn’t dare touch her. None of them would.
She was the Lochiel’s woman and none of them were ignorant of the possible consequences if she were hurt by them.