Chapter 30
The heart of a woman falls back with the night,
And enters some alien cage in its plight,
And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars
While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.
—“The Heart of a Woman,” 1918
Georgia Douglas Johnson (1880?–1966)
U.S. poet, playwright, and musician
A wild wind moaned over Duart Castle as a hurrying shape made his way slowly down the winding passageways. Silently, he kept close to the damp, stone walls until he reached the stairs and went down them soundlessly to the ground floor. The night was pitch dark and moonless, and most of those in the castle had been asleep for hours by the time he reached the door and stepped out into the night.
Alysandir crossed the bailey, staying close to the wall and out of the rectangular shaft of light coming from the guardroom. He could hear the guards talking, interspersed with some good-natured cursing as he slipped into the stable. He found and saddled Gallagher quickly.
The night sentries would be returning soon, and he waited quietly in the dark shadows near the portcullis for their arrival. When they rode into the bailey, he spurred Gallagher into a full gallop and thundered past the sentries and out of the castle before anyone was aware of what had happened.
Soon they vanished into the arms of the night, accompanied by the commotion coming from the castle—shouts and the sounds of horses being mounted. By the time the guards gave chase, Alysandir and Gallagher had already vanished into the cloak of darkness.
After a lively meal in the Great Hall with much laughter and dancing, Isobella decided to call it a night. She didn’t worry about keeping Elisabeth company, for Ronan kept dragging her out to dance. In good spirits and happy for her sister, she walked from the room, smiling.
She was almost to the stairs when a hand closed around her upper arm. Alysandir pulled her down the hallway with him, stopping long enough to unlock a door before he pulled her inside. He locked the door before he turned back to her.
“I have missed ye.”
“How did you talk Angus into letting you go?”
“I escaped.”
“Oh dear, does that mean war?”
“Nae, but he will want to even the score. Ye dinna seem glad to see me, lass. It makes me question my long, wet ride from Duart Castle.”
She smiled at him and put her arms around his neck. “Of course I missed you, and I’m happy you are back.”
She rose up on her toes to give him a light kiss and found herself swept into his arms. He moved his hand to the back of her head, drawing her lips against his. The feel of his mouth, warm against her trembling mouth, was painfully tender, and she wanted him, wholly, completely, almost desperately, but she also wanted him properly—and that put them on two different planets.
She pulled back, glanced around the room, and gave a start when she realized she had never been here before. Curiosity got the best of her. The room was designed for a woman, and judging by its size, the number of windows, and the beautiful furnishings, it belonged to a woman of great importance. Surely he had not brought her to a room occupied by his long string of mistresses?
“Just who does this room belong to?” she asked, tiny shards of bitterness creeping into her voice and penetrating her bones. That he would think so little of her…
“’Tisn’t the abode of a woman I have bedded, if that is yer concern,” he said, almost affably. “I might have expected such a reply from ye, for ye do have more than just a hint of red in that hair of yours. However, to answer yer question, ’twas my mother’s room. I wanted to show it to ye. ’Twould please me to have ye move here.”
She could not hide her amazement. The bed was large and covered with handwoven coverings of fine embroidery. The tapestry on the wall represented the coronation of Robert the Bruce, with an angel placing the royal crown of Scotland upon his head. But most impressive was the oriel window, corbelled out from the wall that extended outward, much like a modern-day bay window, but in this case, a much more ornate and beautifully designed piece of architecture.
An abundance of cushions was scattered over a covered seat beneath the windows. Along one wall was a small but very fine library with a French writing desk in front of it. She ran her hand over the writing box sitting to one side. “It looks like it must have looked when she lived in it.”
“It is just as she left it.”
“And none of the other occupants wanted to leave their mark upon it?”
“No one has been in this room. I locked it the day our mother was buried. I opened it fer ye. I want you to have this room and everything in it.”
Too much, her mind cried out. It was too much. She shook her head, and holding her hand up in supplication toward him, she began backing away. “No, I cannot. It is truly beautiful, and I am touched that you would offer it to me, but I couldn’t accept it. I don’t belong here.”
“It is mine to do with as I please. I am giving it and everything in it to you.” He went to the bookcase and pulled on one of the shelves. It sprang open. Behind it was a small casket full of jewelry. “I want you to have these.”
“Oh, Alysandir, I cannot. You should give them to your sisters.”
He slammed the casket down upon the desk and put his hands on her shoulders to prevent her from leaving. “Dinna be such a little fool. Dinna ye see what I am offering ye?” His eyes were dark, stormy, and blazing down at her. She made a move to turn away, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Nae, no running away. Not this time,” he said, looking angry enough to shake her.
He yanked her hard against him. She tried to move, but he held her head firmly against his chest. Her heart was pounding wildly, and she could not seem to catch her breath. Everything about him was overpowering. His breath was warm upon her skin, his eyes penetrating her defenses, his arms too strong, his mouth deliciously close and then coming down hard upon hers, hard.
She pushed against him with clenched fists and tried to turn away, but his hands cupped her face and held her in place. She fought against it, but as always, she ceased to struggle after a few minutes. She had no willpower strong enough to withstand her feelings for him or to resist the unrelenting demand of his lips. Nor could she ignore the hard strength of his body, the throb of the rhythmic beating of his heart piercing her defenses, and the ungovernable desire for him that swept through her like a runaway fire.
Then everything changed. Now he kissed her with surprising gentleness, and she felt herself responding in earnest. She wanted him to keep on kissing her until she melted. She relaxed against him and followed his lead. She savored the strength in his arms and the hardness of his body. Even his scent was arousing, and when his mouth closed over hers again, a long-held moan vibrated from low in her throat.
This time, his kiss was hard and seeking, almost brutally erotic, his lips moving over hers again and again. He kissed her cheeks, her throat, and her ear, tugging on the lobe. Her heart pounded painfully, and the blood pulsed into her starved lungs.
He lifted her into his arms and backed her against the bookcase. His hand searched for the hem of her skirt and then traveled warmly up her leg to the juncture of her thighs. She made one weak attempt to push him away, but his hand found the place that it sought and he pressed himself closer, touching her over and over again until she gasped. She no longer had the will to resist him. A moment later, she began to pant and her hips began to move in rhythm.
She could not control her body. Mindless with desire, she was barely cognizant that his other hand had begun to work the buttons down the front of her gown until it opened. He left her long enough to push the garment apart, slipping it over her arms and down to the floor. Her undergarments followed until she was completely bare. He held her arms immobile as he kissed his way downward, torturing her with his mouth until she cried out, digging her fingers into his hair.
She was so weak. She could not stand, and she thought surely they would move to the bed, but he turned her to lie across the desk. He entered her, moving with sure strokes until she shuddered and cried out and called his name, begging him to stop. Instead, he continued until she was mindlessly consumed by desire once more.
Alysandir began to kiss her, with kisses as soft and gentle as they had been hard and passionate before, and she writhed against him, wanting him to be more forceful. She wanted him, needed him to stop the agony, but he tortured her, bringing her close and then pulling back until she was crying for him to give her release. When he began again, she cried out.
She was intoxicated with feeling, as if her blood had turned to brandy, flowing hot, raw, and burning in her veins. It touched every part of her, searing one moment, freezing the next. She was smoldering and then shuddering over and over and over until he groaned with his own release. She did not know what happened after that, for everything went blank and she could not speak nor think, for all was feeling… exquisite, beautiful, unbelievable feeling. Nothing existed but him.
He was the only man for her. He knew how to touch her in a way that called forth her wildness, her untamed spirit that so perfectly matched his. She had opened beneath him and cried out his name, wild with wanting him as much as he wanted her and feeling no shame. She lay completely spent beneath him, as spent as he, her hands moving absently in his sweat-dampened hair. His scent floated over her, a fresh, wind-whipped smell of the outdoors, of grasses and moors, of wild things and the harshness of the sea—the very the essence of life.
She knew the magic of his hands and mouth. It did not matter that others had shown him or had lain beneath him as she had done, burning with need, opening beneath the quest of his mouth and his hands, feeling the size and strength of him when he ended the torture and gave her peace.
No matter what he said, he was hers. She belonged with him. She understood now why the Black Douglas had brought them together. That dear, beloved, unflappable ghost knew she belonged with Alysandir and had done the impossible to right a wrong that had placed them eons apart in different centuries.
Douglas knew she was destined to be in Alysandir’s arms since before she was born, not by forfeit, or capture, accident, or betrothal, but because it was meant to be. She yearned to tell Alysandir of her discovery, of the newborn love that grew inside her. She would hold the secret for a little longer, tucked away in the center of her heart until he spoke, at last, the words she yearned to hear.
I love you.
When sanity returned, he silently helped her dress. Then he kissed her again, not with passion this time, but softly, gently. As he turned to lead her from the room, he picked up the casket of his mother’s jewels.
“These were meant to be yours.”
A gentle wind swept into the room, warm and fragrant, and she knew the ghost of the Black Douglas was nearby. She was almost giddy, believing somehow that his presence blessed this moment, this oneness she shared with Alysandir. But then the wind changed suddenly, bitter cold replacing the warmth, and she shivered. It was as if she was standing alone on a great summit covered with snow, while the world basked in warmth and sunlight below. She did not understand what was going on. But before she could react, Alysandir spoke again, distracting her.
“Take them. They are yours,” he said. He thrust the casket into her hands.
Confused, she stared down at the box. Was this his way of telling her he cared enough for her to make her his wife? Just as his mother had been wife to his father? As his wife, the jewels would belong to her. Her heart swelled with delight for it was his way of saying that he loved her. She was about to pour her heart out to him, but something held her back.
His gaze traveled over her, slow and deliberate, as he said, “There is no dishonor in being my woman. All will know when ye move into this room that ye are, in my affections, far above any mistress whose bed I have shared.”
Mistress… back to Square One, after all they’d just shared. Couldn’t he see that they were meant for each other? Was he truly incapable of loving her? If he had taken his dirk and stabbed her in the heart, it would have wounded her less. She felt her legs weaken. Her head began to spin, and she knew she was going to faint.
Please, she whispered in her mind. I don’t want him to know how much I care. Not now. Not like this.
A crack of thunder rent the skies. A fierce wind blew down the chimney and swirled around them. Isobella felt the weakness, hurt, and shame flow out of her. She was a Douglas; her baby would be a Douglas. Good blood flowed in her veins… the blood of warriors who didn’t cower or bow, no matter what they endured. She raised her chin and looked up at Alysandir, his proud, dark head hovering like a bird of prey over her. He regarded her silently, searching her face, waiting for an answer that was not forthcoming.
***
Her body rested, but her mind did not, and when she awoke, the memory of the previous night was there waiting for her. She lay abed for some time before she dressed and went downstairs to breakfast. Thankfully, she had slept later than usual and she was the only one in the hall, other than the servants. She ate enough to rid herself of hunger, but she had no real appetite. She was worried.
She needed to think about the future and the child she carried, so she slipped away to the stables. No one saw her as she took one of the horses and rode down the beach toward the cave. She always felt happy there among the relics of the past, along and a feeling of being connected to her family because she hoped that one day they would learn of the work she had done here and the treasures she left behind.
She was almost there, when part of the embankment gave way and the horse reared as it tried to gain its footing. Isobella was thrown and fell over the edge. She hit the bottom with such force that she was knocked unconscious.
***
Alysandir missed seeing Isobella at breakfast and assumed she was sleeping late. Later, when she did not appear, he checked her room. Afterward he made a few inquiries of the guards and servants, but no one had seen her. He went to see Bradan, partly to see his son and partly because he thought Isobella might be there fawning over the lad. He was surprised to find she was not there either.
“Perhaps she is in the solar with Sybilla and Barbara,” Marion said.
Alysandir shook his head. “I checked there.”
“What aboot the garden? She likes to sit there,” Colin said.
“I just came through the garden,” Gavin said. “I did not see her.”
Elisabeth asked, “Did you check her room?”
“Aye, she wasna there,” he said. A muscle in his jaw worked. “I will have the castle searched, and I will find her if I have to take it apart stone by stone.”
Elisabeth frowned. “It is not like Isobella to just disappear this way.”
“I will find her,” he said, and left. Colin and Gavin ran after him. They had barely caught up with him when they were met by one of the guards. He told the brothers that the horse Isobella had ridden earlier had returned without a rider.
Alysandir rushed downstairs and had Gallagher saddled before his brothers could catch up with him. He rode at a gallop down the beach, retracing a fresh set of hoofprints in the sand. He could never remember being scared before, and he prayed that she had not gone to the cave. The tide was almost in now. She could be trapped inside before he could reach her.
He found her lying on the other side of the embankment, unconscious and crumpled and limp. He was off Gallagher before the horse stopped. He had Isobella in his arms by the time his brothers arrived. For a moment, he stood there, whispering her name softly. He handed her to Ronan, and then he saw the blood. He mounted quickly and took her in his arms. Cradling her against him, he whispered desperate words, pleading with her to not give up as he rode back to the castle.
While Ronan was helping Alysandir with Isobella, Gavin had ridden back to the castle to alert everyone. By the time Alysandir arrived, Mistress MacMorran was waiting at the entrance. “Take her to her room. Elisabeth is waiting for her there.”
Alysandir took the stairs two at a time, whispering words of encouragement as he searched her ashen face for some sign that she might have heard, but she was silent as stone. He carried her into the room, with Mistress MacMorran huffing and puffing behind him.
Elisabeth had a basin of water and several towels ready. A fire blazed in the grate, and the bed coverings were turned down. She seemed to know something he did not. Several servants came into the room carrying more supplies, followed by Alysandir’s brothers and sisters.
“Put her on the bed. Then I need you to leave,” Elisabeth said.
Alysandir was puzzled. “But I…”
“No. Please, Alysandir. Give us some privacy.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I need you to wait with your family while I examine her. Mistress MacMorran will stay to assist me. She will give you a report once I have finished.”
Outside the room, Alysandir spoke with his family and then they all went down to the Great Hall to wait. Everyone was seated at the table, talking quietly, while Alysandir sat in a chair by the hearth, his hand absently stroking the head of one of the dogs, who watched him with mournful eyes.
It seemed like forever before Mistress MacMorran came down. She looked at Alysandir with a sympathetic expression, and fear gripped his heart.
“Elisabeth said ye may come up now.” He was almost to the door when she said, “But the rest of ye will have to wait.”
The walk to Isobella’s room seemed longer than it ever had. When he reached her door, he hesitated for a moment, suddenly frightened at what he might find. Why had Mistress MacMorran only sent him? Did that mean something was seriously wrong with Isobella?
With dread mounting, he opened the door. Elisabeth was bathing Isobella’s face in the darkened room, lit by only a few candles, but even then, he could tell that Isobella’s face was terribly pale. When she saw him, Elisabeth turned and walked to the end of the bed. He stopped to gaze upon Isobella’s still form, so tiny in the big bed.
“How is she?”
“She has a nasty cut on her head, which I sutured.” She placed her hand on Alysandir’s sleeve. “I regret having to be the one who has to tell you this.” Her voice caught, and she had to pause for a deep breath. “Isobella was with child. I am sorry, but she has lost the baby.”
Alysandir reeled from the shock of Elisabeth’s words. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. A child? His child?
“Did she know?”
Elisabeth nodded.
Why? Why couldna ye tell me?He recalled the previous night. Dear God, now he understood why she had reacted as she did. If you had only told me of the bairn. Remorse ate at him. While she carried his bairn, he had offered her the role of mistress, shiny baubles and all. He had humiliated her in the worst way.
“I had no way of knowing. Why did she keep it to herself? Why could she not tell me? I wouldna have turned against her. ’Tis no’ her fault but mine.”
Elisabeth nodded. “Yes, it is your fault, in that you should have had a care not to get her with child, but it isn’t your fault that she was foolish enough to ride a horse when she knew of her condition. However, none of that really matters now.”
“Is she going to recover?”
“Yes.”
“Is the blow to her head severe enough that she might not wake up?”
“No, she was awake shortly before the baby… before the bleeding stopped. She is simply exhausted now but doing fine. She is distraught and blames herself. She is strong of body and mind. Right now, she needs rest. And even if she denies it, she needs you, Alysandir. You are the only one who can truly console her, for you have lost a child as well.”
Elisabeth’s words cut into the heart of him. “Did ye have knowledge of the bairn before the accident?”
“Yes, I recognized her symptoms while we were at Duart.”
“That is why she agreed to return to Màrrach with me,” he said. “She did it for the bairn.”
“That is only partly true, Alysandir. She considered the child, yes, but she loves you. I know because she told me. She did not want to tell you of her love or the child because she knew you did not want marriage or children. I’m her twin. I know her better than anyone.
“It won’t be easy now. She will tell you she wants nothing to do with you, perhaps she will even ask to leave, but you must remember it is her pain speaking and not her heart. Whatever you do, don’t take her rejection seriously. Hang in there and be there for her, even if she tries to drive you away. She loves you and will tell you that, but she will need time.”
Alysandir felt as if something deep inside him had been ripped out. He wished he could go back, to undo the wrong that had been done. Guilt ate at him. And he was wounded to the quick that Isobella had not told him about the bairn. “I had a right to know.”
“Yes, you did and I told her that, but she thought you might offer her marriage if she told you.”
“Aye, ’tis true! I would have taken her to wife, had I known.”
“She did not want you that way, Alysandir. She wanted you to want her because you loved her as much as she loved you. She told me of your marriage—how your wife had the marriage annulled and then sent Bradan to you after he was born.”
“My fault. ’Tis all my doing. Did it… that is, will she… can she…”
“Have other children? Is that what you want to know?”
“Aye.”
She nodded. “There was no damage that I can see. She is fine and should be able to have a house full of children if that is what she wants.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. All we need is time.”
“I will wait here with ye.”
Elisabeth put her hand on his arm. “Let me talk to her first. I will try to get her to see you, but if she does not want to, it would be best if you stayed away, at least until she is ready. I am so sorry, Alysandir. Truly I am.”
Alysandir gave her face a caress. “I ken ye speak from yer heart,” he said. “I thank ye for it and yer understanding and no’ blaming me.”
She watched him go, hating the fact that she had had to be the one to tell him. She turned back to the bed where her sister lay, unable to forget the anguish she saw on Alysandir’s face and the pain she heard in his voice.
“Oh, Izzy, why didn’t you tell him? He had a right to know. He seems so broken. No one deserves to go through this sort of thing. He does love you, you know.”
Isobella slept almost two hours, and after she awoke, Elisabeth told her about the baby.
“No! Oh please, no! Oh, God, what have I done? I wanted this baby with all my heart. It was our baby, a part of Alysandir no one could ever take away.”
Elisabeth ran a cool cloth over her sister’s face. “Now, now, don’t take on so. It isn’t good for you to be upset. You need to rest and let your body heal.”
Tears ran down Isobella’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t have gone off like that. It is my fault. I killed my baby. I killed my own child.”
“It was an accident. Things like this happen all the time.” She smiled. “If you will remember, you were always having accidents when we were growing up.”
“When will I ever learn? What was I thinking?”
“I don’t think you were thinking when you left. You were obviously upset and did not consider the consequences. It is called being human, Izzy. We have all done things we regret.”
“Have you told anyone… Alysandir?”
“Mistress MacMorran knows because she helped me. Otherwise, I told only Alysandir. I felt he had a right to know. I hope you are not angry.”
“No, I’m not. I should have told him. I doubt he will forgive me for doing something so stupid.”
“You are wrong, Izzy. He is brokenhearted that you lost the baby and that you did not tell him, but he is more broken over his own guilt in all of this. He blames no one but himself.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes, he took full blame. He is so broken over this. He wanted to see you.”
Isobella turned her head toward the wall. “I have ruined everything by my foolishness. I want to go home. There’s nothing for me here. The Black Douglas ignores me when I seek him.”
“Izzy, you know you cannot leave Alysandir. You love him, and he needs you.”
“Alysandir needs no one.”
Elisabeth put her hand on Isobella’s arm. “You are wrong, but try to rest now. He wants to see you. Let him.”
“No.”
“Don’t be that way, Izzy. Let him comfort you, and you can do the same for him.”
Isobella turned her head to the wall and closed her eyes.