Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Isobel watched the battle in horror. It had erupted so quickly and had gone from swarming boats to a raft of moving bodies and flashing swords so swiftly that one moment she had seen the galley that carried Michael and the next it had merged with the others so that she could not tell which one it was. She could identify only the Raven in the center and Lachlan's ship, because their banners differed from all the others. She realized that she was standing on her bench, gripping the gunwale so tightly that her knuckles were white, but she had no memory of jumping up there.

All the women were on their feet, watching, all showing varying degrees of the tension Isobel felt. Despite Michael's continued insistence that he was a man of peace, she knew that he was in the thick of the fighting. Men seemed to jump right over one another and from ship to ship as they fought. She saw spears flying and swords flashing, heard battle cries and screams of the wounded. Already, though, the noise had lessened. The Lord of the Isles' boats were larger than their attackers, with higher sides, and they numbered more than half again as many.

Glancing toward the three galleys that had lingered behind to guard the women's boats, she knew from the expressions of the men aboard them that they felt left out, and she could sympathize with their frustration. Although she had no wish to fight, she wished fervently that she were closer and could see better. As it was, the captain of their boat ordered his men to back water, to keep the galley in place and ready to depart at the least hint that the tide of battle might turn. Isobel did not fear that fate, however, only that Michael might suffer injury or worse.

Cristina, too, seemed worried, but Mairi did not, and if Isobel could not make herself feel as relaxed as Mairi looked, the older woman's confidence did ease her anxiety. Observing that one of the attacking ships had managed to slip away and was heading south at speed, she wanted to shout at the other boats to catch it. She looked to her own captain, but although he watched the departing boat narrowly and with visible annoyance, he gave no indication of wanting to follow.

Minutes later, the battle was over, and although another of the enemy boats had disengaged by then, evidently Hector and Lachlan were content to let it depart, too. Thus, two of the six had escaped, but four had not.

"Do you see Hector or Sir Michael?" Cristina asked. "I cannot see them."

"Hector's boat is just drawing up to Lachlan's now," Mairi said. "Don't worry, I'm sure they are all safe."

Isobel had no idea where Michael was. "I don't know how you can tell them apart," she told Mairi. "They all look alike to me, save the admiral's and the Raven."

Mairi just smiled, but she kept watching, and Isobel suspected only then that she was not as confident as she had wanted them all to believe.

She hoped they had captured the wicked Waldron, but she could not be easy again until she knew that everyone she cared about was safe.

They had boarded the four remaining enemy boats and quickly taken control of them, and Michael was as certain as he could be, both from the hasty retreat of two that had fled when they saw how greatly the flotilla outmatched them, and from the rapid surrender of the others, that Waldron had not commanded them. He strongly suspected that at least the two fleeing galleys belonged to the Green Abbot of Iona, but he wondered where Waldron might have come by the others.

When Lachlan found him moments later and told him they would give the men who had yielded the usual opportunity to swear fealty to the Lord of the Isles, he said, "With respect, my lord, I'd counsel against that. 'Twould achieve naught but to admit Waldron's spies to your midst. Indeed, I had wondered why he would attack a force so much larger than his, but mayhap his goal was just that, to add his men to ours, knowing that victors nearly always make such offers to the losers."

"'Tis a good point you make," Lachlan said. "Hereabouts, one can trust the word of even an enemy if he swears fealty to his grace, but your cousin's men apparently practice different customs."

"They do, sir," Michael said. "They give loyalty to no one but Waldron."

Lachlan nodded. "Then we will inform his grace accordingly."

He spoke quietly to one of his men, shouted to the captain of another boat to go on ahead of them at speed to Glenelg to warn Macleod of their coming, and then directed his helmsman to ease away. When the ships were all unlashed, they turned toward the Ardnamurchan shore, where crews from the captured vessels, having to a man sworn full faith and loyalty to MacDonald of the Isles, were set ashore with instructions that if they made their way to Ardtornish, they could swear fealty to his grace in person and join his service.

"Meantime," Lachlan said to them, "we will unburden you of your galleys and weapons, so that you need no longer trouble yourselves with them. 'Tis small penalty for attacking ships belonging to MacDonald of the Isles."

Then, assigning crews to the extra boats with men from all the others, they set off again, now a flotilla of nineteen. As they left Ardnamurchan behind, Michael wondered if Lachlan had remembered that he'd intended to warn MacDonald about Waldron's men. Recalling the many signals earlier to the admiral's ship from the north coast of the Sound, and the man to whom Lachlan had spoken, he smiled, certain that the admiral had everything well in hand.

Isobel was astonished that the men, despite having fought a battle, seemed refreshed rather than exhausted and were able to continue their journey at much the same pace as they had set through the Sound of Mull. She had seen Michael, had even waved to him, but oddly, knowing he was safe, instead of relieving her seemed to annoy her. He looked as if he had been having fun, not as if he had been in danger of losing his life. Clearly, the battle had been a tame one.

They stopped to take a midday meal but did not beach the vessels, lashing them together again instead, so the oarsmen could rest while others kept watch. They had cold meat, bread, and ale that they had brought with them for the purpose.

She would have liked to do as many of the men were doing, and jump from one boat to another, if only to ask Michael if, now that the battle was over, she could join him in his boat for a while, where it would be more interesting.

But when she stood and started to step onto her bench again, Cristina said sharply, "Don't you dare, Isobel. You will remain here with us like the lady you are and not go traipsing along from boat to boat like a hoyden."

Isobel lifted her chin. "I am a married lady now, Cristina. I will thank you to remember that and cease giving me orders as if I were still a child."

"Nay, lass, she's right," Michael said from behind her.

She had thought he must have joined Sir Hugo aboard the Raven by now, and that boat's banner was clearly visible to her right, so his sudden appearance from her left startled her. She turned and said irritably, "I am perfectly nimble, sir, and I want to hear all about the battle. From where we waited, one could scarcely see what was happening."

"I'll be happy to describe it to you in detail, sweetheart, just as soon as we can enjoy some private time together. But for now, you will remain here with Princess Margaret, Lady Mairi, and your sister."

His obvious assumption that he need only give the command for her to obey it nettled her more, and she opened her mouth to say so, but as she did, the echo of his words reminded her that Princess Margaret would hear, so she said only, "Then pray do not forget this time that you have promised me a discussion, sir."

"Nay, lass, I'll not forget," he said.

Despite an edge to his voice that suggested he was not merely reassuring her but warning her as well, she turned away from him and took her seat again. If he expected to act the tyrant over her after promising that he would never do such a thing, he had to learn that tyrannical behavior would incur consequences.

"Isobel, you make me blush for your manners," Cristina hissed at her. "You should not talk to him so, and whatever did you mean, ‘this time'?"

Taking care that her words would not travel to the others, she murmured, "Surely, propriety forbids prying into personal affairs between a wife and her husband, Cristina. Must I actually answer that question?"

"No, of course not," Cristina said apologetically. "Forgive me, dearling."

Her swift apology made Isobel feel guilty but not so guilty that she was willing to explain. Nevertheless, she said contritely, "There is naught to forgive. I should not have spoken as I did either."

Amiable relations between them being thus restored, the rest of the day passed slowly, for as much as Isobel loved being on the sea, the scenery was exactly as it had been just days before. Even the cushioned bench grew hard long before they reached the Sound of Sleat, which separated the western Highlands from the east coast of the Isle of Skye.

Recognizing their location, Isobel said in surprise, "Are we not going to harbor in Loch Eishort? 'Tis a much more sheltered harbor than any in the Sound."

"Nay," Mairi said, "because the shortest route north from here is through the kyles and the Inner Sound."

"Have you traveled to the Orkney Islands before, then?"

Mairi laughed. "Nay, but I quizzed Lachlan until he drew maps for me, showing me exactly how we'd go, and why."

They scarcely had time to beach the women's boats and set anchors for the others before a welcoming party from Chalamine appeared at the top of the hill path down to the bay. Michael and the other men of their party rejoined them shortly before the riding party arrived.

"There is Father, and Adela is with him, but Sidony and Sorcha are not," Cristina said. "I hope he is not expecting us to stay longer than the one night."

Hector said, "Lachlan sent word ahead to him about the battle, and doubtless the captain will have told him we'll need oarsmen for the extra boats we have as a result and that we mean to continue at dawn. 'Tis a long journey we have ahead."

The burly, rather grizzled Macleod greeted her grace and Lady Mairi with formal politeness, and his daughters with brusque affection, before turning to Hector and Lachlan to say that he had set sentries to keep watch for them.

"Your messengers made it plain that ye'd be wanting to make an early start tomorrow, so I kent fine ye wouldna want to be riding an hour to get to your boats afore then," he said. "Moreover, I've come to tell ye I'll be joining me boats wi' yours, if I'll no be putting Sir Henry out by the doing."

"You won't, sir," Michael said.

When Macleod looked askance at him, Hector laughed and said, "Allow me to present your new son to you, Macleod, and your new brother to you, Lady Adela," he added as Adela joined them. "This is Sir Michael St. Clair, Isobel's husband, and brother of the same Sir Henry who is to be our host at Kirkwall."

"Aye, sure," Macleod said, putting out a hand and shaking Michael's with obvious enthusiasm, although he continued to speak to Hector. "Yon messenger said there'd been a wedding, and Adela here told me summat o' Sir Michael. 'Tis pleased I am to welcome ye to the family, lad. So, ye believe a few extra bodies arriving early willna vex Sir Henry, but be ye sure o' that? Sithee, I'll ha' Adela wi' me, as well. Doubtless her sisters and aunt will look after her, but since she's said she wants to go, I've decided we'll leave the two younger ones at home in hopes o' finding her a husband. Then, too, three o' them be too many for anyone to watch."

Smiling, Michael assured him that Sir Henry would be delighted.

"Then we'll join ye here for supper," Macleod said. "Me lads ha' brought a fine lot o' mutton chops, manchet loaves, and roasted haunches o' good Highland beef that we can spit over fires to warm up a bit if ye've summat to use as spits and lads to turn the meat whilst we talk."

This being agreed, they rejoined the others to prepare for the night.

Delighted to see Adela and to learn that she would join them on the journey, Isobel invited her to sleep with her in one of the women's tents.

Dusk had set in before the men finished building the cooking fires and setting up tents along the hills near the bay, well above the high-water mark. Two large tents were set up for the six ladies and their tirewomen, and others of similar size for the oarsmen, but a number of the latter elected to sleep in the open with the long woolen wraps they called "plaids" to ward off the chill.

Isobel described her wedding for Adela, who seemed shocked by its hasty arrangement but accepted her assurance that haste had been necessary for the very reasons that Adela herself had foretold at the shieling. Isobel said nothing of her reluctance to marry and invited Adela to accompany her while she collected her cloak and a comb from a satchel of belongings that she had left on the boat.

Learning that Adela had brought the dresses she had left behind, although she had been unable to persuade Macleod to include Isobel's maid in his party, Isobel said, "I shan't miss her. I've grown quite accustomed to sharing Brona and Meg Raith."

They were returning to the ladies' tent to arrange their sleeping places when a firm hand on Isobel's arm and a familiar voice speaking her name stopped them.

"You'll sleep with me tonight," Michael said.

"I wish you would not approach so silently," she said irritably. "You always seem to appear out of nowhere."

"Come with me now, and I'll show you where we will sleep."

"If I must travel with the women, I'll sleep with them, too," she said.

"Nay, lass, for we'll have but one or two nights on this journey that we can spend together. We'll take advantage of them when they come."

"I thought you said we would discuss things," she said. "You just throw orders at me like any other man would."

"Isobel, really," Adela exclaimed. "What a way to speak to your husband!"

"I did say we'd have a talk, and we will do so tonight in my tent," Michael said, adding, "Lady Adela, I think Lady Cristina is looking for you."

"I'll go to her at once," Adela said, casting Isobel a reproachful look as she fled.

Watching her go, Isobel said, "Is Cristina really looking for her?"

"I don't know," he said.

She looked at him then.

In the same even tone, now beginning to grate on her nerves, he said, "Since you make a point of remembering what I say to you, madam wife, doubtless you will recall that I also said I do not easily tolerate fits of feminine temperament."

"Then you had better stop hurling orders at me, sir. I don't like it."

The words leaped forth before she knew she was going to speak them, and she realized instantly that she ought to have held her tongue. Expecting the sort of tirade that usually followed impertinence on her part, she shut her eyes and waited for the flood of words to engulf her.

Again, Michael surprised her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he touched a finger to her chin and tilted her face up.

Startled, she opened her eyes.

With a smile, he kissed her. He did so thoroughly, and when she relaxed and began to respond, he raised his head to murmur, "I don't like fratching with you, sweetheart. Can we not declare a truce long enough to talk, mayhap even to sleep?"

"Aye," she agreed with a rueful smile. "I have been bored all day, sir, except during the battle and talking with Adela. Fratching at least stirs the blood."

"So it does," he said, kissing her again and pressing his body against hers. Then, with a twinkle when she pressed back, he said, "Are you sure you're hungry?"

"I'm famished," she said firmly. "Moreover, we are going to talk first."

"We'll see," he said. "I suppose we should eat before we do anything else."

Isobel ground her teeth but said nothing more as they headed for the ring of cooking fires and the long boards set up on trestles nearby to serve as the high table.

When Michael stepped away to talk with Sir Hugo, Cristina moved nearer, saying in an undertone, "You must smile, dearling, lest you give rise to the sort of gossip that stirs scandal. You look like a thundercloud ready to storm, and whatever has vexed you surely cannot be as bad as that. Only think how fortunate we are that none of our men suffered grievous harm today. Only a few arrow cuts and one head lump from a sadly well-thrown rock. Our husbands suffered no injury at all, so you should be giving thanks, not frowning."

"Aye, sure, but sithee, I never asked for a husband. Moreover, he is behaving exactly as I expected a husband to behave, and marriage is forever and ever, Cristina." She sighed. "Forever is a very long time."

Glancing around, Cristina said, "Keep your voice down, Isobel. Whatever else you do, you must not make a gift of your feelings to the whole world. What do you mean, he is behaving as you expected a husband to behave? Husbands are husbands, after all, and marriage is much the same for everyone."

"But I thought he was different from other men," Isobel said with another sigh. "He seemed much more reasonable, more willing to hear what I had to say, even to take my advice rather than dismissing it as woman's talk. In fact," she added, remembering, "at times I grew impatient with him, believing he did not bother to think for himself. But now he flings orders at me just as other men do."

Cristina chuckled. "Men are men, Isobel. I do not know why Sir Michael behaved as he did before, but I would remind you that he comes from a powerful family and is therefore doubtless accustomed to command. He certainly has shown no inclination to let either Hector or Lachlan overwhelm him, and they are, as you know well, exceptionally intimidating men."

"Aye, but you did not see him earlier. Even after we arrived at Lochbuie, he was content to let me say my say."

Cristina pressed her lips together for a long moment as her eyes darted back and forth in the wary gaze that told Isobel she still feared their being overheard. Then she said quietly, "You should not be discussing this with me, dearling. If you do not understand Sir Michael, you must discuss that with him. He is your husband now, and as you say, he will remain so until death parts him from you."

"Well, I don't think I want him after all," Isobel said. "What if I were to tell you that he has not yet consummated our marriage?"

Cristina gave a choking sound and quickly covered her mouth. "Isobel, you must not say such things where others might hear you! Moreover, if you were to tell me that tale, I would not believe you, because Brona saw evidence to the contrary with her own eyes. Did you think she would not tell me? Good evening, Father," she added, hastily stepping past Isobel to greet Macleod.

It was as well that she did, because warmth had flooded Isobel's cheeks at the thought of Brona telling Cristina that the newlyweds had successfully coupled. Knowing that Macleod would demand explanations if she did not quickly join them, she drew a long, steadying breath and did so.

He greeted her with a wide smile and open arms, and although she could not remember the last time he had hugged her, she went into them willingly.

"I feared you would be displeased, sir," she said. "You had every right to expect an invitation to my wedding."

"Aye, sure, but Hector Reaganach explained the sore need for haste, and a connection to a royal prince be nowt for any man to sneer at," he said, releasing her. "Who'd ha' thought ye'd be the one to do such a grand thing?"

"Sir Henry is not really royal," she pointed out. "The King of Scots has declared that only members of the Scottish royal family may claim that honor, so Sir Henry will be only Earl of Orkney here in Scotland."

"Aye, aye, and 'tis proper so," Macleod agreed. "Still and all, though, the man be heir to a royal princedom, albeit a Norse one, and powerful into the bargain. The connection can do us nae harm. I willna deny, though, I were gey displeased when that villain Waldron o' Edgelaw invaded Chalamine, looking for ye."

"Invaded, sir? I heard that he spent one night and left the next day."

"Aye, he did that, but whilst he were there, he accused your Sir Michael o' criminal acts. He said, too, that he'd either abducted ye or ye'd run off wi' him."

"Michael did no such thing," Isobel declared. "Nor did I. We had to flee, because Waldron wants something from Michael that he does not possess to give him. I warrant the villainous man did not tell you that."

"Aye, well, ye're out then," Macleod said. "He did tell us that Sir Michael's family had taken summat during the Crusades that the Holy Father in Rome wants them to return now to the Kirk. If that be so …"

"Sakes, sir, even if it were, the Crusades were over and done nearly a century ago. How could Michael know aught of such doings?"

Macleod shrugged. "I'm thinking it might be interesting to ask him."

"Ask me what, sir?" Michael said as he came and put an arm around Isobel.

"We were talking of Waldron," she said, wondering if she could attach a small bell to his hat to warn her of his approach. "He told my father that your family took something during the Crusades that he wants to return to the Kirk," she added, hoping her expression would reveal nothing of what she knew about the matter to her father or Cristina.

"Did he?" Michael said, turning with a smile to Macleod. "I warrant, sir, that being clearly a man of insight, you saw straightaway that my cousin seeks only to enrich himself. Somehow he has come to believe that tale and prates it to anyone who will listen, but I give you my word that he is misinformed. To believe him, you would have to believe that my grandfather, best known for dying in his attempt to fulfill a promise to the Bruce, was a man of exceedingly bad character."

"Aye," Macleod said, frowning. "'Tis true I'd ha' to believe the one thing to believe the other. Nobbut what I disbelieved it all from the outset, lad, and so I tell ye to your face. 'Tis welcome ye are at Chalamine whenever ye choose to visit."

"Thank you; I am honored," Michael said. "But if you will excuse us now, it has been a tiring day, and I would see my lady wife fed and well rested. I came only to tell her that I have arranged for us to enjoy a more private supper in a tent."

He held out his arm to Isobel, and with her father beaming at her, and Cristina silently watching, she sighed and let him take her from the company.

As they walked along the narrow band of shingle, she saw that with the tide on the turn, the Kyle was as flat and calm as if it never swept boats into Loch Alsh.

"We'll need to wait until it is calm like this again to get all these boats safely through the narrows," she said.

"Aye, so the admiral said," Michael told her. "We'll be able to sleep the night through though, because he is waiting for word from men he left behind to question the captives we took today. Mayhap they will have learned something to help explain the reason for this morning's battle."

"Did you see Waldron?" she asked. "Was he in one of those other two boats?"

"Nay, and that worries me, as does the fact that those two boats turned back. I'm thinking that wee battle was no more than a diversion to slow us on our way, and I'm wondering why Waldron would arrange such a thing."

"The boats that turned back may have been the Green Abbot's," she said.

"Aye, they were, but if Waldron sought his help, he had reason."

"Mayhap he had no other way to acquire boats for his purpose. The Green Abbot is ever willing to make mischief for MacDonald and Clan Gillean."

"Aye, perhaps."

But she could tell he retained his doubts.

He guided her up the slope to a tent set well apart from the others. Nearby someone had turned a large, flat rock into a supper table complete with linen cloth.

Smiling, Michael said, "Our food is likely cold by now, because I told the lads we'd serve ourselves, but that way, we can talk."

She gave him a wary look. "Does that mean you will really discuss things with me or that you mean to scold me for the way I spoke to you earlier?"

"Sit down, lass. I'm weary to the bone and in no mood for fratching. If I say we'll talk, that is what I mean. I know you are angry that we did not do so before the wedding this morning, but if you can tell me what I might have done, or what we together might have done to alter that course of events, I'll certainly listen."

She grimaced as she took her seat on a rock that someone had thoughtfully padded with soft pelts. Squares of linen covered a bowl of apples and their bread trenchers, protecting the sliced mutton and beef on the latter from raiding flies and other insects. Mugs of claret and a manchet loaf likewise had protective coverlets.

Michael had thought of everything.

Spreading the linen square from her mug across her lap to protect her skirt from meat juices, she said, "When you put it so, I have to agree that neither of us could have done much to stop the proceedings—not when the others were so set on having their way, but still—"

"One of us might have stopped it," he interjected. "But not I."

She cocked her head. "Are you so easily led then, sir? I own, I once thought you were, but I have seen enough now to know you don't follow anyone blindly."

"At times, as you will see, I play certain roles that have served me in the past," he said. "I may sometimes appear witless to you, but I am truly a man of peace, Isobel—at least, when I'm allowed to be—and I am not such a fool as to refuse to follow when I can trust my leader. I trusted you to know your own land better than I, and to know the best way for us to elude Waldron and his men there."

She sipped her claret and set down the mug. Then, meeting his gaze, she said, "I thought you had no ideas of your own. I even grew impatient with you."

"Aye," he said, smiling. "I know."

"How do you know? How is it that you can read what I am thinking when I can never read you?"

"Ah, but you could if you'd put your mind to it, sweetheart, and it will grow easier in time. I am not mysterious to those who know me well. 'Tis only that few know me, but I am confident that you will become one of those few."

"How can you know that?"

"I just do."

She thought about what he had said. "I misunderstood you when you said you could not stop the wedding, didn't I?"

"You did," he said. "Only think how I would have looked had I insisted on delaying those proceedings so that we could talk more. Hector Reaganach already knew of your reluctance to wed, but he likewise knew you had agreed to marry me, so any delay I requested would have looked as if I were the reluctant one. A gentleman simply cannot put off his wedding without looking like a scoundrel."

"I suppose that's true," she admitted.

"Eat your supper, sweetheart. I grow impatient to claim my bride."

Heat surged to her cheeks, and elsewhere, but there was more she wanted to know. "May I ask you something?"

"You may ask me anything you like—later," he said. "I hope you will always speak your mind to me."

She nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully, then grinned. "I doubt you will always like what I say to you."

"I'm sure that is true, sweetheart, but I'll always listen. Now, eat your supper."

They ate silently, but Michael ate swiftly, and Isobel knew his thoughts were not on his food. He looked often at her, and often he smiled. As their meal progressed, his gaze tended to linger on her body, even to caress her, and her body began to respond to those looks until she could scarcely attend to her food.

She had picked up the remains of her mutton chop and was tearing the last bits of meat from the bone with her teeth when his gaze caught hers. With the bone still in her mouth, she hesitated, watching him, and then slowly drew the bone out again. Pausing with it inches from her mouth, she continued to watch him as she licked the meat juice from her lips.

Believing she must look demented, gaping at him as she was, she tore another piece of meat from the bone and chewed it, watching him watch her. Then she started when he reached out and took the bone from her hand.

"We'll go now," he said, his voice deeper, huskier than usual. Putting down the bone, he reached for a cloth and began to wipe each of her fingers with it.

"There's a wee burn yonder," she said, surprised to find her own voice unpredictable. "I … I can wash my hands there."

"Later," he said, casting the cloth aside and standing.

"But what about the rest of this food?"

"Leave it." He held out his hand, and she took it, unusually aware of its warmth as it closed around hers. That warmth seemed to spread from his hand all through her as they walked the short distance to their tent.

The tent was little more than a low, rough shelter, but Michael had angled it so that the shrubbery around it would protect their privacy. And inside, he had spread furs to lie on and thick plaids to cover them. But Isobel could not imagine how he expected her to undress in such a tiny space.

Isobel looked wide-eyed as she said, "I am not accustomed to undressing with anyone about but our women. Do you expect me to do so here in the open, sir?"

He smiled reassuringly at her. "No one will bother us, sweetheart, and I want to see my bride, as much of her as I can see, that is, in this dim light. I'll gladly help you undress and do my best to block anyone else's view."

She licked her lips again, clearly having no notion that each time she did, a jolt of lust shot through his body that stirred base, primeval instincts, reminding him that in the past men had been less civil than they were expected to be now in more chivalrous times. He wanted to rip her clothes from her, throw her down on the furs, and ravish her. But even as that thought stirred, he knew he wanted much more from his spirited bride than base conquest. He wanted to watch her respond, to see her pleasure, and to learn what would please her. And he wanted to teach her to please him and show her how to enjoy herself in the pleasing.

Exerting iron control over his desire, he set out to stir hers.