Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Praying that his generally outspoken bride would continue to hold her tongue, Michael kept a firm grip on her hand as he nodded silently to Waldron.

Then, as his cousin continued toward him, he added coolly, "I own, I did think we might find you here. Am I correct in believing that your companion who offers his blessing is the fabled Green Abbot of Iona?"

Although his blue eyes were alight with laughter, Waldron did not offer to shake hands as he said, "Faith, lad, art still at outs with me? I had thought all such disgruntlement long buried in the past." Casting an oblique look past Michael at their audience, he added, "He still harbors resentment because I could so easily best him at weaponry when we were youngsters."

A slight shuffling of feet was the only response, and since Michael did not take his eyes from Waldron, he could not tell if the words had stirred any other reaction among his fellow travelers from the south.

The silence lengthened, but Waldron still looked amused and willing to wait for a reply, so Michael said evenly, "'Tis not I but you who stirs coals from the past, cousin. Moreover, you have not answered my question. Is this man Abbot Mackinnon of the Holy Isle?"

"He is," Waldron said. "And, as he is a good friend, I've brought him to bless the installation of our intrepid prince, and now your marriage, too. You and Henry bring great honor to the St. Clairs, and such acts should be sanctified. It remains only for our Hugo to do something of note, but Macleod has many daughters, has he not?"

Isobel's hand twitched in Michael's, and he realized that he had stiffened up again. But he did not need her warning to know that he had to tread lightly. Waldron had also noted his reaction, because the gleam in his eyes revealed as much. Let him smirk, Michael decided, saying, "I believe you've met at least two of Macleod's daughters, cousin, but if you were courting, I doubt they knew as much."

The gleam vanished, but Michael could scarcely count the hit, because his mother said sharply, "Whatever can you mean by that, Michael? I do not understand you. You should be making your bow to our honored guest, Abbot Mackinnon, and thanking him for his kindness if he does offer you his blessing on this marriage of yours. Mayhap he will bestow it upon you during tomorrow's High Mass."

"Indeed, Countess, I should count it a pleasure," Fingon Mackinnon said, bowing slightly in her direction. "Indeed, I admire Lady Isobel's good sense."

Isobel's fingers tightened until Michael thought she might cut off her own circulation if not his, but she did not rise to the bait.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before one of the two men would goad her into saying something better left unspoken, he said amiably, "You honor us, sir, but I hope you will all forgive us if we beg permission to retire now to our chambers to refresh ourselves. Our journey, as you know, has been long."

He turned back to Henry then, bowing but holding his brother's gaze as he did. For all that Henry delighted in playing the fool and idly prating of mythical ventures, he possessed a formidable intelligence, so although he gave no sign of any message passing between them, Michael knew that one had.

With his pleasant smile, Henry said, "Doubtless all of you just arriving at Kirkwall will be glad of such an opportunity. And since I know that my people, and those of his eminence the Bishop of Orkney, have made chambers ready for you either in the palace or in a comfortable hall-house nearby, pray go with them now. We will all take supper here shortly after Vespers."

As palace servants moved among them, Isabella said, "I would take it as a great favor, Abbot Mackinnon, if we might converse a bit longer. We so rarely see anyone of such importance from the Kirk."

"Faith, madam, we are currently enjoying the hospitality of his eminence the Bishop of Orkney, and have our own chaplain with us besides," Henry said. "We are scarcely bereft of spiritual guidance."

"It is not the same," Isabella said.

The Green Abbot made her another bow and said, "It will be my pleasure to spend an hour with you, Countess, and I will rejoin you shortly, but I did promise to meet briefly with his eminence before Vespers, and I should do that first."

Ignoring his mother, the abbot, and Waldron, Michael turned with Isobel to leave the dais. The first thing he noted as he did, however, was how grim a number of his companions were looking.

Isobel had all she could do not to glance back at Waldron as Michael led her away from the dais. She did not want to give Waldron the satisfaction of knowing how much his presence disturbed her, but curiosity warred with wisdom, making it almost impossible not to watch to see what he would do next. He seemed to think he was as welcome at Kirkwall as Michael was, and indeed, if the countess was any measure, he was certainly more welcome there than Michael's bride.

In the moment before Michael turned to escort her from the dais, Waldron looked right at her, his expression changing slightly to one that she often encountered at court, where young men who had indulged too heavily in brogac, the potent whisky of the Isles, sometimes grew too amorous for their own good. Waldron's expression resembled those drunken leers but seemed more ominous. He looked hungry and as if he expected to fulfill that hunger.

As she and Michael faced the others, she saw that Hector looked ferocious and Lachlan studiously calm. Mairi had put a hand on Princess Margaret's arm, and Lady Euphemia looked distressed. Princess Margaret's two women, middle-aged sisters whom Mairi had always referred to as the Weed and the Rose, fluttered around their mistress, stiffening sharply when the abbot walked past Michael and Isobel, nodded at Princess Margaret, and said, "Madam, I hope we see you well."

Margaret nodded back without speaking, and the abbot walked on, passing through a doorway near the back of the hall, clearly at ease in the bishop's palace.

Expecting Waldron to follow him, Isobel glanced back at the dais when he did not. Not seeing him, she said in surprise to Michael, "Where did he go?"

"With my lady mother, I expect," he said, following her glance. "Doubtless they retired to her chambers, which I'll wager lie somewhere beyond that door at the back of the dais." To Hector, he said, "Do you expect my cousin or the abbot to cause trouble here, my lord? I believe they will not. My cousin values my mother's good opinion and would not willingly relinquish it."

"I agree that they will behave," Hector said. "Mayhap they did hope to cause grief to your brother, because from all you say of Waldron of Edgelaw, he covets what the St. Clairs possess. Had he seen his way clear before now to claiming the princedom for himself, I'll warrant he'd not have hesitated to do so."

"I was more concerned that he might attempt to harm Henry," Michael said.

"Too many factors argue against that possibility," Lachlan said.

All those galleys in the harbor, for one,Isobel thought, although she did not put herself forward to the point of saying so aloud, knowing that Princess Margaret would disapprove of her entering such a conversation.

However, to her surprise, Lachlan said, "A primary factor is the thousand gold pieces your brother will pay the Norse King at Martinmas. I doubt that your cousin could pay such a price. Even if somehow he could, you would still be Henry's heir. Therefore, he cannot even try to win the princedom unless he is willing to do away with three people—Henry, you, and Henry's visibly pregnant wife—an iniquity that would damn him forever in the Norse King's eyes. Mark you, Waldron may once have thought it possible, but by now he will have realized his error. Not only does Henry have too many protectors, but if Waldron has not already learned the terms of Henry's agreement with the Norse King, he will do so soon enough."

"Since he believes God is on his side, he may not care about iniquities," Michael said. "Moreover, any setback will frustrate and anger him, and when he is angry, he grows even more dangerous."

"But he will not flaunt his frustrations here," Lachlan said, extending one arm to Princess Margaret and the other to his lady wife. "Now then, I suggest that we take advantage of Sir Henry's excellent hospitality to rest before supper."

Nodding, Michael tucked Isobel's hand in the crook of his arm and they moved with the rest of their party to follow a pair of palace servants upstairs to their chambers. When Isobel saw Sir Hugo offer his arm to Adela, she glanced at Michael, wondering how he would react. But he paid them no heed, and she was not surprised to see her sister accept Sir Hugo's escort with a smile.

After seeing Adela safely inside the room she would share with Lady Euphemia, Hugo walked on with Michael and Isobel to theirs. Isobel expected Michael to send him away, but when he did not, she realized that the two men must have communicated in some silent manner before then.

Inside the small, rather barren chamber, Hugo shut the door firmly and moved past the curtained bed to look out the narrow window beyond it. "Is it safe to talk here?" he asked Michael.

"For now," Michael said. "But I'm thinking the sooner we see the backs of that precious pair, the safer we will be."

"That won't be until after Henry's ceremony," Hugo said. "And that's still two days away, is it not?"

"Aye, on Sunday."

"You'll take care until then, lad," Hugo said, his gaze shifting pointedly to Isobel and back as he did.

"Aye," Michael said, resting his own gaze on her as he added, "Lass, you must be wary, as well, and take special care never to be alone with Waldron. By that I mean you must not wander anywhere alone. Seek escort from me or from Hugo, or from Hector Reaganach or the admiral. If none of us is at hand, send for a gillie or one of Henry's menservants. You will know them by their tunics. They are gray and bear the black St. Clair cross."

She would have liked to tell him there and then what she thought of his issuing such orders to her in front of Sir Hugo, but she restrained herself until after that gentleman had departed. The moment the door snapped shut behind him, however, she said tartly, "Do you think me feeble-minded, Michael?"

His thoughts had clearly moved on to something else, because he regarded her blankly for a moment before his eyes focused and he said, "I don't think anything of the kind. Why would you think so?"

"If you do not think me witless, then why did you feel obliged to act the protective husband in front of Sir Hugo?"

"Because I wanted you to know that he will expect you to request his protection if you need it. I did not want you to think for a moment that by making such a request to him you might somehow be imposing on his good nature."

"In other words, you did not want to leave me any opportunity to offer that as an excuse for taking my own road, as you once described my tendency to trust my own judgment and make my own decisions."

"Aye, sure," he said with a grin, clearly pleased that she understood him so well. "And now that we have come to agreement on that subject, I propose that we explore other agreeable entertainment until we must dress for supper."

"We are supposed to be refreshing ourselves," she reminded him. "Changing our clothing or attending to other such necessities before supper."

"Aye, that's what I meant," he said, reaching for her bodice lacing.

She stepped back. "I don't want to."

His reaching hand stopped, hovered in midair. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Aye, I did, but I'm your husband, lass. You are my wife."

"You said you would not bed an unwilling wife."

He sighed. "I won't, sweetheart. I know our first coupling hurt you, and that what happened afterward may have put you off coupling for a time, especially since we failed to find other opportunities before now. I can understand, too, that a few doubts may have lingered to fester in your mind, but—"

"It is not a matter of pain or festering, sir, but of trust," she said flatly.

"Trust?"

"Aye, yours in me. You have asked me again and again to trust you, from the day we first met, when we were finding our way out of that cave and we could not see our hands in front of our eyes. You even asked me to trust that you could not tell me more about what Waldron sought from you."

"But I could not."

"That does not matter. My point is that you did ask me each time to trust you. I'm just naming all the occasions, sir."

He looked down at the floor then, and she thought he was biting his lip. Whether it was to keep himself from roaring or laughing at her, she could not tell, but that did not matter either. She meant to have her say.

"All my life people have told me to use my own judgment and then scolded me when I did, or they simply ignore the fact that I possess any judgment to use," she said. "The main reason I have hitherto avoided taking a husband is that I did not want another person in my life always telling me what to do and how to act. You said you would not, but you do. You expect me to trust you all in all, but you choose when you will trust me, and I am trying to tell you that for me to give you the complete trust you ask for, I must know that you believe in me, too."

He drew a deep breath then and looked her straight in the eye as he said, "Isobel, although I feel as if I have known you all my life, I have not, and we still have much to learn about each other. I do trust you. Moreover, you know that I do. I can provide a list, too. I trusted you in the cave whilst you were freeing yourself and when you suggested how we should handle Fin Wylie, that lout of Waldron's who came to collect us. I trusted Matthias and Ian MacCaig with no more than your word that I might. I trusted your decision that we should cross the Kyle and make for the Isle of Mull to take shelter with a man I scarcely knew, whose reputation is fearsome. And when you told me that I could trust Donald Mòr Gowrie, I trusted him, too. I even trusted your considerable knowledge of boats and the sea."

"Perhaps, but you did not trust me when I explained how I got onto your boat," she said. "And you did not trust me to have sense enough not to dash into a battle to find you," she added hastily when she remembered exactly what he had said on his boat, and how angry he had been. "Nor did you trust me to be sensible just now, and simply tell me to ask Hugo if I needed an escort."

He was silent, but she had no doubt that he was controlling temper rather than his sense of humor. Well, he could just bellow at her if he wanted to, she told herself. It would not matter one whit. She wanted him to understand that this was important, so why, she wondered, did she feel as if she were going to cry?

Michael struggled to control himself. He wanted to shake her, but he wanted even more to make the discussion go away so that he could make love to her. He had been thinking about that in the boat before they landed. It had even crossed his mind in the great hall before he clapped eyes on Waldron and the Green Abbot. If the truth were known, the notion that he soon could take his wife to bed again had flitted through his mind as he sparred verbally with Waldron, and her proximity afterward in the bedchamber had made him want nothing more than to push Hugo out the door and bar it against him and anyone else who might dare to interrupt.

But although he could counter nearly every argument she had launched at him, he could tell from her intensity and demeanor that the subject was of great importance to her, and he knew he would rue the day if he did not deal with it now.

Accordingly, he drew another deep breath, called on skills he had learned in his training, kept his hands at his sides, and said calmly, "Sweetheart, I do trust you. Moreover, you must know that some items on that list of yours are spurious. I won't repeat what I said to you on the boat, because I know you remember as well as I do. I know it rankled that I did not accept your explanation, but I explained why, and I would guess that if you did forget all I said, you have remembered it now."

He paused, in case she wanted to respond to that, but she did not.

"Likewise," he went on, "we talked about my need to know that you will obey me in a crisis, and you agreed—or I thought you did—that you would do so henceforward. Since I have no idea what mischief has brought Waldron and the abbot here, I do count their presence as something of a crisis. You are right, though, that I should have discussed the matter of your safety with you before I brought Hugo into it. He followed us because he knew I would have orders for him, and I took advantage of our all being together to make sure you knew that he would expect you to call on him if necessary."

A tear spilled down her cheek, and he reached out and brushed it away with his thumb but made no other move to touch her.

"You are right about another thing, too," he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. "Total trust is something that one person grants to another, but likewise must it be earned, one from the other. No one should give or expect trust blindly, because like anything one builds to last, trust requires a foundation, and a good foundation needs time to grow strong. Therefore, incidents of partial trust must occur, to test it, before it can be offered freely. As to my having perhaps chosen when to trust you implicitly and when to doubt, you may recall things that you've said or done that make it hard for me to say you have earned my unreserved trust, but in fairness, lass, I too have been at fault."

Another tear and a hastily suppressed sob were her only response.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

She looked up, her eyes swimming.

"Do you understand me?"

"Aye, you think that because I said I sometimes don't tell the whole truth, you cannot trust me, but I don't lie, Michael, or at least not to those I … I care about, and moreover, I think you can tell when I'm shading the truth or not telling you everything. You get a certain look …"

"Aye, I can tell, I think, but don't you see that I cannot be sure I will always know? I've promised to tell you the truth and to tell you if, for good reason, I cannot. I do not think I have broken that promise. Can you not make me the same one?"

She bit her lower lip, then said, "I don't know. I usually just say what is in my head, and sometimes, it just doesn't seem sensible to blurt out the whole truth. If someone asks what I think of a hat or dress, for example, and I loathe it …"

"You know that is not what I mean."

"But many things seem like that to me, Michael. Moreover, words don't matter as much as actions do, such as when you and Hugo seemed to confer without words before you told me to apply to him if I needed an escort."

He chuckled then, clearly surprising her. "Sweetheart, Hugo was asking me if I wanted him to involve himself. You should know that we have always been very competitive, and in the past we have had a few disagreements over women. If you will recall, you flirted with him outrageously when he first arrived at Lochbuie."

"I did not!"

"Isobel."

She grimaced. "Well, not any more than I flirt with anyone. One does, you know, and it means nothing—just a smile or a look."

"Married ladies should not indulge in such behavior," he said.

"Sakes, at court married ladies are the worst offenders," she retorted.

"Whether they are or not makes no difference to me," he said. "I will do you the courtesy of trusting you to behave more circumspectly."

She thought about that for a moment before she said, "Doubtless you think you have been very clever to use the subject of this discussion to manipulate my behavior rather than just ordering me not to flirt, but your doing that makes me wonder if you truly meant what you said earlier."

He felt as if she had slapped him, and as if he had deserved it.

"I did mean what I said," he said ruefully. "But you are right to take me to task, lass. I fear I may prove a jealous husband, and that was partly the point I was trying to make about Hugo. He did not want to seem to be giving orders or even advice to my bride, whilst at the same time he felt it necessary to make certain I would not act the fool where Waldron is concerned, so he took it upon himself to remind me that I should be sure you understood the danger in which we stand."

"I do," she said. "Do you really feel as if you have known me all your life?"

He smiled with profound relief, believing he knew exactly what course her thoughts had taken to make that leap. "Yes," he said. "I've told you so before. Don't you feel the same way?"

Isobel thought about the question. Michael did not know what an advantage the effect of his voice on her gave him in any discussion like this one, but especially when he made her feel as if he truly listened to what she said to him. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for doing that whenever she began to think he was like every other man. She wanted to believe he would always listen, although experience told her it was unlikely. It occurred to her then that trusting him to do so might be exactly the sort of thing he had meant when he said that sometimes they would just have to trust each other to see what happened, and hope the foundation grew stronger.

He was waiting patiently, so she said, "I know you would like me to say that I feel as you do, sir. I do understand what you mean, because I seem able to talk to you as easily as I can to people I have always known, but, in truth, just when I think I am coming to understand you—who you are and what you think—I discover I don't know you at all. You have been at least two different men since we met, and I don't know which one is the one I should trust."

He touched her arm and she felt the warmth of his fingers through the thin fabric of her sleeve. "In time you will learn that you can trust them both." he said gently, tilting her chin up and kissing her lightly.

"Perhaps," she said, meeting his gaze, "but I expect to test that, sir."

The hand on her arm moved to tug the front lacing of her bodice loose. "I, too, have some tests in mind," he said. "I noted one or two particularly sensitive points on your beautiful body. I would test them to see if that sensitivity can be increased."

Heat surged through her, and she reached up and put a hand behind his head, curling her fingers into his hair, pulling him toward her to kiss him soundly.

With a low moan in his throat, he slid both arms around her and pulled her close, fitting his body against hers and moving his hands caressingly down her back to cup her bottom cheeks and pull her closer yet.

She could feel his body seeking hers, pulsing against her.

His fingers were back at her lacing. The bodice was a simple one of pale rose-colored silk, constructed like a man's jerkin and laced tightly at the waist, with each front half ending in a point below the tie. In a trice, he slipped it off her and dropped it to the floor. His fingers moved next to the pink ribbons of her gathered, low-cut cambric shift. As he slipped its sleeves down her arms, baring her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, she felt as if the shift confined her, but for once confinement seemed only to heighten her passion as she waited to see what he would do next.

He paused, gazing down at her, and then, extending his right index finger, he dipped it into the space between her breasts and, slowly, began to draw the cambric lower and lower.

The light rat-a-tat-tat on the door startled both of them as much as if it had been a thunderclap.

"That's Henry," Michael said.

Dismayed, she said, "You were expecting him?"

"Aye, albeit not so soon. I'll tell him to go to the devil."

"Sakes, sir, you cannot do that! Help me get my bodice back on."

"Nay, sweetheart, I should speak to him alone."

"Had he wanted to speak to you elsewhere, he'd have sent for you, would he not?" she demanded.

"Aye, perhaps," he said, but his frown told her he had just realized she was right. "I forget that this is the bishop's palace rather than Henry's own."

"I won't pretend I don't want to hear what you have to say to him, since I know you will talk about Waldron and all that has happened, but if I must go, tell me now. Don't send me away in front of him."

"Let's see what he has to say first," Michael said. "If you have to leave, sweetheart, it will be by his command, not mine. I keep my promises."

He said in a quiet but nonetheless carrying voice, "One moment, Henry."

There was no response, but Michael picked up Isobel's bodice and helped her put it on, tightening the laces for her but leaving her to tie the bow while he went to let Sir Henry in.

Henry said nothing until he was inside with the door shut. Then, with a rueful look at Isobel, he said, "I apologize for disturbing you, my lady, but I think your husband wished to speak privately with me, and with so many housed here just now, privacy is scarce. My mother and her tame abbot are currently occupying the chamber I customarily use as mine own, so I'd hoped I might intrude here rather than try to evict them."

"You are most welcome, sir," Isobel said, smiling at him and receiving a warm smile in return. Taking heart from that warmth, she said, "I hope you do not mean to turn me out. Michael said I must go if you say so, and I will, of course, but I was party to nearly all that has happened to us since we met, and I must confess, I'm a curious person and will likely force him to tell me everything eventually."

She held her breath when he turned to look at Michael, wondering if either gentleman would object to her boldness.

Michael said nothing, and Sir Henry turned back with another smile. "Faith, madam, if you can winkle things out of him that he'd as lief not tell you, I welcome you even more heartily to our family, and hope you will teach me how you do it."

"You lack her weapons," Michael said, chuckling. "Find a seat now, Henry, for I've much to tell you and things to ask you, and I know we have only a short time. The window embrasure may be wide enough," he added when Sir Henry looked around the bleak chamber and frowned at the low joint stool that seemed to be the sole piece of furniture other than the plainly curtained bed and washstand.

Finding that he could sit on the narrow windowsill, if not fit his broad shoulders into the space as well, he leaned his elbows on his knees and said, "I must say, you did not look nearly as amazed to see Waldron as I'd expected."

"I wasn't surprised," Michael said, and proceeded to tell him why.

Isobel remained silent, fascinated by the details he included, as if he remembered every single thing that had happened. He told Sir Henry exactly what had taken place at the cave and afterward, everything until they reached the Isle of Mull. Then, he told him only that Hector had been unhappy about their having traveled together with only oarsmen to chaperon them but that he regained his good humor when Michael offered for Isobel and she accepted him.

She had not realized until then that she had feared he would reveal all that she had said and done, but when she sighed her relief, Sir Henry looked at her, his expression reminding her of Michael's when he peered into her soul.

Henry made occasional exclamations of amazement or annoyance as Michael's tale unfolded, and at the end he said, "Waldron has always taken his own road, but I never thought he would turn against one of us in such a dastardly way. Shall I send him away?"

"Nay," Michael said. "'Tis better to keep him close enough to watch."

"Aye," Isobel said. "MacDonald of the Isles says one should treat one's enemies as houseguests and watch over them tenderly lest they steal the silver."

Henry laughed. "We'll leave his welcoming to my mother, I think, but your tale, Michael, makes me think that perhaps I should show you Father's letter."

"What letter? I thought we had both seen everything of his at Roslin."

"Not this," Henry said with a grimace. "I have never shown it to anyone, because certain things he wrote in it were not things that I wanted to share with anyone else, even you. Faith, you least of all! But I think I must now."

"Yes," Michael said. "I think you must. Where is it, at Roslin or St. Clair?"

"It is right here," Henry said, reaching into his doublet. "It never leaves me."