Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Hugo was on his way back to St. Clair, armed guards surrounded the castle, and men continued to scour the glen and the banks of the river Esk without success for any sign of Waldron. Supper with the maddeningly uncurious countess was over, that lady had retired to her bedchamber, and Isobel went with Michael upstairs to their bedchamber, wishing she could speak her mind.

He had already put away the map and the letter from Sir William.

"What is it, lass?" he asked quietly as he shut the door. "You have been bursting to say something since we returned to the castle."

She shook her head. "It is just my old curiosity screaming at me, sir. I want to know what is down there. I want to see everything. Still, I know it is not my secret or responsibility but Sir Henry's—Prince Henry's, that is."

"Call him Henry," Michael said. "He is your brother now."

"Aye, well, that is what has been bothering me. I feel as if I am somehow proving myself untrustworthy by wanting to give way to that curiosity again."

To her surprise, he chuckled. "Faith, lass, if anyone has the right to be curious about what we found, you do. Do you think I am not bursting with the same curiosity? I promise you, if I did not know that God watches me, I'd be sorely tempted to sneak back there at the first opportunity and take every item out of those chests to examine thoroughly. The one chest we opened seemed to contain mostly documents, but I wager there must be gold, jewelry, and other valuable items as well. The Templars controlled much of the world's wealth, and a significant amount of what they held could be in those chests. I'd like to see what they contain, but we do not have that right. We do have a duty, though, to protect what we saw."

"So we cannot talk about it," Isobel said with a sigh.

"Only to each other, only when we know no one can overhear us, and even then, only rarely," he said. "Now, I want to ask you something."

She braced herself, knowing what he would ask and wishing she need not talk about it. "You want to know all that happened with Waldron," she said.

"I do," he said. "I'm guessing he had plans that you did not approve."

She smiled at his phrasing. "He made his intentions very plain to me. I had my dirk, and because he thought me only a weak, helpless woman, he believed as well that he had persuaded me to want what he wanted. I … I let him think that," she admitted, feeling obliged for some reason to explain that part to him.

"That was wise of you," he said, putting his arm around her and urging her nearer the bed. "What then?"

"He pulled me close and held me tightly enough that I could feel how full of lust he was," she said, grimacing at that distasteful memory. She hesitated, but Michael remained as patient as always, and at last, she said, "When I realized that his jack-of-plate would not protect him there, I put both hands around the dirk's hilt and rammed it into his bollocks as hard as I could."

He winced.

"What?" she demanded. "Do you think I was wrong to do that?"

Grinning wryly, he drew her close and kissed her forehead. "Nay, sweetheart, I was wincing, as any man would, at the nature of the pain you caused him, not disapproving of it. He deserved it if any man ever has. I thought after our first day together that you would be unlikely to surprise me much, ever again, but the extent of your ability to look after yourself, and others, too, astounds me. If the Order admitted females, I swear I would nominate you for membership in the Knights Templar."

Her frustration, and her discomfort with the topic of conversation, vanished, and she laughed, saying, "You would not!"

"I cannot, but I begin to think they made an error by leaving women out. Had it not been for you, after all," he added, his voice altering subtly, "not only would we never have met, but Waldron might well have succeeded in his quest, or worse."

"He could still do so," she pointed out. "If he still lives, he may return, and now that we do know where the treasure lies …"

"That is exactly why we must consult Henry before we do aught else. Only he has the right to move it to a place of greater safety if we can but determine where that may be. But in the meantime," he added, his intent now clear to the meanest intelligence, "I'm thinking that since we cannot explore the cavern or the chests, we might indulge ourselves in certain other forms of exploration."

"Are you, sir?" Her blood began racing at the thought.

But he paused. "Only if the memory of what Waldron tried to do has not put you off the notion," he said, pulling her close and looking into her eyes.

She looked back gravely. "I don't know whether to hope I killed him or did not kill him," she said. "But whatever happened on that wall-walk today has naught to do with how I feel about you, Michael. When I feared that those horrid men were torturing you again …" She stopped, unable to complete that thought.

"I know, sweetheart. I heard Waldron threaten you with methods the Kirk employs against heretics, and I nearly gave up any chance I had of besting those louts to leap up and try to throttle him. You cannot know how hard it was to keep still and let you go with him. I have come to love you, Isobel, more than I knew it was possible to love anyone, and I've never been so afraid in my life as I was then."

"But you did let me go," she said. "I'd like to believe it was because you trusted me to look after myself, but I know that was not the reason."

"No," he said. "I knew that was not the course most likely to aid us against him and his men. 'Twas more likely to sink us into disaster."

She nodded, leaning her head against his chest, and when he took her hand and held it gently, she moved it with her own to the tie of her laces. "Make love to me, Michael. I want to feel your arms around me and feel your body close to mine."

His lips claimed hers then, and she moaned softly when his tongue slipped into her mouth. Caressing her, his hands dealt with the laces, and then slowly and with great tenderness, he undressed her, pulled back the coverlet and quilt, and laid her gently on the bed. Stripping off his clothes, he slid in beside her and took her in his arms again, stroking her all over, caressing her until she wanted to purr like a contented kitten. But the more he continued, the more her body began to demand.

Heat rose in her until she could not stand it and pushed his hands away, shifting until she could lie on her side and do to him what he had been doing to her. To her astonishment, the passion she felt and saw reflected in him grew stronger as he responded to her touch, until at last, he surged up and rolled atop her, fitting his body easily to hers, knowing just how to stir her and himself to new heights. He took her there and they reached the peaks together, collapsing afterward in warm satisfaction, to curl close together and sigh in unison at the wonders of their love.

After a long, languorous moment, Michael said drowsily, "I have admitted my love for you, sweetheart, and I believe you love me, too, but I'm wondering if you will admit that you have changed your opinion of marriage. It is still ‘forever and ever,' after all, and I don't mean to let you try to change that."

"It is just as well," she said. "Because forever is not nearly long enough."