won’t sit down for a week.’
Isabelle didn’t care to put the matter to the test. She’d suffered quite enough humiliation at his hands.
‘I’m minded to take you home myself and tell your father to thrash you,’ he went on. ‘It would teach you better sense.’
She paled a little, in fury now as much as fear. She’d experienced quite enough thrashings at the hands of men who thought it their God-given right to mete out punishment to the weaker sex. Resentment welled but she repressed it. Caution was needed here. If her father found out so would Murdo. The consequences didn’t bear thinking about. No matter how much it went against the grain it would be better to play the part of the contrite, young virgin.
She lowered her eyes. ‘Please, don’t. I won’t do it again, I swear it.’
Ban had no trouble believing that. She’d had a fright but the lesson had been well learned. Now she seemed only young and vulnerable.
‘I suggest you go home and stay there,’ he said.
Taking her arm in a firm clasp he led her to the waiting palfrey. The hold didn’t hurt but it would not be resisted either. She could feel its heat through the stuff of her gown. They reached the horse but he didn’t wait for her to mount. Lifting her with the same insulting ease as before, he tossed her up into the saddle instead. Then he handed her the reins.
‘I doubt if we shall meet again, so I’ll bid you Godspeed.’
She threw him an eloquent look and turned the horse’s head. ‘We shall not meet again. At least, not if I see you first.’
With that she touched the horse with her heels and it leapt forwards from a standing start to a canter. Quite unexpectedly, Ban found himself grinning. With grudging admiration he acknowledged her spirit, his gaze following her progress until she was lost to view.
Isabelle urged the horse to a swifter pace and only when she had put considerable distance between her and the stranger did she slow the animal to a walk. Even though the initial shock had worn off she was still trembling. When she thought of what might have happened she shuddered. He had been so strong, could so easily have forced her. What had stopped him? From his treatment of her it was clear he had taken her for a slut. It didn’t help to know she was responsible for that misunderstanding.
Her cheeks flooded with hot colour when she thought of that passionate embrace. His kisses burned: she could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers; her nakedness against his; strong warm hands on her skin. He’d frightened her but the memory of that intimacy was not entirely repellent even though it should have been. She quashed the realisation, quietly appalled. There could be no place for such thoughts. They made her feel like the slut he’d taken her to be. She’d had a lucky escape and couldn’t afford to be complacent about it. Neither her father nor her brother must ever get wind of this. Above all, Murdo must never find out.
Isabelle reached Castlemora without further incident and, thanking the fates that the men were elsewhere that afternoon, threw her horse’s reins to a groom and hastened to the women’s bower by the back route. In her present state she dared not risk being seen. As she’d hoped the room was empty at this hour and having reached its safety she swiftly divested herself of the green gown, exchanging it for blue. Then she began to comb her hair into order. It was quite dry now and the auburn strands leapt beneath her fingers, fiery in the afternoon light. As she was engaged in this process Nell bustled in.
‘There you are, my lady. Wherever have you been?’
‘I went out riding.’
‘Alone again I’ll warrant.’
Nell gathered up the discarded gown. Plump and grey-haired, she was in her early fifties. Having known Isabelle since she was a baby, the older woman claimed the privileges of a trusted retainer. One of these was considerable freedom of speech. Nevertheless, she had a kindly nature and, despite an occasionally critical tongue, was also genuinely concerned. Seeing the younger woman’s guilty look now she shook her head.
‘You shouldn’t do it, my lady. In these lawless times it’s not safe. All manner of desperate rogues ride the border country and a woman alone would be easy prey.’
Recalling the events of the afternoon Isabelle shuddered inwardly. More than ever she was resolved not to ride out so far again. Only a fool would risk that twice. The desire for solitude must be balanced against the need for much greater caution.
‘I’m sorry, Nell. I promise to be more careful in future.’
The tone was genuinely contrite. Surprised that she did not even try to argue the point, Nell regarded her keenly for a moment. However, Isabelle was apparently absorbed in removing a tangle from her hair and thus avoided the knowing eye.
‘It were as well you did,’ the nurse went on. ‘Who knows what you might suffer at the hands of outlaws or marauders?’
Isabelle’s colour became a shade more pronounced and she concentrated harder on her task. Nell crossed the room towards her.
‘Here, best let me do it.’
She surrendered the comb and sat still while Nell took over, braiding the wilful mass into a thick plait and interweaving a ribbon to match the gown.
‘If Murdo finds out he’ll compel you to take an escort next time,’ Nell went on, ‘and you know fine well who it’ll be.’
‘I will not let him force his company on me in that way.’
‘Do you really think you’d be able to avoid it?’ The nurse paused. ‘His power is second only to your father’s now. No one dares to challenge his orders or his actions for fear of retribution. His thugs swagger about as though they own the place.’
‘I know, but things will change when Hugh is Laird of Castlemora.’
‘Your brother is full young. It remains to be seen whether he can be his own man. In the meantime it’s Murdo who will control Castlemora, make no mistake about that. His ambitions don’t stop there either.’ Nell paused. ‘His interest in you has not abated.’
‘I have none in him. He knows that.’
‘He has spoken on the matter?’
‘He has.’
Nell pursed her lips. ‘The brute grows bolder.’
‘I told him plainly that he could have no hope of me.’
‘He’s not a man who takes no for an answer.
The words were an uncanny echo of a former conversation, and Isabelle inwardly acknowledged their truth.
‘You must marry again and soon,’ Nell continued.
‘By that you mean Lord Ban.’
‘Who else?’
For a moment Isabelle saw the face of a stranger with tawny hair and blue eyes. Resolutely she tried to banish it, but it was not so easy when the memory of his kiss lingered on her lips. He had held her in his arms. He had seen her naked. Again she grew hot with shame. It was a mercy she would never see him again.
‘If you do not,’ Nell went on, ‘you may be compelled to wed Murdo later.’
It was the plain truth and Isabelle inwardly acknowledged it. The thought filled her with dread. ‘I’d rather take holy orders.’
‘That’s the other choice.’
‘I might as well be a bale of goods for all my opinion matters.’
‘A woman’s opinion never matters when it comes to marriage. You know that perfectly well.’
‘At one time my father would never have countenanced such a husband for me, even to please Glengarron.’
Her father received several offers for her hand before settling on Alistair Neil. Nor had she been averse to such a glittering match.