Chattan Bride

Chapater 10 - Part 1

Dark had fallen long ago and Alysandir continued to wait for his wife while his dinner grew colder. There were only enough candles lit to prevent one from tripping over large objects. The unusual arrangement for their meeting prevented him from becoming angry. Aye, he was vexed, but his mind kept returning to what made his wife only want to be seen heavily veiled in a dark room. Battle injuries? She was never vain, if he remembered properly, but even he grew self-conscious of the scar on his face when he was with Lady Gillian. She never seemed to notice it, but he did not want to frighten her with his old war wound. Such a wound on a woman would be more distressing. But the later the hour grew, the more he made his peace with her appearance and declared her insolent in making him wait.

She had not intended to be late or raise her husband's ire. Especially before her great confession! But as she had been carrying out her duties later that afternoon, Gillian's maid had come to fetch her. The baby's hold of her womb was weakening and Annie required her herbs to be brought to her immediately. It was the rough ride escaping to Bamborough, Isabel thought and immediately felt guilty. Why could she not manage to secure her own lands from Gilbert's men? From where were these intruders and spies coming if not from without her borders? And as she was already troubled for her confession, tear-filled eyes soon followed. Annie must have changed one of the tinctures she gave her to make her so weepy and emotional. She would discuss it with the healer the moment this crisis with Gillian was concluded. Once the baby regained its hold and the bleeding stopped, Gillian's tears had not. Her sister needed to be calm and relax for the child's sake and when such fits took over, only Isabel could soothe her.

Preparation for her evening admission to Alysandir had to take place at 'Mathilda's' cottage. The bath was filled and the balms and tinctures and fresh clothes all had to be fetched back secretly by 'Mathilda's' maid.

"Sometimes you are the devil in your tricks," Gillian reproved as Isabel donned her black hair and heavy veil. Unable to argue the truth of that statement, Isabel smoothed her hands over her dress and marched up the hill and back to the castle. It felt like the march of death since she was terrified that Alysandir would kill her when he witnessed her treachery. Her fingers were even cold with unease and her breathing was shallow.

She entered the poorly lit room and nearly tripped. Her own plan was working against her already. Alysandir stood immediately and was in front of her in three paces. He wanted to lift her chin and then her veil so he could properly greet her with the kiss that he had imagined since... hell, since he had kissed her last. But she hid her face in his chest and merely held him close. The relief she felt in his strength surprised her as a sigh escaped. He did not pull her away to unmask her. A strange protectiveness for her enveloped him. It was at that moment that he suddenly realized that only he could remedy Isabel's intense solitude and her unusual desire to hide herself. He tightened his hold on her and breathed in her beautiful scent.

"I am glad you are here at last, Alysandir," she whispered against him. He guided her to the table, for which she was grateful, as she couldn't see a thing from behind this veil in the darkness. He sat beside her and claimed her hands, which were chilled despite the warm evening.

"Your dinner is cold," he reproved gently.

Because of the servants about, she spoke to him in Gaelic. "Gillian had difficulties this afternoon holding her baby. I have been with her to soothe her. I did not want to be late in seeing you."

"Yet I have been here three days."

"I am sorry. You can see that there is much that needs to be cared for here and back home."

"Your duty is to me, Isabel."

"And yours to me, Alysandir," she counted roughly.