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A late October wind swept me along as I held my shawl tight and hurried toward the castle. Earnan, my guard today, was unaware of my errand, and I needed to be back before he or anyone else noticed my absence. It had been my good fortune to be sewing with the other women in the solar when the midwife had joined us, requesting hazel and bog myrtle from Mary, who lived outside the gates. I had eagerly volunteered to fetch the herbs, the opportunity to be outside and to enjoy a visit with Mary too good to pass up and well worth the risk of being caught.
In the month since Niall’s death, Ian had not allowed me to leave the castle at all, and I felt near to going mad with confinement. He claimed it was for my safety, that he didn’t know how many others out there might be our enemies and only too eager to harm me. I felt the real reason was that he feared I would try to escape, interfering with his grand scheme to control the Campbells.
He needn’t have worried. As much as I wished to be free of his company, I suffered no illusions about my abilities to survive on my own. At the least, venturing far would only be an invitation for Brann to find me. He was out there— somewhere. I’d dreamt of him twice, seeing him each time near the old rowan I’d sat beneath in the kirkyard when we’d buried Collin.
I wasn’t certain of the dream’s significance and had mentioned it to no one. Would I meet Brann there? Did it mean he was soon to die?
The smell of woodsmoke filled the chill air at the end of the newly completed row houses, simple squares all connected to one another, built in a row along the castle wall.
They had been Ian’s idea, requiring the least lumber possible, as close to the castle as possible, and housing as many families as possible. The wall behind them, he had explained, would offer protection from the elements. And were we to be attacked, those living there would be able to quickly come inside the gates for additional protection.
His plan had been presented in one of many nightly meetings, for both Campbell and MacDonald leaders and open to anyone else who wished to attend. My presence was always required. And on that occasion Ian had added, with a pointed look my direction, that I, with my abilities, would be able to alert the families in plenty of time before any attack.
“Katherine will know,” he’d stated vehemently. I’d not disagreed. I didn’t dare. We’d barely spoken at all the past weeks, since Niall’s violent death. His body had been removed, his blood scrubbed from the floor that very night. But I could not forget Ian towering over him, first viciously beating him and then plunging his knife into Niall’s chest. I dreaded being in my room and dreaded Ian all the more. The only consolation was that he had not slept beside me since the incident. He slept on the floor now, or didn’t come to bed at all.
I could only feel grateful that I hadn’t succumbed to any of my doubts concerning him. I’d almost believed he was changed, that he was not the same man who had so violently threatened both Collin and me last summer. But seeing Ian’s transformation when fighting Niall was a reminder of his true nature. To cross him was to die. And yet...
I still saw glimpses of humanity. He knew I was afraid of him and stayed away. When it came time to slaughter the sheep, he’d spared the youngest of the flocks. Over half of the MacDonald barley had been ground for flour instead of all being taken to the new distillery to be made into malt. He’d been solicitous in all his behaviors since that dreadful evening. So much so that I felt myself wanting to trust him again. At least enough for the two of us to have a conversation.
There were things I wanted to ask. What, specifically, had Ian sought my forgiveness for the night of Niall’s murder, and what had been his and Niall’s involvement in Collin’s death? It was time I knew, and I had deemed tonight, my twentieth birthday, the night for answers.
It was nothing I looked forward to, and there had been little to find joy in the past weeks as we all worked toward sustaining our fragile existence. But this afternoon, beneath the blue sky and amidst the trees boasting red and gold, I felt a bit of freedom and happiness and determined to treasure both as long as possible. It was all I could do without canvas, paints, or brush to capture and preserve the memory.
Near the last row house closest to the gates, a group of children stood around a fire, each with an apple on a stick roasting over the low flames. A woman pulled laundry from the line, and a man lifted his hand in a friendly wave as he rolled past with a wagon of firewood. To any passerby the scene might have appeared completely ordinary.
They would not have known that every other house sheltered a MacDonald family and those between a Campbell. They would not have realized that both Campbell and MacDonald children stood at the same fire, laughing and talking together as any children might. I realized all this and appreciated it for the miracle it was. My grandfather truly had been a seer, his vision come to pass regardless that those he’d expected to carry it out had failed.
I stepped through the open gates, onto the hard-packed road that led directly to the front doors. The mud that had met Collin and me in July had been scraped away, along with the scraps and debris that had lined the paths. On either side of me people hurried to and fro, engaged purposefully in work of all sorts. I felt the heat of the blacksmith’s bellows as I passed, while only a short distance farther a group of young boys worked together rewiring a large pen of swine. The last of the MacDonalds and their livestock had safely arrived a few days before.
There were now more cows for milking, an additional three wagons of chickens, and numerous other animals added to the barns and sheds. Still not enough, Ian had mused. But better than what we’d had before.
I reached the castle and entered, sorry my hour of freedom was over. I stopped briefly to speak with Bridget and ask that water for a bath be sent to my room. Then I headed directly for the stairs, eager to divest of the evidence in the basket over my arm. When I knocked on Grandfather’s door— as I still thought of it— a young girl answered. She appeared troubled, and the moans of agony from within left no doubt as to why. A woman was birthing here. MacDonald or Campbell? It might be either, as we’d only the one midwife between us, a MacDonald. The Campbell midwife had been one of those run off the land the previous year.
I handed the girl my basket of herbs and made a hasty exit, saying a silent prayer for the mother and thinking of Anna. I’d posted a letter shortly after Collin and I had arrived at the Campbell keep. A few days ago one had arrived in return. It had included a drawing from Timothy and a note from my mother telling me, among other things, that Anna was with child.
Better her than me. My troubling dream of bearing Ian’s child had not returned, and I could only feel grateful for that and our increased distance since Niall’s death.
Telling myself yet again that Niall’s ghost did not haunt here, I entered my room slowly and stood just beyond the doorway listening. Foolish, I silently berated myself. But I could not help the ripple of fear every time I came into the room. Death had visited here— unexpected, violent death. Whether a spirit lurked here or not, the events of that night replayed frequently in my mind.
I rubbed my arms, warding off the chill that had little to do with temperature and everything to do with my imagination, taking flight now as my shadow danced along the wall. Some seer I am, afraid of my own shadow.
In the dim light I also made out the tub set before the fire, already partly filled with water so warm steam rose from it. Bless you, Bridget.
I dared not bathe in the evenings anymore, lest Ian come to our room. And in the mornings I was expected to be up and at my tasks at first light, along with everyone else. This left only the occasional afternoon, when my work was finished early, to delight in the pleasure of soaking in a warm tub.
I dropped my shawl on the closest chair and retreated to the screen to undress. The simple work gowns I wore now were easy to get out of on my own. I required no help from Ian or anyone else. Compared to my first few days of travel in England, when I had needed assistance with nearly everything, I had grown quite independent— in many ways.
And lonely. Collin and I had needed each other. Without him I felt bereft, a stranger in a land that, while somewhat familiar, was also not what I had known.
A knock sounded at my door, and Bridget entered with two other women carrying buckets. They poured more water into the tub and left, Bridget promising to lock the door and that she would return to wash my hair.
When the door had closed again I crossed the room quickly and stuck a toe in the tub, testing the temperature. Deliciously warm. I climbed in eagerly and sank into the depths, letting the warm water lap beneath my chin as I closed my eyes. The scent of lavender wafted around me, and I silently thanked Bridget for her thoughtfulness and Eithne for her hard work. I should have liked to help her again, if only Ian would allow me to visit her.
“I see it is an afternoon for indulgences.”
My eyes flew open, and I jerked upright, then at once sank lower as Ian looked over at me. He leaned casually against the door he’d just closed, the key dangling from a ribbon in his left hand.
“Please leave.” My shaky command sounded anything but authoritative.
“You should have barred the door,” he scolded lightly, then fixed it himself. “What if I’d been Brann?”
I ignored his question as he’d ignored my request. “Bridget is to return in a minute to wash my hair.”
“She’s been called away to more pressing matters. I assured her I would assist you.” Ian hefted a bucket from the floor behind him. “Your rinse water, milady.”
“I don’t need your help. Please leave,” I said again, my voice firmer, more desperate. Beneath my pounding heart, full-fledged panic erupted.
“Why should I leave?” Ian drawled, walking farther from the door instead of out it. “This is my room as well.”
“Because a gentleman gives a lady privacy.” I drew my knees up to my chest in an attempt at covering myself.
“But I’m not a gentleman.” Ian crossed the room— on the far side, away from my bath. “We both know that. I’m the devil. Wasn’t that what you told Collin?”
My lips parted in surprise. I frowned at this revelation of confidence breached. What else had Collin told him?
Ian laughed. “Collin shared your opinion of me that morning at the inn, after you’d insulted me— something about not believing I could read, if I recall correctly.”
He did remember. And he was the devil. No more so than at this moment, toying with me as a cat might play with a mouse before pouncing.
“Why can you read?” I asked, grasping for anything to prolong this conversation, to distract him from me. “Collin said you’d been treated poorly by the Munros. It does not seem likely they hired a tutor for you.”
“I was fourteen when I was taken by them,” Ian said, not acknowledging his father’s part in the process. “I was the son of a laird and had been educated as such. I was literate in far more than book learning— schooled in everything from how to govern a clan, to fighting, to the keeping of accounts.” He leaned forward and put out one of the two lamps. “There may even have been a lesson or two along the way regarding the washing of a woman’s hair.”
“You are worse than the devil,” I muttered, hugging my knees to my chest and keeping as low as possible in the water.
“Undeniably.” Ian made his way around the bed to the second lamp. “I believe you’d another name assigned me as well. What else was it that Collin said...” Ian tapped a finger against his lips contemplatively. “Ah yes, I remember. You thought me a pirate the first time we met.” Ian snarled, and twisted his face such that his eye patch moved up and down. “And you know a pirate would definitely not leave if there was a beautiful woman bathing in his bedchamber.”
I turned away from him with a huff, attempting to mask the fear shivering up my back.
The room darkened as the second lamp went out. I tried to think through a defense and— as had been the case at the river— came up with none. If Ian wished to finish what he’d started there—
“Let me help you.”
I flinched at his voice, so close behind me.
“No.” I sat in total darkness, my heartbeat frantic as I tried to remember where the towel was and if I’d be able to get to it or the door before he reached me. “You promised Alistair you wouldn’t touch me unless I wished it.”
“What do you think I am trying to do?” There was a definite smirk in his voice.
“Frightening a woman is not the way—”
“You’re frightened?” The teasing was gone.
“How can I not be after you tried to drown me once already?”
Ian swore softly. “I’m sorry. I did not think that you might suppose— didn’t think about the water. I mean you no harm today or any other.”
I couldn’t believe him, not with the horror of Niall’s death so recently added to my own experience. It wasn’t only that Ian had killed him so brutally but in the days following, still brimming with fury, he had insisted Niall’s body be displayed in the courtyard as a lesson to any who might think to cross him. I was crossing him now, refusing his advances.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” Ian continued. “Though I cannot blame you. I’ve no excuse for my actions at the river. I, too, was a wicked man and deserve all the suffering that has come my way since.”
“What about Niall?” I sniffed and realized I was crying, helplessness and dread spilling from my eyes in a most cowardly manner. “The way you killed him—”
“I’ve no regrets there,” Ian said. “Only perhaps that you were witness. Niall delighted in hurting women. When he set his sights on you— well, perhaps I went a little mad. After what he’d already done to my brother, I could not let him hurt anyone else— especially you.”
“Was Niall responsible for Collin’s death?” This wasn’t how I’d imagined our conversation to go, yet here we were. Keeping him talking might be my only defense.
“Not directly,” Ian said. “But were it not for him, I cannot help but think my brother would be with us today.”
Niall was wicked. We are safer with him gone. I believed that perhaps a bit more now. Collin had killed to protect me too. I had felt only relief that morning at the cave when he’d stabbed Malcom. Were Ian’s actions really so different?
“Enough talk of the past,” Ian said. “I cannot undo what has been done, but I give you my word that it will not be repeated, or added upon. I promised that I would keep you safe, and so I will. And I will do my best not to frighten you along the way. Here— use this.”
Something landed on the water in front of me.
“Cover yourself with the towel while I wash your hair,” Ian said.
“You still insist when I’ve told you I would not prefer it.” I grabbed the sodden fabric and did my best to drape it over me.
“Aye.” He stood directly behind me now. “Just as you insisted on walking outside alone today when I had told you I did not prefer that.”
“Punishment. That’s what this is about?” After tucking the towel around me, I twisted around in the tub to look at him.
Ian shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that. But as you were given to dangerous indulgence this afternoon, so am I. For my endangerment, I choose washing your hair.” He placed his hands on my bare shoulders and turned me from him.
“I hardly see how that is dangerous to you.”
“I don’t suppose you would.” He raised the bucket over my head. “Lean forward.”
Water began cascading over me. Left with no choice, I complied, but attempted once more to dissuade him. “You are not my husband,” I spluttered. “We have an agreement, and it does not extend to things of a personal nature.”
“Let’s discuss that agreement, shall we?” Ian placed his hands on my head, and I resisted the urge to lean away from his touch. Better his hands on my head than anywhere else.
“I have agreed to protect you from Brann. I’ve promised to keep my clansmen here under control, promised that no more Campbells will be driven from their homes. I have, in fact, been busy rebuilding many of those homes and working tirelessly to ensure that all have what they need to survive the coming winter. In return you have promised me... Hmmm. I can’t seem to recall. What is it I am getting in exchange for my services?”
“The MacDonalds are benefitting from this arrangement too,” I reminded him.
“Little good that does me personally.” His fingers began massaging my head.
“You are free to leave at any time.” Goodness. “I would not hold you in breach of our contract.” This feels divine.
“Is that what you truly wish?” Ian’s hands stilled. “Should I leave you to your own defenses against Brann?”
That I required Ian’s protection had already been proven. Had Brann been the one sharing my chamber these past weeks instead of Ian, I’d no doubt my situation would be very different. For all of Ian’s talk of being a pirate, he hadn’t truly acted as one. He’d left me mostly alone— until now.
Did I want him to leave? What would happen if he did? A repeat of my time spent belowstairs was too much of a possibility. I didn’t necessarily want Ian here, certainly did not want him so close to me at this moment, but I had been safer with him around.
“You are taking a very long time to answer,” he said.
“No,” I whispered, reluctant to share the conclusion I’d come to. “I do not wish you to leave. Neither do I wish to be intimate with you. My feelings for Collin—”
“—are abundantly clear,” he muttered beneath his breath. “I will keep to my word not to touch you as a husband might. But I will wash your hair, taking my pleasure as you took yours outside.” His hands began moving again, working their way from the top of my head to the back of my neck, then lifting strands of hair, working the soap into their lengths.
I closed my eyes and pursed my lips, not trusting them to contain a blissful moan. What sorcery is this? His hands worked their magic, mesmerizing me much as Collin’s had the night he’d braided my hair. After a few minutes I ceased worrying about Ian taking his pleasure and worried that I was taking mine. His touch was surprisingly tender, and I felt myself relaxing, responding to his gentle ministrations, savoring the contact with another person— and hating myself because I did.
Collin. I strained to hold onto him and our past in my mind. I grasped at images that passed by fleetingly, only to be replaced every time by Ian, with the dark fuzz of his newly-grown hair and his pirate patch.
Pirate devil. Devil pirate. That’s what he was. A murderer. A thief, coming to Campbell land as he had and taking over. But as with my attempts to keep an image of Collin in my mind, the image of Ian as vile would not hold.
A pirate would not have comforted a frightened woman as Ian had comforted Mhairi the night he’d killed Niall. The devil did not whittle toys or fashion shoes for children by firelight each night. A pirate would not stop to join in their games during the day. He’d not give up his chair for an old woman to sit in. Yet Ian had done all those things and more since coming here. But that still couldn’t change who he really was at his core. What he’s done and once tried to do— to me.
What he was doing to me right now. He’d as much as declared his intent to make me willing, and here I was falling victim. I couldn’t see that this was danger for him, but a very real threat to me. I sank lower in the tub, scarcely remembering to keep hold of the towel as well as to hold in a sigh of delight as Ian massaged the top of my head once more.
This is wrong. I must not dishonor Collin. I pressed the towel tighter across my torso and legs as I simultaneously prayed Ian would stop and wished he wouldn’t. This wasn’t the Ian I knew, or that I had known. If I continued seeing this other side of him, the side so like his twin, I feared I’d go mad. I would desire his company, and where would that lead me?