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Ilene hugged her arms about herself and bit hard into her lower lip. It was as she had feared, he wanted her, and soon she might have to decide if she wanted him. Could she belong to this man? Could she be a mother to his children? There was no reason why not. She could make him happy. It would be a safe life, if not an entirely peaceful one. There would be no soaring highs and desperate lows of feeling as it had been with Murray.
Oh God, his name sliding into her mind felt like a punch. It was such an effort not to think of him and when she let her guard down, and the memories crept in, the pain was like a vice squeezing her heart. But she wouldn’t think of that now. It was too hard to bear.
With an effort, Ilene turned her mind back to Raghnall. What would he say if she asked to leave? What would he do if she wandered away from the shore on the next trip in search of mussels and cockles and sought the safety of the wooded hills and the next boat heading back to the mainland, and Shillinglaw? And would there be any welcome there anyway? She looked back at the shoreline in anguish as Raghnall called out to her from the steps above.
‘Come inside Gwen, it’s cold out here.’
Fixing a liar’s smile on her face, she followed him.
***
Sleep would not come to her that night as she lay looking at the moonlight sliding in between the slatted shutters of her room.
When Ilene had been about to die, she had most wanted to live. Raghnall was fond of saying that, when he spotted her falling from the cliffs that day and rescued her in the nick of time, it had been fate. ‘God put you in my path and he has a purpose in saving you,’ he would say.
Perhaps that purpose was to be Raghnall’s woman, though she did not feel for him anything other than gratitude and some affection. He was an attractive man, but he did not touch her soul. Shame always overwhelmed her when she thought about how she once believed herself in love with Aidan. That love had been so new and exciting it had blinded her to who he really was, and now she struggled to picture his face, her heart dead to any lingering feelings for him.
But alone at night, with nothing to distract her from her thoughts, in the darkness, she often thought of Murray, his fierce beauty and the dark passion he stirred in her. And then she knew what love felt like.
But what happiness had she ever brought Murray, tying him to her just to keep a secret? He deserved so much more than she had given him and he was better off without her, dragging him down.
What a strange turn her life had taken since leaving the cottage that day. She had feared the worst when she had looked up into Raghnalls wild face on that lurching, wet boat, fearful he might throw her back overboard or worse. Instead, he had comforted her and gently bandaged her bleeding head. He had taken her back to Barra and given her a place at Haggbowe, while she recovered and strength seeped back into her bones.
At first, there had been a gaping hole where her life should have been. Her last memory had been one of falling and the water, and nothing more. It was as if she could not bear to remember, so her mind had turned away and protected itself. Slowly, over a number of weeks, those memories had crept back, the good and then the unbearable, causing her to sink into melancholy for days on end. Raghnall would study her then, trying to gauge whether or not she was of sound mind, and, because she was amongst strangers, Ilene had decided to keep her secrets to herself.
She had tried so hard to be invisible, to stay out of Raghnall’s way while she had agonised over what to do. But he had been intrigued by her, insisting she was beside him at all times, as if he feared that one day she would just slip into the sea from whence she came and be gone. So the more she tried to avoid him, the more she fuelled his interest.
Lately, he had become more open about his feelings, he sought her company, he gave her gifts and privileges and he pledged to protect her. ‘The past is dead and gone Gwen, it may never come back to you, so you must consider your future,’ he would say. Men’s desire for her had only ever brought misery with it, and so his attentions were unwelcome.
But Barra seemed to sit at the edge of the world. Few people ventured this far north to Raghnall’s land, not if they knew what was good for them. The Bains were a stern, ruthless and resilient people, perfectly suited to the rough terrain and to battling the unrelenting weather, battering the coastline. They were masters of the frigid seas surrounding them and were happy to take more than fish as bounty from it too. Sometimes they preyed on hapless merchant vessels which strayed too close to Barra or were blown off course, into the clutches of the treacherous currents swirling around the island, to split their hulls open on its rocky shores.
It was quite possible that no one would ever find her here, and if she did give in to him then the sin of being with Raghnall would be hers, and hers alone. It was time to decide what to do. He had been patient with her so far, but if a man as ruthless and powerful as Raghnall Bain wanted her, then eventually, the choice might not be hers to make.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Murray sat at the stern of the boat as the oarsman rowed out against the pull of the swirling currents. They were almost upon it before the grim walls of the castle rose up out of the mist. It had an eerie feel and Murray regarded it with dismay. Heavily fortified, it would be almost impregnable, protected by its encircling sea. He had no idea what he would find inside, but if they had any information he needed to hear it. There could be no stone left unturned and so here he was, having paid a toothless old fisherman a good deal of coin to take him across to Barra, and even more to get this boatman to take him over, unannounced, to its Laird.
He had been chilled at the man’s warning that they didn’t welcome strangers at Haggbowe castle and that he was likely risking harsh punishment for disturbing the Laird as he broke his fast. The man was clearly fearful. Murray had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely Ilene could not be here, in this dreadful place.
He announced his business to the watchman at the quay and was met with a glower and a toss of the head, indicating he was to follow up into the bowels of the castle. As Murray climbed higher, he could hear the hum of many voices. He emerged into a surprisingly cosy hall, bustling and noisy as its occupants broke their fast. Heads began to turn towards him with interest as he was beckoned forwards, and then he stopped dead in his tracks.
It was her.
The sight of Ilene struck him like a blow, for it was so unexpected. He could only stare at her in shock as he felt many pairs of eyes turn to him, one by one, and the conversation in the hall ease down.
At first, she did not see him in the shadows at the back of the hall, so for a few moments, he was able to drink in the sight of her. She looked serenely beautiful, having lost that pale fragility of their last days together. Now she looked strong and there was a soft, rosy bloom to her cheeks. Was it happiness? She was dressed in a gown of peacock blue silk, far better than anything he had ever clothed her in, and it set off her lush dark hair and lustrous eyes, which were turned warmly towards the man next to her. Then she sensed the quiet in the room and turned.
There was a loud clatter of plates and cups as Ilene stood up, hitting the table edge and then grabbing it to steady herself. Murray watched her struggle to keep control of her emotions as the colour drained from her face. She had never been very good at hiding her feelings, and now he saw dismay and fear grip her. So, it would seem that time apart had not endeared him to her.
He gathered his wits and strode right up to the table.
‘Sit down,’ said the stern looking man next to Ilene and she did as she was told.
‘You are Laird here,’ Murray demanded in a hard voice, instinctively knowing he should show no weakness.
‘Aye, my name is Raghnall Bain and who might you be?’
‘I am Murray Campbell. You do not know me and I have no particular wish to know you, but I knowher,’ he said, pointing to his wife. ‘Is that not so, Ilene?’
