“I don’t think you care for anyone’s approval.’
‘I don’t. As to Ireland, I finally had my fill of brutality and left, then I got drawn into the Dutch wars and ended up at sea, blockading their fleet, and very profitable it was too.’
‘And so you no longer need us.’
‘And yet here I am, at your service.’
Murray looked closely at her, for he could not resist the urge to. Wisps of black hair had come loose from her plait and stroked her face in the wind. Her nose was red from the cold, lips pale and teeth chattering, and yet her expression intent and puzzled. She was trying to make sense of him he guessed. He felt he had given away too much and spoken too bluntly for her womanly sensibilities but she returned his gaze boldly and Murray had the fleeting luxury of staring into her dazzling eyes. They were a deep brown, not fiercely so like her father’s, but warmed and softened by flecks of amber, burning with intelligence. He had been wrong, pretty was not a good enough word for Ilene, she was much more than that.
‘I’ve heard bad things about you, so can I ask, did fighting for a brute like Cromwell make you become one?.’
‘No, I was always a brute and fear I always will be.’
‘And like Cromwell do you follow the Puritan way of life.’
‘No, for I enjoy my earthly pleasures far too much for that,’ he said, winking at her. A look of embarrassment flooded her face. So, she wasn’t as worldly as she wanted him to think.
‘All this fighting over who is closer to God. You know, in truth, I have never felt God speak to me. Am I shocking you, Murray?’
‘I think you are trying to.’
‘Can a woman not have opinions then?’
‘I suppose so, but young ladies don’t usually talk of God in such a way’.
‘Then you cannot have been around many young ladies.’
‘There have been a few I’ve met on my travels. And fear not, I won’t judge you for your blasphemy Ilene, for I have always felt the devil on my shoulder more often than the hand of God.’
‘In your dealings with these ladies perhaps?’ she said mischievously.
‘Sometimes, though I should tell you, not many of them were exactly what you’d call ladies as such.’
Ilene obviously had a taste for the scandalous as she laughed and her face lit up By God, that smile of hers would be his undoing. She pulled her cloak closer to her face. It had grown colder and he’d barely noticed. How he wished he could just stay here all day, staring at her pretty face. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I should not have kept you out talking on such a cold day.’
‘No, it was good to talk. Most people think I have no interest in anything other than gossip or what dress to wear and other such dull things. You have certainly given me much to ponder and, I think, perhaps, in time we may learn to be friends again,’ she said hesitantly.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Now I must go before my fingers freeze,’ she said with a thin smile, bringing her fists to her mouth and blowing on them.
As Ilene walked away he shouted after her. ‘So have you solved the dilemma which so absorbed you when I came upon you.’
‘Yes I have, but my struggle was not with what to do about you,’ she replied, ‘something else entirely.’
Murray watched until her tall figure disappeared. He suspected that Ilene yearned to escape the constraints of her life at Cailleach and she definitely had secrets. In spite of her appearance of refinement and beauty, inside she was still the rebellious, plucky little girl he had once loved. She wanted to be angry with him but as a child, it was not in her nature to be unkind, and it appeared that had not changed.
But it didn’t matter that his affection for her had endured the years apart or that her regard for him might be rekindled, for she was a world above him and always would be.
Chapter Four
A week later the great hall was bustling with excitement. The Grants had finally arrived and this, along with the return of the infamous Murray, had everyone gossiping. The former because it might mean a betrothal was in the offing, as Ilene’s closeness to Aidan Grant was well known. The latter because there were many young women who had caught a glimpse of Murray’s towering good looks and heard rumours that he had made his fortune. Both of these qualities made him suitable prey for those seeking marriage. His fearsome reputation, along with the scar on his face, only served to make him more dangerously appealing.
Murray surveyed the room with interest, his gaze constantly drawn to Ilene. These last few days he had been watching her from afar, trying to make sense of what the sight of her did to him.
In a hall full of soft blondes and bright redheads her dark hair might have made her invisible were it not for a great liveliness and a joy in life which singled her out. Impossible to ignore, she drew the eye, like the indigo flash of a kingfisher flitting across a river. She was not beautiful in the perfect way her mother was but she had a soft curvaceous prettiness, a delicate femininity and a body that would stir any man’s lust. And those eyes, so dark and soulful, dominating her heart-shaped face. Full of restless energy like her father she reminded him of a shimmering dragonfly darting this way and that, delighting the eye and never stopping. And she was an inexhaustible dancer. She may never have elegance, but she had a light in her lovely eyes which no one could ignore and a playful, warm disposition.
The change still seemed miraculous to him. Ilene had been a sturdy child but it was as if someone had taken a lump of dull clay and moulded it, giving it graceful curves and fascinating hollows, stretching it out into a beautiful vase. Murray watched her with her friends, happy and at ease. She seemed to indulge her emotions and there was no artifice about her, which was why he had once loved her as a little sister, and so it was unsettling now, to think of her in a different way. But there was no denying that she intrigued him. Part of him wanted to avoid her for making him feel things he should not feel, but unknowingly, she drew him to her like a moth to a flame.