Page 26 of The Lone Wolf's Bride

‘You must, for it is already settled or so they say. He will be married, and not to you.’

Ilene put her hands to her head and bent over. ‘How could he do something so hateful? Oh God, I hate him, I hate him and I wish I was dead.’

‘Stop it, Ilene. You have a child in your belly, and that is a precious thing. You must protect it, and we must find you a husband who can be your salvation, and quickly.’

Morag wiped away Ilene’s tears with her sleeve, as if she were a little girl again, and held her in her arms for a long while as she cried herself out.

Morag was ashamed of what she was suggesting. But she was older and wiser than her niece and she had no illusions as to the nature of Ilene’s situation. This was bad, so very bad. She knew she had to protect her sister and her niece together, one from the truth, and the other from the outcome of having loved too much and too soon. She stroked Ilene’s hair and rocked her back and forth. Angry and frightened she may be, but she wouldn’t fail Ilene. And her mind was already turning to one who could be the answer to their problems.

‘We will find someone Ilene. We will find a man to keep your secret safe, and all will be well I swear it.’

Chapter Nine

Ilene sat with the other women staring down at her bible, which she hadn’t managed to read a word of all morning. She was going straight to hell so what was the point. There was Aunt Morag, acting so normally, concentrating on her reading, when for Ilene the whole world was crashing down.

Between them, they had agreed on a dangerous plan, and Ilene was now trapped by her predicament into carrying it out. It was all she thought about, over and over again, whirling around in her head and giving her no rest. Fear and disbelief now stalked her every waking hour. How on earth could all her hopes and dreams have come to this? Trying to sit still, choking down nausea, was intolerable.

Fortunately, the peace of the morning was shattered by the clatter of hooves and the boom of male voices, raised in excitement. Suddenly her father burst into the room with a black eye and blood all over his shirt.

‘Good morning ladies,’ he said, with a smug smile. Conall followed, bringing with him an awful smell of stale ale.

Her mother stood up. ‘Duncan, what on earth has happened?’

‘A fight at Gillies Tavern, Ailsa. We were all of us in our cups and some of the Sinclairs were there and one of the curs insulted Clan Campbell, and so naturally, we took our revenge.’

‘Duncan, could you not, just once, have shown some restraint?’

‘Oh don’t fret woman,’ he said swaying slightly as Ailsa rushed over to check on him, shaking her head in exasperation.

‘And you’re still drunk. And you had Conall with you.’

‘It will teach him how to stand up for his clan.’

‘It’s true, Mother, I knocked one of them out with a chair,’ said Conall, jubilantly.

‘Aye son, we gave them a good thrashing, didn’t we. And no one died,’ said Duncan, turning back to Ailsa.

Seeing her angry face he looked a little chastened and added, ‘No one died so all is well my love. It was just high spirits is all.’

‘Though one of them did get his knife into Murray,’ piped up Conall, never the most tactful member of the family.

‘Murray is hurt!’ exclaimed Ilene.

‘Not so as he’d notice, and only a little,’ said Duncan. ‘A few cuts and bruises that is all. And by God does the lad know how to fight. He was worth ten of every one of the Sinclairs.’

‘He fought like a demon, Ilene,’ said Conall with pride, ‘throwing men over tables and into walls. The man who cut him is lucky to be alive.’

‘Then he has no more sense than your father,’ snapped Ailsa. She turned to Duncan. ‘Well husband, seeing as you’ve made this mess I suppose I have to clean it up.’

‘I’ll go and tend to Murray shall I?’ said Ilene, as casually as possible.

‘Aye, if you like Ilene. Let’s hope he’s more sober than your father.’

***

Ilene found Murray with a group of rowdy men in the kitchen, drinking yet more ale, and all of them being tutted at by the cook for trailing mud and blood over her floor. His eyes found hers almost immediately, and he raised his cup to her, grinning and then turned around and went back to laughing with his companions.

Ilene stared over at him in horror. He was filthy and bruised with blood drying to a brown crust down the side of his face. The evidence of recent violence on him made him seem intimidating, and so she saw before her the ruthless mercenary, not the childhood protector.

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