Page 43 of The Lone Wolf's Bride

Murray got up abruptly and walked out into the storm.

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Hours later curled up in her cold bed, Ilene started when she felt the door bang open, bringing a howling wind in with it. Murray slammed it shut and, after a few moments, she felt the blankets lift and the thin mattress sag with Murray’s weight as he slid in behind her. Without asking, he suddenly grabbed her with a muscular arm, pulling her tightly against him and throwing his leg over hers, as though he couldn’t get close enough.

‘Murray, what are you doing?’ she asked, shivering, and not because of the cold.

‘Do not be afraid, Ilene. I have no desire to seduce you after the disappointment of our wedding night,’ he said bitterly.

She lay as still as she could, not knowing what to do, dreading stirring him to anger.

‘You’ll not have to suffer my consummating our marriage tonight. I merely seek to stop us both freezing to death. We’ll be warmer if we lie close together, so try to bear it as best you can.’

In a little while, Murray’s body felt like a furnace against her, his warmth driving the chill from her bones. Ilene was so tired that she almost relaxed and ventured to place her hand on top of his.

‘Murray?’ she whispered, into the dark.

What?’ he snapped.

‘I want to thank you for guarding my secret, for not telling anyone at Cailleach before we left.’

He shook off her hand. ‘Don’t touch me. Go to sleep.’

The tears came sliding down Ilene’s cheeks as she turned her head away from him to stare into the fire, trying to absorb its warmth, as this handsome, cold man whom she had once cared for in her foolish, childish way, rejected her.

It started to dawn on her what a cruel thing she had done to protect her family. But there was one other who also needed her protection, who needed her to be strong. Ilene put her hand on her belly and, in that moment, she resolved to bear whatever punishment Murray meted out, for the sake of her baby.

By morning the storm had blown itself out and Ilene woke in a cold room. Murray was standing over the bed, staring down at her. She had no idea how long he had been there.

‘Make haste and get yourself up, we are going to see Cuan Dubh.’

Chapter Seventeen

Strategically placed on a bend in the river, with a view out to the mountains, Cuan Dubh was more a fortress than a house. It soared three storeys high with grey walls and small windows. To Ilene, it had little beauty and was not much more than a stout pillar of stone, but it had been built for defence rather than comfort. It could be held for some time against a raid sweeping in from the coast, providing refuge for the villagers in dangerous times. Open and windswept on the approach, it was backed by dense woodland. A walled garden surrounded it, with several outbuildings, crumbling into the ground, having fallen victim to stone robbers. It was rigid and martial in character and, Ilene thought, not unlike her new husband, who’d barely said two words to her since they set off.

Murray pushed open the heavy lower door with a loud creak and strode in, leaving her to follow behind. There was a violent flapping of wings, dust fell all around them, as their arrival startled several pigeons, roosting in the eaves of the vaulted basement. Through the damp, fetid gloom, Murray found a stone stairway leading upwards and sped up, taking two steps at a time easily, with his long stride. Ilene picked her way carefully among the detritus of droppings, decayed straw and ruined farm implements to follow him.

On the upper floors, though thick with dust, the wood panelled walls and grand fireplaces hinted at a lost grandeur. Ilene could imagine the fine gatherings the largest rooms must have hosted in bygone days.

Murray suddenly seemed to find his voice along with some enthusiasm. ‘This is good, very good. From what your father told me of how this place had been neglected, I had expected the panelling to have been absconded with at the very least. The ceilings look sound, not damp, so the roof must be complete, we are lucky in that at least.’

Ilene ran her hand along a dusty window ledge. ‘Imagine how cosy it will look, with the fire blazing in the hearth. The windows are small, but there are a good many, so there’ll be enough light in the place.’

‘Aye, but it will take a deal of work to clean it and make it good with repairs,’ he said, rushing around the room. ‘We will need to rebuild some of the outer walled areas and rid it of the stench, but in time I believe we will make a sound fortress of it.’

‘And a home, too,’ ventured Ilene.

Murray looked at her, a frown darkening his face. ‘Come let us go to the next level.’ With that he headed for a turnpike staircase, at the end of the hallway, pausing for her to catch up, taking her hand in his firm grip. ‘Have a care, I’m not sure how sound these steps are.’

He almost dragged Ilene up the stairs, such was his haste. They emerged onto a cap-house and, from it, a narrow walkway led right around the top of the house. Ilene gulped in the fresh air, gasping at the spectacular view. The encircling mountains in the distance were brilliant in the sunshine, peaked in snow and fringed below with a carpet of russet bracken. Clouds were skidding in, churning around their purple centres, over-ripe with rain.

‘Its beautiful up here, Murray,’ she gasped. ‘I think this will become my favourite part of the house.’

‘It is not grand like Cailleach, far baser than you are used to,’ he said, staring off at the distant mountains, with a hard look on his face.

‘It is not much to look at now, but it can be. It is a good sound house and, in time, I think we can make a comfortable life here….you and I,’ she looked pleadingly at him. Ilene was afraid of stirring his anger by talking about the future, though she knew that was much safer ground than the past. She had to at least try, for he looked so lonely standing there, with stubble darkening his face and shadows under his eyes, from lack of sleep. She wanted more than anything to comfort him, in spite of his harshness.

He turned and came towards her, regarding her intently. Ilene tried to control the frantic beat of her heart and she looked away to the mountains to avoid his gaze. So close, so quietly he stood as if he was trying to see into her head. When she looked up at him his dark blue eyes were cold, like chips of ice.

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