‘She was a virgin was she not? Surely she may take a while to get used to a man’s attentions, especially yours?’
‘She will never get used to my attentions,’ Duncan replied bitterly. ‘I can take her as many times as I want. I can mount her more often than I mount my horse but she’ll never get used to me. She simply does not want me and the more she hates me the more I ache to have her.’
Rory was shocked by this admission from his proud friend and by the hint of shame in Duncan’s voice. What could have happened between them for him to feel so hopeless about Ailsa? He knew Duncan to be a decent man if a little bleak at times and he would surely not have mistreated the lass.
‘Perhaps you have had life too easy my friend. Women have always dropped into your lap as easily as ripe apples fall from a tree. How often have you ever had to chase one, at least not for long? Maybe this prize is harder to win and therefore more worth the effort, though I fear patience was never your strong suit.’
‘You are wrong my friend. Ailsa finds me repellent.’
‘Well the rub is if you ache to have her, how will you salve that ache? Find another?’
‘Yes perhaps.’
‘Good, take a mistress and then surely marital bliss will follow. Lying with a woman you don’t really want will surely make the one you do really want fall swooning into your arms,’ said Rory sarcastically.
‘What would you advise then, wise one?’ snarled Duncan, giving his friend an evil look.
‘She is your wife so if you want her, have her, it is your right. Also, we are in need of an heir to unite the clans and strengthen your position.’ Rory was nothing if not practical. ‘Shunning the marriage bed won’t achieve that but you must be kind and gentle. Persevere and use some charm, which I am sure you have buried somewhere in that hard heart of yours.
‘You would have me seduce my own wife,’ Duncan replied indignantly.
‘Aye, if needs be, else you can resolve yourself to being miserable. Ailsa had no choice in being married off to a cold brute like you so prove to her that you are better than that. And ponder a moment on all the diversion you could have doing it. Love is a game my friend, you must resolve to play it well.’
‘Do not speak of love Rory.’
The conversation died as the sound of hooves on the path behind them signalled the others were catching up. Duncan glared at Rory again and without further ado swung his horse around and spurred it forward at a gallop.
‘Try a wee gift,’ Rory shouted after him, unabashed. ‘Women always like gifts.’
Night had fallen by the time Duncan returned to the castle. Ailsa heard the clatter of hooves and shouts of the watchmen and shuddered. She trembled at the thought of facing him. But he did not come to her room and he did not seek her out. She had braced herself for a repeat of her wedding night, determined not to show her emotions, determined not to respond to him as she had before. But he did not come.
Chapter Ten
Several days were to pass before Ailsa would encounter Duncan again. He left early to hunt or to patrol the borders of MacLeod lands and sometimes did not return at night. He gave her no notion of his whereabouts, though she heard spiteful rumours from servants that he spent the night in taverns and whorehouses thereabouts. It was whispered that the MacLeod bitch was frigid and therefore distasteful to him in bed so that the laird sought solace elsewhere.
Ailsa had ignored the slights of those around her and thrown herself into visiting the villagers. They were still loyal to her family and she was welcomed to their hearths. She took strength from their kind words and from in turn helping them with their ills and complaints. But an awful sense of dread and unhappiness clouded her days and sleep was hard to come by.
Early one morning, as dawn reached bright fingers into her room, Ailsa woke with a need to escape all the worry pressing in on her. She pulled on an old dress of red velvet, a little tatty now but it was her favourite and had happy memories, having been a gift from her father on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday. She remembered the gaiety of the family gathering and her father’s pride as he told her what a bonny lass she was. What a carefree life she had then and how foolish not to have appreciated it more.
Ailsa’s figure had filled out considerably in the intervening years and the dress was a little tight in places but she cared not. Her hair she left loose. She was supposed to keep it hidden in a kertle now that she was a married woman but as far as she was concerned her husband could go hang.
She crept off to the stables and saddled Fingal herself and it took her almost no time at all to melt quietly into the shelter of the woods around the castle. She rode hard for some time along well-worn and familiar paths. It was such a fine day, the air fresh and fragrant with the smell of the pines and bracken.
Eventually, Ailsa stopped Fingal on the banks of a river, tethering him to a nearby oak tree and sat under it watching the water slide by and listening to the birds call in the trees. What luxury it was to be alone, away from prying eyes and judgemental stares. It was the first time in many weeks that she had indulged herself in the simple pleasure of riding, of doing something just for the fun of it. She did not care about the damp grass soaking her skirts, or how far she had travelled, or the absolute quiet of the dark woods behind her. In fact, she did not care about the consequences of her actions today at all, just like the day she met Duncan, she thought. And suddenly, as if by thinking about evil she had somehow conjured it, she heard his dark, angry voice.
‘You are a long way from the castle Ailsa.’ She whirled around and stood up on shaky legs. He emerged slowly from the woods on his black horse. How could that huge creature move so silently?
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘I’m keeping an eye on my new wife.’ He seemed to spit out the word ‘wife’ like a whiplash. ‘I watched you steal out of the castle at dawn so is it any surprise that I followed you?’ Ailsa flinched back from the huge horse.
‘Don’t show you fear him and Ares won’t hurt you,’ said Duncan. He dismounted smoothly and secured his horse next to hers, coming towards her with a face like thunder. ‘I ask again Ailsa. What are you doing here, out alone?’ his voice was intimidating as if he were coldly interrogating one of his men.
‘I wanted to ride, to get some air.’
‘You ride well and that fat old horse is nimbler than he looks. I had trouble keeping up with you. Were you so desperate to flee Ailsa?’
‘I wasn’t fleeing, I just needed to escape Cailleach for a while.’