wish to dress.’
His fingers closed inexorably about her wrist, and against her will his eyes held hers.
‘You will do as I wish,’ he said in a cold soft voice, deadly with menace. ‘You will come with me and act the dutiful wife, and take me with you when I ask to visit your parents and show them how happy you are. And you will bring your fortune to me, every single penny of it.’
‘And what if I do not?’ she demanded, only with a great effort keeping the tremor from her voice.
‘I shall be at your side, Isobel, every moment of every day and all night long. And Hugh will be at your other side. And there are many secret ways to die.’
She shivered, and swallowed hard. ‘What will you do when you have the money?’ she taunted him, though her voice sounded cracked and unnatural. ‘Spend it on the whores of Edinburgh?’
She saw his free hand move up again as if to strike.
‘Foul-mouthed bitch!’ The words had all the force of a blow. ‘It is no business of yours what I do with it.’
‘It is my money!’ she exclaimed indignantly.
‘And you are my wife. Everything you are, all you have, is mine by right and duty.’ He saw the flame light her eyes as she opened her mouth to speak, and realised he would not reach her that way. His voice took on a less strident, faintly pleading note: ‘Isobel, the Prince has need of your money. We march on England, and supplies are low. The men need food, and arms. We were promised French support, and it has not come. Your wealth could mean so much.’
‘So that’s it!’ she cried, illumination dawning. ‘You want my money to finance your treasonable rebellion against your lawful King. I have never been anything but a loyal and true servant of our good King George II, and I don’t intend to change that now. The only possible outcome I pray for and long for - the only thing I’d give my money for - is so that your pretty Princeling should go back into exile and stay there. He and his family have brought nothing but trouble on this land for over a hundred years. It’s time it was brought to an end, for good and all.’
‘What can you possibly know about it?’ he sneered.
‘I have ears, and a brain, and a father who thought long about these things, and talked about them with me. Just because you forced me into marriage and possessed me with your body does not mean that you have my mind and heart prisoner too. Whatever you do to me, Hector MacLean, I am free of you, free to think as I chose. And you shall not lay hands on one penny of my money.’
Burning with frustration at her clear-eyed defiance, he grasped her fiercely by the shoulders, his face close to hers. ‘You will do as I say, woman!’
‘If I come to Edinburgh,’ she returned quietly, steadily, ‘I shall make it only too plain what you have done to me and what I think of you. And I shall tell nothing but the plain truth to my parents. And if you kill me, well then you will still not lay your hands on the money, nor will you any longer be able to hope that you may have it one day.’
His hands fell to his sides, and he stood gazing at her in silence, acknowledging her triumph. She thought, even, that she saw a trace of a grudging admiration in his eyes. She knew she had won.
Hector’s next remark, spoken in a low despondent tone, full of weariness and regret, took her by surprise.
‘Then there is no hope for us,’ he said, and turned away from her.
Without another word, or a glance in her direction, he dressed quickly and left the room, closing the door firmly but quietly behind him. The click of the latch had an odd note of finality that brought a new and unaccountable chill to Isobel’s heart.
After a little while she undressed again and went to bed. She felt overwhelmingly tired after her long defiance. It had cost her far more than she had realised at the time to meet his threats with courage and anger. But sleep eluded her for a large part of the night. She felt depressed,
His fingers closed inexorably about her wrist, and against her will his eyes held hers.
‘You will do as I wish,’ he said in a cold soft voice, deadly with menace. ‘You will come with me and act the dutiful wife, and take me with you when I ask to visit your parents and show them how happy you are. And you will bring your fortune to me, every single penny of it.’
‘And what if I do not?’ she demanded, only with a great effort keeping the tremor from her voice.
‘I shall be at your side, Isobel, every moment of every day and all night long. And Hugh will be at your other side. And there are many secret ways to die.’
She shivered, and swallowed hard. ‘What will you do when you have the money?’ she taunted him, though her voice sounded cracked and unnatural. ‘Spend it on the whores of Edinburgh?’
She saw his free hand move up again as if to strike.
‘Foul-mouthed bitch!’ The words had all the force of a blow. ‘It is no business of yours what I do with it.’
‘It is my money!’ she exclaimed indignantly.
‘And you are my wife. Everything you are, all you have, is mine by right and duty.’ He saw the flame light her eyes as she opened her mouth to speak, and realised he would not reach her that way. His voice took on a less strident, faintly pleading note: ‘Isobel, the Prince has need of your money. We march on England, and supplies are low. The men need food, and arms. We were promised French support, and it has not come. Your wealth could mean so much.’
‘So that’s it!’ she cried, illumination dawning. ‘You want my money to finance your treasonable rebellion against your lawful King. I have never been anything but a loyal and true servant of our good King George II, and I don’t intend to change that now. The only possible outcome I pray for and long for - the only thing I’d give my money for - is so that your pretty Princeling should go back into exile and stay there. He and his family have brought nothing but trouble on this land for over a hundred years. It’s time it was brought to an end, for good and all.’
‘What can you possibly know about it?’ he sneered.
‘I have ears, and a brain, and a father who thought long about these things, and talked about them with me. Just because you forced me into marriage and possessed me with your body does not mean that you have my mind and heart prisoner too. Whatever you do to me, Hector MacLean, I am free of you, free to think as I chose. And you shall not lay hands on one penny of my money.’
Burning with frustration at her clear-eyed defiance, he grasped her fiercely by the shoulders, his face close to hers. ‘You will do as I say, woman!’
‘If I come to Edinburgh,’ she returned quietly, steadily, ‘I shall make it only too plain what you have done to me and what I think of you. And I shall tell nothing but the plain truth to my parents. And if you kill me, well then you will still not lay your hands on the money, nor will you any longer be able to hope that you may have it one day.’
His hands fell to his sides, and he stood gazing at her in silence, acknowledging her triumph. She thought, even, that she saw a trace of a grudging admiration in his eyes. She knew she had won.
Hector’s next remark, spoken in a low despondent tone, full of weariness and regret, took her by surprise.
‘Then there is no hope for us,’ he said, and turned away from her.
Without another word, or a glance in her direction, he dressed quickly and left the room, closing the door firmly but quietly behind him. The click of the latch had an odd note of finality that brought a new and unaccountable chill to Isobel’s heart.
After a little while she undressed again and went to bed. She felt overwhelmingly tired after her long defiance. It had cost her far more than she had realised at the time to meet his threats with courage and anger. But sleep eluded her for a large part of the night. She felt depressed,
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