His Lady of Castlemora. Joanna Fulford

wondered what lay behind it. Apart from a brief introduction he’d had little to do with the man thus far, but Ban was fully aware of his presence none the less. From the seating arrangements at the table the previous evening it was apparent that Murdo enjoyed a privileged position in the household, as though he were a member of the family rather than a servant. However, such things were not uncommon. A rich household might well take in poorer relations and find a place for them. In this instance an influential place, he thought, but then a capable man who worked hard might do much to better himself.

      He had no doubt whatever that the master-at-arms was capable; he’d met too many fighting men not to recognise the trait. In combat Murdo would be ruthless and deadly. He was also a natural leader. To judge from the way his men acted around him he evidently commanded their respect, no mean feat when the men themselves were hardened mercenaries. Castlemora’s reputation had been well earned. Perhaps too Murdo saw it as part of his role to be protective of Lady Isabelle even if she did resent it as interference. That would explain much. The more Ban thought about it, the likelier it seemed.

      Before he could dwell further on the matter the party set off again, albeit at a more sober pace, and the conversation turned to other things. Isabelle didn’t speak to the master-at-arms again or even look in his direction, and the remainder of the ride passed without incident.

      When, about an hour later, they returned to Castlemora, Archibald Graham came out to meet them. Then he looked quizzically at Isabelle.

      ‘Well, how did the mare go?’

      ‘Very well, Father. She has speed and stamina as we thought.’

      ‘Good. Perhaps you will find the time to ride the others.’

      She returned a non-committal smile and dismounted. Lord Ban followed suit and came to join them. Standing so close to him now she was forcefully reminded just how much taller he was and how strong. Thence it was but a short step to recalling their first meeting. The memory burned. Glancing up she saw him smile as though he somehow divined her thought. Of course, that was impossible. Even so, her face, pink before from the fresh air, became a much deeper shade.

      Apparently unaware of her discomfiture her father turned to Ban. ‘I trust you enjoyed your ride, my lord.’

      ‘Very much, sir.’ He looked at Isabelle. ‘Who would not in such company?’

      Her father beamed. Isabelle thought he’d look a lot less gratified if he knew the truth. They made their way indoors for the sun was hot and the cooler air of the hall was a welcome contrast. Graham bade the servants fetch refreshment and then poured the ale with his own hands before offering his guest a cup.

      ‘It is most pleasant to have company again.’

      ‘You are kind,’ said Ban. ‘In truth Castlemora is a most delightful spot.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Graham clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I am glad you think so. I trust you will not find our hospitality lacking.’

      ‘I am sure I shall not. One day I hope to have the honour of returning it.’

      ‘If my health were better I’d like nothing more.’ Graham threw him a wry smile. ‘However, this hot weather is most tiring I find. It only seems to aggravate my condition.’

      ‘I am sorry to hear it.’

      ‘Never mind, I have strength enough to show you round Castlemora, if you would like it.’

      Ban regarded him in concern. ‘I beg you will not over-exert yourself, my lord.’

      ‘No such thing,’ replied the other. ‘I’d be delighted.’

      ‘Then I thank you.’

      Isabelle’s heart sank as she watched them head for the door, feeling certain this wasn’t just about showing their guest around. Her father almost certainly intended to talk business and it had nothing to do with horses.

      Strolling to the end of the orchard the two men stopped to survey the view beyond.

      ‘A fine prospect,’ observed Ban. ‘Truly Castlemora is most happily situated.’

      ‘Aye, it is.’ Graham smiled. ‘And I’ll leave it to my son stronger and richer than ever it was when I became laird.’ He paused. ‘But it is not of my son I would speak, as I think you know.’

      Ban remained silent, waiting. Now they would come to it. He was quite ready, knowing what needed to be said. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation but it must be unambiguous. There could be no room for misunderstanding.

      ‘As I told you,’ Graham continued, ‘my health is not of the best. It is my ardent wish to see my daughter married again before I die.’

      ‘A laudable aim, though I hope your lordship will live many years yet.’

      ‘That is not likely I fear. The pains in my chest come more often now. It is a penalty of age.’ He paused. ‘As I intimated, your coming here is not just about bloodstock, though indeed the horses are very fine.’

      ‘It is of Lady Isabelle you wish to speak.’

      ‘My daughter’s first marriage was ended untimely, a circumstance none could have foreseen.’

      ‘A hunting accident, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Aye. A stray arrow from the thicket.’ Graham shook his head. ‘The culprit was never found. Most likely it was a poacher who fired without looking carefully enough, and then panicked and fled when he realised what he had done.’

      ‘That is quite possible. The fellow must have known he’d hang otherwise.’

      ‘At any rate it was a bad business and it has left Isabelle vulnerable.’

      ‘Did she not wish to remain among her husband’s kin?’

      ‘To be honest, there was little love lost between Isabelle and her late husband’s mother.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘When the match was arranged it seemed good but subsequently …’ Graham paused, eyeing his companion warily, as though deciding how far to commit himself. Then he took a deep breath. ‘Subsequently I have had cause to repent the alliance. The Neils refused to return the balance of my daughter’s dowry.’

      Ban stared at him. ‘Refused?’

      ‘Aye, God rot them.’

      The news gave Ban pause, though not for the reasons his companion might have thought. He didn’t care about the gold. The point was that if Isabelle had only a small dowry it greatly reduced her chances of making an illustrious second match. At the same time her father wanted her off his hands. The strengthened tie with Glengarron began to look like a convenient pretext; the real reason was more concerned with the bridegroom’s own lack of expectations. Such a man could not look too high for a wife. The more he thought about it the more certain Ban became. The realisation brought with it a raft of mixed emotions. It was a bitter reminder of what had been lost, but, at the same time, this match offered a glimmer of hope—for his house at least.

      ‘She will still have a dowry of course, though it will not be as great as I’d have liked,’ Graham went on. ‘In spite of my representations the Neils have refused to return any part of the original portion. Until they can be persuaded otherwise that is how the matter stands.’

      ‘On what grounds did they refuse?’

      ‘On the grounds that there was no issue from the marriage.’

      The question Ban had carried in the back of his mind now loomed large. However, it was a sensitive matter and he chose his words carefully. ‘No issue because the child died, perhaps?’

      ‘There was no child. My son-in-law was often from home in the king’s service. No doubt he thought he had time aplenty to sire heirs.’

      That threw up more queries in his companion’s mind. Why would a newly married man leave his bride’s