registered apparent concern. ‘Was it too much for you, my lord?’
For a second or two he was speechless with incredulity. Then he fought a desire to laugh. If they’d been alone, he’d have exacted a penalty for barefaced cheek. It was a pleasing notion, but unfortunately they weren’t alone. Instead he asked, ‘Where did you learn to ride like that?’
‘From my father, and a groom called Hamish.’
‘They taught you well.’
‘So I think.’ She turned her attention to the chestnut. ‘That is a fine animal. What is he called?’
‘Firecrest.’
‘It suits him. Did you break him?’
‘I did, but he was a rare handful.’
‘I can believe it.’
Before he could make any other observations their companions hove into sight, reining in nearby.
‘How do you like the mare, Sister?’
‘I like her well,’ replied Isabelle, ‘as I was just telling Lord Ban.’
‘She can certainly move, eh, Murdo?’ said Hugh.
‘Indeed she can,’ replied the other. ‘All the same, you took a dangerous risk, my lady.’
His tone was perfectly level but she heard his unspoken disapproval. It irked her. He had no right to criticise; he had no rights over her at all, nor ever would have.
‘I did not ask you to follow, Murdo. You were always free to go around the obstacle if you felt it too dangerous a challenge.’
Her brother drew in an audible breath and chuckled appreciatively. ‘Oho! A hit! Most definitely a hit.’
The master-at-arms inclined his head. ‘My lady’s wit is sharp.’
For a moment the dark gaze glinted as it met hers, his expression quite unmistakable. Isabelle lifted her chin in silent defiance even though, inwardly, she regretted letting her temper get the better of her. She knew she had annoyed him and that it behoved her to be more careful; Murdo was not possessed of a forgiving nature and it didn’t pay to cross him.
Ban had observed that brief exchange and felt his curiosity stir. The tension between the two was evident. He 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
