Given that Fraser had heard Tor’s confession in the great hall about that very subject, he nodded. “I have heard,” he said. “Tor has explained his position. It is understandable, I suppose, given they are his wife’s sisters.”
“Then you do not disagree with the way he has handled things?”
“I did not say that. I only said that I understood his reasons.” He sighed. “I suppose if I had a dead wife, I might treat her remaining siblings different as well. Tor is in a difficult position.”
“I suppose.”
“I did not know that his wife died.”
Isabella nodded. “In childbirth,” she said. “He was very much in love with her from what I’ve heard my father say. Poor Tor has had a difficult life. He lost his mother and two siblings in an accident when he was a young lad, and then he lost his wife. He has suffered through more than someone should at his age. But he is truly a kind and generous man in spite of everything. Everyone loves him very much.”
“He seems pleasant enough.”
“He is.” Isabella paused, her gaze moving over Fraser, studying the man at close range for a moment. “As for not warning Lady Isalyn, I could not risk angering Tor, as he is very sensitive when it comes to Barbara and Lenore. But I did escort her to her chamber to make sure Barbara did not pull any tricks, although I did not take into account that she would lock Lady Isalyn inside the chamber. I suppose I should have. Several years ago, Barbara and Lenore took offense to a young ward of Castle Questing and locked her in the buttery during a cold winter’s night. When she was found the next morning, she was nearly frozen to death. Barbara swore it was an accident and she was believed, but those of us who knew her knew better. Lady Isalyn was fortunate that locking her in her chamber was all they did.”
Fraser shook his head at the thought of two vicious women. “And you have managed to stay in their good graces?”
Isabella smiled wryly. “No longer,” she said. “If given a chance, I am sure they will turn their tricks on me now that I have taken a stand against them.”
Fraser smiled faintly. “Not to worry,” he said. “I will make sure they do not get close to you.”
Isabella’s heart began to beat, just a little faster, at his chivalrous declaration. “You will?” she asked, sounding breathless. “But why?”
“Because you saved Lady Isalyn. That is reason enough.”
Her face fell. “Of course,” she said, feeling foolish for thinking me might have meant something personally. “I like Lady Isalyn a great deal. I would not want to see her come to harm.”
Fraser looked at her for a moment before speaking. “And this coming from a woman who was badly wronged by Lady Isalyn’s brother,” he said quietly. “Are you always so forgiving, my lady?”
Isabella averted her gaze, pondering his question. “I wasn’t, not at first,” she admitted. “But my grandmother convinced me that men like Steffan de Featherstone are not worth grieving. It was my own fault, really. I met Steffan when I was visiting my uncle and cousins at Berwick Castle. We all traveled into town one day because my Aunt Bridey wanted to go to the fish market, so the whole gaggle of us went along. You must understand that in my family, males dominate. I have far more male cousins than female, and those who are female are mostly younger than I am. So many of my male cousins are getting married to beautiful young women and when I met Steffan, I suppose I was feeling a little left out. He was very attentive, mayhap too attentive, but it was nice to feel wanted. I suppose, in hindsight, I was not in love with him. When he left me on the day of our wedding, I was humiliated more than anything. Truthfully, I am very glad my brother and cousins and uncles did not bring him back.”
Fraser had a smile on his face as he leaned casually against the apartment wall. “Truthfully, so am I,” he said. “Although I should not speak ill of my liege’s son, you have been honest with me so I will be honest with you. Steffan was a callous, selfish man. Had he married you, I am quite sure you would have regretted it. You deserve a much better husband.”
She grinned bashfully. “There are only de Wolfes and de Norvilles and Hages where I live and I cannot marry a cousin,” she said. “Lady Isalyn promised that I could visit her in London. Mayhap I will find a husband there.”
Fraser scowled. “Have you ever been to London?”
“Aye, several times. My Uncle Edward has a home there.”
Fraser shook his head. “The only men you’ll find in London are arrogant prigs, dandies, pickpockets, or crusty old lords,” he said. “You’d do better finding a man to marry in Northumberland. There are fine families this far north other than de Wolfe, de Norville, and Hage. You should have your pick.”
She cast him a dubious look but ended up breaking into soft laughter. “I doubt my father will let me select my own husband again,” she said. “I failed miserably with Steffan. He will not trust me again.”
Fraser was grinning because she was. He was rather enchanted by her silly little giggle. “Then mayhap some fine man will select you instead.”
She looked at him with interest. “Do you think so?”
“Possibly.”
“Do you know of one?”
“That is very possible.”
Her eyes lit up. “Do you really?”
“As I said, it is very possible.”
“I am intrigued,” she said. “Tell me more.”
Fraser was becoming upswept in the gentle game of flirtation when sentries from the inner gatehouse began to send up a cry. They could see the gatehouse from where they were standing and they could see a bit of commotion.
The portcullises were open and a soldier was coming through the opening, heading for the hall. As he came closer, he caught sight of Isabella and veered in her direction. Curious, Isabella came away from the wall and went to meet the soldier halfway.
“My lady,” the man was breathless because he had run. “We have a seriously ill man at the outer gatehouse. Would you come and see to him, my lady?”
Castles were beacons of food, shelter, and help, so it was unthinkable to turn away a sick traveler. It simply wasn’t done. But Isabella balked.
“I do not know anything about healing,” she said. “I would not do any good.”
“But he needs help, my lady,” the soldier said. “We can put him in the troop house, but someone should see to him.”
Fraser was standing behind Isabella, listening. “Who is the man?”
The soldier shook his head. “He gave his name as Joe or Joseph,” he said. “It was difficult to tell, as he could not tell us more. The man seems delirious.”
“Feverish?”
“He seems to be, my lord.”
Fraser looked at Isabella. “You do not want a fever spreading among the men,” he said. “I would recommend not putting him in the troop house. Is there anywhere else you can put him?”
Isabella knew Blackpool fairly well, but not as intimately as if she lived here. “I do not know,” she said. “Barbara and Lenore would know better than I would and they would tend him as well. I know they have done that sort of thing. Mayhap he should be brought to Lady Isalyn’s former chamber where Barbara and Lenore are?”