Page 16 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“Rhona!” he screamed.
The light from a thousand torches on the battlefield glinted off the sharpened steel that hung above his sister. Rhona turned to him and when their eyes met, Struan saw the acceptance of her fate in her eyes.
“Nay!”
Struan fell to his knees and his tears spilled upon the ground, mixing with the river of blood beneath him. Rhona’s blood dripped from the edge of the sword as the man who wielded it turned to him. As Struan’s tears flowed, a slow, cruel grin stretched across the man’s lips.
Murdoch Mackintosh.
A bright bolt of fear shot through his heart, when a pair of hands reaches for his arm. Struan sat bolt upright and, almost on instinct, grabbed at his unseen attacker. His vision was still obscured by the cobwebs of sleep that clung to him, and his fingers wrapped around the skin of their throat, squeezing as hard as he could. A gurgled gasp echoed in his ears and long, delicate fingers grasped at his wrist.
“Struan.”
The voice was a harsh, raspy whisper that tickled a bell of familiarity in the back of his mind. He gave himself a shake, clearing away the last of the blurring as he came fully awake. He gasped when he saw and realized his hand was wrapped around Isolde’s throat. Struan immediately let go and she fell forward, coughing and hacking as she tried to draw breath.
Struan put a hand on her back, drawing soothing patterns. “I’m sorry, Isolde. I’m so sorry. I didnae mean tae dae that. I?—”
She held a hand up. “’Tis fine,” she croaked. “Ye were dreamin’.”
He nodded and jumped to his feet. Rushing over to her pack, he pulled out the skin of water and helped her to sit up and take a sip. She slumped against him, drawing deep breaths.
“I’m sorry?—”
“Stop sayin’ that,” she replied. “’Twas nae yer fault.”
His gaze fell as a river of shame washed over him. He noticed a small bowl of water with a damp cloth in it beside where he was sleeping. Cocking his head, he returned his eyes to her.
“What is that?” he asked.
An expression of uncertainty crossed her face, but she took another swallow of water which seemed to fortify her.
“Ye were restless in yer sleep. Ye were moanin’ and cryin’ out,” Isolde hesitated. “Ye were sweatin’ and ye were as hot as a fire in a hearth. I got some water from the loch tae cool ye down.”
Struan swallowed hard and tried to push down the shame that continued to well up within him. Hurting a woman was not in his nature. Hurting a woman who was doing him a kindness was even worse. And even worse still was that he had hurt Isolde. For reasons he could not yet fathom, the mere thought of hurting her made him want to have himself flogged.
“I—I’m sorry, Isolde,” he said, his voice low. “I didnae mean tae?—”
“I ken ye didnae. Like I said, ‘tis nae yer fault. Ye were caught in a dream.”
A moment of silence passed between them and Struan found himself wishing they’d been able to get a fire going. He needed the warmth to melt the guilt and shame that had encased his heart in ice. He clenched his jaw and tried to force his way through it.
“Why would ye dae that?” he asked, his tone harder than he’d intended. “Fer me?”
She stiffened. “’Twas repayin’ a kindness fer ye helpin’ me tae escape from me faither,” she huffed. “A simple thank ye would nae go amiss.”
Help her escape her faither…
The words stood out to him, rang out as loud and clear as a church bell. It told him quite a lot about her state of mind and why she was there with him in the crofter’s hut to begin with.
To that point, he hadn’t thought about it too deeply, assuming she was just another disaffected girl, upset with her father and who thought that by running away, she would get his attention. But the fact that she felt the need to escape forced him to look at her in a different light.
He cleared his throat. “Thank ye.”
“Dae ye have bad dreams like that often?”
Struan stilled at her question. Her father was a cruel man, ruling with a cruel fist, which made Struan wonder if that was how he raised his daughter too. Isolde might not seem like Murdoch, still Struan could not be certain yet of what she might do with any sort of personal information about him.
Besides that, Struan was not a man who opened up to people easily.
