Page 33 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“’Tis nae right.”
She shrugged. “I wish it had stopped affectin’ me long ago. But every time I think of it—think of him—I’m filled with anger. And grief.”
Isolde fell silent and the only sound in the air around them was the crackle and pop of the fire. Struan felt like she wanted to speak more so he remained quiet, silently encouraging her to continue. He had the idea she had never spoken these thoughts aloud and knew the only way to guide her through the labyrinth of dark thoughts in her mind was to let her purge them from her soul.
“Me maither died while she was givin’ birth tae me,” she said. “And me faither… he treated me like it was me fault. Never let me forget that I’m the reason she died and he never got a son.”
Struan did not censor himself this time and reached out, putting a gentle hand on hers. She stiffened for a brief moment before relaxing again, letting him hold her hand. She did not turn to him though, keeping her gaze locked firmly on the fire in front of them.
“All I’ve ever kent about me faither is that people fear him. Nae respect him. Fear him,” she said. “I grew up surrounded by people who never wanted anythin’ tae dae with me fer fear of him. I grew up in a castle filled with people, but I was always alone. I always wanted tae believe ‘twas his grief that made him so cold. But I dinnae think it is true.”
“Sounds like a horrible way tae grow up.”
“I wouldnae recommend it,” she said with a bark of bitter laughter.
“I can see why ye wanted tae run away.”
“Aye. I have always wanted tae live me own life, away from all that. ‘Tis been a dream since I was a lass.”
She shifted and moved closer to the fire, her shoulder brushing against his. The gentle touch sent an electric thrill through him, and he found himself longing to be nearer to her. She surprised him when she leaned closer to him, as if seeking out his touch as much as he craved hers.
Sitting side by side, their bodies pressed together, Struan felt a warmth running through him that had nothing to do with the fire before them. A half-grin quirked Struan’s lip. “Where were ye goin’ when I found ye? What was yer plan once ye were away from Moy Castle?”
A flush rose to her cheeks and she gave him a sly smile in return. “Tae be honest, I didnae have a plan. I never thought I’d ever have a chance tae escape. Nae really. I planned fer it, dreamt of it fer years. I even gathered supplies and made lists. But I didnae think I’d ever really get the chance. But then ye escaped and I saw me opportunity in the chaos. Me mind just told me tae run… it didnae matter where. Just run. I thought I’d figure it out once I got away. But then…”
Her voice trailed off and she smiled and flush in her cheeks deepened. She turned to him and when their eyes met, Struan felt like he’d been punched in the heart. His mouth grew dry, and his stomach roiled. In that moment, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss her. It was powerful though and he fought with everything in him knowing that would most definitely be far too forward.
He cleared his throat and tried mightily to pull his mind away from those full, soft lips of hers. It was a Herculean task, but he somehow managed it.
“But then what?” he asked.
“But then… ye appeared,” she replied. “If nae fer ye, me faither’s men would have dragged me back tae the castle and I’d probably have been locked in the dark cells until he wed me off tae Dougal.”
“Have ye never wanted tae marry?”
Isolde stiffened and a frown flickered across her lips. Struan immediately regretted his words. But then her expression softened as she swallowed whatever bitter pill had risen in her throat.
“Of course I want tae marry. But nae him,” she said quietly. “I heard the chambermaids speakin’ about love and gettin’ married. It always sounded so romantic and I wanted what they had.”
“And what is it ye think they had then, eh?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Well… love, of course.”
“Oh, sure. But love is such an ambiguous word. What is it ye really wanted that ye think the chambermaids had?”
She hesitated, then turned to him, her voice low. “I suppose… I always imagined they felt like bein’ wanted. Touched like it meant somethin’.”
His gaze lowered, tracing the curve of her mouth. “That sounds less like marriage and more like temptation.”
Her eyes glittered. “Maybe I wanted both.”
He let out a low breath, his voice turning rough at the edges. “Then I hope ye dinnae go practicin’ that kind of talk too freely. Ye’ll drive a man mad, speakin’ like that.”
“Would it be so terrible tae tempt ye, Struan?”
His hand flexed at his side. “Aye. Terrible,” he said, but his voice betrayed him. It came out too soft, too wanting. “Because I’d let ye dae it.”
A slow silence settled between them, warm and thick. Her fingers brushed his arm, enough to make his breath catch. She didn’t pull away.
