Page 56 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“’Tis me decision tae make?—”
“Ye said that marryin’ ye would be me decision tae make,” she said. “Ye said that ye’d honor and respect me decision.”
There was one thing Struan had not yet said and that was that he wanted to marry her because he wanted her. Because he wanted to marryher. And as she stared into his eyes, she realized again that she did not want to him to marry her because he felt obliged to or needed to keep her safe.
Isolde felt a stitch in her heart knowing he did not love her. The feeling was so sharp and intense, it stole her breath away, because in that moment, Isolde realized that she wanted to be with him because it was what her heart wanted.
But I cannae share me life with somebody who views me as a responsibility.
A tear spilled from the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away with a trembling hand. She sat up a straighter and raised her chin defiantly as she grappled with the emotions churning wildly inside of her.
Struan sighed and lowered his head for a moment before nodding. “Aye. And I’ll hold tae that. Just as I promised.”
Isolde’s eyes stung as they welled with tears. Struan reached out and with his thumb, brushed away the tear that spilled down her cheek.
The merest touch from him sent an electric thrill through her—which she quickly and ruthlessly stomped out. She could not afford to let herself feel such things.
“But I want ye tae ken that ye’re nae alone. Nae anymore,” he said passionately. “Yer faither is goin’ tae come one way or the other. Whether ye marry me or nae,” he said. “I can protect ye if ye let me, Isolde.”
“Me faither will rain hell down upon yer clan.”
“Like I said, he’s goin’ tae try tae dae it anyway,” he replied.
“How are ye so sure?” Isolde couldn’t help but ask.
“Because he’s tried already in the past…” Struan said and scrubbed a hand over his face. She could see pain in his eyes.
“We’ve been battlin’ yer faither over one thing or another fer years,” he continued. “Yer faither… he’s a brilliant tactician, I’ll give him that. He outmaneuvered me when I had just only come intae me Lairdship. Badly.”
He took a swallow of the ale and continued.
“Me older sister, Rhona… she was a warrior. She had incredible skill with a blade and was fierce,” he said with a trace of fond nostalgia in his voice. “She and I sparred often when I was younger.”
The memory made him smile. Struan deeply loved and respected his sister. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. She was glad he clung to the love he felt for his sister and that her death and his grief had not tainted every memory of her he held.
“Anyway,” he said, his smile fading. “Like I said, yer faither outmaneuvered me. That battle was the worst defeat I’ve ever had. It cost me… dearly. Because I got tae the field too late.”
His voice grew even thicker, and his eyes were red. Reaching out, she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I saw me sister from across the field. I could see she was in trouble,” he said. “I tried tae fight me way through the mass of the battle tae get tae her. But I was too late. I had tae watch as yer faither took me sister’s life. He saw me comin’ and kent I couldnae make it in time. He smiled at me, Isolde. He bleedin’ smiled at me when he did.”
Struan abruptly lowered his head, his face clouded over with emotion and his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. Isolde moved over the round table and pulled him into her arms, wrapping him in a warm embrace. Struan leaned into her, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. And when she pulled back, she could see the emotions swirling in his eyes. She reached up and brushed a thick lock of hair off his forehead and held his gaze.
“Sorry,” he said, swallowing hard. “I?—”
“Ye’ve naethin’ tae be sorry fer,” she replied. “I cannae imagine how painful that memory is fer ye tae carry. Is it why ye have the nightmares?”
Struan nodded and Isolde winced, knowing her words were inadequate. Worse than inadequate. They sounded hollow, even to her, and somewhat condescending. She wanted to kick herself.
“I’m sorry, Struan.”
He shook his head and looked at her, confusion on his face. “What dae ye have tae be sorry fer now. ‘Tis nae ye who did anythin’ wrong.”
“But ‘twas me faither. Me blood.”
“We cannae choose our family,” he said. “And I already ken how ye feel about yer faither. But that… what happened… ‘tis why I am the way I am and dae the things I dae.”
“What dae ye mean?”
