Page 65 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
He nodded as if he understood. “Mairi said she kept ye busy.”
She flashed him a wry grin. “Aye. That she did,” Isolde agreed. “She showed me all around the castle and grounds. And we had a lovely lunch together. I’m quite fond of her.”
“She seems quite fond of ye as well.”
They passed the door to the hall that held the hidden passage. She tried to keep herself from looking at it, but Isolde’s eyes felt drawn to it anyway. She cut a quick glance at it, then felt Struan’s gaze on her, so she forced her gaze away from it and stared straight ahead. They finally made it to her chamber door, and she turned to him, putting a smile on her face she knew didn’t reach her eyes.
“Thank ye fer walkin’ me back,” she said.
He nodded. “Of course,” he replied. “So, I’ll see ye in the mornin’?”
“Aye. In the mornin’.”
“Perhaps after our noon meal, we can take a walk,” he said gently. “I think we should talk.”
Isolde swallowed hard and nodded. “Aye. That’d be nice.”
The lie slipped from her lips so easily, Isolde felt her cheeks burning in shame. Struan’s eyes lingered on hers for a long moment, as if he could hear the lie in her words. But instead of calling her out on it, he nodded.
“Well, see ye tomorrow,” he said.
“Aye. I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”
He continued to stand before her, looking deeply into her eyes as the energy between them crackled with an intensity that raised goosebumps all over Isolde’s body. She wanted to invite him in. Wanted to give herself to him one more time, but she knew doing that would only make things more complicated and difficult than they already were.
“Goodnight,” she said softly.
“Aye. Goodnight.”
Isolde’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer, as if she was trying to burn the image of Struan into her memory forever. With a nod, she forced herself to turn away and slipped into her bedchamber, closing the door behind her. Isolde’s heart was thundering in her ears, as she turned and pressed her back against the door, trying to quell the waves of pain and grief that battered her. In some ways, it felt like she was leaving part of herself behind to die and was mourning the loss.
Isolde hadn’t bothered to undress. She’d simply laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, her pulse racing, and a wild energy churning in her belly. She waited until the small hours, expecting that by the time she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got to her feet, everybody in Achnacarry would be asleep.
There were night sentries, of course, but with the secret passageway Mairi had shown her, Isolde didn’t expect to run into any of them since their attention would be focused on the gates at that time of the night.
Isolde pulled her pack out from beneath the bed and checked all the contents inside—everything she’d brought with her. It wasn’t much but it would suffice for a few days. Long enough for her to put some distance between her and Achnacarry.
Perhaps once she got someplace safe, she would send a missive to her father to draw his attention away from Struan’s lands and set him to pursuing her again, rather than focusing ondestroying Struan and his clan. She didn’t know if it would work, but it was all she could do.
She tied her pack and hefted it over her shoulders. After getting it settled, she grabbed her cloak from the peg by the door and slipped it on as well. Isolde put her hand on the door and took a calm, steadying breath.
“Courage, lass,” she said to herself. “Courage.”
The door squeaked sharply as it opened, the sound echoing around the stone walls of the corridor. She winced and stepped out, looking left and right. The hallway remained clear. Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, Isolde darted through the winding corridors and stepped into the hall Mairi had shown her. It was cold and dark inside. Empty. She stepped over to the familiar tapestry beside the portrait of Rhona and felt a quiver run through her heart.
She stared at the rich, woven cloth for a long moment, trying to quell the torrent of questions that reverberated through her mind. There was part of her that wanted to stay, to be with Struan. And it screamed loudly in her head right now, trying to convince her that she’d found a home. Another part of her mind, the logical one, argued the opposite.
Her hand trembled as she pushed the tapestry aside and reached into the hollow. Not giving her mind a chance to sabotage her any further, she pulled the lever. The click of the latch popping and the scrape of stone as the secret door opened seemedimpossibly loud in the silence. Fear, thick and warm, flowed through her veins and she felt herself wavering.
“Tis now or never,” she whispered to herself.
Swallowing the hard lump that had risen in her throat, Isolde stepped toward the darkness of the opening. Before she could reach the stairs though, she was pulled backward and a hand clamped over her mouth. Her scream was muffled, and she squirmed in the grasp of her unseen attacker. Isolde thrashed and fought for all she was worth, but the arm around her waist and the hand over her mouth held her fast.
“Quiet, lass,” said a deep, gruff voice behind her.
Tears spilled from the corners of eyes that had grown wider than saucers as a bright bolt of fear exploded inside of her.
CHAPTER 28
