Page 77 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
I am afraid I will lose ye.
He raised his eyes to hers, holding her gaze firmly, and she saw the complex mélange of emotions roiling inside of them.
“If somethin’ happens tae me, if I dinnae come back…”
“Dinnae say that,” she cut him off sharply. “Ye’re goin’ tae come back tae me.”
His smile was wan. “Aye. I’m plannin’ on it,” he said. “But if fer some reason I dinnae, I just want—nay, I need ye tae ken that ye’ve changed everythin’ fer me. Ye’ve changed me. I’m a better man because of ye. Nay matter what happens, I want ye tae ken that ye’ve changed me entire world, Isolde.”
She pulled him closer to her and buried her face in his neck as waves of fear battered her insides. She knew he would be marching off to battle soon, but never in her wildest fears hadshe considered the idea that he would not be returning to her. On some level she thought he was invincible. Or perhaps she had simply deluded herself into thinking he was.
“I love ye, Isolde,” he said. “I never kent I could feel the way I feel about ye. And I want ye tae ken I’m grateful fer ye.”
“When—nae if—ye come back tae me, ye can tell me this all again.”
They clung together in the water, holding each other tight. Isolde felt foolish for having never considered the idea that Struan would not return to her after the fight. But now that he’d put it in her head, she couldn’t stop thinking about it and it sent jagged blades of pain slicing through her heart.
As she gazed at him deeply, she thought she saw a grim look of acceptance and appreciation in his eyes, as if this might be among their last handful of moments together.
CHAPTER 34
Isolde was not sure what woke her up. When she opened her eyes, everything seemed as usual—her clothes were where she’d left them before going to bed; the fire was dying slowly and gave the cold room little heat; the windows were closed.
She tried to close her eyes again, but something nagged her at the back of her mind and she reached to feel Struan’s side of the bed—cold and empty for the second night in a row. She’d bid Struan goodbye two days before—one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do in her entire life—as he and his men had marched on Cluny House. He’d left but a handful of his soldiers behind to guard the castle.
Is Struan well? They should have reached Cluny House yesterday.
She tried not to dwell on the negative thoughts and looked around the empty darkness again, her eyes locked on the last embers in the hearth.
Lulling herself back into sleep, she was just beginning to dream again when she was suddenly jolted awake by the sound of the door to her bedchamber bursting open. It crashed into the stone wall behind it with a thunderous boom that pulled her from sleep. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, she sat up and a sharp crack filled her ears a moment before her face exploded in pain. The force of the blow knocked her back down to the bed, but she was immediately yanked up by the hair. Isolde cried out which earned her another vicious slap across the face.
“Stop!” she cried.
The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth and as her eyes cleared, she found herself staring into the cruel eyes of her father, his face twisted with rage. Her heart stopped dead in her chest, and she trembled wildly as her stomach began to churn. With another merciless yank on her hair, Murdoch threw her back down to the bed. Isolde curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut, willing this all be a terrible dream.
“Get up,” he snarled in disgust. “Get up and put on some clothes, ye filthy ingrate.”
Her father’s voice echoed in her ears, drawing tears from her eyes. Her face still stung from where he’d slapped her and her cheek was raw, the blow causing her to bite the inside of it hard. She shook her head and tried to parcel out what had happened and how he’d come to be standing in her bedchamber. It seemed impossible and yet… there he was, standing on the other side of the room, his face dark and twisted with rage, his hands balled into fists.
“Get up,” he hissed. “Ye dinnae want me tae yank ye out of that bleedin’ bed.”
How did he manage tae enter the keep? Is Struan alright? Has me faither managed tae capture him?
Did her father’s men kill every guard till they reached her chambers?
Isolde gave herself a shake and banished the thought. Murdoch’s presence had nothing to do with Struan, she was sure.
“Dinnae make me tell ye again, Isolde. Get up,” her father growled. “Did ye think I would leave things as they were? That I wouldnae seek revenge? I kenned yer damned savior would go and play a hero yet again, rescuing his braither.”
Realization downed on Isolde. “Ye sent the letter on purpose.”
“Of course, I did. And then I waited and struck when Struan did that exact thing, he shouldn’t have done—he left with his soldiers, leaving yeunattended.”
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Isolde got up and turned to him, fear twisting her insides painfully, but she glared at him, raising her chin in defiance.
“And ye came in the middle of the night like… like a coward, instead of facing Struan,” she said thankful that her voice didn’t waver.
He closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye and delivered a vicious backhand that dropped Isolde to her hands and knees. She pressed a hand to her cheek, that burned with pain but willed her tears away. She would not give him that. She would not let him see her cry or weak. Slowly, she got back to her feet and stared him in the eye.
