He knew right then that his father was right. That there was one woman out there meant to be theirs and theirs alone and Islay was his.
She was never getting away from him again.
He went to his chambers, needing to think. To plan. Because before the week ended, she was going to be his and in his bed.
* * *
That night,Callum couldn't sleep. He felt restless and as if his skin didn't fit on his bones.
This wasn't unusual for him because of his scars, but this feeling was new.
He finally got out of bed, walking over to the window, and looking outside.
He heard someone walking quietly in the hall outside his rooms and making his way over to the door to open it, when he heard a gasp and something thump against his door.
He opened the door, shocked to find Islay there, fear written all over her face.
He looked up to see a huge man rushing him, and Islay screamed, “Watch out!”
Callum fought for his life, needing to grab his sword, and kept dodging the sword of the man who had come to kill him.
It hit him once, but it was just a scratch and Callum kept fighting.
He needed to get the man to back off, to make sure that Islay was safe.
He hated that she had been subjected to it, and fought hard, needing to kill the man.
He pretended to be hurt, causing his sword to drop, and Islay screamed, and threw her shoe at the man, catching him off-guard.
Callum retrieved his ‘dropped’ sword and running the man through.
When the man dropped to his knees, Callum confronted him, hearing how there were other people coming for him because they believed him to be weak.
That was nothing new. Assassins weren’t either. Callum slept with a dagger under his pillow for that reason.
He knew people believed him to be weak, but he never gave in to those rumors.
He had earned his right as Laird, and if people didn’t like it, then they could try, but so far, none had stepped forward to take his place.
The man died at his feet, and Callum walked over to Islay, “Ye needn’t be afraid of me lass. I apologize ye had ta see that.”
She shook her head, and he went on, “Are ye hurt? He didna touch ye did he?”
She shook her head again, “Ye saved me. I wished I warned ye sooner.”
“Ye couldn’t hae kenned he would come after me.”
She bit her lip, and he stepped closer to her, “Will ye finally tell me yer name lass?”
“Islay,” she whispered and Callum said, “Islay. As in Islay Brodie?”
He wanted to hear it confirmed by her, and she swallowed hard before she said, “Aye.”
He was still breathing hard from the fight, his chest bare, and blood trickling down a few of the cuts in his skin.
“Lass, what are ye doin’ here?”
She looked up at him, and then away. He stepped over to her, using his finger to make her look at him, “What are ye doin’ here lass?”