Stolen Vows (14 page)

“Nae,” they replied in unison.

“I dinna suppose ye would care to enlighten me?” he said, casting them each a surprisingly indulgent smile. 

Roan wasn’t sure if he had permission to speak yet, or if Graem was still questioning Isla.  However, Isla seemed just as disinclined to begin an explanation as he was, so silence reigned for a full minute. 

“Well, let me ask a few questions. Perhaps that will prove more fruitful. Mistress Isla,” he said, turning his eyes to the young woman.  “Have ye any reason to believe that there is a danger of yer war captain brother, dear as nae doubt he is to ye, cutting a path through my MacRae men to rescue ye from our most terrible clutches?”

Isla blinked several times before answering.  “Nae, Laird MacRae, absolutely none.”

“Ian MacRae was somewhat instrumental in bringing about our marriage,” Roan added, unable to keep his voice wholly neutral as he remembered the other man.

“How… interesting,” Graem murmured to himself, but he didn’t press the matter any further.  “So the Camerons approve of this marriage then?” Graem asked, looking again at Isla.

“Aye,” she replied carefully.  At the Laird’s skeptical gaze she added: “That is, they want nae harm to come from it.”

“Well, that is a comfort.  It eases my mind considerably,” he sighed, sinking a little further back into his chair.

Roan leaned forward in contrast, casting a worried gaze at his Laird and mentor.  Graem was weaker than Roan had seen him in a long while. The younger man’s face fell into a very anxious frown.

“There is one other issue I need to raise though,” the old Laird coughed.

“Only the one, sir?” Roan asked. 

Graem smiled.  “Roan, I only need to delve into those affairs of yers that I fear might have some negative impact on the clan,” he said.  He looked as though he was still deeply curious to know what had induced his tanist to marry the Cameron laird’s niece, although his smirking smile hinted at the answer he had privately settled on.  

Regardless, Roan could hardly dare to believe their luck.  Graem
wasn’t
going to press them for a full explanation?  Of course, there was still his mother to deal with, but - “Ye said that there was something else” Roan frowned mildly.

“Aye, lad.”  Graem’s expression turned dark.

“Without meaning any disrespect to yer young wife, Roan,” Graem sighed again heavily.  “I fear that many members of our clan will still see Mistress Isla as a Cameron.  Ye ken how eager I am to lay aside the old clan differences, Roan?” he pressed, to which Roan nodded slowly.  “But ye also ken the steps I have been trying to take have nae been well received.”

Roan nodded again.  He knew it all too well.  He himself had gone to Castle Cameron thinking that Graem’s talk of peace was nothing more than lunacy.  Yet here he was, only days later, with a Cameron wife. He glanced at Isla out of the corner of his eye.  It was startling how quickly she’d won him over.

“What - what does that mean for Roan?” Isla asked, her voice quiet and deeply worried.  Graem indulged her with an old man’s smile.

“It means that I am concerned for yer husband’s position of tanist, Mistress Isla.”

Roan stiffened instantly.  His hand, which was still holding Isla’s, clenched painfully around her fingers.  He had expected this, of course, but he had not been prepared to have it stated so bluntly.

“And what exactly, do ye mean by this?” Roan asked grimly.

“I mean only to point out the facts at this precise moment in time, Roan,” the Laird assured the tanist with a calming wave of his hand.  “I mean to take nae action until things are more settled.”

“But ye do mean to take some form of action?” Roan pressed. 

He had worked all his life to protect the interests of the clan.  He had fought. He had sacrificed. He had done all that was asked of him, and now everything that he had striven toward was in danger of being taken away.

“I hope nae to, Roan,” Graem sighed deeply.  “I love ye as if ye were my own son.  But ye ken as well as I do that the laird must have the respect of the clan to rule.”

“Aye,” Roan agreed.  He shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair.  “As ever, what ye say is only the truth, but -”

“Tis hard to hear?  I ken,” Graem looked kindly at both Roan and Isla.  “I am sorry yer welcome here could nae have been warmer, Mistress Isla, but we shall wait and see.” He coughed again, this time more fiercely. 

Roan got to his feet and found his Laird some water.  “Forgive us, we are agitating yer condition,” he said humbly.

Graem waved his concern aside.  “I’m stronger than I look,” he chuckled dryly, “but take yer lady off to supper, and leave me to worry about matters for tonight.”

..ooOOoo..

“Roan, I’m so sorry!” Isla blurted, the second they stepped out of the Laird’s dark chambers and into the corridor.  

“As ye said earlier, ye dinna ken I was the tanist,” Roan said coolly.

Isla bit her lip nervously.  “Are ye very angry?” It was a ridiculous question, but she couldn’t stop it from bubbling out. 

“Furious.”

Isla blanched.  “With me?”

“Nae,” Roan snarled, which was hardly an encouraging reply for his wife.

“Roan, I’m sorry,” she whispered again.  “Truly I am.  If ye want me to go -”

“Go?” Roan turned his head, finally looking at Isla.  He seemed to hesitate when he saw her face.  “Yer nae going anywhere,” he told her firmly.  “People may nae take it as badly as Graem supposes,” he added, but Isla could tell that he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

“Well, at least yer Laird dinna ask exactly why we had to get married,” she said softly, trying to find something positive in everything that had happened.

“Dinna he?” A cold voice interjected, making Isla jump.  Roan’s mother stepped out of a side corridor.  “How curious.  I think ye were going to fill
me
in on that detail, though?”

“Mother,” Roan nodded swiftly, saving his wife from having to give an immediate answer to her mother-in-law’s question.  “Isla and I were just going to supper; would ye care to join us?”

Isla fairly
prayed
that Lady MacRae had already eaten, or that she had a prior engagement, or just about
anything
to keep her from joining them.  However, Lady MacRae’s cool smile widened on her pinched, pale lips and she inclined her head.

“Aye, I think I shall, Roan,” she replied smoothly.  “We can finish the talk we were having earlier.”

Isla glanced up at her husband, a quiet panic in her eyes.  He took her arm, patted it gently, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to smile. 

Another guilty pang gripped Isla’s heart.  She was coming to realize that Roan was the last man on Earth she would want to hurt or cause trouble for, but she was doing both.  

“I see my son found ye something more suitable to wear,” Lady MacRae said, falling into step beside Isla.  Her lip curled in an irritated sneer when she found nothing in her daughter-in-law’s attire to criticize.  “He is so kind, although it can be something of a failing at times,” she added harshly.

Isla frowned at this mix of compliment and censure.  Roan seemed unruffled by it, but she was unwilling to let it pass.

“I think kindness a very admirable quality,” Isla said evenly.  “In fact, I -”

“Ye would, after benefitting from it as ye so obviously have,” Lady MacRae interrupted.

“The dining hall looks surprisingly full for this time of night,” Roan said, rather loudly, silencing both his mother and his wife as they entered the Great Hall.

“Nae doubt they’re all interested in seeing yer wife,” Lady MacRae snorted.  “The castle has been
buzzing
with the news since yer arrival.”

“Has it?” Roan growled.  He glanced pointedly at his mother.  “How do ye suppose
that
started?”

“Roan Davis MacRae! 
Dinna
look at me in that manner, and
do nae
raise yer voice,” Lady MacRae huffed, raising herself to her full stature and somehow managing the impossible feat of looking down at her son.  “If ye arrive at the castle with foreign women and secrete them in yer private chambers, what is a mother supposed to say in explanation of yer actions?”

Roan simply sighed heavily and decided not to answer.  He led both women through the large dining hall to the high table, where the Laird and his family sat to eat.  Isla could
feel
the unnatural stillness that seeped into the room as everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at her with suspicious eyes.

Roan helped the ladies to their seats before sitting down at the table between them.  Isla expected to be attacked at any moment.  The MacRae’s could hardly have been more obvious about watching every move that she made.  However, Roan’s fierce scowl kept everyone at bay, for the time being.

“Well now,” Lady MacRae said as she began picking at her food.  “Ye were telling me about yer marriage?”

“
Were
we?” Roan growled, violently spearing a piece of meat with his fork.

“Roan, ye really must stop all of this nonsense!” Lady MacRae snapped.  “Yer acting most peculiarly!  I’m in half a mind to ask if yer even my son!  What I’m asking is hardly unreasonable!” Her voice grew steadily louder until it seemed to echo around the hall. Each word sliced through the air like it was being cut with a knife.  Isla had to agree that her mother-in-law’s questions were fair.  She wished that she and Roan had the time, and had been in a proper state of mind, to concoct an explanation.

“Twas my fault, Lady MacRae,” Isla blurted suddenly. 

Roan’s fork clattered against his plate.  A smug smile spread across her mother-in-law’s face.

“Nae, it -”

“Well, I expected that much of course,” Lady MacRae said, speaking over her son.  “Come now, explain yerself, my dear,” she said in a dangerously silky voice.  “What did ye do?”

Isla licked her lips.  They were suddenly very dry. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make matters even worse? 

“I fell in love with yer son, Milady,” Isla said in a rush. 

She didn’t dare look at Roan, and she didn’t allow herself to think too hard on the words, afraid that she might find more than a grain of truth among them. Lady MacRae however, did not appear in the least pleased by this announcement.  Her sharp eyes narrowed threateningly.

“Ye
what
?” she hissed.

“I fell in love with yer son,” Isla repeated quietly.  Every time she spoke the words, they felt more true.

“And Roan?” Lady MacRae spat.  “Are ye in love with this
Cameron
girl?”

Isla interjected quickly, not allowing Roan the chance to speak.  She didn’t think she could bear to hear him deny that he loved her. 

“Roan performed a great service for me.  Twas a trifle to him I’m sure, but it made such an impression on my young heart that it seemed very natural to fall in love with the man who had rendered it,” Isla gushed, reddening furiously as she spoke.

“But if, as ye claim, this
affection
was not returned, how is it that yer his wife?” Lady MacRae snorted bitterly.

Isla bit her lip and steadied her hands. She reminded herself of what she was trying to achieve, to make Roan look as free from blame as was possible and to make herself appear, if not blameless, then hopefully only innocently foolish.