Stolen Vows (20 page)

The look in her eyes would haunt Roan forever.  The things that he’d spat at her echoed in his head.  He’d been
so
cruel, because in those moments, when he seemed to have been driven by madness, Roan had feared that none of it was real - that everything he thought he’d read in her face was a lie.  He’d made himself vulnerable, and been made a fool of - or that was what he’d thought, feared, and now he would give anything and everything to take it back.

I hate you
. 

He hated himself too, but hearing Isla spit those words at him when he’d been longing for weeks to hear her confess the complete opposite had nearly killed him.

Roan didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t wander around the castle all night, and yet he didn’t know if he could worked up the courage to go back to Isla.  It was cowardly, but in the end, he simply kept walking until he was outside in the moonlit courtyard.

“Someone looks lonely,” purred a voice from the shadows.

Roan tensed and glanced over his shoulder.  Morag emerged from the black hollow of a doorway.  He wondered whom she’d been waiting for, and then realized he didn’t much care.  When Morag had been ‘his woman’ – as loosely as that term applied – he’d made sure that she broke off her arrangements with other men.  It wasn’t that he had feelings for her.  He simply didn’t share.  Now Roan realized that he didn’t give a damn if Morag bestowed her ‘favors’ on the entire MacRae clan.

“Evening, Morag,” he drawled, trying to keep a respectable distance from the woman, just in case anyone saw them together.

“Roan,” she simpered, tossing her hair over her shoulder and inching her way closer.  “I have nae seen ye lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” he muttered, knowing that he should make it clear to Morag that she hadn’t seen him because he didn’t want to see her. 

“Busy?” Morag repeated, fluttering her eyelashes and trailing a finger over Roan’s chest.  He had to fight hard against the urge to brush her hand away.  “You canna be busy
all
the time surely?” she whispered coyly.  “I miss ye, Roan.  Ye always were my favorite,” she murmured thickly. 

Roan caught Morag’s hand as it started to drift lower, edging towards the laces of his breeches.  “I may have a free afternoon coming up,” he said slowly, dropping her hand, slightly appalled by the way Morag’s face lit up with barely contained glee.

“The Cameron lass nae quite to yer taste?” she smirked.  Roan clenched his hands into fists to keep from throttling the woman.  Morag seemed to sense his displeasure because she took a swift backwards step.  “Well, I’ll hope to see ye later then, Roan,” she promised, flashing him the slow, sultry smile that used to make him burn, but which now left him cold, before turning and flouncing back off into the night.

..ooOOoo..

Isla wasn’t asleep when Roan returned, but she pretended to be.  She listened to him pad quietly around the room, obviously making an effort not to disturb her.  She waited, with her eyes tightly shut, for the mattress to give as he crawled into bed beside her, but she waited in vain.

What did that mean?
  Isla wondered fearfully. 

Despite her refusal to talk to her husband earlier she had missed him once he was gone. She opened her eyes a crack, puzzled when she saw Roan blow out the candles and settle into a chair.  He wasn’t going to sleep in the same bed as her?  She bit her lip and swallowed a sigh, he wasn’t going to sleep in the same bed as a whore, was that the problem?

She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.  Tears gathered in her eyes and slipped silently down her cheeks.  Isla wished so much that she could start the whole day over again.  She didn’t believe that things would ever be the same between her and her husband.

She’d said that she hated him, but she hadn’t meant it.  She couldn’t hate him, not even now - not when she considered everything he’d done for her.  Had that all been lies though?  Had he told her what she wanted to hear to ease a situation he couldn’t change? 
Perhaps that was what had caused this evening’s explosion of anger?
Isla considered.

Isla might not hate him, but Roan very clearly hated her.  She was convinced that he thought of her as nothing more than a Cameron: a vile, worthless woman, who was good for nothing apart from warming his bed.  She couldn’t live like that.  She was already despised by the entire castle, but it was bearable because she thought that Roan wanted her. Now that it was clear he didn’t, there was no reason to stay.

She would leave.  She didn’t know where she’d go, or what she’d do, but Isla couldn’t stay at Erchlochy Castle under these conditions. 

She lay perfectly still and waited for the hours to crawl by.  Roan was a fairly light sleeper, but she hoped to sneak out of the room without waking him.  It would be even more humiliating to tell him that she was leaving and not even have him try to stop her!  Just imagining his relief when he discovered her gone was enough to break Isla’s already shattered heart into even smaller pieces.

She slipped out of bed just before dawn broke, shucking her soiled nightgown and then dressing as quickly and quietly as she could manage without Liane’s help. 

She couldn’t resist stealing a last glance at her husband before she left.  He looked so handsome, so powerful, sleeping in the chair.  Isla found herself worrying that he’d catch a chill or that he’d wake with a bad neck, and then she sternly told herself not to be so ridiculous. She knew that he would never worry about her.

Isla stopped herself before she lingered too long.  Her thoughts were broken dreams and nothing more.  She stepped out of the room, and didn’t look back.

..ooOOoo..

Roan was confused when he began to stir the next morning.  He reached for Isla, only to wake with a jerk and find that he was sitting in one of his fireside armchairs.  He tried to massage the crick out of his neck and struggled to remember why he wasn’t in bed with his wife.  

Roan glanced over his shoulder towards the bed.  He had felt awful before, but the sight that met his eyes made his heart clatter to a stop.  Isla was gone.  The blankets were in a rumpled mess, but there was no sign of his wife.  Roan’s eyes darted fruitlessly around the room.  He jumped to his feet, and walk over to the bed, cursing when he felt that the sheets were already cool to the touch.

“Isla?” He called, not really holding out hope for an answer. 

Roan searched the room, but couldn’t find that anything was missing.  That put his mind slightly at ease.  She won’t run away without any money or supplies - would she?  He remembered Isla’s attempt to run away from Castle Cameron and was suddenly less certain.

She could just be wandering the castle alone.  Roan clung to that idea.  She
had
to still be at Erchlochy Castle!  He bolted from the room, still dressed in the clothes that he’d slept in, and started to search for his wife.

No one had seen her.  Roan wasted an hour rushing up and down corridors, poking his head into chambers and generally annoying the other residences of the castle.  It was looking less and less likely that Isla was somewhere inside and more and more likely that she really had left. 

She wouldn’t have run from him would she?

..ooOOoo..

Although she left her bedchamber fully resolved to walk the whole long back to the Cameron’s, Isla’s resolve began to crumble before she even made it to the front door of the castle.  Outside, the roosters were crowing and Isla’s stomach was making a loud demand for breakfast.  She had barely slept the night before and her whole body felt weary.  The thought of travelling the long, lonely road was almost too much to bear.

Besides, Isla couldn’t help but think of the last time she had attempted such a foolish mission.  There was no way to guess how long she would have sat on the roadside alone and injured if Roan hadn’t found her and carried her home.

Roan
… Isla ached at the mere thought of his name. Her dream that they might patch together a happy marriage was shattered.  Still, he was dear to her.  She felt as though he was tethered to her heart. Every step she took away from him was harder than the last, her desire for the warm smile and strong arms that she remembered trying to pull her back into his bed.

If only Gara were here
.  Isla longed for the opportunity to unburden herself to a friend.

Bridghe
.

Isla’s whole body slumped in relief when she realized that there was
one
person, at least, who might be willing to hear her troubles. True, the woman was Roan’s sister, but she had acknowledged his faults readily enough in the past.  If nothing else, she could be counted on for a smile and some understanding.

Isla felt much lighter as she slipped through the castle gates and turned toward the tidy village just outside the walls.  She had made the trip to her sister-in-law’s house so many times that her feet followed the path by memory, allowing Isla to remain lost in her thoughts as she walked.

Surely Bridghe would know how to make things right?  She had a husband of her own, and she had known Roan her entire life.  She would know exactly what Isla should do to convince Roan that she had never intended to spy.

Isla had so much faith in her friend’s wisdom that she had almost managed a smile by the time she knocked on the cottage door.  The expression froze on her face, however, when the door swung open.

“L - lady MacRae,” Isla blurted in shock when she was confronted by the shrewd, appraising gaze of her mother in law. “What are ye doing here?”

“Well, I might ask the same of ye,” Lady MacRae fired back, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Rather early to be out wandering the roads, I’d say.”

“I was hoping to speak with Bridghe.”  Isla said.  Too late, she remembered that Bridghe had gone with her husband to tend to business with a neighboring clan and had left their children in the care of their grandmother.  “I…had some words with Roan,” Isla blurted after an awkward silence.

Lady MacRae looked delighted.  “Well, my boy has come to his senses at last.  Tossed ye out, has he?”

Isla wanted to deny the cruel words, but they were too close to the truth.

Isla opened her mouth to deny it, but her expression gave her away.  Tears glimmered at the rims of her eyes and she bit her lip to keep them at bay.

To Isla’s shock, the older woman’s expression softened.  “Ah, lass. There’s nae call for tears.  Ye knew that it was to be expected?   Yer a bonnie thing, ‘tis true, but a pretty face can only distract a man from his duties for so long.”

Isla nodded, still wordless.

“Twould be best,” the Lady MacRae continued, requiring no input from Isla, “If ye left quietly.  There’s been enough talk already.  Ye ken that this situation has nearly cost Roan his place as tanist?  He’s meant to be the Laird when my brother, God bless him, passes.”

A bittersweet smile settled on Isla’s lips.  She had almost forgotten how precarious her husband’s position was.  Lady MacRae was right.  It
was
better if she went away.

“I dinna have any way to get home,” Isla said.  She had a vague notion of returning to Castle Cameron with her brother
if
they were even still coming, but that might be weeks, and she had no place to go in the meantime.

“Well, I can see to that,” the older woman said.  “There’s another village just over the hill yonder,” she gestured into the woods. “The Murphys trade there and with yer people too.  It should be easy to find someone willing to take ye.  I reckon yer people would offer a tidy reward to them that brought ye home safely.”

Isla listened numbly as the woman described a shortcut in the woods.

“Is it far?” she asked in a small voice.  The sky was dark and she still had serious misgivings about travelling alone, but the longer that the older woman talked, the more Isla was convinced that she couldn’t return to the castle.

“Tisn’t a bit over two miles,” Lady MacRae promised, “just mind that ye follow my advice and cut through the forest at the first turn.  Tis a market day today, ye ken.  If ye hurry, ye might be on yer way home by tomorrow.”