Stolen Vows (24 page)

It was his fault.

If only he had found her sooner – or never given her cause to run away! 

Roan groaned deeply and buried his head in his hands.  If anything happened to Isla because of his stupidity he would never forgive himself. 

A quiet knock on the door roused Roan’s attention.  He was about to holler “enter” but realized just in time that it might disturb his wife, so instead he got to his feet and hurried over to the door. He opened it up to find Liane standing in the hall, bundled up in her nightdress, a thick coat, a pair of clogs and a ridiculous hat.  Roan stared and her for a moment, before beckoning her to enter.

“What’s amiss, master?” Liane asked. Her voice was breathless with a kind of morbid excitement.

“Yer mistress has caught a chill -” Roan prayed it was nothing worse, “- I need yer help tending her.  Do ye understand, Liane?”

Liane nodded.  The young lines of her face were knitted in a most concerned frown, which Roan found rather charming. He only hoped that Isla would have more of an opportunity to appreciate Liane when she recovered.

..ooOOoo..

It was hot.  So hot.  Wasn’t it nearly winter?  Why was it so hot? 

To Isla, it felt as if she was sitting (or was she lying?) by a roaring fire, in her thickest dress, on the hottest day in the middle of summer.  But as soon as she would find herself getting used to the heat, it went like night falling over a desert, and she began to shiver.  She shook with the cold. Her bones ached. Her teeth chattered.  She wanted her dear mama, who would rock her in her arms when she was sick, and who sang a soft sweet lullaby over her bed every night.

“Mama?” she puffed, as her blood began to burn again.  Mother would take the hurt away.

“Isla?  Isla - can you hear me?  You’re going to get better, you have to! I can’t do without you now.”

The voice… the voice belonged to a man.  Oh - but who?  It was so hard to think in the dark, in the dark hot-cold mist she was lost inside.  It wasn’t her father, it wasn’t her brothers either…
who
was it?  A hand was laid against her forehead, steady and warm, and Isla relaxed a little.  She recognized the touch, even if her head hurt too much to place the voice.

..ooOOoo..

Roan was frantic.

He and Liane had nursed Isla through the night, but it was midmorning now and her fever still showed no signs of breaking.  She hadn’t even been able to recognize them -
him
.  She had called out for her mother several times, a woman Roan understood to have passed away when Isla was no more than a little girl.  He had sat talking to her for hours, and yet she hadn’t once whispered
his
name.  Roan didn’t want to examine to deeply the very great hurt that omission had caused him.

He held Isla’s hand and continued to talk to her, promising her the world if only she would get better soon.  A knock on the chamber door roused his attention, but could not induce him to leave his wife’s bedside.  Liane bustled over to see who it was.  She opened the door and was met with a loud:
Now what has that brother of mine gone and done?

Roan twisted on his chair.  “Bridghe!” he exclaimed, looking over the woman who had just come marching into the room. 

She had the same hair and eyes as her brother.  Like him she had inherited a good portion of their father’s height, so that she fairly towered over Liane, the little maid.  Hearing her brother’s voice, she turned towards him, opening her mouth to scold (judging by the scowl on her lovely face) but she stopped short.

“Roan, ye look awful!” she gasped, and then her eyes fell on the woman lying in the bed and her worried frown deepened.

“Fever,” Roan said hopelessly.

Bridghe walked nearer to the bed and looked over Isla more closely.  “Has Shaw been to see her?” she asked softly.

“Aye,” Roan nodded.  The castle healer had been summoned as soon as it was light, but he hadn’t been a great deal of help.  “He said there was naught to do but wait.”

Bridghe huffed at this and began to roll up her sleeves.  “Well, I dinna see how
that’s
true,” she swelled indignantly.

“Bridghe -”

“Dinna worry little brother. We’ll set your bonnie Cameron wife to rights,” she smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder before beginning to order Liane about.  The maid dashed off instantly, always eager to useful.

“
That’s
really why ye came is it?” Roan growled.

“Nae, I dinna ken she was sick -”

“- to give yer version of mother’s lecture?” Roan interrupted harshly.  Bridghe paused in what she was doing and placed her hands on her hips.  She gave him such a look that Roan felt quite contrite.  “Sorry, Bridghe,” he mumbled.

His sister sighed.  “To be honest, I was a bit curious about why she tried to run,” she gave her brother an appraising look.  “That can wait until she’s better though.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s back at least,” Bridghe said with a grin.  She looked from her brother to his wife, who still retained a pale shadow of her beauty even in sickness.  “I dinna want her to get away. Ye’ll have the bonniest wee bairns, ye ken!” she announced happily, for which Roan really did have a response.

He wasn’t actually sure what Bridghe was doing as she bustled around, but the flurry of activity she created made Roan feel somehow better; at least it felt like they were doing
something
to help Isla.

..ooOOoo..

“Ye should go see the men and make yerself useful.”

Roan rolled his eyes.  Bridghe had been harping on at him to go work for hours.    He didn’t want to leave his wife’s sickbed.

“Yer still the tanist ye ken, Roan,” Bridghe sighed wearily.  “Ye have responsibilities.”

“Isla is my responsibility,” Roan growled, in a tone of voice that did not brook opposition.  Bridghe, however, was his sister, his older sister at that, and not one to be intimidated into biting her tongue just because Roan had snarled a few words at her.

“Roan, if she wakes and yer nae here I’ll send Liane to fetch ye immediately,” Bridghe pleaded.

Roan looked up at his sister from where he was sitting.  He didn’t know how to explain, without sounding like an idiot at any rate, how desperately he didn’t want to leave Isla’s side, not even for a second.  What if she called for him?  What if she woke up and he wasn’t there?  She’d think that he’d abandoned her - that he hadn’t cared enough to stay!  Something of his feelings must have shown themselves on his face however, because Bridghe nodded reluctantly.

“Oh - all right,” she agreed.  “But at least write Laird MacRae a note?  I can take it to him myself and explain what’s happened,” Bridghe said, offering a compromise, which Roan quickly agreed to.

He wrote Graem a quick apologetic note, begging his understanding, and promising to assume his full mantel of responsibilities just as soon as he was able.

“Nae that it will matter,” he grumbled, sealing the letter with a blob of wax, “if I’m stripped of the position.”

“Dinna say that, Roan,” Bridghe said, sharply and swiftly.  “Yer the best tanist we could possibly have.  Everyone with half a brain kens that!” she continued fervently.

“Ah, but ye have to say that,” Roan chuckled slightly, smiling for the first time in what felt like days, as he handed the letter over to his sister and watched her out of the room.

“
Roan!
”

Roan started, and jumped off his chair.  The smile slid from his face as he leaned over the mattress.  Isla was thrashing around and gasping his name.

“Isla?  Isla!” he called.  “Can ye hear me, lass?”  He gently laid his hands on her shoulders, to keep her from jerking around and hurting herself.

“
Roan?
” she breathed, but still in her feverish voice, still without actually realizing that he was there, holding her.

“Tis all right, Isla,” Roan murmured softly, conflicting feelings chasing each other through his heart.  He was devastated by the fact that she was still unaware of him, and yet he couldn’t contain a guilty thrill of pleasure that she’d finally started to call for him.  “I’m here, lass,” he whispered, brushing Isla’s hair away from her burning skin.

Perhaps it was only coincidence, or his own wishful thinking, but Roan was sure that Isla relaxed a little as he gently stroked the backs of his fingers over her cheek.  He then moved his hand to once again catch hold of her own, when she had stilled and slipped back into peaceful unconsciousness.

..ooOOoo..

Isla couldn’t remember the last time that she had felt so terribly ill!  Every movement she made caused her whole body to ache.  She took shallow little breaths to limit the moving of her chest, and it took an age for her to work up the stamina to just open her eyes.

The first thing -
person
she saw was Roan.  Isla’s heart skipped a beat.  It gave a little joyous trip and then seemed to pulse with renewed vigor.  Had he been sitting with her all along?  Isla wasn’t certain how long she had been lying in bed, but Roan certainly looked like he’d been sat with her for a good long while.

She licked her dry lips, though it did little good as her mouth was also parched.  She waited a few moments before disturbing her husband however; he seemed to be dozing, and she wanted to study him undisturbed for a second.  He looked exhausted and his clothes were rather rumpled, his skin looked pale and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Isla had thought she’d heard - but no, it had to be a dream.  She had
dreamed
that Roan was with her, saying the most wonderful things, promising never to leave her, promising her that everything would be all right… telling her that he needed her and that he couldn’t live without her.

Well, Roan
was
here with her, but that didn’t mean he had said all or any of the things that Isla believed she’d heard.

“Roan?” she croaked. 

It was the tiniest, rasping little noise, barely louder than a mouse’s squeak, but Roan’s eyes snapped open instantly, panicked at first, but then they fell on Isla’s face and his gaze locked with hers.  Isla couldn’t quite decipher the expression in his grey-blue eyes.  There was a great swell of relief, but something else, some emotion that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Oh, thank God,” Roan groaned, rising out of his chair so that he could shuffle closer to the bed.  “Isla, can ye hear me now, lass?  How are ye feeling?” he breathed. 

Isla tried to answer, but her throat was too dry.  Roan quickly got her a glass of water from the jug Liane had left nearby, and helped her to drink a few sips.  He sagged in relief when he felt his wife’s skin and found that her fever had broken.

“Ye gave us quite a scare, missy,” he sighed setting the glass aside when Isla had drank enough.

“Us?” she croaked, trying to sit up by ultimately failing. 

Isla slumped back against her pillows where she was resolved to stay.  However, seeing that she’d been trying to prop herself up, Roan reached for her and gently helped her into a more comfortable position.  She marveled once again that a man so large and powerful could be so exquisitely gentle.

“Aye, us,” Roan nodded, when he’d finished.  “Liane and Bridghe were here all day.  Bridghe only went home because I threatened to call the guards and have her escorted out of the castle if she dinna go home to her own family,” he smiled a little.  “And Liane should be back once she’s had some supper.”

“Bridghe is back?” Isla murmured.