Stolen Vows (26 page)

“That soon?” Isla queried uncertainly. 

She
was
looking forward to seeing her brother and cousin, but she was still anxious about it too. She worried about what would happen when they arrived and whether her brother would pick up on the tension between Isla and her husband.  She didn’t even want to think about the other man rumored to be accompanying them.

“Aye,” Roan murmured, running a hand over his beard.  “That soon.”

“Why, do ye think?” Isla pressed softly, but her husband just shrugged his shoulders and got to his feet.

“Maybe Ian misses ye?” he teased with a small smile, but that quickly faded, and his wife wasn’t quite sure why.  “Well, we’d best get ready for them,” he sighed, and Isla nodded her head obediently.

..ooOOoo..

Two hours later, Roan was dressed and prepared to meet the Camerons, prepared to meet his brother-in-law, the man he feared had the power to take his wife away, and MacEantach, the man whose actions had first driven Isla into his arms.

The Laird wasn’t well enough to meet the Camerons in the courtyard, or even when they first entered the castle, they would have to be taken to his private chambers for that - so it was left to Roan as the MacRae’s tanist to welcome their guests.  Isla was with him, waiting and not saying a word, although she kept glancing around nervously.  There were a few other senior members of the clan, but not as many as would have been there, if the Camerons hadn’t brought forward their arrival time.

“Sir!  Sir!”  Roan’s nephew, Sorcha’s son came bounding into the hall.  “They’re here, Uncle Roan,” he whispered conspiratorially, once he was close enough to do so.

Roan chuckled and patted the boy on the head.  “Aye, I thought they might be, laddie.” 

The commotion in the courtyard outside had already rather given away the Camerons arrival.  Roan cast a glance towards Isla and then offered her his arm.  The relief he felt when she took it instantly, without hesitating or flinching, was immense.  He led her towards the great front doors of Erchlochy Castle, and then as lord and lady they waited to greet the coming party of familiar faces.

Roan swelled with pride when he reflected on how beautiful, how regal, Isla looked standing beside him.  None of the other man had dared say a word against her in his presence.  When she twisted her neck to glance up at him, Roan reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Twill be all right,” he murmured, not certain if he was speaking to reassure her or himself, as he looked out of the open doorway towards the three strapping men who were walking up the stone steps of the castle toward them. 

The Laird’s son, Donaid, was in front (Roan hadn’t seen his face before, but as he was the only one of the three men he didn’t know, and as he was leading the group, Roan made the assumption instantly).  He was following closely by Ian MacRae, and then finally flanked by Tavish MacEantach.

Roan’s hand balled into a fist at his side.  It was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from lunging forward and pummeling the third man.  He forced himself to relax however, to think of his clan, and not the offense wrought against his wife.

“Gentlemen,” Roan nodded his head in a slight bow and spoke when the three Cameron warriors were close enough to hear him.  “Welcome to Erchlochy Castle,” he said graciously.  “It has been a great many years since we’ve seen any Cameron visitors hereabout.”  He nodded again and introduced himself as the clan’s tanist.

“Aye, we ken who ye are, Roan MacRae,” Isla’s brother snorted wryly.  He was shot a disapproving glance from his older cousin, which he ignored.  “Who’s yer pretty wee wife?” he grinned.  “She’s far too bonnie to be a MacRae.”  Roan rolled his eyes, but beside him Isla giggled, and took a step forward to embrace her older brother.  “Oh wait, on closer inspection -” Ian pretended to reconsider, earning himself a light jab in the ribs from his sister.

Roan couldn’t temper the jealousy that flared in his heart on seeing Isla so completely at ease with another man.  Yes, it was her brother, and not a true rival for him to fight for her affections, but Roan loathed the easiness that simply existed between the two of them. 

One of the older clan members standing behind him cleared his throat pointedly and Roan remembered himself.  He formally introduced everyone present, reserving his hardest handshake and fiercest glare for MacEantach. 

Isla, Roan was relieved to see, seemed to be coping well with the whole ordeal.  She hadn’t faltered, she was keeping her head. Roan felt his love for her redouble.  He couldn’t -
wouldn’t
let these men take his wife away from him!  

“Nae doubt ye want to rest and refresh yourselves after yer journey,” Roan said to Donaid, and therefore by proxy to Ian and Tavish.

“Oh?” Donaid frowned.  “I thought the Laird -”

Roan opened his mouth, he was sure that the Camerons knew of the ailing state that Graem was in, but it seemed somehow disadvantageous to remind them of this fact the very second after their arrival.  He could barely believe his ears when Isla stepping in and rescued him.

“Donaid!” she exclaimed.  “Ye canna present yerself to Laird MacRae looking like that,” she said simply. 

Her cousin frowned.  “What’s wrong with the way -”

“Converted her into a good little MacRae wife already, have ye, Roan?” Tavish smirked.

Roan saw Isla flinch, and in consequence he felt his own tongue thicken clumsily with rage, so that it was actually Ian’s sharp:
careful Tavish, that’s still my sister you’re talking about
, which actually put the other man back in his place.

Roan reckoned up the offense however, stored it away with the greater crimes that MacEantach had committed and still needed to be punished for.  He vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to let Isla’s ex-fiancé live the rest of his life without paying for what he’d done.

Isla watched as her husband nodded for the Cameron men to be shown to their rooms.  Ian cast a questioning glance over his shoulder at her as he was ushered away, to which Isla mustered as bright a smile as she could manage. 

She was shaken from seeing Tavish, although she hoped that this fact wasn’t apparent to anyone else.  She deliberately avoided his gaze when he sought hers however, pretending to be absorbed in something that Roan was saying to one of his kinsmen.  She wasn’t actually listening to a word he was saying, so she started in surprise when he turned and addressed her.

“Thank ye,” he said, very simply, but so sincerely that Isla felt a genuine little smile bloom upon her face.  “Ye could nae have been more perfect,” her husband added quietly. 

Roan looked slightly awkward as he gave the compliment, but Isla couldn’t help but glow just a little.  He was proud of her.  She could see it in his eyes.  She felt her heart give a happy flutter, which was dampened, but not entirely stifled, by what Roan said next.

“I should go and tell Laird MacRae what’s happened,” he told her gently, giving her hand a light squeeze.  “But did ye want me to escort ye back to our rooms first?” he asked, and it seemed that he couldn’t stop himself from casting a dark look in the direction that Tavish had been led.

“Oh nae,” Isla said, shaking her head, watching distractedly as the other men who had been there to greet the small Cameron party dispersed.  “I’m sure tis nae necessary.”

“It would only take a minute -” Roan pressed anxiously.

“Roan, tis fine, really,” Isla said firmly. 

She had no intention of returning immediately to their rooms… she wanted to go and see her brother too much.  She didn’t know why, or what she would say, but the draw of seeing a friendly face, someone who loved her unconditionally, was strong.

Roan sighed his reluctant agreement.  Isla saw him watch her out of sight however, which meant that she had to wait until she was sure that he had gone before doubling back and heading towards that wing of the castle where she knew their guests were being installed.

She only prayed that she knocked on the correct door.  She didn't want to think of what might happen if she arrived at Tavish’s room by mistake.  

She couldn’t completely fight down the tremor of fear that griped her heart as she knocked on the door. She sagged in relief when her brother’s voice called for her to enter.

“Isla,” Ian’s face cracked into a wide grin as she opened the door and stepped inside the small, but comfortable room that her brother had been allocated.  “Yer looking well,” he said, slowly, as if he had expected her to look terrible.

“I am well,” Isla immediately assured him, which caused her brother to raise a wary eyebrow.  He marched across the room towards her, from where he had been standing by the window, and then pulled his sister into a fierce hug that nearly stole her breath (and cracked her ribs).

“Ye’d tell me if ye were nae, Carrot?” he demanded.

Isla didn’t know how to answer the question.  She and her brother had always been close, and Ian had always been protective of her, overly so at times, but that was all altered now.  She was Roan’s wife before she was Ian’s sister, Isla was slowly coming to realize, and while her brother’s presence was unarguably a comfort, she couldn’t look to him to fight her battles now.

“I’d tell ye if I was nae,” she assured him, hating that she was bending the truth.  “Now can ye let go of me before ye crush me to death?” she teased, poking her tongue out and struggling free of Ian’s tight bear hug.

“Oh aye, I like that!” Ian snorted, feigning an expression of deep offense.  “I ride half way across the country -”

“Tis hardly half way across the country!”

“- to make sure my baby sister is all right -” Ian continued, as if he hadn’t heard Isla’s interruption.  She quickly made another one:

“And I’m hardly a baby!”

“- and this is the thanks I get!” Ian finished, but there was absolutely no venom to his outburst.  As if to prove it, he patted Isla affectionately on the head (while she tried to bat his hands away in irritation) before flopping down on the soft double bed in the center of the room.

“
Thank ye
,” Isla pouted, hurrying over to the mirror to try and straighten the mess Ian had made of her hair.  Her brother chuckled, and was then silent for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“So?”

“So?” Isla echoed, casting a glance over her shoulder at the bed.  Ian rolled his eyes and sighed in a heavy, hard done by manner.

“So how have things been?” he asked, turning suddenly serious.  “Ye might try and write more often, ye ken,” he scolded.  “
One letter
father’s had of ye, he’s worrying himself gray.”

“He was already going grey before I left,” Isla pointed out, smiling slightly, but she did heed her brother’s censure.  “I’m sorry, I’ll write more often.”

Ian gave a grunt of appeasement.  “Roan’s treating ye well?” he pressed, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Ian,” Isla sighed, avoiding the question.  She hoped her brother wouldn’t realize that was what she was doing.  “Surely ye dinna ride ‘half way across the country’,” she said, mimicking him, “to try and pick a quarrel with my husband?”

“Of course!  If it’s warranted,” Ian nodded firmly. 

Isla groaned and threw her hands in the air.  “Yer
nae
to cause any problems, Ian!” she told him firmly, poking a violent finger in his direction.  “I’ve worked very hard to try to get the people here to accept me and -”

“And how’s that going?” Ian asked, his voice becoming gentler.

Isla hesitated.  “Slowly,” she confessed honestly.  “But I think I am making progress,” she added hurriedly.

Ian nodded.  “I’m really proud of how yer handling all of this, Isla,” he said warmly.  And Isla knew then that it would be absolutely impossible to confess the truth. 
She
had protected
him
from the truth about Tavish - she could do the same again.