Stolen Vows (3 page)

“Let her
go
, MacRae!” Ian snarled.  “If ye laid a finger on her, then God help me I’ll -”

“Ian, stop!” Isla cried before she could stop herself.

A terrifying hush fell over the men.  In the saddle behind her, Isla could
feel
the MacRae’s annoyance and anger at being protected by a woman.  In front of her the men of her clan were regarding her with suspicion and confusion.   No one seemed prepared to break the dangerous silence.  For several tense minutes eyes flickered from man to man to woman, until Ian finally spoke.

“Yer the one sent to speak on behalf of Laird MacRae?” he asked, scowling up at the man who held his sister.

“I am.  Roan MacRae.”

Roan
.  Isla twisted in the saddle and glanced up at her companion.  The name suited him.

“Well, Roan MacRae,” Ian continued, his voice a low growl.  “What are ye doing with my sister?”

“I found her stranded ten miles up the road.  I was taking her back to Castle Cameron.”

Isla squirmed uncomfortably as her brother’s frown moved from Roan to her.  He stared at her hard, taking in her bedraggled appearance.  From his expression, he was at a loss as to what she had been up to, but was unwilling to question her in the presence of the other men.  She was grateful for his restraint.  She wasn’t ready to explain herself just yet.

Isla watched her brother mutter something to one of the other men who’d leapt out of bushes. Then, Ian walked up to Roan’s large bay mount.

“Here, Isla,” he barked, lifting his arms to take her from the MacRae man.  Isla couldn’t understand her reluctance to leave the stranger and go with her brother, but she felt a definite twinge of regret as she was pulled from Roan’s arms.

“She will nae be able to walk,” Roan said as Ian tried to set Isla on the ground.

“I hurt my ankle,” she mumbled awkwardly.  Her brother groaned and swung her up into his arms.  He nodded to one of the other men, communicating some silent instruction, and then marched off to find his own horse.  “What are ye doing?” Isla spluttered as she was carried away.  She looked over Ian’s shoulder at Roan.

“I’m taking
ye
back to the castle,” Ian informed her.  “God Isla, what have ye been
doing
?” 

“But the MacRae,” Isla argued.  “Ian and the others, they will nae -”

“He’ll be fine,” Ian frowned at her obvious concern for the other man.  “For
now
at any rate,” he added.  “The men are just going to escort him to the castle.”

“
Just
escort him?” Isla repeated nervously.  “Then why canna we wait?”

“Isla!” Ian snapped.  “Dinna tell me yer actually worried about
him
?”

Isla cheeks flushed with guilt.  “Of course nae,” she blurted.  “I just – tis -”

“MacRae... He dinna -” Ian began awkwardly.  “I mean, he dinna
touch
ye did he, Isla? Because I swear on our mother’s grave if he -”

“Ian, stop it,” Isla interrupted, her cheeks so hot she was certain that they were glowing.  “MacRae was perfectly gallant,” she assured her brother quickly.

Ian grunted something unintelligible.  “Well in that case, are ye going to tell me what the hell ye were doing ten miles from home?”

Isla stared at her brother.  She considered telling him the truth, but she couldn’t push the words past her tongue.  She was so ashamed of what had happened.  Isla knew that she had to marry Tavish MacEantach.  There was nothing that her brothers or father could do to break her engagement without bringing the whole family into disrepute.  After the events of that morning, however, disgrace hadn’t seemed so terrible. 

Isla’s fiancé had arrived in her room before dawn, before she had even dressed.  She wasn’t sure how he’d managed to evade the servants, but she knew better than to question him when he stumbled into her chamber reeking of whiskey and announced his intention to test his husband’s rights. 

Isla knew that she would have to perform her duties after their marriage, but she wasn’t prepared to face them yet - and she hoped never to let Tavish claim her as rudely or as rough as he had intended.  Isla cringed at the memory of his body pressing down upon hers, the sour reek of alcohol on his breath and the cruel, unyielding hardness of his manhood jutting into her curves.  His thick fingers had torn mercilessly at her gown, one paw shredding her nightgown while the other stifled her cries.  He had warned her not to scream and to simply lie still.

She was too proud to let him see her cry, but the sting of salty tears burned her tightly clenched eyes as she tried to block the assault from her mind. She had almost decided to submit when Tavish’s drunken jeer rekindled her spirit.

“Maybe what I’ll do is tell yer father about this,” he hissed.  “I’ll go to him the morning after our wedding and tell him how ye were already used.  I’ll get him to compensate me for having a whore as a wife by doubling yer dowry.”

“Nae!” Isla shrieked, her sudden fury resulting in a surge of strength.  She put both hands on Tavish’s chest and pushed.  The force that she conjured caught him by surprise, because he pulled back just enough to let her wrestle free.

Isla didn’t care that her nightdress was torn, that her skin was bruised or that her cheeks were wet with tears.  She bolted from the room.

Later, when she was calm, Isla hatched her plan for escape. She put on her cloak and boots for her usual morning ride, but when she reached the edge of the meadow where she usually turned for home, she kept riding inside.

“Isla!” Ian’s voice dragged her thoughts away from the past and back to her current predicament.  “Talk to me?” he sighed.  “What’s wrong?”

“I just rode farther than I’d realized,” Isla mumbled.  “My horse stumbled and went lame. It started to rain and I twisted my ankle.  I stopped to get my bearings, and that’s when the MacRae rode by,” she explained in a rush.  It all sounded so innocent when put like that.

Well, it was innocent
, she argued silently,
minus the running away part, nothing untoward had gone on at all.

Ian grunted. Isla couldn’t tell if the sound indicated belief or
dis
belief, but they had finally reached Castle Cameron, and so she was granted a small reprieve.

“Isla Cameron!  There ye are!  We’ve been so worried!” 

Isla hung her head sheepishly as Lady Cameron and Gara both rushed out of the castle to greet her.

“I’m sorry, Aunt,” Isla mumbled as she climbed down from the horse.  “I dinna mean to make ye worry.”

“What -” Lady Cameron opened her mouth to demand further explanation, but was cut off by her nephew.

“She’s had a long, trying day, Aunt. I think it would be best if we let her rest and leave the questions until morning.” Isla could have hugged him for it.  “Gara help Isla up to her chamber.”

Isla hadn’t realized just how tired she was until Gara bundled her up the great stairs and off to bed.  The pain in her ankle had lessened a fraction and she was able to bear a little of her weight on it as she was shepherded to her bed.

“I’ll have one of the lads bring up some buckets of hot water so ye can have a wash,” Gara said after settling Isla in a comfortable chair. 

“I just want to sleep,” Isla yawned, ready to drop off at any moment.

“That dirty?  And in those damp clothes?” Gara snorted.  “I’d dearly like to ken what ye’ve been up to Isla Cameron,” she sighed.

Isla didn’t offer an explanation.  She sat dozing in the armchair, waiting for Gara to fix the bath.  She admitted that it
would
be heaven to soak her aching limbs, and then to be able to sleep, but the memory of what had nearly happened that morning made her uneasy again. Isla glanced at the bed out of the corner of her eye - the bed where Tavish had tried to rape her.  A wave of nausea rolled over Isla.  Where
was
Tavish?

“Gara,” she said quietly.  Her friend looked up at her.  She was adding a few drops of rose oil to the bath.  The water had arrived without Isla noticing, and been emptied into a large tub by the fire.  “Do ye think ye could stay in here with me tonight?” she asked quietly.

Gara opened her mouth to question the request, but in the end she just nodded her head.  “Of course,” she said.  “If that’s what ye want.” 

She didn’t press the matter any further. Whether that was because of Gara’s own common sense or because Ian had charged her with looking after his sister, Isla wasn’t sure. Regardless, she was hugely relieved.  

“Did ye want something to eat before turning in?” Gara asked.  “I doubt that ye’ve eaten in hours, and yer hair will nae be dry enough to sleep on for a while.  I can go down to the kitchens for bread and cheese?”

Isla nodded her head eagerly.  Just as she hadn’t realized how tired she was, she hadn’t noticed how famished she was until Gara mentioned food.

“Would ye?” she asked.

Gara nodded and hurried out of the room leaving her friend alone.

Isla lingered in the bath for a long time. She waited until the water cooled and her skin was crinkly before finally getting out.  The soak had done her ankle a world of good.  She donned a long woolen shift before sitting down in front of the fire to comb out her hair.

Isla tried not to think about what would happen in the morning.  Isla knew that her brother hadn’t wholly believed her tale about why she had ended up so far from home.  Ian had given her the night to recuperate, but Isla knew that it was only a temporary reprieve.  In the morning, he would want answers.  She was going to have to face her brothers, her father, her aunt and uncle - and, eventually, Tavish. 

Just thinking about her fiancé made Isla feel like she needed to bathe all over again.

Surely it shouldn’t feel like that? 
Isla asked herself, reliving the experience once again. She didn’t know a lot about what went on between a man and a wife, but she refused to believe that it felt like
that.
She had always imagined that the experience would be warm and tender and that it would make her feel safe and cherished. Then, for reasons she didn’t understand, the memory of Roan MacRae drifted to the forefront of her mind.

He was so large, but he had been so gentle.  When Isla thought of his hands tending her ankle, and his arm around her waist, a strange heat burnt beneath her skin, and an even stranger ache settled deep in the pit of her stomach.   She was glad for the distraction when the door opened. She expected it to be Gara, returning with her supper. She turned eagerly toward the door but instinctively recoiled when she saw that she was wrong.

“Get up!” Tavish snarled.  Without waiting for her to obey, he stormed across the room and dragged Isla forward.  He pulled her after him, out into the corridor and towards his own room.

..ooOOoo..

It could have been worse.

Roan rubbed his jaw.  It was bruised from where one of the Cameron men had taken a swing at him.  He had not expected anything less.   He’d been beaten, soundly but not viciously, and only then had he been allowed to
walk
the rest of the way to Castle Cameron. Laird MacRae was a fool for thinking that the Camerons would welcome any of them as a
guest
. 

Nevertheless, they had behaved with more restraint than he had expected.  He was still
alive
at least.  Perhaps his kindness to the Cameron lass had not gone unrewarded? 

In the darkness of his very basic, almost prison-like chamber, Roan smiled.  Isla Cameron had certainly made the journey more interesting.  He wondered why she had tried to run away.  Her intentions were quite obvious, regardless of the tale she’d tried to spin.  Had she been jilted by her lover?  Abandoned by her family?