Stolen Vows (31 page)

“Oh Roan,” Isla sighed, going slightly limp in his arms.  “I’ve been so unhappy.”  She was obviously exhausted, spent, from her exertions and still suffering from the lingering effects of her illness no doubt.

He shushed her gently.  “Twill be all right, lass.  I’ll look after ye,” Roan whispered softly, gently turning her around so he could continue washing her body.  Isla very quickly relaxed under his hands. 

After working over every inch of her, Roan finally lathered his wife’s thick auburn hair with soap, rinsing it thoroughly before declaring that he had finished.  Isla had almost fallen asleep under his gentle care.  She blinked up at him drowsily, smiled sleepily and then stepped into the towel he was holding open for her.

“I think tis time for bed, milady,” he purred, patting her dry.  Isla gave a little start, and looked up at him with an uncertain blush that made Roan chuckle.  “To sleep, that’s all,” he assured her, dotting a kiss on the end of her nose.

Isla reddened prettily at Roan’s playful banter.  “Aye,” she said softly.  “That sounds like a good idea.” 

Roan grinned widely as he pressed another kiss against the top of Isla’s damp head.  The past week had been utter hell, but now he felt as though he’d step out of a dark tunnel and into the light on the other side. 

“To bed then lassie,” he yawned, trying to shoo her in that direction, but Isla seemed rather too content to linger in his arms. 

She gave a squeal of laughter when Roan patted her cheekily on the bottom to get her moving.  Isla darted out of his reach and poked her tongue out at her husband, before going to find a clean nightdress while Roan began to strip out of his own clothes.  He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.  All of Roan’s other problems suddenly seemed so much smaller now that he had Isla back.

He’d slipped between the covers long before Isla had finished with her toilette.  He watched Isla combing out her hair.

“Yer staring,” Isla whispered softly.  Roan blinked.  He hadn’t realized it himself, but his lips twitched and he continued quite unashamedly even now that he’d been caught.

“Yer beautiful,” he murmured in reply, in explanation, causing Isla’s pink cheeks to flush a deeper shade of red.

“And yer terrible, Roan MacRae,” Isla scolded, but she was beaming as she finally crawled into bed beside him.  She gave a deep, satisfied sigh as he instantly reached to hold her.  “I missed ye so much,” she confessed, snuggling as close to her husband as she could possibly manage. “I -“ she started to speak again, but her lips were being suddenly, deliciously, smothered beneath her husband’s own.

..ooOOoo..

Liane was putting the finishing touches to Isla hair just as there was a knock at the door.

Isla heart leaped.  She knew it was ridiculous to think Roan would knock on his own door and he had told her that morning that he expected to be out for most of the day, but Isla couldn’t stop herself from hoping he had returned early as she called out “Enter.”

When the door swung open, however, Roan MacRae was not on the other side.

“Ian.” 

Isla’s face fell.  She had almost forgotten about Roan and Ian’s talk, but now the memory returned. “What brings ye here so early?” she asked, as innocently as she could manage.  The look Ian shot her told her that he wasn’t fooled.

“Why dinna we just cut to the bit where ye tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked bluntly. 

Isla bit her lip.  “Thank ye, Liane, I think that will be all for now,” she said, dismissing her maid. The girl was staring at Ian with the same vacant, doe-eyed expression that most women adopted when regarding the Cameron captain.  The fact that Ian did not even take the time to flash one of his charming smiles did not bode well for his sister.

“Well?” he growled, the second he and Isla were alone.

“Well wh-”

“Dinna, Isla!” Ian barked.  “Ye ken perfectly well ‘what’.”

“If yer here about what Roan said to ye yesterday -”

“Hmm, I wonder if that could be it?” Ian interrupted sarcastically.  Isla scowled at him.

“- it has been sorted out.”

“Sorted out?” Ian echoed.  Isla couldn’t quite understand why he seemed so cross.  “Sorted out
how
?” he asked suspiciously.

“Roan was under the impression that I wanted to leave Erchlochy Castle.  I simply informed him that I do nae,” Isla said airily.  “Really Ian, ye should get married yerself before ye start trying to meddle in other people’s affairs.”

Ian made an odd sort of choking noise, and then he seemed to think it best to simply ignore the latter part of what his sister had said.  “Ye
do nae
want to leave Erchlochy Castle?  Are ye
mad
?” he blurted.

“Nae!” Isla snapped, and then she smiled dreamily.  “I’m in love.”

“Oh God,” Ian groaned after a moment of silence.  “Tis
much
worse.”

..ooOOoo..

Roan attended to his duties that morning with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips.  That fact didn’t go unnoticed.  Morag passed him in the castle courtyard and commented upon the change in his humor.

“Something’s definitely put ye in a good mood,” she simpered, although there was a sullen note to the assertion, as though Morag was bitterly disappointed that
she
wasn’t the cause of Roan’s cheerfulness.

“Aye,” he nodded calmly, and then couldn’t resist adding: “my wife.”  Just as he had expected, Morag’s lips became very thin and pinched, and the color drained from her face.

“Yer wife?” she echoed, as though the words left a nasty aftertaste in her mouth.  “I thought things between ye and yer wife -”

“- have never been better,” Roan interrupted coolly. 

He was a little relieved that his sister, Bridghe, happened upon them at just that moment, providing an effective deterrent against Morag.  The pretty blonde muttered something about having people to meet and then flounced away, with Bridghe glaring after her.

“Why were ye talking to
her
?” she snapped at her brother.  Roan opened his mouth to defend himself, however Bridghe didn’t give him a chance to speak.  “Oh - never mind; that was nae what I wanted to talk to ye about anyway.”

“Oh?” Roan said warily.  He wasn’t sure that he liked the look in his sister’s eyes.  “What did ye want to talk to me about?”

“Isla,” Bridghe nodded, ignoring her brother’s sudden, dark frown.  Bridghe and Isla were friends.  Surely she wasn’t about to join the rest of his family and turn against them too?  “Eithne’s finally set a date for the feast.  She’s timing it for the end of the Cameron’s visit.  I want Isla to help with the preparations.”

“All right…” Roan nodded slowly, thinking that he must be missing something vital. 

“Only, tis
yer
idea,” Bridghe whispered conspiratorially.  Roan frowned,
certain
that he was missing something vital now.  At her brother’s blank look Bridghe rolled her eyes and sighed.  “I’m going to tell Isla that ye asked me to ask her to help with the preparations for the feast - to help her feel more included in castle life, ye ken.”

“And why are ye going to tell her that I asked ye to do that?” Roan puzzled, still not fully understanding his sister’s motives, although he did approve of anything that might help Isla feel she was a proper member of the clan.

Bridghe rolled her eyes again.  “Because everyone kens that the two of ye have had some sort of falling out,” she informed him bluntly.  Roan winced.  “And while most people are secretly rubbing their hands gleefully -” Roan flinched “- I’m rather fond of yer bonnie wife, and I’m nae going to let
ye
mess things up,” she informed him, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

“Ye ken I am capable of unmaking the messes I make
on my own
,” Roan muttered sullen.  Hadn’t he already proven that?

“Of course ye are,” Bridghe said airily, giving his arm an affectionate pat before darting off - to set her plan in motion no doubt.

Roan watched her go with a silent shake of his head.  He wondered if Isla would actually
believe
the story his sister planned to concoct for her benefit.  Somehow he didn’t think so.

..ooOOoo..

Roan wished that he could have returned immediately to his wife, but he had been ordered to report to Graem.  He made his way to the Laird’s chambers completely automatically, not even hearing the various people who called greetings in the hall.  He just wanted to get things over with so that he could get back to his wife and enjoy their newfound intimacy.

The Camerons were waiting outside Graem’s rooms when Roan arrived.  Donaid smiled politely, Tavish smirked, and Ian - Ian - Roan wasn’t entirely sure how he’d classify the look his brother-in-law shot his direction.  It seemed to be a strange mixture of weary annoyance and reluctant amusement.

“I saw Isla this morning,” Ian murmured quietly, once Roan was standing by his side and all four men waited to be admitted by the Laird. 

Roan cocked an eyebrow in surprise, but didn’t speak.

“I’m to understand that ye want to keep her now then, I take it?” Ian asked, and in a surprisingly amiable tone.

“Well, I would nae put it quite in those words,” Roan replied, keeping his voice low, so that Donaid and Tavish couldn’t hear what he was saying.  “However, I -”

“Laird MacRae is ready to see ye now.”

Roan followed the other men into the familiar rooms.

“Ah, gentleman,” Graem greeted them affably.  He still sat in his usual fireside chair, although Roan noticed that the Laird was dressed more smartly and shaved more closely than was typical. “I’m glad ye could join me again this afternoon.”

The Camerons made polite murmurs and sat in the seats they were offered by their host.  Graem shot Roan a meaningful glance and his tanist nodded in understanding.  He tried to drag his mind away from Isla as he went to collect the papers he and the Laird had finished drawing up just a few days beforehand.

However, Roan barely listened, as Graem laid out his plans and made his offer, handing the Cameron tanist an olive branch of MacRae land; Roan simply couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to his wife. 

“By returning this land, ye realize that yer acknowledging that it was originally taken from the Camerons unlawfully?” Ian said slowly. 

Graem just smiled calmly.  “I’m acknowledging nothing of the sort, my young Cameron lord,” he replied evenly.  “The land is made simply as an offer of goodwill.”

Roan saw Tavish glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and it sounded suspiciously like he muttered:
simply made to avoid a war over the Laird’s niece you mean.

“The land is question is hardly fertile, Laird MacRae,” Donaid pointed out, almost apologetically.  “Tis all craggy outcrops and dangerous marshes - hardly of use to anyone.”

“Ah, my tanist warned me that ye would say as much,” Graem said sadly. He cast a look in Roan’s direction.  Roan watched, as this move had the desired effect on two of the three Cameron men present.  “But I told him that I hoped ye would see that, by giving up these formidable natural defenses; ye would come to understand that the offer of peace I make on behalf of my people is genuine.”

Donaid and Ian made thoughtful murmurs.  Roan smiled to himself. He hoped that he would be as wise a Laird, when the time came -
if the time came -
he was forced to amend.

“My father will, of course, have to make the ultimate decision, Laird MacRae,” Donaid said slowly, and after that Roan tuned out again, his thoughts again turning to Isl
a.  He was itching to leave the meeting and return to her, but he knew that was not an option.