Stolen Vows (37 page)

Isla smiled and kissed his cheek.  “I canna imagine ye as impressionable,” she said innocently.

Roan turned on her, but there was a knock at the door and the maid arrived with a tray of steaming food.  She served the meal up quickly and then left the couple alone again.  At the sight of the meal the lighthearted façade dropped away immediately.

“Ye - ye do think tis safe to eat, dinna ye?” Isla asked nervously.

Roan stared suspiciously at the food.  “Well,” he sighed, “tis eat this or starve.” 

So he sat down and began to eat.  After a moment’s hesitation, Isla followed suit.  She took a few small bites, and then discovered her hunger was so great that she could barely keep to small ladylike mouthfuls.

“Would ye like the rest of mine too?” Roan grinned wryly, which made Isla blush and lower her fork to her plate. 

Isla’s blushed deepened, but she gave a deep contented sigh when Roan reached for her hand, covering it with his own.  “Ye were amazing today,” he murmured.  “I was so proud of ye,” he declared.

“Of me?” Isla gasped.  She really didn’t think that it was possibly for her cheeks to glow any hotter.  “Why, whatever for?”

Roan smiled, and drew her knuckles against his lips, kissing each one in turn.  “For being so caring, for doing everything ye could to help, for working yerself to exhaustion,” he said gently.  “Everyone saw that,” he smiled proudly.

“But, tis nae why -”

“I ken,” Roan’s grin widened.  “Tis what makes ye so amazing.”

“Oh,” Isla said, because she couldn’t think of what else to say.  “Well, ye were quite amazing yerself MacRae,” she told him warming, brushing her fingers over his cheek, sadly tracing the cut he bore.  “How ye saved Ian…” she breathed her voice a little shaky.  “I’ll never be able to thank ye enough for that.”

“Ye’ll think of something, I’m sure,” Roan grinned cheekily.  “Besides, twas nae solely me.  Yer brother is a very fortunate man.”

Isla nodded her head and yawned.  “I dinna disagree.”  She frowned sadly.  “Tis a shame that there are nae more fortunate men and women.  How - how many do ye think we will lose?” she asked unhappily.

Roan flinched, as if in physical pain.  “I canna say,” he muttered.  But Isla was sure that what he meant was that he didn’t
want
to say.

“The clan will be all right though,” Isla assured him suddenly.  Roan cocked a surprised eyebrow at his wife.  “Well, they have ye to lead them after all,” Isla explained, her cheeks reddening again. 

Roan smiled.  His eyes crinkled at the corners.  “Have I told ye how much I love ye?”

“Nae recently,” Isla bandied back breathlessly.

“I love ye more than anything else in this world, Isla MacRae,” he whispered ardently tugging her onto her feet and into his arms.  It had been one of the worse days of his life, but here he was at the end of it, still able to smile, because he still had his wife.  “Now, come to bed,” he commanded, stripping out of his clothes.

They were both too exhausted to make love that evening, but they lay in each other’s arms, Isla’s body spooned into Roan’s, as her husband’s arms wound themselves protectively around her body.

“Roan?” she whispered, after it had been silent for quite some time. 
Mmm
, came her husband’s drowsy reply.  There was something praying on Isla’s mind, it had been bothering her all day, but she had managed to busy herself and ignore it.  Now, in the silence of the night, there was nothing to distract her.  “Tavish,” she shivered as she spoke the name.  “He’ll be put to death?” 

She felt Roan tense, and wished she hadn’t spoke
his
name here, in their bed, but she held her breath as she waited for his answer nonetheless.

“Aye lass, he’ll be executed.  There’s nae other way.”

Isla shuddered.  She knew what Roan said was the truth.  Tavish had to pay for what he had done.  Innocent people, innocent
children
had died because of him, and yet Isla still shuddered at the thought of him being put to death.

“How will it happen?” she whispered.  Roan held her closer.

“We dinna have to think about this now,” he murmured, which meant that he didn’t want to think about it now, but Isla couldn’t push the question from her mind.  If Fate had led her along a different path, she might be MacEantach’s wife instead of Roan’s.  She had chosen Tavish for a husband once.  If they had married, then the poisoning never would have happened.  How many people had died because of her?  “Go to sleep, love,” Roan breathed, feeling the tension in her body.  “Ye have to rest.”

“I’ll try,” she muttered in reply.  She closed her eyes obediently, but it was a long time before Tavish’s cruel face faded from her mind.

..ooOOoo..

When Isla woke the next morning she was alone.  Her first thought was of the Laird.  She wondered what had happened, if anything had changed overnight.

Isla rang for her maid, impatient to dress and leave her room so she could learn of the night’s developments.  She was surprised, and worried, when it wasn’t Liane who came to help with her toilette. 

“They’re trying to work out if anything’s to be done with her, milady,” the new maid explained bluntly as she laid out a dress for her mistress.

“Done with her?” Isla baffled.  “Whatever do you mean?”

The woman raised a surprised eyebrow.  “Have ye nae heard?  She was with that Cameron captain the night everything went awry – tis how the man was proven innocent.”

Isla quickly shut her mouth, which had been gaping open.  “Ian!” she hissed under her breath.  She was quite sure that the maid knew that ‘that Cameron captain’ in question was her brother, and so said a silent word of thanks for her discretion.  “What other news is there?” she asked, more gravely.  “The Laird, is he…”

“Still alive,” the woman nodded sadly.

“Do ye ken if my husband’s with him?” she asked softly.  She had nursed Graem MacRae the previous morning.  It seemed so very unlikely that he would ever make a full recovery that Isla wondered if the kindest thing for him would have been to slip away quickly.

“Aye, mistress, I believe so.” 

Isla asked for her breakfast to be served in her room, after which she had every intention of going down to the great hall to see how she could offer her assistance.  She was a little delayed in her intentions however, because she received two visitors just as she started eating her porridge.

Ian and Donaid presented themselves gravely.  They both looked tired, but Ian looked completely
battered
.  Isla momentarily forgot that she was annoyed with her brother.  She jumped up from her chair and dashed across the room, throwing her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight.

“Ian, yer really alright!” she squealed, letting him go sheepishly when he winced and moaned under her embrace.  He rubbed his ribs, frowning.  “Well, a lot more ‘alright’ than ye might have been,” Isla amended.

“Aye,” he was forced to agree.

“Yer brother’s been very lucky, cousin,” Donaid nodded.  His face bore a terribly haunted expression, as if, as tanist, he personally felt the pain and shame of every Cameron misdemeanor.

“Aye,” Isla nodded, but she couldn’t stop herself from adding: “I heard what form yer
luck
took, Ian.  Did ye really have to?  And with my maid!” she scolded.  “Aye, I ken!” she said, because she could see Ian was getting ready to fight his corner.  “If ye had nae then…” her sentence trailed off unfinished.  “Have either of ye see Tavish?” she whispered.

“Nae,” Donaid shook his head.  “And the MacRae’s are nae about to let us.”

“Sensible of them,” Ian snarled.  “I’d kill the bastard if I got within an inch of the man!” he swore.

“Ian!” Donaid barked.  Isla wasn’t quite sure if he was reprimanded her bother for his sentiment, or just the language with which it had been conveyed.  “Isla,” he sighed, very heavily.  “We have learned - or rather, I learned and then informed Ian - a little more of the character of Tavish MacEantach than we had previously known.”

Isla puzzled over the strange statement.  “Well, of course ye have,” she frowned.  “I certainly dinna think that ye brought him here suspecting that he might do something of this evil nature.”

“Nae, Isla, ye misunderstand,” Donaid sighed again.  “We -”

“We ken what he tried to do to ye!” Ian exploded, as if he had been waiting to tell his sister this ever since he’d stepped into the room.  “Why the hell dinna ye tell us, Isla!” he roared.  “If I’d kenned I would have -”

“Ian!” Donaid growled, trying to keep the younger man in line.  “It is true, is it nae, Isla?” he asked more gently, as he turned back to his cousin.

“Is what true?” she breathed shakily.  She had striven so hard to keep the whole sordid tale a secret from her family.  She couldn’t believe that it had come out now.

“Did Tavish try to rape ye, Isla?” Donaid asked, as if the words caused him physical pain.  “Is
that
how this whole strange affair with the MacRae’s tanist came about?”

Isla gave her head a tiny, silent nod, unable and too uncomfortable to find the words to speak.

“God, Isla.”  Ian cursed under his breath.  “Why dinna ye come to us?” he asked again.  “Yer family, instead of running off to
Roan MacRae
?” he demanded, speaking through gritted teeth.

“I dinna run off to Roan!”  Isla argued.  “It just… all kind of happened,” she finished weakly.

“Explain,” Ian growled.

“I certainly will nae!” Isla snapped.  She was ruffled by her brother’s tone, and still clinging to the denial of what had really happened between herself and Tavish.  “I’m a married woman now and I dinna answer to ye Ian Cameron!”

“Isla -” Ian growled, and then his whole expression changed.  He sat down on the edge of her bed, and almost seemed to crumple.  “Did ye think that we would nae help ye?  Is that it?  Ye thought we would nae believe be?” he asked raggedly.

“Oh, Ian,” Isla sighed softly.  She sat down beside her brother and laid her hand on his arm.  “Twas nae that,” she murmured quietly.  “I was - I was afraid of bringing shame on the family.”  Her brother started violently, but Isla quickly continued speaking.  “And then there was Roan, and ye all thought… well, and twas easier to let you believe that I suppose,” she muttered.  “The MacEantachs are so powerful within the clan and -”

“And the fact that MacRae was innocent of everything we accused him?” Ian interrupted with a wry grin.  “He went along with it all because -”

“He’s a good man,” Isla said softly.

“He’d have to be!” Ian snorted. 

“Cousin, he might have been worse than Tavish, ye do realize the risk ye took in gambling on his good nature and forgiveness?” Donaid asked quietly.

“I ken, Donaid,” Isla whispered, but really only because she knew that it was what they expected to hear. 

It seemed such a long time ago since she had been worried… nervous…
afraid…
of marrying Roan.  She tried to cast her mind back to their first moments alone together as husband and wife, but it seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

“Well, I suppose things worked out all right for ye in the end,” Donaid murmured thoughtfully.

“They did,” Isla nodded fervently.  “And Donaid,” she began hesitantly, “this does nae need to go any further does it?” 

Her cousin frowned.  “You dinna think that would do any good?”

“I think it would just stir up bad feelings,” she murmured.  “Just let it lie, Donaid?  Ian?” she looked imploringly between her two kinsmen.  They looked reluctant, but seemed to feel that, given this was the only thing they could do for Isla now, they had better follow her wishes.