Stolen Vows (7 page)

She was still sitting there, watching the flames, when the bedroom door opened.  

“Ye came back?” she blurted without thinking, staring in surprise at her husband.  She had all but given him up for gone at this point.

“Aye, I came back to my bonnie wee wife,” he said, his voice unreadable as he reached for an apple from the fruit bowl.  His ‘bonnie wee wife’ blushed crimson.

“Where did ye go?” Isla asked.  Roan took a bite of his apple and regarded her careful.

“I needed some time to think, and I thought ye might like some privacy,” he said with a careless shrug.

“Oh.  And what did ye -”

“Ye should get some rest, we’ve got a long road to travel tomorrow,” Roan interrupted firmly.  “Go to bed, Isla.” 

Bed?
  Isla felt her stomach flutter.  This was it then.  She would finally understand what it was to
know
a man.  She was in the process of resigning herself to the idea when she looked up, surprised to see that Roan had just sat down in the chair opposite her.  

“I’ll join ye in a moment,” Roan said gently, able to read the question on her face.

“Of course.”  Isla jumped up from her chair and dashed behind her dressing screen, snatching up her nightgown as she went. 

Without a maid’s help, it took a lot longer than usual for Isla to change.  She didn’t know if she was allowed to summon one for help, however, and she was too embarrassed to ask. 

When she crept out from behind the screen, Isla wasn’t surprised to see Roan’s head turn in her direction, but she was surprised by the way his eyebrows rose.  A part of her had expected him to pounce on her, the same way Tavish had, but Roan appeared content to keep his distance and undress her with his eyes.

Despite her innocence, Isla could read the hunger in Roan’s expression.  She wondered what he was thinking. 
Did she please him?  Did he like what he saw or was she a disappointment?  
The ache in her stomach had returned, along with a tingling in her breasts, both of which lingered even after Roan dragged his eyes away.

Isla stood still and waited for further instructions, but Roan remained silent.  Eventually, Isla bowed her head and crept over to the bed.  She slipping beneath the blanket and waited for her husband to join her.

..ooOOoo..

Roan had no intention of joining Isla, at least not in the way she anticipated.  That was one of the resolutions he had made while pacing the battlements of Castle Cameron.  His resolve was sorely tested when his young wife appeared before him in a nightdress that was virtually transparent. The garment did nothing to conceal her generous curves. 

Roan was embarrassed by his body’s enthusiastic response to her appearance.  He ached to touch her, but he couldn’t - not yet. 

He listened for her shifting in the bed, but her stillness was telling. She hardly dared to breathe.  Isla’s anxiety, more than anything, kept Roan’s unsatisfied body rooted in his seat until she finally slept.

Roan pushed himself up out of the chair and wandered over to the bed.  He supposed that he could have stayed in his fireside seat and dozed there for the night, but it wasn’t the most comfortable of resting places for his large frame and his battered body craved the soft comfort of a proper mattress.  Besides, he didn’t see why he should make further allowances for his wife - she hadn’t made any for him.

Isla hadn’t provided him with a nightshirt, and his breeches were too awkward to sleep in.  After a pause, Roan dispensed with his clothing and crawled into bed completely naked.  He sank back against the pillows and yawned, but his eyes remained open, drifting lazily around the room, taking in the shadowy pieces of furniture until he was familiar with everything.

Roan glanced across the pillows at the back of his wife’s head.  The bed wasn’t overly large.  If he just turned onto his side it would be all too easy to spoon her against his body.  Roan frowned in the dark and wondered from where that thought had crept.  He shut his eyes determinedly and willed himself to fall asleep.

He was prepared to toss and turn for hours, but the day’s events had exhausted him more than he’d realized.  He fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

..ooOOoo..

Isla stretched and slowly came awake.  She’d been having the most delicious dream.  She sighed and buried her head in the pillows, too warm and comfy to care much about a half forgotten dream. 

She had almost drifted back into slumber when the sound of a low groan brought her instantly awake.

Roan! 

With a start, Isla sat up.  She caught sight of Roan’s clothes, where they had been discarded on the floor.  A trail of garments led to the edge of the mattress. 
All
of his clothes were there, she realized. Isla sank down under the bedcovers again, and finally noticed that
both
sides of the bed were wrinkled and warm.

Roan was asleep on the mattress beside her. Isla’s nervous movement caused him to stir.  He shifted onto his side and drew the blankets tighter.  Isla held her breath waiting to see what he would do.  She felt a twinge of disappointment when absolutely
nothing
happened next.  No hands reached for her. No body brushed against her own.  She might have been in bed alone, but for the steady breathing she could hear beside her.

Nearly half an hour had passed before Isla dared to believe that her husband was really asleep.  In the growing light she could make out the strong lines and chiseled features of his face.  She could see the bruises too, and bit her lip with a guilty pang.  Why had she thought that he deserved to suffer to save her?

Isla lay her head down on her pillow and continued to stare at Roan until her eyes were hot and achy.  A slow trickle of tears rolled down Isla’s cheeks until she drifted into a light slumber.  It was only light however, so when she felt the brush of fingers against her cheek her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself looking directly into Roan’s foamy green eyes.

Isla would have jumped away from him, but she felt like she’d been frozen to the spot.  Roan’s fingertips were tracing the dry trail of her tears, while his face wore an expression of thoughtful seriousness that Isla somehow found out of place given his state of undress.  The blankets had fallen sufficiently low enough to reveal a generous portion of his chest. His left arm was bent at the elbow and his head was resting against his hand as he watched her carefully. 

He was far too close, and far too male, and Isla didn’t understand why she was locked in place, letting him caress her as if she were a frightened colt.

“Crying, lass?” he murmured his voice husky from sleep.

There was no point denying what he already knew, so Isla nodded.  Before she knew what was happening, he leaned towards her and brushed his mouth against hers, in a warm, gentle kiss.

It was over in a heartbeat and it was nothing more that the briefest flutter of his lips against her own, but it sent shivers tingling to the very tips of Isla’s toes.  She sighed softly when Roan drew away, earning a curious glance from her new husband.

“Why were ye crying, Isla?” he asked after a short lapse of silence. He swept his wife’s long hair back from her face so that he could see her better.

Isla found that his question was more unsettling that his kiss.  Once again, she was faced with feelings and circumstances that were beyond her understanding.  She was lying in bed with a naked man - a man whose fingers were softly stroking her face, whose lips had been pressed against her own - and yet she felt completely calm.

“I -” she took a deep breath and then blurted.  “I’m so sorry that this happened, Roan.  I ken ye dinna want to be married.”

For the longest time he didn’t say anything.  Isla didn’t know if it was because he
didn’t
know what to say, or because he was choosing very carefully what he
did
want to say.

“Well, what’s done is done,” Roan eventually murmured, giving Isla no indication of how he felt.   “We’ll just have to come to terms with it as best as we can.” 

Isla nodded again.  She fell silent for a while, pondering what “coming to terms” might involve.  She supposed he meant that they would make the best of the situation, and so she might as well get to know her husband better.

“Roan?” 

“Hrm?” 

“What is yer home like?” she asked.  “And what about yer family?”

Roan propped himself up on the pillows, so that he could sit a little straighter.  “My family?”  A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.  “Well there’s Ma, Eithne, Sorcha, Bridghe and me.”  Roan’s smile widened with each name.

“Three sisters!” Isla exclaimed.  “I pictured ye with brothers,” she said, although she couldn’t say why she had thought that.

“I had a brother once, but the English saw to him,” Roan muttered.

“Oh!  I’m sorry!” 

“I dinna really remember him,” Roan shrugged matter-of-factly, but his eyes were distant.  “He was the oldest, and well - I’m the wee one in the family,” he said, his grin returning.  Just seeing him smile made Isla feel so much lighter.  “Eithne’s the oldest now, then Sorcha, and then Bridghe,” Roan chuckled when he said this last name, and Isla found herself smiling along with him.  “There’s less than a year between us, Bridghe and me.”

“She’s yer favorite?”

Roan laughed.  He actually laughed.  Isla felt a smile blossom on her own lips.  “If I was allowed to have a favorite sister, she would be.  Of course, they’re all long since married,” he said, and then fell abruptly silent.

The smile slid from his face and a shadow returned.  Isla realized that he was thinking about her now.  He was thinking about their marriage.  She wondered if she would ever be able to make him smile in the carefree manner that his sisters’ could - and decided to make it her goal.  If she could just make him happy then surely things would be alright.  After a brief burst of optimism, Isla’s doubts returned. She wondered for the first time if there was someone back at Erchlochy Castle who Roan had already lined up for the position of Lady MacRae.  Isla felt an unexpected stab of jealousy and her eyes grew moist again.

“Isla!” Roan said, so suddenly that it made her jump.  “Nae more tears, all right, lass?” he frowned, reaching for her and wiping away the droplets with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, dashing the back of her hand across her cheeks.  “I just - I canna seem to help it.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked gently.  “Perhaps - if we waited a few days before leaving?  We dinna
have
to go today.”

Roan shifted uncomfortably.  Three sisters, and numerous nieces, should have hardened him against the agony of watching a woman cry, but it hadn’t.  He couldn’t stand it.  It made him feel so despicably weak.  Isla looked so heart-wrenchingly unhappily.  Steeling himself to have her shy away, he reached for Isla and pulled her into his arms.  At first she was so tense that Roan could have snapped her like a dry twig, but she slowly softened.

“Better?” he murmured, stroking her back in soothing circles.  She hiccupped against his damp chest, and Roan couldn’t hide a smile.  “Now then, what was that all about?” he asked softly.

“I dinna ken how to make it better,” Isla croaked.

“Make what better, lass?” Roan asked.

“Ye
ken
what,” she whispered. 

Roan nodded slowly.  He didn’t know if Isla was conscious of the fact, but she was tracing nonsensical patterns over the bare skin of his shoulder with her fingers.

“It would have been better for everyone if ye never found me,” she said, but she was clinging to him as if he was the only thing in the world that could keep her safe.  Roan hadn’t realized until that moment how
good
it felt to be needed.