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Authors: Stephanie Sterling
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greatly when he turned up at Erchlochy Castle with a Cameron bride. Roan tried to ignore that problem for just a little longer. He turned to watch Isla make her final farewells. She shared a long embrace with the woman he’d found in her room a half an hour beforehand. Then she moved onto her brothers and father, hugging each of them fiercely, before saying a few parting words of thanks to her uncle, the Laird. At least he’d married well, Roan through dryly, bracing himself for one final lecture as Ian walked over to him.
“Ye lay another finger on -”
“This is getting repetitive and boring, Ian,” Roan growled. He watched the other man’s lip twist in a sneer.
“Isla is still my sister, MacRae.”
“But now she’s also my wife,” Roan breathed harshly. “That means she’s now my concern, and nae yers.” He paused and then gambled. “If ye really thought I was going to hurt her then ye would nae have let me marry her. Ye would have finished it that day, when ye came to see me in the castle dungeons,” he argued roughly, watching Ian Cameron’s face for his reaction.
There was a flicker of something in the other man’s eyes. It wasn’t respect, but it might have been reluctant agreement.
“All right, MacRae,” Ian nodded. “But dinna think that means yer safe.”
“I would nae dream of it,” Roan grunted, turning back to find that Isla was now waiting beside the wagon that would carry them home. “Ready lass?” he asked, not waiting for her to answer before offering his hand to help her up into the cart.
Roan followed after her, turning his back on the Cameron clan with a sigh of relief. Isla waved and shouted her goodbyes, until they were out of sight of the castle. Then she sank back onto her seat, her face downcast as she studied her lap.
“Do ye suppose we’ll ever come back?” she asked.
Roan thought that he could live the rest of his life quite happily without ever setting foot inside Castle Cameron again, but he didn’t think that was the reply Isla wanted. For some reason cheering her up was important to him.
“I should think so,” he said carefully. If he’d been having any doubts, the instant smile that lit Isla’s face banished them.
Roan continued to study Isla as she gazed at the road, watching the scenery of her childhood pass by as she left it behind. Occasionally she would point something out to him, a particular spot by a brook where she and her brothers used to picnic when they were children, or a stretch of open field where her father had taught her to ride, but for the most part she was silent.
“There it is,” Isla said suddenly, when they were a few hours into their drive.
Roan roused himself from his drowsy state and looked to see what his wife was pointing at this time. It didn’t look like anything terribly significant, and then it hit him.
“The spot where I found ye,” he breathed quietly. Isla nodded her head, and then she turned and shot him a sad smile.
“Would ye like to stop the wagon, so ye can put me back?” she asked softly, possibly trying to tease, and staring up at him with eyes that Roan was sure were now flecked with blue. She is so beautiful, he thought as he remembered the first time that he’d seen her, damp and wretched. Now she was truly dazzling.
“Dinna be silly,” he said gruffly, dragging his gaze away from Isla’s upturned face so that he could scowl at the opposite seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I dinna mean to make ye angry.”
“I’m nae angry,” Roan sighed. “I’m -” he wasn’t even sure what he was, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact that Isla seemed so certain that he was going to let her down. “I wish ye’d have a little more faith in me, that’s all lass,” he sighed eventually.
Isla tilted her head to the side and regarded him
“Ye lay another finger on -”
“This is getting repetitive and boring, Ian,” Roan growled. He watched the other man’s lip twist in a sneer.
“Isla is still my sister, MacRae.”
“But now she’s also my wife,” Roan breathed harshly. “That means she’s now my concern, and nae yers.” He paused and then gambled. “If ye really thought I was going to hurt her then ye would nae have let me marry her. Ye would have finished it that day, when ye came to see me in the castle dungeons,” he argued roughly, watching Ian Cameron’s face for his reaction.
There was a flicker of something in the other man’s eyes. It wasn’t respect, but it might have been reluctant agreement.
“All right, MacRae,” Ian nodded. “But dinna think that means yer safe.”
“I would nae dream of it,” Roan grunted, turning back to find that Isla was now waiting beside the wagon that would carry them home. “Ready lass?” he asked, not waiting for her to answer before offering his hand to help her up into the cart.
Roan followed after her, turning his back on the Cameron clan with a sigh of relief. Isla waved and shouted her goodbyes, until they were out of sight of the castle. Then she sank back onto her seat, her face downcast as she studied her lap.
“Do ye suppose we’ll ever come back?” she asked.
Roan thought that he could live the rest of his life quite happily without ever setting foot inside Castle Cameron again, but he didn’t think that was the reply Isla wanted. For some reason cheering her up was important to him.
“I should think so,” he said carefully. If he’d been having any doubts, the instant smile that lit Isla’s face banished them.
Roan continued to study Isla as she gazed at the road, watching the scenery of her childhood pass by as she left it behind. Occasionally she would point something out to him, a particular spot by a brook where she and her brothers used to picnic when they were children, or a stretch of open field where her father had taught her to ride, but for the most part she was silent.
“There it is,” Isla said suddenly, when they were a few hours into their drive.
Roan roused himself from his drowsy state and looked to see what his wife was pointing at this time. It didn’t look like anything terribly significant, and then it hit him.
“The spot where I found ye,” he breathed quietly. Isla nodded her head, and then she turned and shot him a sad smile.
“Would ye like to stop the wagon, so ye can put me back?” she asked softly, possibly trying to tease, and staring up at him with eyes that Roan was sure were now flecked with blue. She is so beautiful, he thought as he remembered the first time that he’d seen her, damp and wretched. Now she was truly dazzling.
“Dinna be silly,” he said gruffly, dragging his gaze away from Isla’s upturned face so that he could scowl at the opposite seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I dinna mean to make ye angry.”
“I’m nae angry,” Roan sighed. “I’m -” he wasn’t even sure what he was, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact that Isla seemed so certain that he was going to let her down. “I wish ye’d have a little more faith in me, that’s all lass,” he sighed eventually.
Isla tilted her head to the side and regarded him
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