Stolen Vows Read online

  “I hope nae to, Roan,” Graem sighed deeply. “I love ye as if ye were my own son. But ye ken as well as I do that the laird must have the respect of the clan to rule.”

  “Aye,” Roan agreed. He shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair. “As ever, what ye say is only the truth, but -”

  “Tis hard to hear? I ken,” Graem looked kindly at both Roan and Isla. “I am sorry yer welcome here could nae have been warmer, Mistress Isla, but we shall wait and see.” He coughed again, this time more fiercely.

  Roan got to his feet and found his Laird some water. “Forgive us, we are agitating yer condition,” he said humbly.

  Graem waved his concern aside. “I’m stronger than I look,” he chuckled dryly, “but take yer lady off to supper, and leave me to worry about matters for tonight.”

  ..ooOOoo..

  “Roan, I’m so sorry!” Isla blurted, the second they stepped out of the Laird’s dark chambers and into the corridor.

  “As ye said earlier, ye dinna ken I was the tanist,” Roan said coolly.

  Isla bit her lip nervously. “Are ye very angry?” It was a ridiculous question, but she couldn’t stop it from bubbling out.

  “Furious.”

  Isla blanched. “With me?”

  “Nae,” Roan snarled, which was hardly an encouraging reply for his wife.

  “Roan, I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “Truly I am. If ye want me to go -”

  “Go?” Roan turned his head, finally looking at Isla. He seemed to hesitate when he saw her face. “Yer nae going anywhere,” he told her firmly. “People may nae take it as badly as Graem supposes,” he added, but Isla could tell that he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

  “Well, at least yer Laird dinna ask exactly why we had to get married,” she said softly, trying to find something positive in everything that had happened.

  “Dinna he?” A cold voice interjected, making Isla jump. Roan’s mother stepped out of a side corridor. “How curious. I think ye were going to fill me in on that detail, though?”

  “Mother,” Roan nodded swiftly, saving his wife from having to give an immediate answer to her mother-in-law’s question. “Isla and I were just going to supper; would ye care to join us?”

  Isla fairly prayed that Lady MacRae had already eaten, or that she had a prior engagement, or just about anything to keep her from joining them. However, Lady MacRae’s cool smile widened on her pinched, pale lips and she inclined her head.

  “Aye, I think I shall, Roan,” she replied smoothly. “We can finish the talk we were having earlier.”

  Isla glanced up at her husband, a quiet panic in her eyes. He took her arm, patted it gently, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to smile.

  Another guilty pang gripped Isla’s heart. She was coming to realize that Roan was the last man on Earth she would want to hurt or cause trouble for, but she was doing both.

  “I see my son found ye something more suitable to wear,” Lady MacRae said, falling into step beside Isla. Her lip curled in an irritated sneer when she found nothing in her daughter-in-law’s attire to criticize. “He is so kind, although it can be something of a failing at times,” she added harshly.

  Isla frowned at this mix of compliment and censure. Roan seemed unruffled by it, but she was unwilling to let it pass.

  “I think kindness a very admirable quality,” Isla said evenly. “In fact, I -”

  “Ye would, after benefitting from it as ye so obviously have,” Lady MacRae interrupted.

  “The dining hall looks surprisingly full for this time of night,” Roan said, rather loudly, silencing both his mother and his wife as they entered the Great Hall.

  “Nae doubt they’re all interested in seeing yer wife,” Lady MacRae snorted. “The castle has been buzzing with the news since yer arrival.”

  “Has it?” Roan growled. He glanced pointedly at his mother. “How do ye suppose that started?”

  “Roan Davis MacRae! Dinna look at me in that manner, and do nae raise yer voice,” Lady MacRae huffed, raising herself to her full stature and somehow managing the impossible feat of looking down at her son. “If ye arrive at the castle with foreign women and secrete them in yer private chambers, what is a mother supposed to say in explanation of yer actions?”

  Roan simply sighed heavily and decided not to answer. He led both women through the large dining hall to the high table, where the Laird and his family sat to eat. Isla could feel the unnatural stillness that seeped into the room as everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at her with suspicious eyes.

  Roan helped the ladies to their seats before sitting down at the table between them. Isla expected to be attacked at any moment. The MacRae’s could hardly have been more obvious about watching every move that she made. However, Roan’s fierce scowl kept everyone at bay, for the time being.

  “Well now,” Lady MacRae said as she began picking at her food. “Ye were telling me about yer marriage?”

  “Were we?” Roan growled, violently spearing a piece of meat with his fork.

  “Roan, ye really must stop all of this nonsense!” Lady MacRae snapped. “Yer acting most peculiarly! I’m in half a mind to ask if yer even my son! What I’m asking is hardly unreasonable!” Her voice grew steadily louder until it seemed to echo around the hall. Each word sliced through the air like it was being cut with a knife. Isla had to agree that her mother-in-law’s questions were fair. She wished that she and Roan had the time, and had been in a proper state of mind, to concoct an explanation.

  “Twas my fault, Lady MacRae,” Isla blurted suddenly.

  Roan’s fork clattered against his plate. A smug smile spread across her mother-in-law’s face.

  “Nae, it -”

  “Well, I expected that much of course,” Lady MacRae said, speaking over her son. “Come now, explain yerself, my dear,” she said in a dangerously silky voice. “What did ye do?”

  Isla licked her lips. They were suddenly very dry. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make matters even worse?

  “I fell in love with yer son, Milady,” Isla said in a rush.

  She didn’t dare look at Roan, and she didn’t allow herself to think too hard on the words, afraid that she might find more than a grain of truth among them. Lady MacRae however, did not appear in the least pleased by this announcement. Her sharp eyes narrowed threateningly.

  “Ye what?” she hissed.

  “I fell in love with yer son,” Isla repeated quietly. Every time she spoke the words, they felt more true.

  “And Roan?” Lady MacRae spat. “Are ye in love with this Cameron girl?”

  Isla interjected quickly, not allowing Roan the chance to speak. She didn’t think she could bear to hear him deny that he loved her.

  “Roan performed a great service for me. Twas a trifle to him I’m sure, but it made such an impression on my young heart that it seemed very natural to fall in love with the man who had rendered it,” Isla gushed, reddening furiously as she spoke.

  “But if, as ye claim, this affection was not returned, how is it that yer his wife?” Lady MacRae snorted bitterly.

  Isla bit her lip and steadied her hands. She reminded herself of what she was trying to achieve, to make Roan look as free from blame as was possible and to make herself appear, if not blameless, then hopefully only innocently foolish.

  “Well ye see, Lady MacRae,” Isla began again slowly. “I was so terribly afflicted by this – this -”

  “Madness?” the older woman snarled helpfully.

  Isla hesitated, but thought it better not to contradict her mother-in-law. “Madness? Well, aye, if ye like,” she said, as lightly as she could manage. “But ye see, twas weighing so heavily on my heart that I found I simply had to confess my feelings to yer son.”

  Lady MacRae harrumphed. “Hardly the actions of a modest young girl,” she said coldly. “However, nae wholly reprehensible.”

  Isla couldn’t say what cause Lady MacRae to make the admission, but s
he was grateful for it. Perhaps it was just the old woman’s motherly pride, and her belief in the fact that her son was the sort of man young ladies instantly fell in love with.

  “Well, perhaps, if ye think nae, Lady MacRae,” Isla conceded sweetly, trying to get her thoughts back on track. She hadn’t actually dared to look at her husband to see what he was making of her tale. “However, my timing was the problem.”

  “How so?” Lady MacRae’s eyes began to narrow again.

  “This - madness - came over me most strongly as I lay alone in my chamber one evening,” she murmured, staring down at her hands to give her a respite from her mother-in-law’s fierce stare. “I could nae shake it. So, I am ashamed to say, I went to seek out yer son.”

  “In the middle of the night?” Lady MacRae asked for clarification. Isla nodded her head. “Ye were caught, of course?” she hissed waspishly. Again Isla nodded. There was beat of silence, and then Lady MacRae erupted with: “Roan! How could ye be so stupid?”

  Isla opened her mouth to try to collect the blame as she had planned. However, Roan finally found his voice.

  “It seemed quite prudent to me, mother, to marry Isla once we had been caught in such a compromising position,” Roan said, as calmly as if he had been acquainted with the story all along. Isla couldn’t understand the pang she felt at his choice to describe the arrangement as “prudent”.

  “How so?” Lady MacRae demanded hotly.

  “To avoid any further bad feeling between the Cameron clan and our own clan, and to obtain a perfectly suitable, pleasing wife for myself,” he said easily, as if he was discussing nothing of greater importance than the weather.

  Suitable… pleasing… the meek words echoed hollowly in Isla. She was quite certain that Lady MacRae had a few things to say about how suitable and pleasing her new daughter-in-law was. However, Roan had clearly had enough of the interrogation. He stood up, making their hurried excuses.

  “Roan -” Lady MacRae continued, but by this time her son had gently coaxed Isla to her feet and was shepherding her out of the hall. He called an apology back to his mother, but didn’t otherwise pay the older woman much mind.

  “Are ye all right, Isla?” he demanded, the second they were out in the corridor and afforded some privacy.

  “Roan I’m fine -” Isla said sharply, pushing his hand away. She was embarrassed and annoyed by the fuss, and hurt by what he had said.

  “Probably hungry,” Roan said, “Ye dinna touch yer food. I’ll bid the maid bring something for ye when we get back to our room.”

  Our room? Isla marveled at how easily that tripped off her husband’s tongue. It eased her hurt a little, even as she reminded herself that she had no right to feel hurt. Roan had made her no promises, or declaration of love or affection. She was in danger of forgetting the trouble and the lies that her marriage was based upon. She was almost ready to believe the story that she’d made up for her mother-in-law.

  “- Isla?”

  “Hmm?” She hadn’t heard a word Roan had said. “I’m sorry, what did ye say?” He looked at her anxiously, and asked for a second time what she would like him to order for dinner. “Naught,” Isla sighed. “I’m nae hungry.”

  “Damn it, woman! I’m nae going to let ye starve yerself to death!” Roan snapped, losing patience with her morose mood.

  “Why nae?” she said, finally breaking down as they reached the door to Roan’s room. “Ye’d be better off if I did starve myself to death!” she snapped and then rushed into the room and collapsed onto the bed.

  The door was shut and then softly locked. The smooth chink of the mechanism was followed by the tread of heavy footsteps walking toward her. Isla tensed when she felt the mattress give, and then tensed further when a warm hand was laid against her back.

  “Now then, lass,” Roan breathed softly, running his fingers in soothing circles up and down his wife’s spine. “What’s got ye so unsettled?”

  Isla didn’t answer. She was struggling mightily against the urge to cry. Roan must have seen the gleam of tears dammed up in her eyes. He scooped her up off the mattress and bundled her into his arms, holding her tightly and rocking gently.

  “My poor wee girl,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the top of her head. “Yer tired and hungry and worn out,” he paused, and sighed, “aye, and homesick too, nae doubt.” He tilted her head back so that he could look in her eyes. “What a brute of a husband ye have,” he frowned at himself. He dabbed a kiss against her lips. “What can I do to make it better?”

  “Do?”

  “Aye,” Roan murmured. He stroked his wife’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I need to thank ye for that pretty tale ye span at supper,” he said. “Though I told ye I would take care of it,” he did add with a slight sigh.

  “Ye’ve taken care of so much though, Roan.”

  Roan untangled their limbs and left Isla on the bed while he sent for Liane. When she servant arrived, she was sent away again to fetch a bowl of broth.

  “Ye’ll feel better when ye have something inside ye,” Roan assured his wife.

  Liane returned quickly with the humble little meal.

  “Here now, drink this and ye’ll feel a good deal better I’m sure,” Roan said warmly, carrying the broth to Isla.

  She took the bowl with a murmured “thank ye”, and then began to eat. At first, she merely took sips to appease him, but Roan was relieved when Isla eventually gave in to her hunger. By the time she had finished she already looked a little better.

  Roan sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his own. “I’m sorry if I have been thoughtless today. I ken it must have been difficult, and I ken that I’ve been preoccupied with troubles of my own,” he added.

  “Troubles of my making,” Isla said bitterly. She turned her head away from him.

  “Isla,” he breathed, “ye ken I dinna blame ye for anything Graem said this evening, do ye nae?”

  Isla turned back to him, a mixture of sadness and disbelief on her face. “Well ye should,” she muttered miserably.

  “We can speak about it in the morning,” he conceded reluctantly. “Things will look clearer then,” he added, but didn’t give his wife a chance to respond. Instead, he dipped his mouth down until he could claim her rosy lips.

  “Sleep now, darling,” he said huskily, chuckling when she instantly obeyed by closing her eyes.

  He slipped onto the mattress beside her and kicked his feet under the blankets. He pulled the covers up over both of them, sinking down into the pillows and wrapped his arms around Isla’s with a very contented sigh. Without waking, Isla burrowed into the warmth of his chest. Just holding her made him feel so peaceful. This was worth it all, he reasoned hazily, as his eyes drifted shut and he joined Isla in slumber, whatever else happened, this was bliss.

  ..ooOOoo..

  The next time that Isla woke it was morning. She stretched - and was a little surprised by how much better she felt after a good night’s rest. She looked around the room with a great deal more interest than she’d shown before, feeling a pang of hunger, and a definite thirst.

  A glance around the room caused her heart to fall however. Roan was gone. Isla was trying to decide between summoning Liane or pulling on her clothes to explore the castle on her own when the chamber door swung open with a mighty crash.

  “Where is that nae good brother of mine?” a voice bellowed.

  Isla blinked at the sight of the person standing in her doorway. It was a woman - though her height and build surely made her a match for any man. Long red hair hung down her broad back and her pale green eyes were flashing with fury.

  Isla was sure that she had never seen her before, but something about her was almost eerily familiar. She watched in shocked silence as the stranger scanned the room. At last, her eyes lighted on Isla.

  The woman’s expression, demeanor and even posture changed in the blink of an eye. A jolly smile settled on her plump lips and she strode toward the other woman with her arms outst
retched. “Well, now. Ye must be Roan’s new wee wife! What a bonnie one ye are! I’ve nae wonder how it is that the rascal dragged ye home…and lying abed after nine bells. Well, I suppose he left ye exhausted!” she announced with a knowing waggle of her scarlet eyebrows.

  Isla listened as the stranger talked. She didn’t seem to require any reply from Isla herself, but was quite content to carry on both sides of the conversation alone. When she again turned to the subject of Roan, Isla managed to murmur a question.

  “Pardon, lass?” The woman flashed another amiable smile.

  “I was just wondering, where is Roan?” And who are you? She thought, but didn’t speak the latter aloud.