Stolen Vows Read online

  “Be very careful that yer next words are nae yer last,” Roan warned, absolutely deadly serious.

  Tavish snorted. “Ye’d kill for her?” he jeered, jerking his head towards Isla.

  “I’d kill for her,” Roan answered calmly, still deadly. He took another few paces forwards, finally placing himself between his wife and her would be attacker.

  “But will nae,” Tavish smirked.

  “Are ye sure?”

  “All of those lies ye told everyone back at Castle Cameron would come spilling out if ye did,” Tavish breathed. “How do ye think yer papa would feel, Isla? Kenning how his darling daughter lied to him?”

  “Ye seem to forget, ye’d be dead,” Roan explained silkily. “What’s to stop us telling another lie or two to explain that unpleasantness away?” he whispered darkly.

  “Nae, Roan,” Isla croaked suddenly. She didn’t want to run that risk, and she didn’t want to turn her husband into a murderer, even if there was something wickedly thrilling about the notion.

  “Isla! Are ye forgetting what this man has done to ye?” he demanded roughly.

  “Nae,” Isla replied. “But I want to,” she reached for Roan’s hand. “Please?” she asked, “I want to forget. I want it all to go away.”

  Roan opened his mouth, and Isla felt that she knew what he wanted to say - that he could make it all go away. If she gave him free reign to exact revenge, then he would make sure Tavish never again laid so much as a finger on her. However, he didn’t speak, he just let the sentiments hang between them unsaid, before turning back to face Tavish.

  “Dinna think for a second that this is over, MacEantach, dinna think for a second that I’ll forget any of this,” he snarled.

  Tavish grinned evilly. “Ye seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’m afraid of ye, MacRae,” he smirked. His confidence had increased exponentially since Isla had stayed Roan’s hand. “Maybe tis ye who should be afraid of me?”

  Roan snorted at the notion. “Yer in a MacRae castle, MacEantach,” Roan spat viciously. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw, a vein throbbing in his temple, and Isla didn’t know how long Roan would be able to restrain himself if Tavish continued to provoke him.

  “A MacRae castle, for the time being,” Tavish whispered sinisterly, and then he turned away.

  Isla watched Tavish slink away, slightly amazed that her husband was actually letting him go. Was he doing that for her? Because she’d asked him to? She could scarcely believe that she had such power.

  “Isla, what were ye doing wandering the castle?” Roan asked, his voice was tender, but he clearly expected an answer. Isla drew a shaky breath and tried to give one.

  “I wanted to see Ian,” she confessed guiltily.

  “And ye dinna think I’d let ye?” Roan frowned. “Tis why ye let me believe ye’d go back to our rooms?”

  “Nae!” Isla gasped. “I kenned ye would nae stop me. I just - I just dinna -”

  “Ye just dinna want me to ken that ye were going to see yer brother?” Roan sighed. He ran a weary hand through his already mussed hair, and then rested his chin on his upturned palm.

  “Twas nae like that!” Isla insisted. She didn’t want to make Roan angry or upset now, not after he’d saved her from Tavish… again. “I just -” but she didn’t know how to explain, she wasn’t even sure herself why she’d done it. She thought it might have been because she was afraid that Roan would react like this - assume that she’d gone to Ian to confess all their problems.

  “What did he say?” Roan asked gravely. “Did ye get to see him before MacEantach…” but he let the sentence trail off unfinished.

  “Aye.”

  “And?” Roan breathed. “He’s going to take ye away? Back to Castle Cameron?”

  “He does nae ken. I dinna tell him about…what happened.”

  “Why nae?” Roan blurted, looking thunderstruck.

  “I could nae,” Isla whispered, and then, unable to stop herself any longer, she buried herself against his chest. “I hate it that Tavish is here,” she admitted in a shaky whisper.

  “Oh lass,” Roan breathed gruffly, he took her hand and led her back in the direction of their chamber.

  “Promise me that ye will nae go wandering off on yer own again?” he begged. “Nae when that animal is still free to roam the castle.”

  “I promise.”

  “I wish ye would let me do more,” Roan growled softly.

  “Ye’ve done so much.”

  “Nae enough,” Roan argued. Isla’s whole body tingled when her husband’s lips brushed the top of her head. “Nae yet.”

  Isla tilted her head back. She only meant to be able to study Roan’s face, but the darkening gleam of her husband’s eyes informed her of what she had actually done - opened herself to be kissed. Was her heart skipping because she did or didn’t want to feel his mouth against her own? Isla licked her dry lips hesitantly, and heard the low groan that lodged itself in Roan’s throat. He wanted her still, after everything, but he was doing everything in his power to try and hold back. The realization was strangely empowering.

  “Isla?” he rasped in question, as his wife timidly raked her fingernails across his shirt.

  “Thank ye,” she whispered again. She had accused him of being just like Tavish, but he wasn’t. He had never disgusted her, the thought of being fused as one with him had never revolted her. It always left her hungry and needy, even when she didn’t want it to. She liked how strong he was, and yet how gentle. She liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She liked his thoughtfulness and his compassion – Isla dwelled on these thoughts silently as they returned to their room.

  “Ye look lost in thought, lass,” Roan said when they were finally inside their chamber with the door closed behind them. “Is something bothering ye?”

  Isla shook her head. “Nae, naught,” she lied, “just daydreaming I suppose,” she murmured, looking away from her husband so she didn’t have to encounter his disbelieving stare.

  Roan brushed her hair away from her neck with the back of his hand and then followed the touch with a kiss. When Isla didn’t protest, he slipped his hands around her waist and moved his lips to her own. He kissed her deeply, running his hands over her body until she was pliant and yielding. Then, when he sensed that she was ready, he led her toward the bed.

  Isla’s body stiffened when the backs of her knees knocked against the mattress.

  Roan released her for a moment.

  “Ye do ken, Isla, that I dinna want to do anything that yer nae ready for?” he said slowly.

  “I - I’m nae sure I ken what ye mean,” Isla admitted awkwardly.

  Roan pulled her against his chest once more and twined his fingers in her hair.

  “He hurt he, dinna he?” Roan growled angrily. And once again Isla wasn’t entirely certain that she understood him. She was saved from revealing her ignorance this time though, because her husband continued speaking. “It does nae have to be like that ye ken, Isla,” he murmured.

  His breath was whispering hotly against her ear. It was making her feel the strangest butterfly feeling in her stomach.

  “I can make it good for ye,” Roan promised huskily. “Really good,” he panted, and Isla really didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, and didn’t much care so long as he didn’t let her go. She wasn’t quite sure that her legs would take her weight anymore; being this close to him was intoxicating.

  “Can ye?” she gasped dizzily, still completely in the dark, but she was listing towards him. Moving until her bosom brushed his chest, which caused a thrill to shiver through Isla’s body. She tilted her head offering her lips to him. “Like - like when ye kissed me?” she whispered shyly.

  Roan chuckled, which sent further shivers ricocheting through his wife’s body. “A little better than that I hope, lass,” he grinned predatorily. He feigned a look of deep deliberation. “Let me start by kissing ye properly at least,” he murmured thickly.

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nbsp; He dipped his head slowly, giving Isla the chance to pull away from him if she wished. Only she didn’t pull away, and felt herself rewarded for standing her ground when Roan’s lips fluttered against her own. There was something more insistent about their pressure this time. He peppered her mouth with searing little bussing as he let his arms wrap around Isla’s waist.

  She shuddered when one of his hands came to rest on the small of her back, so large and warm, gently coaxing her to move a little closer towards him. Until now, her own hands had been resting somewhat awkwardly against Roan’s chest, but very slowly, seizing her courage as she reveled in the delicate ministrations of her husband’s mouth, she looped them around his neck. Roan murmured his approval, and then dared to intensify his efforts a fraction.

  Isla felt his tongue tease the seam of her lips. Roan didn’t force her to accept him however, simply flicked languidly, tracing the shape of her plump lips until Isla felt like she was melting, until it seemed the most natural thing in the world to part her lips and invite him to continue his tender explorations.

  She tensed, surprised and embarrassed to hear herself moan with a need she couldn’t explain as her husband’s tongue slipped inside her mouth, but Isla relaxed when Roan didn’t appear displeased by her enthusiasm. His tongue surged deeper, and Isla thought that they must be standing far too close to the fire, because she felt like she was burning up.

  And then she stopped thinking all together, driven by instinct instead.

  She needed to move, she needed to react. She flicked her tongue in answer to Roan’s kiss, and shuddered when he groaned in response. Her hands, similarly, refused to stay passive any longer, one moved from the nap of Roan’s neck to bury itself in his thick, dark hair, while the other stroked its way down his back.

  Somehow it wasn’t enough though. There was an ache in the pit of her stomach and a fierce throb ticking between her legs. Isla was embarrassed by her body’s wanton reaction, but that didn’t stop her from twisting her hips against Roan. She heard his breath catch, and then she whimpered with regret when he pulled back, breaking their kiss.

  “I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves, dinna ye?” he panted, trailing a thumb over Isla’s swollen lips.

  “I - I did something wrong?” she cried breathlessly, looking and feeling completely crushed.

  She had never experienced anything so breathtakingly wonderful, and somehow in her inexperience she had ruined it! Isla looked up uncertainly when she heard Roan laughing.

  “Oh lass, ye could nae have done anything more right,” he chuckled.

  “Nae?” she said hesitantly. “But ye -”

  “Shh,” Roan whispered gently, running a hand up and then down Isla’s back. Her skin prickled hotly under his fingers. “Let me make it better,” he purred, tugging gently at her bodice. He eased the material off her shoulders, exposing her creamy white skin.

  “Make it better?” Isla gulped uncertainly, but then Roan’s mouth was on her neck, raining kisses down upon her throat, and she lost the ability to speak. He nibbled lightly underneath her ear, feasting hungrily on the pulse pounding there, working his way slowly lower until he was nuzzling at her collarbone. “Roan?” Isla gasped, shocked at where he seemed to be heading.

  “Ye’ll like this,” he murmured. “I promise. Just relax,” he begged gruffly, gently pushing her backwards.

  “Roan I -” Isla stammered, suddenly feeling unsure of herself and her feelings as the memory of being pinned to a bed, back at Castle Cameron, under Tavish’s hard body, rushed back to the forefront of her mind.

  “I will nae do anything ye dinna want,” Roan whispered persuasively. The back of Isla’s legs hit the side of the mattress and she fell backwards, landing sprawled upon the comforter. “Just tell me to stop and I will,” he promised, his voice a husky drawl.

  He crawled onto the bed beside her and dipped his head again, and Isla couldn’t contain a little squeal. He was kissing her through the white cotton of her shift, his open mouth sending searing heat sizzling through her blood as he suckling on one concealed nipple.

  Isla shuddered. She’d never even thought - she stopped thinking once again when one of Roan’s hands tugged at her neckline pulling it slowly so that he could see her large breasts. Isla blushed crimson, and tried to turn away, to hide herself, but her husband held her gently in place.

  “Nae,” he rasped firmly. “I’ve wanted to see ye like this since I first spotted ye on that grassy bank.”

  Isla’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Ye have nae!” she gasped, but she really didn’t sound terribly offended. “But - ye were so gallant!” she managed giggle.

  “Well, I was behaving myself,” Roan chuckled, moving up her body so that he could whisper into her ear. His hands had travelled to caress her now exposed breasts, fingers splayed widely so that they could cup the full, heavy swells. “Just because a man does nae pounce on ye, does nae mean he dinna want to,” he whispered thickly.

  A shiver raced the length of Isla’s body. Roan wanted to pounce on her? It was getting hard to breathe. And do what exactly? This, or was there more? She moaned loudly when his lips moved again to suckle her breast, only this time there was absolutely nothing between his wet rasping tongue and the sensitive dusky tip of her nipple. Isla felt her body arch into his touch. She felt achy and tender and in desperate need of something.

  “Roan?” she panted.

  “Mmm?” he murmured, the low sound felt as though it rumbled straight through Isla’s pounding blood. He raised his head, shooting her a wicked smile. “Ye want me to stop?” he puffed, his breath raising goose bumps on his wife’s creamy white skin.

  Isla shook her head, too caught in the thrall of the new sensations rocking her body to voice her desire.

  “Nae?” Roan breathed for her. “Maybe ye want more?” he panted. Isla nodded her head, still wholly unable to speak. “Maybe ye want me to touch ye somewhere else?” he whispered, laying a suggestive hand on her thigh.

  Roan waited, to see what Isla would do, to see if she would shy away or if she would welcome him. Her eyes, so glazed with passion that her husband had only to look into them to start to burn, widened, but she didn’t push his hand away.

  Working slowly, as he whispered soft nonsensical words of reassurance, Roan hiked the skirt of her gown up around her waist so that the fabric formed a belt around her middle. Isla began to shift nervously, but Roan wasn’t prepared to lose her now. He crawled over her body, still fully clothed himself, but pain sliced through his heart when he saw her face become overcast with a shadow of fear.

  “What is it, lass?” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, strumming his fingers over her sides, working desperately to lull her back into her passion hazed daze.

  He didn’t know if he was going to be able to stop. He had only meant to soothe her, pleasure her, but his body was aroused to the point of pain. He wanted to fulfill his fantasies. He wanted - needed to bury himself between her legs; he needed to make her belong to him in the most primal way known to man.

  “Yer too big,” Isla puffed, but her voice no longer held the fear Roan had recognized earlier on her face. He couldn’t help but grin. “Ye’ll crush me,” she clarified, to her husband’s amused disappointment.

  “I’ll let ye ride me,” he panted thickly into her ear. Her confused little frown sent bolts of desire pulsing through his hugely erect sex. He wanted to show her everything, teach her everything. “But that can wait,” he grunted, pressing his lips once again against hers, distracting her slightly as he let his hand dip beneath her undergarments.

  Isla gasped in shock when she felt him there, between her legs, but Roan also groaned in surprise when he felt how incredibly hot and wet and ready she was for him. She was so impossibly slick that his body gave a shudder of appreciation.

  “Roan?” she whimpered, her brows knotting in a frown that was a combination of confusion and disbelief. She tried to close her legs, but
her husband gently prevented her.

  “Let me do this for ye,” he purred, stroking her slit, searching for the swollen bundle of nerves at the head of Isla’s opening. When he grazed it with his fingertip his wife’s reaction was instant, she gasped sharply and bucked of the bed. Roan grinned. “Wait, it gets better,” he chuckled, slightly smugly, working the raised nub harder with his fingers.

  He’d already brought her to such a point that it was only going to take the smallest push to send her toppling into ecstasy, and Roan wanted to watch her face when she came. Isla was already flushed, her skin damp, her mouth slightly opened as she gasped and whimpered mindlessly.

  “I canna -” she puffed, eyes rolling back in her head. “Roan, I dinna -” she cried, and then she was screaming, jerking of the bed as her whole body convulsed with her release.