Stolen Vows Read online

  Roan didn’t think that he had ever seen anything so beautiful, and he didn’t think he was going to be able to restrain his own rampant needs for another second.

  “I need ye, Isla,” he rasped. “I canna wait. I’m so sorry.”

  But his wife was still trying to recover from her first taste of ecstasy and seemed not hear him, or indeed to notice when he slipped a finger inside her still pulsing sheath.

  Roan frowned when he felt how incredibly tight she was, marvelling that she could still be so unbelievably small after being raped by MacEantach. He pushed that puzzling thought aside and worked as quickly as he could to prepare her, his breeches making a mockery of his condition, as he trembled with desperation to slake his lust.

  “R-Roan, what -” Isla stammered. Her voice was breathy, but tinged with a fearful note of doubt. She had finally regained enough of her senses to realize he was not just between her legs, but also inside her.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he panted, appalled by the plea in his voice. He couldn’t remember ever needing a woman this badly before. “I’ll be gentle,” he repeated, willing her to accept him.

  Roan wasn’t certain if it was fear or consent on Isla’s part when she allowed him to push her legs further apart. He hated himself for not being in control enough to check. He simply settled in the cradle that he’d created for himself, the folds of her gown concealing his erection from Isla’s wide anxious eyes, as he nudged his cock against her.

  He heard her gasp, and his own breath escaped his body in a hiss as he sank into her sheath, but only by a fraction. He was going to be gentle if it damn well killed him! He owed Isla that much at least.

  “Relax,” Roan begged, pushing a little deeper. He instantly felt her tighten, and had to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from coming immediately. He stopped where he was, physically shaking from the toll this self-imposed restraint was placing on his body. “It hurts?” he groaned. He didn’t know what he’d do if she said yes. He couldn’t believe that she’d got him into such a state!

  “N-nae,” Isla gasped hesitantly. “It just - it feels so odd,” she confessed breathlessly.

  Odd? He most definitely had to do something about that! But Isla wriggled unexpectedly beneath him, shifting her hips and Roan sank further into her body. His eyes, which had been closed to slits that he could barely see out of, sprang open. He nudged forward again to be certain, eyes now narrowing when he encountered the unmistakable barrier of her maidenhead.

  “Yer a virgin?” he spat.

  Isla’s face had slowly been relaxing, softening in pleasure, as she got used to the feel of holding Roan’s sex inside her body, but at his vicious question she tensed in terror all over again.

  “I am?” she whimpered, but Roan was in no state to attend her confusing query.

  “In which case,” he growled. “This is going to hurt, Cameron,” Roan hissed nastily, making her feel his betrayal, and then he thrust, driving forward as hard as his hips could propel him.

  Isla’s shriek of pain sliced through his heart, and Roan instantly regretted his cruelty with an enormity that could not be exaggerated. His body was in heaven, but his soul was in hell. He stilled inside her. She could have been made for him, so hot and tight and wet, clenching around his cock like a sodden fist, but her eyes - her eyes were bright with tears. He moved to capture her lips, silently begging her forgiveness, but Isla turned her head away from him, and Roan had never felt so completely in the wrong.

  He couldn’t possibly stay still a moment longer however, so he slowly began to thrust, desperately trying to soothe the hurt he’d caused Isla. It must have been guilt that was holding his body in check, stopping him from coming, as he loved her. He was aching to hear a gasp of pleasure and not pain trickle from her lips.

  “I’m sorry,” Roan panted into her ear. “God, Isla, I’m so sorry,” he groaned, hips still rolling into hers.

  This had to start feeling good for her, didn’t it? Pleasure was fairly crackling though Roan’s veins. It seemed nonsensical that his body could be racing towards such a towering peak of bliss, while Isla suffered beneath him in pain - and then Roan heard a sound that nearly sent him spilling himself inside her right there and then. Isla moaned him name. The single word so infused with passion and need that it was hardly recognizable.

  “Oh God,” he grunted, plunging harder.

  Roan heard his wife whimper, and then at the change of pace, Isla began to writhe against him, bucking and grinding, mindless as she thrashed her head back into the pillows. Her nails clawed at his back, gripping him cruelly through the fabric of his shirt. Lord, he wished he were naked so he could feel the slick heat of their skin moving together.

  Roan wasn’t sure if it was due to him, or simply an eighteen-year wait, but he could feel the walls of Isla’s sex tightening as she approached her second orgasm. The sensation dragged him to the very edge of his limits. One more thrust would be all his body could take. He pulled back, as far as he was able without slipping out of her heat, and caught Isla’s eye. She looked drugged with pleasure.

  “Please,” she begged breathlessly, catching Roan completely by surprise. He slammed home, stealing both their breaths, as they both broke in ecstasy.

  It had never felt so good… was the one thought flashing through Roan’s brain, as he was nearly rendered unconscious by the force of his release. He jetted his seed deep into Isla’s womb, loving the feel of her jerking beneath and around him.

  “Oh God,” he panted, collapsing on top of his wife’s body, bearing down upon the ample pillow of her breasts. “Oh God,” he swore mindlessly. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, he could barely breathe.

  Roan let himself lie like that, in a sated exhaustion, until he felt Isla begin to shift uncomfortably beneath him. Using what little strength he retained, he managed to roll off her body, but clasped her very firmly against his side. He waited until enough of his breath had returned to let him speak, and then he turned his head to look at her.

  She looked utterly dazed, and Roan couldn’t contain a satisfied smile when he read the expression of blatant fulfillment on her face, but neither could he forget the discovery he’d made, or his cruel reaction to it.

  “Isla,” he sighed, sitting up and stripping off his damp shirt. “I’m - sorry I did that to ye - but do ye want to tell me why ye lied this time?” he asked wearily.

  “I dinna!” she cried, the blissfull little smile instantly vanishing from her lips. She blinked tearfully and then tugged at her gown, covering herself from his sight.

  “Ye told me MacEantach raped ye,” Roan growled, some of his anger returning.

  “R-raped?” Isla blinked still anxious, but clearly confused.

  Roan glanced down at her with some confusion and sighed. “Ye ken - forced himself on ye?”

  “He did!” Isla argued adamantly.

  “He did nae!” Roan growled. “He could nae possibly have forced ye to do what we’ve just done!”

  Isla opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. No… Tavish hadn’t forced her to do that exactly, but that must have been what he’d intended to do to her. She shuddered in disgust at the thought her despised ex-fiancé doing anything so intimate to her body, of having him joined with her, of feeling him moving inside of her. Isla took a gulping breath and willed the heat that was rushing to her cheeks, at the memory of Roan doing those things to her, to go away. She hadn’t known that it was possible to do such things, to feel such things.

  Isla glanced down at her hands to try and hide her blush. Her body was still tingling slightly, and she felt incredibly sore inside, but she wouldn’t take any of it back. Well… maybe Roan’s anger, his disgust…

  “Isla?” he pressed firmly. “The truth.”

  “I - I dinna ken,” she mumbled.

  “Ye dinna ken what?”

  “I dinna ken that - that this,” she flailed her arms helplessly in the direction of the bed “- was what happened between a man and a w
oman,” she blurted, humiliated.

  Roan didn’t laugh at her, as she had feared he would. He did smile, but it was in the same kind manner that she remembered first seeing light his handsome face.

  “Oh Isla,” he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead. “My Isla,” he added, sounding quite possessive. Isla found that she liked it. It warmed her poor, battered heart. “What did he do to ye?”

  “Tavish?” she whispered, curling into Roan’s side and laying a hesitant hand on his now bare chest. He nodded his head, gently stroking a hand through her curls. “He - well the morning before I ran away and met ye, he came to my room,” Isla explained in a small voice. “He said he - he’d come to advantage of his rights as a husband.”

  She watched as Roan frown darkly. “Go on?” he pressed.

  “I dinna want him to, but he give me nae any choice,” she whispered, shivering. Roan pulled her closer. “He t-touched me with his hands like ye did,” she whimpered, “only - but I dinna - it felt -” she cried softly.

  “Where did he touch ye?” Roan growled. Isla could clearly hear the anger in his voice again now. She hoped desperately that it was directed towards Tavish and not herself.

  “H-here,” she sniffed reluctantly, waving a hand across her breasts as if she couldn’t bear to linger over the memory. “And l-lower down -” she dropped her hand towards the core of her femininity, where Roan had been just minutes before, loving her fiercely and obliterating the taint that Tavish had left behind, but then she broke in into a full flood of tears.

  “Oh, darling,” Roan breathed, sitting up and bundling her into his arms. He kissed her temple, and then he cheek, before finally finding her mouth. Isla melted in his arms. It wasn’t passion, but comfort, that he was imparting. “I’m so sorry,” he growled. He paused for a moment, but then asked: “How did ye get away?”

  “He said he was going to tell my father,” she croaked wretchedly. “He said that he’d go to him the morning after our wedding and tell my father that I was whore,” she wailed, “that I’d already been with a man. I could nae let him do that!” she sobbed. “I fought back, I - I think I must have surprised him, and then I ran.”

  Roan sighed heavily. “And then I found ye and handed ye back over to that bastard,” he spat, self-disgust evident in his tone.

  “Ye dinna ken,” Isla said quietly.

  “That night, he tried again?” Roan scowled, and Isla nodded.

  “But ye saved me,” she said, with a small smile. “And then look what I did to ye,” she finished sadly.

  Roan kissed her again instead of responding with words, deeply and fiercely, his tongue surging between her lips as he trying to relate something that he was unable to say.

  “I am sorry, Roan,” Isla gasped breathlessly when her mouth was released from its sweet imprisonment. “If I’d only thought - if I could do it all again I’d -” she was silence by her husband pressing a finger against her lips.

  “Thank ye.”

  “Thank ye?” Isla echoed, a note of confusion evident in her husky voice.

  “For letting me have ye,” Roan murmured, running his fingers lovingly through his wife’s hair. She was still and silent for a moment, but the words she then spoke cut like a knife being plunged into Roan’s heart.

  “Tis nae as though I had a choice.”

  The accusation was softly spoken, but it pierced Roan’s very soul. He froze. His whole body seemed to catch its breath as he processed her words.

  “Ye -” he began, but he just couldn’t find the words.

  “Wait! I dinna mean to say that out loud,” Isla blurted. She looked desperate, but Roan couldn’t forget what she had just said, despite what she might try to say now.

  “But ye would have been thinking it,” Roan breathed. His voice had taken on a surreal note of calm.

  “Roan, please listen,” she said quickly, wringing her hands. “I dinna mean it like ye think,” she squeaked. “Please?” she begged, but he shook his head.

  So she saw herself as being unable to deny him, unable to refuse him his “rights” as her husband… hadn’t he heard her say something similar in relation to Tavish? No wonder he felt sick to his stomach! Roan didn’t know how he’d managed to get this all so wrong, but he was determined to put it right if it killed him - which there was every possibility that it might.

  “I’ll deal with it,” he muttered cryptically, sitting down on the edge of a chair and pulling on his clothes.

  “Deal with what?” Isla croaked. “Roan what are ye going to do?” she cried. She picked up a shawl off the end of the bed and hurried over to him. “Please Roan, I only meant that ye -” she paused, frantically trying to find the words. “That ye can - well, make me feel things I dinna always want to.”

  Roan winced. How was that any better than his interpretation of what she had said? What was the difference between forcing her to feel things and forcing her to do things? He loved her too much to continue to do that.

  “I dinna want ye to feel that way, Isla,” Roan breathed difficulty. He stood up, towering over his wife.

  “What way? What do ye mean?” she asked anxiously, trembling as she spoke.

  “To be always afraid, always scared of what I might do next.”

  “I’m nae afraid of ye!” she gasped, so passionately that Roan couldn’t bear to believe that it was a lie.

  “But ye hate me - ye said so yerself,” he murmured, flinching at the painful memory. “I thought -” Roan stopped himself. “It does nae matter what I thought,” he sighed, shaking his head mournfully. “Tis over now.”

  “What?” Isla shrieked.

  “I’m going to see yer brother. I’m going to tell him -”

  “Ye canna!” Isla cried, suddenly throwing herself forward against his chest. She clung to him desperately. “Please, oh - please, dinna send me away, Roan?” she croaked, staring up at him with glassy, teary eyes.

  “I ken that yer worried about what yer family will think,” Roan said difficultly, trying to steel himself against the luscious feel of her body pressed up against his own. “But I’ll make sure they ken twas all my fault - that ye are completely innocent. They’ll be ready enough to blame a MacRae warrior, I’m sure.”

  He couldn’t understand why Isla was shaking her head, why she was clinging to him, why there were tears coating her cheeks. After everything that she’d said to him, surely this was what she wanted?

  “Isla,” he said, trying to pry her off him, but she merely hung on to his body tighter.

  “Please?” she sobbed. “Please, just - just forget that I said anything?” she begged. “I just wanted to hurt ye. I was just lashing out. What ye - we did just then was -”

  Roan would never know how Isla had intended to finish that sentence, because there was loud knock on the chamber door. Isla, in her near-to-naked state, squealed and ducked behind her husband as he called for whomever it was to enter.

  “Laird MacRae wants to see ye immediately, Roan.” The man delivering the message was the MacRae’s war captain. His eyes flickered disapproving towards his tanist’s wife. “He’s ready to see the Camerons now, and wants ye with him.”

  Roan nodded his head gravely. He heard Isla whimper his name again, but he couldn’t afford to pay her any heed. He knew what needed to be done now. It was just a case of doing it.

  ..ooOOoo..

  Isla watched her husband go with a newly broken heart. It had just been starting to mend. She’d very slowly been beginning to heal, and then, like a scab being ripped off a wound, she was in a worse place than where she’d started! And this time, it was all her fault!

  “Oh God!” she whimpered, turning back towards the mattress and crawling upon it like a wounded animal. She breathed in the scent their bodies that lingered on the bedcoverings and began to cry in earnest. What had she done? What had she done!

  It had been so wonderful, so heavenly. Isla had finally found a sense of peace, and then as the blissful clouds lifted there had been a seco
nd, just a moment, of bitter resentment - and it had come spilling out of her mouth.

  Isla agonized for hours as she waited for her husband to return. It was well past supper before she heard the door creek open.

  “How did things go with Laird MacRae?” Isla jumped up out of the chair where she sat spinning and ran toward her husband the second he stepped through the door.

  “Fine,” Roan answered with a shrug. “It was a couple hours of people introducing themselves. Graem has nae made his offer yet.”

  “A couple of hours?” Isla repeated. She didn’t know the exact time, but she felt certain that Roan had been gone a lot longer than that. “What else did ye do?”