Page 11 of Bride takes a Scot

Isabella ate a little of the food, washed herself thoroughly at the basin since a bath hadn’t arrived, and readied for bed. After, she pulled back the coverings. She tossed and turned and couldn’t fathom why Declan objected to being with her. Her pride was as dented as armor after a fierce battle. If he had no care for her, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting it bother her either. But she contradicted herself with her next thought—he didn’t want her.

Groggily, she arose when the sun streamed into the bedchamber. Isabella had gotten only a few winks of sleep since her mind turned all night. Grumpily, she hastened to the chamber pot. When she finished, she used the basin to wash and pulled her hair into a tie at her nape. She wanted to look her best. Not that it mattered because her clot-headed husband didn’t care a whit about her and probably wouldn’t notice. She dressed and left her bedchamber, moving down the stairs and into the common room.

“The laird is outside,” the innkeeper’s wife told her. “He’s awaitin’ for ye. He told me to give ye something quick-like to break your fast whilst he gets the horses ready.”

She stood by the small trestle table ladened with various breads and fruit smears, fruit, small wedges of cheese, and a pitcher of mead. Isabella ate a few bites of fruit and cheese and only drank half a cup of mead. She didn’t want to have to seek nature on the ride, at least until later in the day.

Isabella stepped outside and saw Declan standing in the sunlight holding the horses’ reins. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him.Lord, she prayed,help me to win his affection. Even the tiniest bit would appease me.

“Good morn,” she greeted him with a smile and hurried to mount the horse. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“Nay, I only just got here. Good morn, Wife.”

Declan helped her by giving her a leg-up. Isabel purposely appeared too weak to put her leg over the horse’s back so he would have to hold her. His hands immediately surrounded her and protected her from falling. She placed a hand on his lightly-whiskered cheek and smiled. His eyes stared into hers briefly before he shifted her back atop her horse’s back. Isabella enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

Back on the trail, they rode for a few leagues before stopping. He didn’t speak to her which left her to her maddening thoughts. Though he was somewhat reserved, she sensed there was something more that caused him not to want to bed her. Whatever it was probably had nothing to do with her. She felt much better about the situation when that thought entered her mind.

They rode until the sun was high overhead. Declan pulled his horse to a stop. “We’ll let the horses rest a bit,” he told her. “If ye need some privacy, that copse will do, lass. It’ll be safe. There’s no one about.”

She wondered how he knew this, and suspected Declan must’ve traveled through the area on his treks to Edinburgh. She used the opportunity to stretch her legs and relieve her needs, trading places to hold the horses while he did the same. There was no other conversation. Declan was a man of scant words apparently, and she was getting to know him, what little he showed of himself.

After a brief respite from riding, they continued. Isabella turned her attention to the scenery and discovered she enjoyed the beauty of the land they traipsed. The woodland seemed to grow sparser the more north they rode. Hills and meadows lay before them and in the distance, mountainous peaks rose to touch the sky. Newly sprouted flowers sprinkled the open areas where the grass was beginning to take over the fields. Isabella had always enjoyed the rebirth of nature when spring came. At least she’d had something to view on the laborious journey.

Toward early evening, he sidled next to her. “We’ll stop here for the night.” He dismounted and approached her.

When his hands settled on her waist, he snatched her from her horse as if she weighed nothing and lowered her to the ground. Isabella gasped at his quick movement. She put her hands on his shoulders and sagged against him until she could support herself on her wobbly legs. Isabella took longer than necessary so she could enjoy the feel of his muscles pressed against her body and the tingles she’d experienced whenever he touched her. She breathed in his scent—horse, and man, and yet, it was appealing, making her want him all the more.

They had stopped by a stream, and she made use of a nearby bush for privacy. On her return, she found him resting by a tree. He had started a fire and wrapped his tartan over his body. Isabella sat across from him, disheartened that he hadn’t offered to share the warmth of his tartan. She was cold and shivered at the thought of having to sleep outside. Her cloak offered a littleprotection from the cold, but she suspected her husband’s body would be much warmer.

Declan unfastened his scabbard, pulled his sword free, and set it beside him. His sword was quite large and hefty given the thickness of the iron blade. She’d never seen a longsword akin to his. His sword had a cross-hilt with capped arms that ended in quatrefoils to protect his hands. There were no adornments to it such as jewels or embellishments on the blade. The wide blade didn’t appear too sharp, but thick enough to cause great injury. Isabella shook her head at the image of him using it in battle or against a foe. He likely knew how to protect them given the size of his weapon and that he frequently traveled the area.

“Do ye wish to share my tartan? There’s a wee bit of a nip this night.”

A wee bit? It was bloody freezing. Before he might rescind his offer, Isabella hurried to sit with him. She was grateful he’d offered to share his tartan, but more pleased that she could cuddle next to him. Declan shimmied toward her and pulled the tartan over them.

“You are cold. Here,” he said and wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her tighter against him. “Share my warmth.”

She wanted to share more than that but refrained from saying so. “How is it you are warm and I’m cold?”

He grinned and with his free arm, poked at the fire. “I’m used to the temperatures here in the north. This is a mild evening. You’ll get used to it, Wife.”

Isabella relaxed against him. She was lulled by the fire and his warmth and snuggled against his hard body. As usual, a thrill swept over her body from the places they touched to her extremities. She tilted her head back and watched his face. He seemed oblivious to her subtle signals. So Isabella reached to touch his chin and turned his face to look at her. “Declan…”

“Aye, Wife?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Wife’?”

“To remind myself that I’m married.”

What an unfeeling thing to say. He was a cad. She took a breath to settle her temper because it was becoming more difficult to keep from being outspoken. Isabella wanted to tell him what she thought of his inane comment, but instead, she said, “I’m so insignificant that you need to remind yourself that you married me?”

Declan leaned forward and turned to peer at her. “Ah, nay, lass, I did not mean it like that.”

“Then why won’t you at least kiss me?”

“You want to be kissed?”

Lord above, she drew in a deep breath. The man needed to be hit over the head. “Never mind. It seems my wishes don’t matter. And just so you know, I preferred to be called Isabella, not Wife.”