Page 20 of The Highlander’s Illicit Bride (Wicked Highland Lairds #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“ S top fussin’,” she chided him.

“It stings.”

“’Tis nae supposed tae feel good,” she replied.

They sat on a log beside the river where they’d first stopped to rest before they were ambushed.

Struan sat with his shirt off staring at the flowing water before them, grimacing.

Beneath the fabric of his tunic, she could see the long slice that cut across his back.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a deep gash, but blood still seeped from it, staining the back of his tunic a ghastly shade of crimson.

“Ye need tae take yer tunic off,” she said.

“Cannae wait tae see me without me shirt on again, eh?”

She scowled at him. “’Tis nae a joke, Struan. If I’m goin’ tae treat yer wound, I need tae see what it is I’m workin’ with.”

“If that’s what ye need tae tell yerself?—”

“Stop foolin’ about, ye donkey,” she scolded him. “Nae everythin’ is a joke.”

He sighed but did as she asked. Once he had his tunic off, he tossed it away, between the cut and the blood, it was ruined anyway.

Isolde’s gaze traveled the roadmap of scars across his back, the brutal honesty of his body sending a heat low in her belly.

She knew she should focus on tending the wound, but instead Isolde stood there, her mouth dry, her fingers tingling with the urge to trace the ridges of old battles Struan had overcome and now proudly displayed.

She pulled a few strips of cloth out of her bag then dipped them in the river.

Slowly and carefully, she wiped away the blood that had already dried and crusted around the wound, removing as much dirt as she could.

The last thing he needed was to let him take an infection.

She had learned much about healing, but her skills had their limits.

“Ye’re lucky the wound is nae deep,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I dinnae feel lucky at the moment.”

“It could be worse,” she said as she began brushing away the debris around his wound, making him flinch and draw in a sharp breath.

“Aye. It can always be worse,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Dinnae be such a bairn.”

He laughed and let her continue her ministrations with minimal complaint. With his wound cleaned, she pulled a couple pots of ointment from her pack and scooped some onto her fingers. She leaned forward but hesitated.

“All right, this is goin’ tae sting a bit,” she warned. “So, prepare yerself.”

His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. She laid a hand on one of his shoulders and leaned close to him, relishing the feeling of his thick, corded muscles beneath her fingertips.

Isolde leaned forward, pressing her body against his back as she dabbed the ointment into his wound, drawing a sharp hiss from him.

He flinched slightly but bore the pain he was undoubtedly feeling.

Isolde packed the wound with the herbal ointment—thankfully with minimal fussing from Struan.

That done, she wrapped a clean bandage around the wound.

Once she was finished, she packed her ointments back into the pack and wiped off her hands on a spare rag.

“I think ye’re goin’ tae live,” she said.

“Thanks tae ye.”

She scoffed. “Yer wound wasnae all that serious, thankfully. I did naethin’ but clean it.”

“Well… thank ye all the same.”

Isolde’s cheeks flushed. “Ye’re welcome.” She then proceeded to check, clean and bandage the cut above his hip, that was smaller and had luckily stopped bleeding.

She stood up and retrieved a fresh tunic from the saddlebags then brought it over, handing it to him while studiously trying to stop looking at his body.

She was not a woman who normally ogled men’s bodies but there was something about him she found magnetic.

She found that she could not stop herself from stealing glances at him.

And even worse than that was when she did, she never failed to feel a heat form in her belly and spread through her body, particularly towards her intimate parts.

It was embarrassing. And she most certainly had never felt the way she did when she saw him.

Isolde didn’t understand it. She knew the sort of lecherous thoughts that cascaded through her mind when she thought about Struan were inappropriate.

And she couldn’t reconcile the physical sensations that gripped her body with her normal, proper, and entirely appropriate demeanor.

It was entirely unlike her. And yet, she couldn’t seem to control herself.

Once he had his tunic on, she turned to him. “Thank ye.”

“Fer what?”

“Fer comin’ fer me,” she replied softly. “Fer savin’ me.”

“’Twas naethin’.”

“It definitely was nae naethin’. Ye almost died tryin’ tae save me.”

A soft smile touched his lips. “Ye said ‘twas nae a serious wound.”

Isolde rolled her eyes. “Ye ken what I mean.”

“If ye say so.”

She paused for a moment and wrung her hands together. “Why’d ye dae it? Why’d ye come fer me?” she asked. “Why’d ye put yerself in harm’s way tae save me from Dougal’s men?”

“Why wouldnae I have?”

“Because I’m Murdoch Mackintosh’s daughter,” she replied. “And given what he’s done tae ye and tae yer family… nobody would have blamed ye fer leavin’ me behind and goin’ on yer way. I probably wouldnae have blamed ye either.”

“Ye answered yer own question.”

“How dae ye mean?”

“Like ye just said, ye’re Murdoch Mackintosh’s daughter. Ye’re nae Murdoch Mackintosh,” he said. “Me anger is fer him. Nae ye. Ye have naethin’ tae dae with the things yer faither has done?—”

“But yer sister?—”

“Was yer faither’s daein’. Nae yers,” he said gently. “Naethin’ done tae me and me kin is in any way yer fault. Me anger is fer him and him alone.”

Her heart swelled and her body filled with warmth at his words. Isolde looked down at her hands, which she continued to wring together as she tried to control the emotions swirling wildly around within her.

“Besides, like I keep tellin’ ye, I’m a man of me word,” he continued. “I made a deal with ye and I intend tae hold tae it—and hold ye tae yers.”

The tone in his voice told Isolde that he was sincere. And as much as he intended to get his brother’s location from her, she also knew he was helping her because it was the right thing to do. Because, in his way, he cared about what happened to her.

“Can I ask ye a question?” he asked.

A wry grin curled her lips. “’Tis only fair since I just asked ye one.”

He reached out and put his hand over hers, stopping their incessant motion and forcing her to raise her eyes, meeting his gaze. Isolde’s mouth grew dry, and she felt a tremor pass through her.

“Is it the idea of marryin’ Dougal MacPherson what has he in such a state?” he asked. “Is the idea of bein’ forced intae that life why ye’re so on edge and terrified?”

Her eyes darting around the forest, she pulled her hands away and began wringing them together again. Her heart thundered in her chest and she continued to tremble. She was doing her best to hold it all together. To not let her fear show too much.

We are so near Cluny House. We are nae safe, by a long stretch…

They had to keep moving. Had to ride on and put some distance between them and Dougal’s lands. But she didn’t want to alarm Struan. Nor did she want to tell him how close they were to his brother. Not yet… and there came the wave of guilt again.

“Isolde?” he asked.

She sighed heavily. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind as she pondered the question. Isolde let out a deep breath.

“’Tis nae just that,” she said after a long moment, eyes darting through the trees.

“Aye. The idea of bein’ forced tae marry a cold, cruel man like Dougal MacPherson scares me.

The thought of what he’ll dae tae me—especially now that I’ve caused him so much trouble—terrifies me,” she admitted.

“But that’s nae what has me feelin’ like I’m comin’ apart at the seams.”

Struan held his tongue, offering her a moment to find her footing before she spoke again.

She swallowed hard, forcing the words out.

“Finlay is bein’ held at Cluny House, Struan.

Dougal MacPherson has him,” she said. “And… it terrifies me tae think of ye bein’ captured too.

If that were tae happen, there’d be nobody tae look after yer clan.

I dinnae want tae imagine what me faither and Dougal would dae tae yer kin if that happened.

She hesitated, and this time her hands fell away from the bandage.

“And if that happens… if Dougal takes ye too… then I’ll be truly alone.”

Her throat tightened. She didn’t look at him. Isolde couldn’t bear to meet Struan’s gaze. “I’ve spent so long tryin’ tae survive on me own, I never thought I’d come tae rely on someone. And now I dae. Whether I want tae or nae.”

Isolde’s stomach clenched so hard she thought she might be sick. Terrified of what she might see in his eyes, she forced herself to raise her gaze only to find Struan’s face blank and expressionless.

Isolde watched a host of emotions scrolling across his face and couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d betrayed him.

Then, his eyes narrowed and his face hardened with anger.

Finally realizing how close they were to his brother and the fact that she knew all along but kept it from him, Struan’s body tightened and his hands balled into fists.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told ye sooner. I ken that.”

“Aye. Ye should have.”

“I just… I’m sorry.”

Struan closed his eyes and turned away. His lips moved as he muttered to himself, trying to gather his emotions and seeming to be struggling to keep himself in check. She didn’t blame him for his anger. Didn’t blame him for anything he was feeling.

“I understand if ye hate me,” she said. “In yer place, I’d hate me too.”

He blew out a long breath and opened his eyes again. But Struan took a moment, staring off into the distance, before turning back to her.

“Why didnae ye tell me this before?” he asked, his voice soft.

Her eyes stung as tears welled within them.

“I was afraid if I told ye where yer braither was earlier, that ye’d leave me behind, alone out here.

I was scared. And I was worried that ye’d act without thinkin’, on yer own, without organizing an attack, and get yerself killed while tryin’ tae free yer braither. ”

“ I wish ye would have told me sooner. But… I understand why ye didnae. I ken ye were afraid,” he said. He put a gentle hand on her arm. “I wouldnae have left ye alone. And I dinnae hate ye.”

“I was afraid I wouldnae have made it out alive on me own from the moment I saw ye fighting me faither’s men.”

“Ye’re a capable lass, Isolde. I believe in ye and I need ye tae believe in me too.

I need ye tae believe I’m a man of me word and that I would have held true to it even if ye’d told me where me braither was.

I wouldnae have abandoned ye,” he said gently.

“I understand why ye felt ye needed to keep the truth away from me. I just wish ye’d have trusted me more tae begin with. Trusted that I’d hold tae me word.”

“I dae trust ye.”

He pulled a face. “Now. And tae a point.”

His words, said somewhat lightly, carried a sharp point. She looked down and battled the guilt that wormed around in her belly.

“I’m glad ye finally told me,” he said. “And I thank ye fer finally givin’ me that trust.”

She offered him a tentative smile. “Better late than never?”

A gentle laugh drifted from his mouth. “Aye. Better late than never.”

“We’ll be safe once we reach Achnacarry,” he said.

“So… ye’re still goin’ tae take me with ye?”

“Of course I am. I’d nae leave ye out here tae fend fer yerself. Nae with MacPherson’s men out here huntin’ ye,” he told her. “Once we get tae Achnacarry, I’ll figure out how tae get me braither out of Cluny House.”

Isolde was overcome with emotion and she had to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat. She truly hadn’t expected him to be so kind. And she knew she didn’t deserve it. Nobody had ever cared enough about her to do anything like that before, and she was overcome by powerful waves of emotion.

Struan reached out and brushed away the tears that spilled down her cheeks with his thumb as he gazed into her eyes. She trembled from head to toe, a myriad of emotions swirling around inside of her. His lips curled into a gentle smile.

“All right, we should probably get back on the road and get away from here before more of MacPherson’s men come,” Struan said. “Those two are goin’ tae be missed eventually and I’d rather we’d be far away from here when they are.”

“Aye. ‘Tis smart,” she said.

They quickly packed up their things and got the horse situated. Struan lifted her up and put her into the saddle then climbed up behind her. She leaned back against him, drawing strength from his strong, solid form

As he got the horse moving, a sense of foreboding settled down over her.

They were far from safe yet. And even when they did get back to his lands, Isolde felt a sliver of fear over what might come.

She was a Mackintosh, after all. But through all the fear and uncertainty, she also felt a glimmer of curiosity. And a small ember of hope.