Page 24 of The Highlander’s Illicit Bride (Wicked Highland Lairds #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T he chambermaids laid the table in his chamber with platters of food, sweets, and wine. He was starving and wanted to eat but waited for Isolde, whom he had already sent for. The aroma of the roasted meats, gravy, and other delicacies filled his chamber, making his stomach grumble.

He poured himself a cup of wine and sat back in his chair and as he did, his mind kept returning to the talk he’d had with his councilors.

It was true, there was an element of risk. Murdoch Mackintosh would not be pleased if Struan married his daughter without his knowledge or consent. Without negotiating a deal for her hand. And Murdoch Mackintosh, for all Struan knew, would do anything to get what he wants in said deal.

But, right now, this plan would prevent the alliance between Mackintosh and MacPherson from being bound by blood and marriage. Being wed to Isolde would also grant Struan the right to Mackintosh’s lands after his passing.

His plan carried risks, yes. But it also had vast rewards for the clan in the future.

If only his councilors had the vision to see his plan.

Struan had a tremendous amount of respect for the men who sat around the table.

They had helped his father through many difficult times, he knew.

They had a collective wisdom and he often relied on the knowledge and experiences they had gathered over the years.

But another part of him thought that as they’d grown older, they’d grown more cautious. Far too complacent, at times. Struan knew that sometimes called for caution. But other times called for action and boldness. Decisiveness. He believed this was the case.

Of course, Struan would not force Isolde to marry him.

He would not shackle her to a life she did not want.

That would make him no better than her father and Struan would not do that.

Even if it meant he might have to put his own desire aside.

His feelings for her had blossomed into something deeper than he ever could have imagined.

But, ultimately, all circled back to Isolde and what she wanted.

A soft knock sounded on his bedchamber door and a moment later, it opened. Struan glanced at Isolde as she walked in, then gently closed the door behind her. Her hands clasped at her waist, she wrung them together as she stepped over to where he sat.

“Ye wanted tae see me?” she asked.

Struan got to his feet and pulled the chair out for her. “I thought we could share a meal,” he said. “And have a talk.”

She licked her lips and nodded. “Aye. I suppose we should… have a talk, that is.”

“Aye.”

She sat down in the chair and let Struan push it in for her.

She eyed the food on the table with a gleam in her eye that told him she was as hungry as he was.

Days’ worth of deprivation on the road as they’d endured certainly had a way of opening a hole in the center of them that felt like it could never be filled again no matter how much they ate. Struan understood it all too well.

“Please,” he said. “Help yerself.”

And she did. Together, they piled their plates with food and tucked into their meals.

Struan watched her as she ate. Her bites were delicate.

Ladylike. Beyond that though, Struan noticed the soft curve of her jaw and her neck.

He gazed at her milky white complexion, enjoying the way the fire cast flickering shadows across it, making her skin seem to glow as with an inner light.

And the way flames sparkled in her piercing eyes nearly stole his breath.

She wasn’t just beautiful. She was something more than that. Isolde was ethereal.

“Why are ye starin’ at me then,” she said with a laugh.

“Nae starin’,” he replied. “Just admirin’.”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away as a small, nervous giggle floated from her mouth. The sound of her laugh, so high and sweet, made his heart swell. The effect she had on him continued to confound Struan but he liked it.

“So,” he said. “Are ye feelin’ better after a hot bath?”

“Aye. ‘Twas wonderful,” she replied. “’Tis one luxury I enjoy indulgin’ in… hot baths.”

“’Tis good. I’m glad ye enjoyed yerself.”

Isolde held her cup in both hands and stared into the fire. He could tell by the set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders that she had something on her mind. He took a sip of his wine and simply watched her.

After a few moments, she took a swallow of her own wine then turned to him. Her expression had darkened and clouded over. Whatever she’d been thinking about seemed to be bothering her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“When we were travelin’ here… when I told ye that yer braither was at Cluny House,” she began, her voice slow and halting. “Ye asked me how I kent and I didnae tell ye.”

“All right,” he replied, unsure where this was going.

“I just… I didnae like misleadin’ ye. I didnae like nae bein’ honest with ye when all ye’ve done is be kind—that naked swimmin’ thing at the loch near the crofter’s hut nae withstandin’.”

Struan laughed and nodded, remembering how red her face had gotten when he’d stripped down and dove into the loch. The thought of how flustered she’d gotten still amused him. Her smile slowly slipped away, replaced by an expression that was more serious.

“What I’m tryin’ tae say is that ye’ve held true tae yer word and kept me safe,” she said. “And I feel terrible about bein’ less than truthful with ye.”

He shook his head. “Ye’ve told me what I needed tae ken. Ye’ve been honest with me.”

“I’ve nae told ye everythin’. Ye asked me how I kent about yer braither and I didnae tell ye.”

He could see it was bothering her that she hadn’t disclosed everything she knew.

And he could see she wanted to tell him.

It was probably going to continue to plague her until she got it off her chest, so Struan sat back and took another drink of his wine, giving her the time and space she needed to say what she needed.

“I told ye that me maither died when I was born,” she began.

Struan nodded. “Aye.”

“Well, growin’ up, nobody ever paid much attention tae me. None at all, really. So, I learned tae be invisible. I learned tae move about without drawin’ attention tae meself,” she said. “It was useful. I told ye that I learned a lot about a lot of things, aye?”

“Aye. Ye did.”

“I was able tae watch and listen with nobody even noticin’ I was there.”

“’Tis a useful skill indeed,” he said with a chuckle.

“That’s how I ken where yer braither was bein’ held,” she said.

“When ye were both captured, ye were brought tae Moy Castle. But I heard me faither and Laird MacPherson talkin’.

They feared ye’d conspire with each other and find a way tae escape if held in near cells.

So, me faither negotiated a deal with Dougal, promisin’ him me hand in marriage in exchange fer keepin’ yer braither at Cluny House. ”

Isolde blew out a long breath, then took a deep swallow of wine. She was trembling and her face had turned ashen as she laid out her confession.

Struan moved his chair closer to hers and took her hands in his. “I’ve found a way ye can stay here. A way ye can avoid either bein’ on the run yer whole life or havin’ tae go back tae yer faither,” he said. “Or worse, tae Cluny House and Dougal.”

A light of hope entered her eyes. “How?”

“Marry me,” he said.

Isolde’s eyes widened and she pulled her hands away. She got to her feet and took a few steps away from him, moving closer to the fire. With a hand over her mouth, she stared into the flames, her face etched with uncertainty.

“Marry ye?” she asked.

“Aye. Marry me,” he said.

She walked away from the fire and sat on the edge of his bed, confusion and uncertainty on her face. More than that, she looked stunned. Struan got up and sat beside her.

“It solves a lot of our problems,” he said. “’Tis a good idea.”

“And what daes yer Council say?”

“We’re… talkin’,” he said. “They’ll see ‘tis the best course of action and they’ll agree.”

“Why is it ye want tae dae this anyway? Why would ye want tae marry me?” she asked softly.

Struan was quiet for a long moment as if considering his answer. He took a seat beside her on the bed, silence stretching between them for a long moment. The air crackled with tension and the weight of so many unspoken words.

Isolde turned to him. “Struan?”

He sighed heavily. “Ever since we met out on the road… I’ve just felt protective of ye.

I’ve felt the need tae keep ye safe. Tae be there tae protect ye when nobody else would.

Or could,” he said. “This feelin’ tis… unshakable.

But more than that, if ye marry me, ye’ll be a Cameron and ye’ll be fully under me protection. Ye’ll be safe here.”

They stared into each other’s eyes as the moments ticked by in silence. The only sound in the chamber was the crackle and pop of the fire. The quiet was so absolute, Struan was sure she could hear the thundering of his heart. After a long moment, he cleared his throat.

“The decision, of course, is yers, Isolde,” he said. “I’ll nae make ye dae somethin’ ye dinnae want tae dae. So… please think on it before giving me yer answer, eh?”

She stared into his eyes again, seemingly searching for something.

Struan took her hand and raised it, planting a soft kiss on the back of her knuckles that drew a smile from her.

He got to his feet and stared down at her for a moment, their gazes lingering on one another’s as that tense, expectant energy crackled in the space between them.

“’Tis yer decision tae make, Isolde.”

“Aye,” she said softly as she got to her feet. “I’ll think on it.”