Page 25 of The Highlander’s Illicit Bride (Wicked Highland Lairds #1)

I solde felt like she had been lying in bed staring at the ceiling for hours. She just kept replaying her conversation with Struan in her head over and over again. She kept seeing his face—the kindness in his eyes, the sincerity and warmth in his voice.

With a grumble of frustration, she threw back the covers and got to her feet.

Swinging her legs over the bed, Isolde pulled a mantle over her shoulders then began to pace her chamber as her mind continued to spin out.

She walked over to the window and leaned against the stone frame, staring out to the land beyond.

The moon, full and bright shone down, casting the world in a silvery luminescence that gave everything a cold, sterile feeling.

Isolde thought back to their journey to Achnacarry.

Despite the ever-present danger and the close calls they’d had on the road, their travels had contained moments of warmth and laughter as well.

She recalled that she had laughed more in those days with Struan than she had in the rest of the days of her life combined.

A happiness uncommon to her had filled her heart.

And it was nae only laughs we shared.

Even there, standing in the darkness gazing out at Struan’s lands, many days after they’d shared kisses, she could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers and the warm sweetness of his mouth.

She shuddered as she recalled the feeling of his velvet-soft tongue swirling around hers and felt the heat blossom deep and low within her.

He’d made her feel things she never expected she would.

Things she didn’t think she was capable of feeling.

It left her feeling confused. Out of sorts.

More than anything though, it left her with a thousand questions.

And as she stared out at the cold, silvery landscape beyond her window, she realized she was not going to get answers to any of them if she continued to stand there.

Isolde clenched her jaw and headed out of her chamber. At that time of the night, there were not many people about, but Isolde finally found a sentry standing his post who told her she could find Struan at the kitchen.

Walking through the door, she noticed Struan hovering nearby. He stepped into the dim light cast off by the lone oil lamp and Isolde blinked, her eyes adjusting to the low glow.

He’s shirtless…

Struan wore nothing but a pair of breeches, which made Isolde’s face flush. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes

“I thought ye’d be asleep by now,” he said.

“I tried,” she replied. “I could nae sleep though.”

“Are ye all right?”

“Aye. I’m fine. I just… there is much on me mind. What are ye daein’ lurkin’ in the dark down here anyway?” she asked.

“I wanted somethin’ tae drink. And ye?”

“I was looking fer ye…tae talk.”

He nodded. “Go and have a seat over there. I’ll warm a cup of milk fer ye.”

“I can dae it meself.”

“I ken ye can. But go and have a seat anyway.”

Isolde smiled and did as he told her, taking a seat at a round table tucked away in the corner of the kitchen and watched him heating up a cup of milk for her. For some reason, it amused her.

“Ye ken yer way around a kitchen well enough,” she said.

“I ken a lot of things.”

A few minutes later, he brought the cup of milk over to her and sat down with a cup of ale of his own. Isolde did her best to keep from gawking at Struan’s shirtless form but, no matter how hard she tried to turn away, her eyes continued to betray her by sneaking back to steal a glance at him.

She couldn’t stop her gaze from traveling across the hard angles and planes of his torso, his thick biceps, and his wide, sloping shoulders. It was like he had been chiseled from granite.

Thin tendrils of steam curled off the surface of Isolde’s cup and she wrapped both hands around it, letting the warmth seep into her.

Still fighting with herself to keep from looking at his half-naked form, she raised the cup and blew on it, trying to cool the milk.

When it was finally cool enough to drink, she took a sip.

“So, what is on yer mind tonight then?” he asked gently.

“Yer offer of marriage,” she replied bluntly.

“Aye. I thought as much. ‘Tis fair. I ken it came out of the blue and I apologize fer that,” he said. “But I thought about it a lot and ‘tis the only way I can think of tae keep ye safe and out of the life ye dinnae want tae live.”

“I could always run.”

“Aye. Ye could,” he admitted. “But the lands are dangerous. There are a thousand things other than men that can kill ye beyond these walls and I fear ye’d nae survive yer travels. But assumin’ ye did survive out there, dae ye want tae live the rest of yer life lookin’ over yer shoulder?

“Nay. ‘Tis nae how I want tae spend me days,” she said quietly.

“I ken yer faither and Dougal well enough tae believe they’ll never stop lookin’ fer ye. They’ll hunt ye, Isolde,” he said. “Just as they’ve continued tae hunt me and mine. They are nae the sort of men who’d just let ye live in peace. And I think deep down, ye ken that too.”

Isolde took a drink of her milk and pondered the question for a moment. She knew Struan was right to question whether she’d survive in the wilds on her own. She’d needed him to survive the journey from Moy Castle to Achnacarry, after all.

She also knew what Struan had said about her father and Dougal was true.

Neither of them were used to hearing the word no and neither took rejection well.

They would most certainly not be well pleased by her act of defiance.

And deep down, she knew they would not let her go. Struan was right. They would hunt her.

“Nay,” Isolde said. “They wouldnae stop lookin’ fer me.”

He nodded as if it was the answer he had been expecting. Isolde had never considered it before, but she realized that Struan had been fighting her father so long, he probably knew him almost as well as she did. She turned to him, a frown on her lips and a question on the tip of her tongue.

“Why dae ye want tae marry me?” she blurted out.

He cocked his head. “What dae ye mean? I already told ye?—”

“I ken what ye said,” Isolde interrupted. “But when we were on the road here, ye told me ye wanted tae marry fer love. And yet, ye offered tae marry me. Why?”

Struan opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He seemed to be struggling to come up with an answer, which told Isolde all she needed to know. While she was grateful that he would make such a sacrifice for her, she didn’t think she could let him do that. Not for her.

“Struan, me faither has already done so much harm tae yer clan,” she said. “I cannae let ye dae this. It’ll only enrage him and he’ll dae worse.”

“’Tis nae fer ye tae worry about.”

“’Tis,” she insisted. “I willnae let ye or yer people suffer. Nae on me account.”

“’Tis me decision tae make?—”

“Ye said that marryin’ ye would be me decision tae make,” she said. “Ye said that ye’d honor and respect me decision.”

There was one thing Struan had not yet said and that was that he wanted to marry her because he wanted her. Because he wanted to marry her . And as she stared into his eyes, she realized again that she did not want to him to marry her because he felt obliged to or needed to keep her safe.

Isolde felt a stitch in her heart knowing he did not love her. The feeling was so sharp and intense, it stole her breath away, because in that moment, Isolde realized that she wanted to be with him because it was what her heart wanted.

But I cannae share me life with somebody who views me as a responsibility .

A tear spilled from the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away with a trembling hand. She sat up a straighter and raised her chin defiantly as she grappled with the emotions churning wildly inside of her.

Struan sighed and lowered his head for a moment before nodding. “Aye. And I’ll hold tae that. Just as I promised.”

Isolde’s eyes stung as they welled with tears. Struan reached out and with his thumb, brushed away the tear that spilled down her cheek.

The merest touch from him sent an electric thrill through her—which she quickly and ruthlessly stomped out. She could not afford to let herself feel such things.

“But I want ye tae ken that ye’re nae alone. Nae anymore,” he said passionately. “Yer faither is goin’ tae come one way or the other. Whether ye marry me or nae,” he said. “I can protect ye if ye let me, Isolde.”

“Me faither will rain hell down upon yer clan.”

“Like I said, he’s goin’ tae try tae dae it anyway,” he replied.

“How are ye so sure?” Isolde couldn’t help but ask.

“Because he’s tried already in the past…” Struan said and scrubbed a hand over his face. She could see pain in his eyes.

“We’ve been battlin’ yer faither over one thing or another fer years,” he continued. “Yer faither… he’s a brilliant tactician, I’ll give him that. He outmaneuvered me when I had just only come intae me Lairdship. Badly.”

He took a swallow of the ale and continued.

“Me older sister, Rhona… she was a warrior. She had incredible skill with a blade and was fierce,” he said with a trace of fond nostalgia in his voice. “She and I sparred often when I was younger.”

The memory made him smile. Struan deeply loved and respected his sister. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. She was glad he clung to the love he felt for his sister and that her death and his grief had not tainted every memory of her he held.

“Anyway,” he said, his smile fading. “Like I said, yer faither outmaneuvered me. That battle was the worst defeat I’ve ever had. It cost me… dearly. Because I got tae the field too late.”

His voice grew even thicker, and his eyes were red. Reaching out, she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I saw me sister from across the field. I could see she was in trouble,” he said.

“I tried tae fight me way through the mass of the battle tae get tae her. But I was too late. I had tae watch as yer faither took me sister’s life.

He saw me comin’ and kent I couldnae make it in time.

He smiled at me, Isolde. He bleedin’ smiled at me when he did. ”

Struan abruptly lowered his head, his face clouded over with emotion and his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth.

Isolde moved over the round table and pulled him into her arms, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

Struan leaned into her, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. And when she pulled back, she could see the emotions swirling in his eyes.

She reached up and brushed a thick lock of hair off his forehead and held his gaze.

“Sorry,” he said, swallowing hard. “I?—”

“Ye’ve naethin’ tae be sorry fer,” she replied. “I cannae imagine how painful that memory is fer ye tae carry. Is it why ye have the nightmares?”

Struan nodded and Isolde winced, knowing her words were inadequate. Worse than inadequate. They sounded hollow, even to her, and somewhat condescending. She wanted to kick herself.

“I’m sorry, Struan.”

He shook his head and looked at her, confusion on his face. “What dae ye have tae be sorry fer now. ‘Tis nae ye who did anythin’ wrong.”

“But ‘twas me faither. Me blood.”

“We cannae choose our family,” he said. “And I already ken how ye feel about yer faither. But that… what happened… ‘tis why I am the way I am and dae the things I dae.”

“What dae ye mean?”

“I couldnae save Rhona, but I dae everythin’ in me power tae protect everybody else in me life. ‘Tis why I need tae protect me family—why I need tae save Finlay. Why I need tae protect ye.”

“Struan, if he captures ye again?—”

“Then I’ll escape again,” he interrupted. “I’ve done it before and I’ll dae it again.”

She began to tremble, out of an overabundance of emotions coursing through her. Struan leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. It was such a soft, sweet gesture, but it made her heart swell. She forced herself to raise her eyes and meet his gaze.

“I wish I could stay,” she said.

“Ye can,” he urged. “Ye dinnae have tae leave.”

Struan leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. He cupped her face in both hands and pulled her closer to him. Their kiss was unlike the others that had come before.

She slowly pulled back and stared into his eyes for a long moment and felt her heart lurch in her chest.

I have tae leave tae protect him.

Isolde realized that she feared her growing emotions and attachment to Struan far more than she feared her father’s wrath. Which was yet another reason for her to go. The longer she stayed, the more difficult it would be to leave.

“I should go,” she said.

He stared at her longingly. “Ye dinnae have tae, Isolde.”

“I dae. I…” Ye’re nae safe as long as I’m here.

“Ye make me life better. Ye make me better.”

Ye dinnae need me here tae make yer life harder and more dangerous than it needs tae be.

Her heart thundered in her ears and Isolde felt the cracks in the dam of her resolve growing. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to make her wince, the slight pinch of pain driving out her emotion and bringing her thoughts back into focus.

Struan must’ve sensed the shift in her emotions. He rose to his feet, his hand still holding hers, and nodded towards the kitchen door.

“Let me escort ye tae yer chambers, lass. Get some sleep.”

Isolde stood quickly, but the moment she took a step, her breath caught. Struan’s other hand had settled at the small of her back, steady and warm.

‘Twill be but a difficult goodbye…