Page 10 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER NINE

" Y e must promise tae write," Sorcha said, her arms wrapped tightly around Iona in the castle courtyard. "And dinnae let our stubborn brother brood himself intae an early grave."

The morning air was crisp with the promise of autumn, and mist still clung to the loch beyond the castle walls. Too soon, Iona thought as she returned Sorcha's embrace. The past few days had flown by far too quickly.

"I promise," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And ye must promise tae visit again soon. Both of ye."

"Wild horses couldnae keep us away," Morag declared, swooping in for her own fierce hug. "Especially if there are any nieces or nephews tae spoil in the future."

Heat crept up Iona's neck at the suggestion, and she caught Ruaridh's sharp look from where he stood speaking with Willelm and Colin near the horses. Their marriage was still so new, so fragile—talk of children felt impossibly distant.

"Morag," Sorcha chided gently, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"What? I'm simply being practical. Someone needs to provide the next generation of MacDuff warriors, and it might as well be?—"

"It might as well be time fer ye tae mount yer horse before yer husband leaves without ye," Ruaridh interrupted, approaching their small group with his usual controlled expression.

But Iona caught the slight softening around his eyes as he embraced each of his sisters in turn. Whatever walls he'd built around his heart, they didn't extend to his sisters.

"Take care of her," Sorcha murmured to her brother, quiet enough that only Iona could overhear.

"I will," he replied simply, and something in his tone made Iona believe him completely.

The goodbyes dragged on longer than necessary, with final embraces and promises to send word of safe arrivals. Finally, the small party mounted their horses and rode through the castle gates, disappearing into the Highland mist like figures from a dream.

Iona stood watching until they were completely out of sight, aware of the sudden emptiness that settled over the courtyard. Ruaridh remained beside her, silent but steady, and she found herself grateful for his presence.

"They'll be back," he said quietly.

"I ken. It's just..." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling the morning chill. "They made this place feel like home."

"And now?"

She considered the question honestly. "Now I suppose I'll have to learn tae make it home on me own."

Approval and little respect flickered across his face. "Come. Let's go inside before ye catch cold."

They walked back toward the castle in comfortable silence, but as they reached the great doors, an idea struck her.

"Ruaridh," she said, turning to face him. "Could ye show me around the area today? The lands beyond the castle walls? I havenae been here since I was a child, and I'd like tae see what's changed."

His expression shuttered immediately. "Nay."

The flat refusal caught her off guard. "Why nae?"

"Because it's nae safe." His voice carried that edge of authority she was beginning to recognize. "There could still be MacNab warriors in the area, sent tae finish what they started."

"But surely with an escort we could?—"

"I said nay, Iona." The words came out sharper than necessary, and she saw him make a visible effort to soften his tone. "The castle grounds are large enough fer exploration. Ye'll have plenty tae see without venturing beyond the walls."

Frustration bubbled up in her chest. She understood his caution but the thought of being trapped within these stone walls indefinitely made her feel like a caged bird.

"Fer how long?" she asked. "How long must I remain a prisoner?"

"Until it's safe. Until we ken what MacNab's true intentions are."

"His intentions?" She stared at him. "His intentions are clear enough. He wants me dead."

"Aye, but why?" Ruaridh stepped closer, his green eyes intense.

"That's what I cannae understand. It is understandable fer Murray tae try and kidnap ye on yer way here, but why is he so set on killing ye if this was just a wedding gone wrong?

What did ye dae tae make Murray MacNab hate ye so much that he'd risk open war with our clan? "

The question hung in the air between them like a sword. Iona felt her mouth go dry, her heart beginning to race. This was the moment she'd been dreading—when she'd have to decide how much of the truth to reveal.

Because the truth was dangerous. The truth could destroy not just her, but anyone who knew it.

"I..." she began, then stopped, her mind racing through possibilities and consequences.

Ruaridh was watching her carefully now, his warrior's instincts clearly sensing her distress. "Iona? What aren't ye telling me?"

He didn't know. The realization hit her to the gut.

He truly didn't know about Murray's treasonous dealings, about the blackmail, about the network of corruption that reached into the highest levels of Highland society.

Her parents had told him about the assault, about the broken betrothal, but they'd kept the most dangerous truth to themselves.

She had never told them about taking the letter as proof but she had told them about the correspondence she had seen in the study and its implications.

They thought they were protecting him. Just as they thought they were protecting me.

But now Ruaridh had married her without understanding the true scope of what he was facing. He thought this was about wounded pride and a rejected suitor's revenge. He had no idea that Murray MacNab was involved in schemes intended to topple lairds and redraw the political map of the Highlands.

"Iona." Ruaridh's voice was gentler now, but no less insistent. "I'm yer husband. If there's something I need tae ken?—"

"There's naething," she said quickly, the lie burning her tongue. "Naething beyond what ye already know. Murray tried tae... tae force himself on me, and when I fought him off, he spread lies about me tae save his own reputation. That's all."

But even as she spoke, she could see the doubt in his green eyes. He was too intelligent, too experienced in the ways of men and politics to accept such a simple explanation.

"A man daesnae risk open war over hurt pride alone," he said slowly. "Nae unless?—"

"Unless he's mad," she interrupted. "Which Murray MacNab clearly is. Some men cannae bear tae be refused, especially by a lady from a clan they consider should accept their proposal."

It wasn't entirely untrue. Murray was unstable, his obsession with power and control driving him to increasingly desperate acts. But it was only part of the story—the safest part.

Ruaridh studied her face for a long moment, and she fought to keep her expression calm and open. She could see him weighing her words, looking for cracks in her explanation.

Please dinnae push. Please dinnae make me lie tae ye again.

Because that's what it would be—more lies, each one digging her deeper into deception. And lies had a way of growing, of taking on lives of their own until they destroyed everything in their path.

She thought of the letter hidden in her belongings about Murray's correspondence with other Highland lords, discussing payments and threats and the delicate web of corruption he'd been weaving. Evidence that could bring down half the nobility in Scotland—and get anyone who possessed it killed.

He can't ken. If he kent the truth, he'd try tae use it. He'd think he could expose Murray's crimes and end this threat permanently. But Murray has too many powerful allies, too many secrets of his own tae use as weapons.

Knowledge of Murray's blackmail ring wouldn't make Ruaridh safer—it would paint an even larger target on his back. And on his entire clan.

"Perhaps ye're right," Ruaridh said finally, though she could hear the reservation in his voice. "Men like MacNab often lose all sense of proportion when their power is challenged."

Relief flooded through her, followed immediately by guilt. He was accepting her explanation, trusting her word even though his instincts were clearly telling him there was more to the story.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry fer lying tae ye, but it's the only way tae keep ye safe.

"So ye understand why I must be cautious," he continued, his tone shifting back to practical matters. "Until we ken what MacNab's next move will be, ye're safer within these walls."

"Aye," she said quietly. "I understand."

But as they walked into the castle together, she couldn't shake the feeling that her deception was likely to create a chasm between them. How could she build a real marriage on a foundation of lies and half-truths?

One secret. Just one secret tae keep him safe. Surely that's nae too much tae ask.

Ruaridh pulled his shirt over his head, the morning chill making him grateful for the wool's warmth. Three days had passed since his sisters' departure, and the routine of sharing a chamber with Iona was becoming... complicated.

His sleeping mat now lay only six feet from the bed—close enough that he'd woken twice in the night to the sound of her restless turning, close enough to hear the soft catch in her breathing when dreams troubled her sleep.

Yet for all the decreased physical distance between them, they remained careful strangers sharing the same space, dancing around each other with polite words and averted gazes.

Each morning brought the same ritual: he would dress while she pretended to still be asleep, she would be changed and in bed before he came into their chambers.

They spoke of clan business, of the weather, of anything that didn't acknowledge the growing tension that seemed to thicken the air between them.

And yet she still flinched if he moved too quickly, still pressed herself against walls when he passed too close in the narrow space.