Page 30 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

"They kept me in a stone cell fer three months.

Barely big enough to lie down in, with nae window and nae light except when they came tae.

.." He swallowed hard. "They wanted information about MacDuff defenses, about our alliances.

When I wouldn't give it tae them, they tried other methods of persuasion. "

Her hand found his, warm and steady. "Ye dinnae have tae tell me."

"I want tae." And he did, he realized. He wanted her to understand why he'd been so cold when she arrived, why touch had become difficult, why he'd built walls around everything that mattered.

"They were creative in their attempts. Pain, mostly, but also isolation.

Days without food or water. Threats against me family, against the clan. "

"But ye never broke."

"I came close. Closer than I like tae remember.

" He looked at their joined hands, drawing strength from the simple contact.

"When they finally released me as part of a prisoner exchange, I thought I was free.

But I brought the darkness back with me.

The knowledge that the world is full of people like Murray MacNab, people who would destroy anything good or pure just because they can. "

"And ye've lived in that darkness ever since."

"Aye. Until..." He turned to face her fully. "Until ye arrived and reminded me that there's still light in the world. Still things worth protecting, worth fighting fer. Worth living fer."

The rain continued its steady drumming against the roof, but inside the small lodge, warmth was spreading from more than just the fire. Iona's eyes held understanding, compassion, and something deeper that made his chest tight.

"Ye brought color back into me world, Iona," he said quietly. "I didn't even realize how grey everything had become until ye started painting it bright again."

She leaned closer, her free hand coming up to touch his cheek. "And ye gave me back me courage. Me ability tae trust, tae hope fer something better than just survival."

The space between them seemed to shrink, charged with understanding and growing affection. When she kissed him, it was soft and sweet, a promise rather than a demand.

They spent the afternoon talking and dozing by the fire, sharing stories and comfortable silences as the rain continued outside. When Iona fell asleep with her head on his shoulder, Ruaridh allowed himself to relax completely fer the first time in longer than he could remember.

It was late afternoon when they finally woke, the rain still falling steadily outside the lodge windows.

"We should head back," Ruaridh said reluctantly, though he would have been content to stay in this peaceful refuge indefinitely.

"Aye. Yer maither will be wondering where we've gone."

They made the journey back through the rain-soaked forest, arriving at the castle gates thoroughly drenched and muddy but oddly content. The guards let them through with barely concealed relief, and Ruaridh began to sense that something was amiss.

The great hall was bustling with unusual activity fer late afternoon—servants hurrying back and forth, guards gathered in concerned clusters, and at the center of it all, his mother pacing before the fire with obvious agitation.

"Ruaridh!" Niamh's voice carried across the hall the moment she spotted them. "Thank God! Where have ye been?"

"We went fer a walk and got caught in the rain," he replied, confused by the level of concern in her voice. "Why? What's happened?"

"What's happened?" Niamh's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Ye disappeared fer hours without telling anyone where ye were going! After everything, we thought... we feared the worst."

The guilt hit him like a physical blow. Of course they'd been worried. With Murray's threats escalating and the spring blade trap fresh in everyone's memory, his absence would have seemed ominous indeed.

"Maither, I'm sorry. We never meant tae frighten anyone." He moved to embrace her, not caring that his wet clothes would dampen her dress. "There's naething wrong. We're both perfectly safe."

"Where were ye?" Duncan appeared from the crowd of concerned faces, his relief evident. "We've had search parties out fer the past two hours."

"The old hunting lodge. We were caught in the rain and had tae shelter there until it eased.

" Ruaridh looked around at the assembled faces—servants, guards, family members—all showing the strain of genuine fear fer their safety.

"I should have sent word, should have told someone where we were going. "

"Aye, ye should have," Niamh said, but her tone held more relief than reproach. "When we couldn't find ye anywhere in the castle, when the guards said ye'd left through the rear gates..."

"We thought Murray had finally succeeded," Duncan finished grimly.

The weight of their fear, the knowledge of how his thoughtless decision had affected so many people who cared about them, settled heavy on Ruaridh's shoulders. In his desire to give Iona a few hours of freedom, he'd forgotten that their safety mattered to more than just themselves.

"It willnae happen again," he promised. "From now on, if we leave the castle grounds, ye'll ken exactly where we're going and when we'll return."

"See that it daesnae," Niamh said, though she was smiling now through her tears. "I've aged ten years this afternoon worrying about ye both."

As the crowd began to disperse, the crisis over, Ruaridh caught Iona's eye and saw his own thoughts reflected there.

They'd found peace in that little lodge, had shared something precious in the quiet hours by the fire.

But they'd also been reminded that their lives belonged to more than just themselves—they had responsibilities to the people who loved them, who depended on them.