And Then He Loved Me: Novella (Highlander Heroes Book 0)
Page 10
“I was hoping you might.”
“And all your life, you’ll kiss none but me.”
“And you as well.”
“Aye.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “The bannocks are tasty, lass?”
The prettiest smile he’d ever seen brightened her face. “Aye, laird. And my lips are lower.”
Spread out before the hearth, Fynn’s ears lifted at the sound of the deep laughter. He opened one eye just as James pressed his lips against Isla’s.
Chapter 13
Wolvesley Castle
September 1314
ISOBEL CAMERON STOOD in the doorway of Wolvesley Castle, watching her daughter-by-law shifting from one foot to the next, waiting in the bailey. Isobel wasn’t sure if Isla’s dance was the normal rocking she employed when holding two-year-old Duncan, or if it be only excitement; after seven long months, her husband was within sight of the castle.
Edmund stood at his mother’s side, his little hand fisted into the skirt of her beautiful burgundy kirtle, on which Isobel herself had spent so much time with the embroidery. Isla didn’t need pretty or costly gowns to make her beautiful, but oh, wasn’t she a sight, her smile so contagious, her eyes so filled with joy, her hair, released from its wimple only moments before, lifted in gracious curves off her back by the playful breeze.
Isobel’s eyes misted, herself now catching sight of her only son through the open gate, galloping many lengths ahead of his army, coming through the village now. People lined the lone road, raising kerchiefs and hands and cheers of good will as the army passed. James did not stop, urged his steed up the slope, his eyes on Isla. His horse had barely stopped before James jumped off and walked briskly to her. His kiss was long and hungry. Isobel could still recall her husband’s kisses when he’d returned from so long gone. Oh, to be young again. To have that kind of love.
James finally removed his mouth from his wife’s, scooped up Edmund in his arms and kissed the dark head of Duncan. He wrapped an arm around Isla. They turned as one, the four of them, toward the keep. Isla tipped her head up at James, her smile a glorious thing, while he said something softly to her.
Isobel spared a glance behind them, saw Gavin Gordon come into the yard then, tall and strapping upon a magnificent black, his eyes searching until they landed on young Margaret, Mistress Alva’s daughter, who blushed prettily when the young man left his steed and took her hand in his.
“Mother,” James said before her now.
Isobel lifted her arms to receive her son, squeezed him tight, her tears happy, while young Edmund squirmed between them.
They entered the hall. There would be a feast tonight. There was much to celebrate.
IT WAS NEAR TO MIDNIGHT when James and Isla returned to the keep. She’d been called out to see to Matilda de Warenne, who, as Isobel had stated earlier, “hadn’t the good sense to die quietly”. James would not let her ride about alone in the dark—Isla wasn’t sure what he’d thought she’d been doing while he’d been gone to the king’s side—and had insisted on accompanying her.
Matilda de Warenne would likely hang on for many more days, purely to exasperate her long-suffering son, no doubt.
James left his great destrier to the care of the waiting stable boy and held Isla’s hand as they walked into the keep again. The hall was dark, and they navigated the sleeping bodies on the floor, most near the large hearth upon soft pallets.
Isla let James lead her up the stairs and into their bedchamber. Her insides tickled even now, though he’d yet to touch her, just knowing that he would love her tonight, as he hadn’t in so very long. He closed the door behind her, turned her around and crushed his lips to hers without preamble. Isla answered in kind, her own hunger surely a match to his.
But he ended the kiss too soon, took her face in his hands, stared at her, his face so dearly loved.
“Isla Cameron, I have missed you.”
“And I you, husband.” She leaned in, closed her eyes again, wanting his kiss, wanting so much more. Already, her hands were fussing at his belt.
“Canna I just look at you, lass?”
Isla opened her eyes. “Can you no kiss me now and look at me tomorrow, James?”
James chuckled, the most beautiful sound in all the world.
“Give me the words, first,” he insisted. “It’s been too long.”
“I have bannocks.” She pressed her breasts against his chest, gave him a sultry smile.
Her husband grinned and kissed her briefly, too briefly. “The other ones, lass.”
“Aye, I love you, James Cameron.”
He sighed. “You are my light and my hope and my love.”
This gave Isla pause. James was wonderful and never stingy with his love words, but they were rarely this emotive. She placed her palm against his cheek. “Was it awful? Bannockburn?”
He nodded and swallowed. “I thought of you. I had to come back to you. Everyday, I saw your face, your eyes. They brought me home.”
Isla’s gaze clouded with her tears. She wound her arms around her husband, pressed her head against his chest, tucked under his chin. His arms held her tight.
“You are my life, James Cameron.”
The End
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Rebecca Ruger has been a lover of romance books since the seventh grade, when her mother introduced her to Victoria Holt, and her sister shared her Barbara Cartland collection. She is the founder and former editor of Glassing Magazine, the first ever print periodical all about sea glass and beach glass (which she sold in 2018, and is now called BeachCombing Magazine).
She is the mother of four (her greatest loves) and lives in Western New York with her perfectly supportive husband, Larry, and their just-ok dog, Brody.
The Touch of Her Hand is the first in the Highlander Heroes Series, to be followed by The Shadow of Her Smile, available October 2019, and The Memory of Her Kiss, available December 2019.
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