Stolen Vows

by Sterling, Stephanie

  “Just nice?” Gara sounded disappointed. “Well, maybe tis something ye get better at with practice?” she wondered brightly. “Anyhow, ye can tell me the details while we get ye dressed,” she grinned slyly. “I told yer maid I’d help ye today.” Gara’s smile finally faltered. “I suppose tis true, ye really are leaving this morning?” she asked sadly. Isla nodded unhappily. “I’m sure it will nae be so bad,” Gara said, trying her hardest to sound positive.

  “Ye dinna think so?” Isla asked glumly. “I’ll be surrounded by strangers. Everyone there will hate me.”

  “Why would they hate ye?” Gara frowned.

  Isla bit her lip, cursing herself for letting her tongue run away with her, but luckily she was saved from giving the true answer to her friend’s question.

  “Because yer a Cameron?” Gara sighed. “I wish there was nae all this hatred between the clans,” she said, shaking her head as she went about fetching Isla’s undergarments and clothes. “Maybe, in time, yer marriage might help to heal things though?” she said thoughtfully.

  “Do ye think so?” Isla wrinkled her nose doubtfully, and set about washing her face and hands with the warm water Gara had brought for her.

  “Well, yer children will be half-Cameron and half-MacRae,” Gara pointed out practically. “They’ll belong to both clans.”

  “Or neither clan,” Isla muttered, but not so that Gara could hear. Her friend was clearly trying her hardest to stay positive. “I wanted to wear my blue dress for the coach ride. Tis the warmest one I have,” she sighed wearily, wanting to talk about something uncomplicated and mundane.

  Isla didn’t pay much attention to what was happening as Gara helped her dress. She didn’t even glance at her reflection in the mirror while her friend brushed, plaited and fixed her hair. She stared instead at the heavy gold ring that now adorned the forth finger of her left hand, playing with it nervously, and then tensing when the bedroom door opened. The tread of heavy boots announced her husband’s return.

  “Everything’s ready to go, Isla,” Roan’s said from across the other side of the room.

  Gara squeezed Isla’s shoulder tight and dropped a kiss onto her cheek. “Tis going to be all right,” she whispered. “Yer going to be fine.” And then before Isla had a chance to respond, the other girl turned away, curtsied to Roan and slipped out of the bedroom.

  “We’re really going then,” Isla sighed, more to herself than to her Roan, but he heard and nodded.

  “Aye.”

  ..ooOOoo..

  Watching Isla say her goodbyes was surprisingly difficult. Growing up surrounded by women, Roan had seen how important friends and family were to them. Here he was, ripping her away from everyone that she knew and loved.

  No! A voice argued vehemently. He was not the one doing the ripping, this was all Isla’s doing. It felt harder to blame her now though, now that he understood her reasons. She had no right to act as she had, but he was beginning to understand what had pushed her to it.

  Of course, that wasn’t going to help him greatly when he turned up at Erchlochy Castle with a Cameron bride. Roan tried to ignore that problem for just a little longer. He turned to watch Isla make her final farewells. She shared a long embrace with the woman he’d found in her room a half an hour beforehand. Then she moved onto her brothers and father, hugging each of them fiercely, before saying a few parting words of thanks to her uncle, the Laird. At least he’d married well, Roan through dryly, bracing himself for one final lecture as Ian walked over to him.

  “Ye lay another finger on -”

  “This is getting repetitive and boring, Ian,” Roan growled. He watched the other man’s lip twist in a sneer.

  “Isla is still my sister, MacRae.”

  “But now she’s also my wife,” Roan breathed harshly. “That means she’s now my concern, and nae yers.” He paused and then gambled. “If ye really thought I was going to hurt her then ye would nae have let me marry her. Ye would have finished it that day, when ye came to see me in the castle dungeons,” he argued roughly, watching Ian Cameron’s face for his reaction.

  There was a flicker of something in the other man’s eyes. It wasn’t respect, but it might have been reluctant agreement.

  “All right, MacRae,” Ian nodded. “But dinna think that means yer safe.”

  “I would nae dream of it,” Roan grunted, turning back to find that Isla was now waiting beside the wagon that would carry them home. “Ready lass?” he asked, not waiting for her to answer before offering his hand to help her up into the cart.

  Roan followed after her, turning his back on the Cameron clan with a sigh of relief. Isla waved and shouted her goodbyes, until they were out of sight of the castle. Then she sank back onto her seat, her face downcast as she studied her lap.

  “Do ye suppose we’ll ever come back?” she asked.

  Roan thought that he could live the rest of his life quite happily without ever setting foot inside Castle Cameron again, but he didn’t think that was the reply Isla wanted. For some reason cheering her up was important to him.

  “I should think so,” he said carefully. If he’d been having any doubts, the instant smile that lit Isla’s face banished them.

  Roan continued to study Isla as she gazed at the road, watching the scenery of her childhood pass by as she left it behind. Occasionally she would point something out to him, a particular spot by a brook where she and her brothers used to picnic when they were children, or a stretch of open field where her father had taught her to ride, but for the most part she was silent.

  “There it is,” Isla said suddenly, when they were a few hours into their drive.

  Roan roused himself from his drowsy state and looked to see what his wife was pointing at this time. It didn’t look like anything terribly significant, and then it hit him.

  “The spot where I found ye,” he breathed quietly. Isla nodded her head, and then she turned and shot him a sad smile.

  “Would ye like to stop the wagon, so ye can put me back?” she asked softly, possibly trying to tease, and staring up at him with eyes that Roan was sure were now flecked with blue. She is so beautiful, he thought as he remembered the first time that he’d seen her, damp and wretched. Now she was truly dazzling.

  “Dinna be silly,” he said gruffly, dragging his gaze away from Isla’s upturned face so that he could scowl at the opposite seat.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I dinna mean to make ye angry.”

  “I’m nae angry,” Roan sighed. “I’m -” he wasn’t even sure what he was, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact that Isla seemed so certain that he was going to let her down. “I wish ye’d have a little more faith in me, that’s all lass,” he sighed eventually.

  Isla tilted her head to the side and regarded him curiously. “What do ye mean?” she asked uncertainly.

  Roan dragged a hand through his hair. “This is nae a set of circumstances that I ever expected, Isla, I’ll grant ye that,” he sighed, “but now that we are man and wife, I want ye to understand how seriously I take that position - how seriously I take the vows I made to ye and God in that chapel.”

  What I’m trying to say is, I think it would be best if we stopped -” he paused to find the right word, “- dwelling so heavily on the exact circumstances of our marriage.”

  It didn’t mean that he was forgiving her. It did not mean that he was forgiving her…

  “But - that will be rather difficult, I mean, once we get to Erchlochy Castle and everyone there finds out that I -”

  “But how will anyone there hear about it, Isla?” Roan asked her carefully.

  “Well, when ye tell them -” she began with a puzzled frown.

  “What if I dinna tell them?” Roan sighed heavily.

  “Ye mean lie?” Isla gaped. “But why would ye do that?” she blurted. “Ye hate liars!”

  Roan leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes for a moment. “I do,” he growled “but we’re going to have to live
among these people for a very long time and MacRaes have awfully long memories.”

  Isla gave her head a hopeful nod. “What will ye tell them then?” she asked.

  “That, I have nae worked that out yet,” Roan confessed, shooting Isla a roguish smile. “But by the time we arrive I’ll have thought of something, dinna ye worry,” he assured her, reaching out to give her hand a light squeeze.

  “Well, if ye dinna, we’ll just have to tell them the truth,” she said bravely, and Roan caught himself smiling at her again. “I can cope with that,” she added, and Roan wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince – him or herself.

  “Ye will nae have to,” he promised. “I’ll look after ye, Isla,” he murmured, and meant it, and then slowly, almost so as not to frighten her, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

  He waited for her to pull away, so when she leaned into his embrace he didn’t know quite what to do, or what to say either, when she quietly whispered “thank ye”. So Roan simply remained perfectly still, enjoying the feel of her body pressed lightly against his own, the warmth and softness that enfolded him.

  He must have shut his eyes and dozed off, because when Roan opened them again it was dark and he was ravenously hungry. He knew that he’d given the driver clear instructions where to stop however, so he wasn’t overly concerned. It was getting late and he was simply still recovering from being a “guest” of the Camerons.

  Isla was asleep beside him. Her breathing was deep and she was snuggled against his side more securely than she had been when he dropped off. One of her arms had drifted around his chest, and was holding on to him tightly. She looked so calm and peaceful when she was asleep in his arms. Roan wished that he could see her look that way when she was awake.

  The coach reached the Three Oaks much sooner than Roan would have liked, even given his gnawing hunger. He was enjoying holding his wife. He wasn’t ready for her to revert to the shy, unreachable woman that she was when awake. With a heavy sigh, he tried to nudge her awake, but when that didn’t work Roan couldn’t resist the temptation of dropping his lips to claim hers.

  She kissed him back. It was the lightest reply imaginable, but before her eyelids fluttered open, Isla lips moved against Roan’s mouth in answer to his gentle touch. They felt like a delicate whisper of silk against his skin. Roan felt a thrill of triumph. Isla had given him just enough encouragement to inspire him to deepen the kiss, but he was thwarted when the wagon rolled to a halt.

  Roan growled his displeasure as Isla’s eyes snapped open and she broke away. She retreated over to the other side of the bench, her cheeks reddening. He opened his mouth to apologize, but then thought better of it. He wasn’t sorry that he’d kissed her. He intended to do a damn sight more than kiss her before very much longer. Isla could just start getting used to that fact, he thought grumpily, stung by the way she had recoiled when she woke.

  “We’re here,” he said gruffly.

  Roan stepped down and offered his arm to Isla, pleased when his wife took it without hesitation and followed him into the Three Oaks. The landlord of the establishment greeted them cordially, and showed them through to one of the private back rooms where they would be served a simply, but hearty meal while their things were carried up to the best room that the inn had to offer.

  “This is the furthest from home I’ve ever been,” Isla said in a thoughtful voice. It was the first time she’d spoken since leaving the carriage, bar a polite word to the landlord.

  Roan looked up from his bowl of stew and dumplings and automatically reached for his wife’s hand. He gave it an encouraging squeeze and was heartened when she didn’t pull it away. He let his large hand rest there, tenderly covering her own.

  “And how are ye holding up?” he asked carefully.

  Isla licked her lips while she considered her answer. Roan found himself watching the tip of tongue with rather too much attention. It caused a quickening in his body that he tried desperately to ignore.

  “Better than I thought I might,” she said eventually, offering Roan a small smile before turning back to her own meal.

  She is quite something, Roan decided, smiling to himself as he watched Isla as she tucked into her food hungrily. She was beautiful of course, but she was also incredible brave, smart - and perhaps just a little bit reckless, he decided, his smile widening. She was still wary of him at the moment. Given what had happened with Tavish, Roan couldn’t really blame her. Once she learned to trust him, Roan saw no reason why they couldn’t make the most of their marriage.

  Attraction and a certain level of compatibility were the only qualities that he’d ever thought to look for in a wife. Love had never entered into the equation. The edges of his lips twitched up as he considered his situation. Roan was able to be more objective and cheerful now that he was headed for home. He might turn out to be quite content with Isla as his wife.

  Isla quirked her head and observed him curiously. “Why are ye smiling?” she asked.

  “I’m happy,” Roan chuckled. He was surprised to realize that it was true.

  ..ooOOoo..

  He was happy? How could he possibly be happy? The questions had been turning themselves over and over in Isla’s mind ever since Roan had made the announcement at supper. It was now a couple of hours later, and she was in their room, a small but very cozy space, getting ready for bed.

  Her husband had gone out to the stables to see to his prized horse. He’d mentioned that he was thinking about riding Fiadhiach for the next part of their journey. Isla couldn’t say that she wanted him to; it had been pleasant sharing the wagon ride with Roan, and she certainly didn’t want to arrive at Erchlochy Castle alone, but she didn’t know how to ask him to travel with her without sounding ridiculous.

  But he was happy. Isla sat down in her nightdress and dressing gown in front of the roaring fire and picked up a book that she had no intention of reading, waiting for her husband’s return. He was happy, and he had kissed her again. Isla pressed her fingers to her lips and smiled softly, tingling at the pleasant memory. Perhaps she did please him, or could; there certainly seemed to be things about her that he liked, didn’t there?

  She was started to realize that there was a lot about Roan that she liked.

  ..ooOOoo..

  Roan did not sleep for very long. He dozed dreamlessly until the workings and bustle of the inn and its other guests roused him. Isla was still fast asleep though, curled up on the far side of the bed. She was breathing deeply and contently, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Looking at his wife, as she slept so soundly, caused a warm, glowing feeling to spread through Roan’s body, which culminated, most curiously, just to the left hand side of his chest.

  It was going to be hard for Isla at Erchlochy Castle, he feared. He could not imagine that the other MacRae’s would take too kindly to having a Cameron living among them. Roan also wondered if it would have a detrimental effect on his own position within the clan.

  He was dragged from his reverie by a light knock at the door. He scooted off of the bed and grabbed his breeches from the floor, put them on quickly and opened the door a fraction. Roan looked down into the face of one of the pub’s maids. The young woman bobbed a curtsey and asked if he would like some hot water brought up before breakfast. Roan nodded his thanks and then shut the door, turning back into the room to find that Isla was finally stirring.

  “Good morning, wife,” he said with a smile. She yawned, blushed, and smiled shyly back at him.

  The water, when it arrived, wasn’t enough to bathe in, but it was hot and enabled them both to wash themselves clean before dressing. Breakfast was as rustic as dinner, a hunk of brown bread, served with a wedge of cheese, some honey and few sour apples.

  “Ye’ll eat better tonight,” Roan promised, polishing off Isla’s unwanted apple, after finishing his own.

  His wife shot him a hesitant glance. “If yer clan let me eat at all,” she murmured, staring down at her hands.

  “Isl
a -” Roan sighed, but she interrupted him.

  “Have ye worked out what yer going to say yet?” she asked timidly. “How yer going to explain me? We’ll need to both have the same story if we’re to be believed. Perhaps ye should just tell yer Laird the truth,” she murmured unhappily.

  Roan frowned. “I told ye that I would think of something, Isla, that I would look after ye and keep you safe,” he said, in a tone that did not brook argument. “And that,” he said finally, “is what I intend to do.”

  ..ooOOoo..

  Of course, it was all well and good making these bold, dashing statements, Roan thought later, as he helped to reload Isla’s trunk onto the back of the wagon, but how did one actually follow through?