No more hypotheticals.
I want you. I want us.
The realization upended every aspect of her thinking, stilling her tongue and rendering her thoughts a stunned hum.
Nodding, she retreated to her own bed, but sleep was impossible.
Tavish’s words and her own burgeoning emotions would not let her be.
This is why I left, he had said, indicating that she deserved more than the simplicity of life here at Cairnfell Castle.
And how had Isla responded?
I don’t think that lass would have cared. All she wanted was you.
How dreadful to come full circle seven years on. Because Isla was rather certain she still felt the same.
Perhaps, in the end, lovewasa sort of madness, as Shakespeare claimed.
Not because of youth or stupidity or derangement, but because it waslove, pure and simple—wild and blinding and all-encompassing.
She didn’t care what life they led—she just wanted Tavish to remain at her side. Wherever he was, there she was happiest. The past few days had proven that.
But what about Malton Hill and her responsibilities there? How would her tenants fare without her oversight?
Yet even as she voiced the thought, her time at Malton Hill morphed in her mind’s eye.
When there, Isla was her own mistress. No Gray peering over her shoulder and telling her what to do. No governess to correct her speech or pronounce judgment on her comportment.
Her determination to keep Malton Hill partially stemmed from her love of its people. But another significant part came from her longing to build something of her own. To have a sliver of the world that was hers alone to manage and oversee.
And Tavish had always allowed her that freedom. He would never clip her wings. It was one of the thousand reasons why she adored him.
She had loved the girl she was with Tavish, and she loved the woman she was at Malton Hill, because in every real way, both scenarios permitted her to be her fullest self.
And now . . .
She loved him anew. Fully. Completely. Just as she had loved him then.
Only this time, she loved the man he had become, not just the memory of a boy.
And that was most terrifying of all.
Tavish woke thenext morning, his body fevered with longing.
He had reached the end of his tether. The tension between himself and Isla felt nigh to snapping.
This simply would not do.
Fortunately, the rain of the day before had melted away, leaving warm sun in its wake.
He rolled off his makeshift pallet, stretching as he wiped sleep from his eyes.
His gaze drifted to Isla’s bedchamber door, shut to keep in the heat.
It had taken almost superhuman strength to refuse her offer last night. He wanted nothing more than to sleep at her side for the rest of his life.
Even now, it would be simple to turn the handle and step inside her bedchamber. Lift the coverlet and slide in beside her. He had spent the entire night imagining it. Her breathy sigh as he pulled her to his chest, pressing all her glorious curves to his body. Only in his dreams, her back arched in invitation, and he bent to kiss her mouth, and everything exploded into uncontrolled passion.
