Isla shut her eyes, hoping to find some rest. Her last thoughts before sleep finally won out was to wonder whether or not she would dream of Iain MacThomas. She fostered a silent hope that she would.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Iain woke before sunrise.
The young woman next to him was sleeping soundly, as were his men, and he sat up, untucking himself from the quilt on the ground. The chill in the air helped to wake him up fully, and he sat gazing around at the misty morning for a few long moments, enjoying the silence.
He was grateful that nothing had tried to attack them in the night; the oak tree as a cover had done them wonders, and certainly, the bandits wouldn't have tried their luck again. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. The dream had not come again, and he felt rested from the few hours of slumber that he'd managed to get.
The more he thought about the dream, the more he realized it had not visited him since Isla's capture. It was as though she warded it off, or perhaps the dream had done its work now that he was in her presence. He looked down at her, peaceful in sleep. Her black hair had fallen over her pale face, her cheeks rosy from the cold. She looked spritely and sweet in her rest; her expression hid well that biting humor that he had come to expect from her.
He had not thought she would be able to make him smile, make him actually feel cheerful. On the first night he had seen her, he could feel nothing but a befuddling confusion and shock. Now that he had come to know her, he had come to crave her presence as much as he had the dream woman who had haunted him so.
And yet, he could not bring himself to trust her completely. Especially not now, he had become emotionally invested in her as well.
The sun woke slowly, casting its rays through the forest. They touched Isla's cheek first and then spread to her hair; Iain noticed it was so black it nearly reflected back blue. It only added to the mystery that surrounded her. As the first few songbirds began their morning symphony, she began to stir.
At first, she just stretched slightly, a tiny noise coming from somewhere in the back of her throat escaping and catching his attention. Her hands curled into fists, and her arms reached out before her. When her foot grazed his leg, she turned to look at him.
A smile graced her lips, and Iain thought that he might dissolve into mist himself. She said nothing about the night's previous events and simply sat up, looking around.
"Still verra early yet," Iain said. "Ye might want tae try and get some more rest while ye still can. The men are still yet sleepin'."
She turned to look at the three men by the oak tree, each one snoring loudly. It would be a while before the men roused on their own, Iain knew, but the sun had just barely poked its head over the horizon.
"I dinnae think I'll be able tae sleep," she said. "I have so many thoughts bustling around my mind. Too many. I just wish I knew what the letter meant, and now the dream as well."
The dream.
That was right; he had told her about the dream. He had been drunk with wine and desire, and the words had found their way out of his throat before he had known what he was doing. When he searched her face, she did not look as though she were judging him. In fact, she seemed thoughtful and contemplative, as though she were more than willing to help him discover the true meaning to the dream itself.
"It's all just so mysterious," she said as she stretched. "I cannae imagine what it means. Ye said that the... that the woman looked exactly like me, and yet I cannae ever remember having a dream with a man that resembled ye in any way. What can that mean then, I wonder?"
Iain could only shake his head in wonder. The young woman had made sure to lower her voice when talking about the dream; he could only assume to ensure that the guards would not hear if they were lying awake. He accepted her courtesy greatly; it would not do to have his men think him weak or mad. Anyone hearing that the Laird believed that dream women come alive would certainly think as much, perhaps even his most trusted men
"I cannae even begin to wonder," he said. "But I can tell ye tha' I havenae had the dream occur once since yer arrival in my keep. I cannae say that the woman had stolen her way into my dreams everysingletime I slept, but there were never two nights of peace in a row. I'm wonderin' if it has anythin' tae to with ye bein' here with me now."
Just then, Gamelin uttered a loud snore that sounded as though it had come from somewhere deep in his core. The man before him who lay on his side rustled and then sat up, which in turn stirred his fellows. His men sat up groggily, the two silent sleepers glaring at the larger man.
"Thank ye, Gamelin, for shavin' off a few hours o' sleep," one of the men muttered. "Cannae say that I will miss them. Great hulkin' moron."
"Stow the insults, Jacob," Iain said. "We have much land tae cover today, and the sooner we get on it, the better. If it hadnae been Gamelin that woke ye, it would have been me. I think ye would have much preferred Gamelin. Ye three are on huntin' duty this morn; I'll watch the lass. "
The man looked cowed and only offered a half-hearted, "Aye, m'Laird," in reply in a chorus with his fellows. The three men were up and outfitted for hunting within minutes.
He knew he would be alone with the young woman then and would have to restrain himself from continuing the events of the previous night. As the men disappeared into the forest, he fought off the thoughts of her warm folds against his hands, her soft curves, and needy gasps. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck, and his manhood stiffen with desire. The thought of taking her now against the forest floor was almost too much to bear.
"I hope they come back with another rabbit or two," Isla said. Her voice brought him out of his lusty thoughts; he had to blink back the image of her dropping her maid's dress to the ground and revealing herself completely to him. He had wanted so much to be able to take in her bareness completely, to see her body clearly.
"Aye, I suspect tha' they will," he said, clearing his throat. "Gamelin, Jacob, and Aymer are my three best warriors. They may not exactly be hunters by trade, but each one o' them is well-versed in the art of killin'. I can imagine they'll be back shortly with their arms full o' game."
Her face blanched when he mentioned that his men were proficient with killing. Surely she must have known such a thing, but he supposed that it had only reminded her of why he had brought them in the first place.
She was envisioning him taking her life; she had to be. Her expression screamed out the truth; she was still frightened of him. That thought only brought about a pang of shame and anxiety that he had to work hard to ignore.
No matter how hard he tried to ignore the rift that was still between them, it was impossible. He had already threatened her life, called her a liar, and had followed her to her destination in order to ensure that she was telling the truth.
No amount o' bondin' over some dream will change tha'. I have already lost the lass' trust for good.
