But they had a destination to reach, and he knew it. It was a shame, but he could not stay here with her like this for long. The men would be wondering where he was and hadn't he said he was going to fetch water for Aymer's leg?
He sat up on the grass and then pushed himself into standing and then shrugged his cotton shirt on, along with his breeches. Isla had dressed quickly as well, and Iain turned to head back to his men. He didn't hear her footsteps behind him, though and looked over his shoulder. She was still standing by the loch, her hands twisting together. She looked as though she were anxious, no, terrified for some reason.
"What're ye doin'?" he asked. "Are ye no' ready tae head back just yet? Remember, we do have somewhere tae be."
When she looked up at him, he felt himself freeze, as though his feet were melded to the ground below him. There were tears in her eyes, glistening like starlight in her sapphire eyes. If she didn't seem so distraught, the sight would be beautiful, but it also tore his heart out to see her this way.
"What's wrong?" he asked when he felt like he could speak again. Her beauty in that moment had nearly stolen his breath away, and he could feel her despair as though it were his own.
She did not speak for a long moment but waved him back over to her with a soft gesture that he could have easily missed if his gaze was not locked on her. In this moment, she looked more like the woman in his dreams than she ever had. In this background against the moors with the wind blowing her dark hair around, she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her hands clutched her cloak about her neck, just as he had seen her do almost every night.
"Iain, there is somethin' I have tae tell ye," she said. "Come back for a moment, will ye?"
He obliged her, his feet moving on their own. He was at her side in five long strides. When she glanced back up at him, he felt as though his entire world were suddenly coming apart. Her blue eyes held such a sadness and an underlying fear, but he could not tell from what.
"Remember how ye said that ye had hidden the dream from everyone?" she asked. "And that ye were only revealin' it tae me?"
He nodded, mystified, and waited for her to speak. The young woman's eyes gazed back out at the loch, and he watched her fingers clutch at her cloak tighter until her fingers had gone white under the force. She was clearly working through a flurry of emotions inside of her, but he did not dare push her. She seemed like a frightened doe about to bolt, and though he would have loved to dispel her fears, he knew that it would be more prudent to wait until she was ready.
He heard her take a shaky breath in and let it out just as tremulously. Iain felt as though the thoughts had fled his mind; in this moment, he was completely transfixed on what she had to say.
"I'm sorry, Iain," she said. "Truly sorry, but I have no' been quite... quite honest with ye. I have hidden something verra important out of fear, but I dinnae think that it is fair anymore tae keep it from ye. Please, just let me tell ye everthin' before ye react."
He nodded again, this time just one jerk of his chin. His throat felt as though it was closing up, as though it desperately wanted to stick together. He wanted to cough, to clear it, but he did not dare make a sound.
What could she possibly have to tell him? Anxiety ate him up inside.
"As I said, I have no' been quite as honest as I should have," she said, her voice thin and cautious. "But it was for good reason. I was... verra frightened and quite alone. But I am no' from the MacIntosh clan as I had told yer mother. I am actually... My father is actually Duncan Robertson."
Iain felt as though the earth was crumbling beneath his feet. The words that he had dreaded to hear were now falling away from her tongue and mercilessly penetrating his heart.
He had been betrayed; his heart that he had carefully offered to her dashed against the rocks of the loch.
Chapter Fifteen
Isla had seen the hurt and betrayal flash across the Laird's face, though she'd done her best to avoid witnessing it.
He was looking at her now with wide brown eyes; his lips parted as though he might say something. The anger she had thought would come first was but an afterthought to the pain that had taken up residency in his eyes.
An' I am the cause o' it all.
Shame flooded through her, so much that she thought she would burst into tears right then and there. She was disappointed in herself in a way that she could not describe, though it was through no fault of her own. She had simply been fathered by the wrong man. It was not fair, but it was true; she had lied, hid the truth as best as she could.
There had been a part of her that had wanted to tell him everything, but she had been so worried that his rage would overtake him. She could see even now that the storm was brewing in his brown eyes, but this hurt expression was somehow worse. She wanted desperately to look away, to turn her gaze somewhere else, but she could not.
"I cannae believe it," he said, running a hand through his hair savagely. "Ye lied tae me? Even after... even after what we had done?"
It was a question, one that he looked like he expected an answer to. She knew that he was waiting on her to tell him that this was all untrue, but she simply nodded. Her head hung low, black hair falling into her face. She could not bear to see him looking at her like this anymore.
She heard him make a noise of disbelief and looked up to see him shaking his head; Iain had turned to the loch, his back to her as if he could not stand the sight of her any longer.
"Iain..." she started to say, but he held up one hand to silence her.
He did not immediately speak, but when he did, his voice was taut and strained with anger. She could tell he was holding himself back, but she was not sure how much. The veins in his neck were standing out from his exertion, and when he spoke, his voice was thin with hurt, but there was an edge of fury there that she did not miss.
"No," he said, turning back to her. "Ye lied to me deliberately. Ye hid the one piece of information ye knew I needed. Have ye been a spy the entire time? Was all o' this fake, everythin' we had experienced together?"
The anger was present now, that boiling rage she knew would come. His face had reddened slightly; she could tell he was holding himself back at least in part. Iain bit down on his lip and looked like he would say something again but chose not to. She wondered about all the words he did not say; was he still trying not to hurt her even now?
