Was there still a chance he would forgive her?
Her hopes for this were dashed when she saw the fury in his eyes. It was then she chose to speak, even knowing he would not want to hear her voice.
"No, Iain," she said. "Ye have tae believe me. I didnae want tae fool ye, but I was so afraid and so far from home. Everything else that I have told ye is true; the letter was slipped under my door at Robertson Castle, and I did sneak out in order tae find the truth o' it all. But when yer men captured me, I had tae construct a story fast, or ye would have killed me then and there. Can ye say that ye would no' have done so?"
He didn't speak then, as she had known he wouldn't. There was nothing that he could say to that last question; of course, he would have ended her life right there in the dungeon if he had known where she had fled from. He had been so fearsome that night; Isla saw Iain himself reliving the first night she had appeared in his keep.
His face softened for a moment, but the storm cloud settled again in his eyes. He was deliberately pushing away forgiveness, so great was his rage.
"I cannae say what I would have done then," he said, raising his voice. "I only know tha' ye are a liar and that I cannae trust ye! I was foolish to do so then, and I willnae be makin' the same mistake twice."
"What I feel for ye is not a lie," Isla said. "I... I have never been with a man before in that way and... I was no' lying to ye, Iain. Not about that. I wish that ye could see how I truly feel for ye. I wish that ye can trust me, though I understand why it is impossible now. Just know how sorry I am. I didnae mean tae hurt ye."
When he looked up at her then, she saw something unraveling in his expression. It wasn't forgiveness exactly, but his fury had abated a little. Hope sprung up in her chest, and she was surprised at herself.
Was she truly invested in this Laird, this dangerous man who was her father's enemy?
She had been warned about the MacThomas clan, that they were unreasonable savages, brainless brutes who would kill before a thought, but that wasn't the reality. The Laird before was hurting somewhere deep, she could see it, but his hand hadn't strayed to the dagger he wore at his side.
"Ye deceived me!" he roared. "An' that is a fact! I cannae trust ye again, no matter what ye say. I cannae even say if what... what we did just now was real or if that too was all just a game yer playin’."
She dropped her head, unable to look him in the eye. He was blazing, but she had seen a glimpse of his core and the despair that she had wrought inside his heart. He turned from her, staring into the loch for a long moment. Isla watched his chest heave with fury, his hands clenched into fists. His rage was evident, but then, what had she expected?
"Come on, then," he said roughly. "We'll go back tae the men. They'll be expectin' us."
He gestured with one arm for her to follow him, and she complied without a word, her arms crossed over her chest. They crossed over the hill, and he glanced back at her, surely to see if she would flee from him. The distrust in his gaze haunted her all the way back to the men and the horses.
At the sight of the two of them, Isla saw the men mounting the horses once more. Aymer looked as though he hadn't budged from his; he was still in the exact same position that he had been when Isla had left for the loch. He was still pale-faced and looked weak, but the man seemed as though his energy was returning to him.
At least I can do somethin' right.
She sighed; Iain would even disbelieve her after she had healed his wound and his man's as well. She had done everything she could to show him she meant him no harm, and yet the mention of her father had erased all of that in the span of a second. As soon as the words had left her lips, she had watched all of the love flee his face. The wound in her heart at his words was still raw and open.
Isla wished that he would look at her, but he refused. His silence was telling, and she wanted desperately to talk to him alone. She knew she should not get her hopes high; he did not even say a word to the men upon their return. Instead, he hoisted himself up onto his horse without a word. Isla thought for a moment that he would make her walk, but the Laird gingerly held a hand out for her to help her up.
Her eyes found his, and she looked at him questioningly and then hesitantly took it. As soon as she was stable, he released her hand, though she thought she felt that familiar warmth there beginning to return. She wondered then if she were just being hopeful. Her hands moved on their own to wrap around his body, but he faltered. He could sense it, and he turned again, meeting her eye behind him.
She thought he would speak, but he simply nodded his consent, and she let her arms fold around him. Isla thought she felt him breathe out a sigh, but she did not hear it.
The three warriors looked as though they knew this mood in their Laird well. They looked around at themselves questioningly but did not voice their inquiries, and they waited until he waved them through the wood to nudge their horses along.
The letter had said to head straight through the forest. It would take them a little time, but it seemed as though they would get to their destination quicker than they realized.
"I've heard o' the village before, m'Laird," Jacob said, chancing to speak. "My wife has a sister who lives there now on account o' her marriage an' I think we should get there likely tomorrow if I'm no' mistaken. Cutting through the woods at an angle like tha' has saved us a considerable bit o' time."
"Aye," Iain said to him. "Shoudnae be too long now, perhaps another night if we keep headin' in this direction."
The horses plodded through the woods, their hooves sinking into the soft earth at times. The chestnut stallion shook his head and snuffled loudly as they rode beneath the treetops. Isla felt Iain turning around to check her every now and again; she could only assume to make sure she was not struck by the groping and sharp branches.
It was a kind gesture, and she was not even sure if he realized he was doing it. Inside, perhaps he did still have that glowing love he had shown her at the lake and even before that. Isla herself could not deny her feelings for the Laird. Even now, as she had her arms wrapped around his waist, feeling the warmth that radiated from his body, she fought the urge to lay her head down against his back and breathe in his scent.
He was still slightly damp from the waters of the loch, and Isla longed to reach up and gently stroke his hair as she had when they were making love. It had been incredibly soft, much more so than she had expected, and the way that his body had settled over hers made her tingle even now.
He hates me now. All because I could no' tell him the truth.
The men, Aymer especially, were eyeing her sadly. She knew they had no inkling as to what had happened between the two of them, but they were not stupid. The Laird's change in behavior and Isla's somber expression perhaps had told them all they needed to know. Isla felt shame crashing through her and wanted to hide her face from the world.
On another day, it would be likely they would reach their destination. She wrestled with the idea of learning the truth to the letter and tried to focus on that instead of the Laird in front of her.
