Iain had to close whatever this distance was that had sprung between them, and he would do whatever it took.
Chapter Seventeen
Isla followed behind the Laird at a close distance, chewing nervously upon her bottom lip.
This man was impossible to understand; just when she thought she was beginning to truly see who he was, he would surprise her again. He pulled on her emotions in one direction and pushed in another. She could not make sense of what he was feeling.
He stopped when they were at a decent distance from the camp and when he turned back towards her, his face had that pleading, hopeful expression once more. She watched as the Laird ran his hand through his hair and blew out a deep sigh. His eyes fell to the forest floor, and when he began to speak, his voice was quiet and careful.
"Isla, I cannae say anything to defend how I acted yesterday," he said. “Ye have never given me a reason tae doubt yer words; I know tha’ ye are no’ who ye said ye are, but ye never sought tae flee or harm my men in the night. Ye cannae choose who yer father is. I know tha’ now. I reacted too harshly.”
Isla's breath tumbled out of her lungs in a tiny flurry; she could not believe what she was hearing.
I lied tae him, deliberately hid the truth, an' he's apologizin' tae me?
But he was, and it seemed as though he truly meant it.
He had still not looked at her, perhaps afraid of what her reaction would be. She desperately wanted him to turn his head up so she could gaze into those honey-brown eyes again. He seemed committed to avoiding seeing her expression, however, and so she took a step towards him. She reached with a shaking hand and tilted his head up.
When her fingertips grazed the stubble of his chin, his eyes jerked up in surprise to catch her gaze. For the first time, Isla thought she saw fear there, and her heart twisted when she realized why. He was afraid she would reject his apology, that she would toss it into the wind to blow out into the forest.
"Iain, ye cannae think that I blame ye," she said. "I... I should be the one who is apologizin' tae ye. I wronged ye knowingly, but it wasnae tae make a fool o' ye or spy on your clan. I wasnae sent by anyone, except for whoever the letter was sent by. I know hidin' the truth was wrong, but ye must see why I had tae do it."
"I do," Iain said. "Truly, ye need no' explain yerself further. Isla, I feel somethin' for ye tha' I cannae understand, tha' I havenae felt in so long. It's been years since I've experienced anythin' other than grief, anger, and loss. I didnae know how tae respond, but rest assured that I will do better, tha' I can swear tae ye. On my honor and on my life."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but the time for thinking had flown by. Isla could not stand being separated from him any longer, and she wrapped her arms around him and leaned up to kiss him.
His hands hovered over her waist for a moment, surprised, and then slowly settled over her body. Iain pulled her closer to him as though he could not bear even an inch between them. Isla breathed in his masculine scent, sighing as her fingers slid up his back and found the soft tendrils of his hair. She let herself reel in pleasure for a moment, feeling how his tight muscles shifted and rolled in his shoulders as her fingertips glided over them.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat that sent a needy shiver down her spine, but she pulled away to look up at him.
"The men will be wakin' soon," he said quietly. "We should head back tae camp."
Isla nodded, but it was hard to look away from his brown eyes; they were so warm with love and reflected the little bit of light that made it down between the branches. She looked at him there for a moment longer and then watched as a genuine smile fluttered across his face.
To Isla, it was brighter than the sunrise itself could ever hope to be.
* * *
Iain led Isla back to the camp, feeling much lighter than he had the night before. It was as though he had carried around a burden that had been far too much for him alone to bear, and it had been lifted from his shoulders, liberating him.
He allowed himself to smile with Isla behind him, a rare moment of true contentment. This beautiful woman had brought him more peace and serenity in the days that he'd spent with her than he'd experienced in the harrowing two years that followed the death of his wife. There was a light inside of her that put him at ease, and the more he took in that pure brightness, the less he wanted to give her up. Her smile brushed away the shadows inside of him, clearing out the misery as though they were cobwebs clinging to a wooden beam.
But he had been right; the men were stirring. They said nothing as they sat up, watching him re-enter the camp with Isla in tow. They were not stupid men; perhaps they had already discovered themselves that he had fallen in love with her.
They ate a quick breakfast of stale bread and raspberries, and black currants that Isla foraged from the surrounding area. It was enough to sustain them, but Iain could not wait for a good meal when he returned to the castle.
He thought for a moment; what might his life look like now that he and Isla had made their feelings clear for each other?
He paused and nervously swallowed the handful of berries he was chewing, glancing over at her. She was happily chatting to Gamelin about foraging; the man looked lost but still politely interested. The scene brought about a gentle joy inside of him; he could see spending her days out with him in MacThomas Castle, away from the father that treated her so poorly.
Duncan Robertson's face flashed in his mind once again, and he felt a rage so great he thought it would burn him away. He could imagine the man even now with his hands roughly grabbing Isla's arm, his face inches from hers as he shouted at her. She’d had to endure that all of her life; would she want to return to it after their journey was through?
Our animosity between each other is too strong; her father would suspect me immediately if she stays. It would mean war among our clans if we tried tae hide her away.
But neither could he give her up so easily. Now that she had entered his life, drifted into it like a dream, he couldn't find it in himself to let her go. He was in a quandary, one that had no real answer or even the ghost of one that he could consider.
When her eyes found him across the camp, neither did it seem to Iain like she wanted to leave. She gazed at him so lovingly, though she was still engaged in conversation with Gamelin. She turned back to the man, but before she did, he saw a smile tugging at her lips.
