"Aye," she said. "Or nearly. We still have some time before we are tae head back tae MacThomas Castle..."
She heard him huff out a laugh in the darkness before she saw it.
"No' enough time fer what yer proposin', I'll warrant," he said. "But enough time tae enjoy ourselves before we have tae get moving again. Have ye decided yet where ye plan on stayin?"
She could not see much in the darkness, but his voice told her that he was wearing that hopeful expression that made his vulnerability in the moment apparent.
Had he really thought tha; I would want to go back to Robertson Castle? Perhaps tha’ was why he was insistent upon enjoyin’ the moment with me last night.
She frowned as she heard the conversation again in her mind; he had not wanted to hear the words if she affirmed his fear that she was returning home.
"I decided that much earlier," she said. "I knew as Aiden was tellin' his story that I wanted tae stay with ye for the rest of my days. But Iain, my fath—Duncan will never let us go without wantin' tae get his hands bloody. He's a terrible man, Iain, the likes o' which ye can never know."
"O' course I know how beastly he is," Iain said. "He took my father's life. An' if he comes for ye, Isla, I can promise that I will end his life before he lays a hand on ye ever again. I hope tha' ye hold no affection for the man because I will have no mercy on him."
"Hold nothin' back," she said and was surprised to realize that she truly meant the words. "If ye do, he'll use your hesitation against ye. Dinnae think about me or anythin' else other than keepin' yerself safe so ye can come back tae me."
"O' course," he said. "I will always come back tae ye."
He sat up further, pulling her into an embrace, and planted his lips upon hers in the darkness. She felt herself reel in his arms; the feeling of his strong body eclipsing her own was comforting and thrilling all at once. She allowed the tips of her fingers to trail along his back and relished how he arched his spine appreciatively. Isla found his reactions to her touch addicting.
She pushed him back down into the quilts, and he tugged her down across his chest. She lay there, sprawling flat against him for a moment before they both fell about laughing. Isla rolled over, propping her head up with her hand; he was looking at her as if she was the most precious and coveted thing he had ever seen.
The sun rose despite Isla mentally begging it to stay in bed. The sun rays peered through the window, casting shadows across the room as Isla lay listening to the steady beat of the Laird's heart. She sat up gingerly, her muscles sore from another night sleeping on the floor. Iain helped her to stand, and they dressed in silence. Her heart smiled when he turned her around to help her lace up her maid's dress. He threaded the cords through easily, humming to himself lightly. His mood was light and carefree, as though she had set his mind at ease when she said she would stay.
"Is tha' right?" he asked. "Tight enough?"
"Aye, she said. "Perfect."
She shivered when he brushed a hand through her straight hair, gently untangling the knots he found there. It was a sweet gesture that brought a smile to her face that she could not fight.
"Are ye two awake?" Helen's voice called from outside the door. "An' decently dressed? I'm cookin' up mornin' meal if yer hungry. C'mon now!"
Iain was given a new white cotton shirt that was not stained with dirt and dried blood. He changed into it gratefully as Helen apologized profusely for not thinking about it the previous night. She fussed about,
"Ye jus' surprised the life outta me, showin' up here like tha'," she explained. "I wasnae thinkin' at all, believe me, Laird. Please forgive my silly mind!"
Iain assured her that she had done more than enough by cooking them not one but two meals and allowing them to sleep in her home. He was so gracious that Isla could barely believe that he was the same man that she first met. She watched him speak with his men, his voice much more casual and less tense than it was before. He must have felt her eyes on him because he glanced up with a smile in his eyes. She looked away and busied herself helping Helen with the oatcakes, jam, and honey. Isla walked a plate over to Aiden and Aymer so that the two of them did not need to trouble themselves in getting up.
"Aymer, how is your wound?" Isla asked. "I didnae think it wise tae remove the poultice too quickly, especially if it had dried... Here, let me take a look."
She bent to pull the sleeve of the man's torn breeches away, but to her surprise, the man's wound was already washed clean and stitched up. The wound looked to be healing well, and the stitches were skillfully done. The redness around the wound itself looked much less angry this morning, and Isla was grateful to see that there was color in the man's pallor.
Perhaps a little too much. Isla noticed that every time his eyes would stray to Helen, he would nervously fiddle with his sleeve or scratch at the back of his neck, a small smile on his face. She thought she'd seen the two of them stealing glances at each other the previous night and Isla smiled when Helen settled herself next to Aymer with her own plate.
"Aye," he said. "Helen has a steady hand when it comes tae stitchin', it seems. I'm grateful for all the kindness she's shown."
Helen's own cheeks colored then, and she focused her attention on the plate in front of her. One hand picked at the biscuit, dabbing it in a small amber pool of honey.
"It's no' so different than patchin' up me dress," she said. "I wasnae sure if I should wash the poultice off, miss, but Aiden assured me tha' it would be fine."
"Would have patched the lad up meself, but these hands are no' so steady these days," Aiden said apologetically, holding up his wrinkled hands, a gap-toothed smile on his face.
The little bit of reprieve they were allowed was peaceful, but Isla knew that it would not last long. They needed every bit of daylight to travel; the quicker they arrived back at the MacThomas keep, the safer they would surely be. Isla could not wait to feel four secure castle walls surrounding her; her fear would certainly ease then.
She felt Iain shifting at her side; he was eating, but he seemed distracted, perhaps anxious. She glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but she only saw nervousness there and a pinprick of what looked to be excitement. Confused, Isla touched his arm, bringing his attention back to her.
"What are ye thinkin' about?" she asked. "Ye seem as though ye've fallen deep in thought, somewhere I could barely reach ye. Is everythin' alright?"
