Isla felt tears spring to her throat, but these were not tears of guilt or doubt, no. They were tears of relief.
Camron drew his sword back and turned his attention to Isla.
“Are ye…”
“I’m fine,” she breathed back to him, her voice shaky.
“I’m here and ye’re safe,” he promised her, his voice low and certain. He wound his arms around her, reaching behind her to undo the bindings that held her. As soon as her hands were loose, she crashed against him, clinging to him as though it was the only thing keeping her alive.
“Och, God, Camron, I thought I?—”
“I should never have let ye walk out of my study,” he told her. “I should have told ye that I loved ye, Isla. Because… because I do. I love ye. And I willnae let anything happen to ye. If ye ever forgive me… I’m yours.”
She laughed; a sweet, bubbling sound that ran like a fresh stream from her lips. She tossed her arms around him and pressed her head to his, inhaling the scent of him like her life depended on it.
“About time, my Laird.”
Epilogue
Camron paced back and forth,shooting occasional looks towards the door as he waited for the healer to return. Isla sat on the small examination table in the middle of the room, and she reached for his hand with a smile.
“I told ye, I’m alright.”
“I’ll believe it when I hear it from her,” he replied, tightening his grip on her hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. They had ridden back to the Keep after his clash with Archie as fast as possible.
He had sent some of his men out to find him. If they managed to do that, they were ordered to put him in a cell until a fair trial could be held, even if he was not sure he deserved it after what he had done. But, then, he supposed, he was still family, no matter how he had tried to use that against him.
He bore no guilt for what would happen to him, none at all. Archie had chosen his fate the moment he had dared come after his wife. The moment he had heard that his cousin had stolen her away, whatever doubts he might have had about his feelings for her shattered in an instant. He knew he could not let anything happen to her, knew he could not let her slip throughhis fingers. A swell of pure, certain love had filled his heart, and he knew he would not be able to live without her.
And as soon as they had arrived back, he had whisked her to a healer, intent on finding out just what injuries his cousin had inflicted on her. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told him that she was fine, he could not rightly believe it. The healer had asked her a few questions and done a quick examination before she slipped from the room for a poultice that would take care of her scrapes with a bright smile on her face.
He turned her hand over in his, exposing the welts on her wrists. He hated seeing her like this, so hurt, even if he knew that she would heal up soon enough, but it still made his chest hurt to think that she was in any kind of pain.
“I’m going to be fine,” she murmured, perhaps sensing the discomfort in his heart at the sight of her like this.
He leaned down to plant a kiss against her, and, just as he did so, the healer came back into the room. Camron straightened up, putting his arm around her protectively.
“Here’s some salve fer yer hands, my Lady,” she remarked, pushing a small pouch towards Isla. “Apply it a few times a day, and ye’ll be healed up in no time.”
“Thank ye,” she murmured.
“Is that all?” Camron demanded. He did not mean to sound so sharp with the healer, but he could not shake the feeling that there was more she was not saying, perhaps internal injuries that lay beyond his eye.
“Aye, all ye need to worry about,” she replied, raising a brow at him, as though to warn him to keep his tone in check. “The baby’s fine, if that’s what ye’re asking.”
His eyes widened, his grip on her tightening all of a sudden.
“The baby?”
“Oh, you didnae ken, my Laird?” she remarked, glancing between the two of them, almost casual. “I’ll give ye two a moment.”
He stared down at Isla, trying to make sense of what he had just been told. She gazed at him, resting her teeth on her bottom lip, not breaking his gaze for a moment.
“Ye’re…”
“That’s what I came to speak to ye about,” she confessed. “In yer study. I didnae know how to tell ye, I didnae ken how ye’d react, but?—”
He kissed her, the kind of kiss that was meant to salve her mind from any doubt she might still have been carrying. Cupping her face in his hands, he brushed his nose against hers, assuring her with everything he had.
