“Better?” she repeated, disbelief lacing her tone. “Better for whom, Declan? For ye? Because ye cannae bear to face me after what happened between us?”
He slammed the glass down on the table, the sound sharp and final. “That’s enough, Isabelle! Ye’re twistin’ this into somethin’ it’s nae! I’ve duties that weigh heavy on me shoulders. I cannae have distractions.”
“Distractions?” she gasped, her voice cracking. “Is that what I am to ye? A burden? A nuisance to yer grand Laird duties?”
His jaw clenched, and his voice turned hard as iron. “Ye’re puttin’ words in me mouth. Ye ken naught of the responsibilities I bear. If ye cannae stomach me choices, then perhaps ye’d best stay out of me way.”
Isabelle’s hands trembled, her breath ragged as she took a shaky step back. “Ye can be a cruel man, Declan,” she whispered. “Cruel and cold. I thought there was kindness in ye. I saw it when ye smiled, when ye spoke to the children. I saw it when ye bedded me. But I see now, it was only a dream.”
Declan’s heart wrenched, but he steeled himself.
“Go,” he said, his tone low and commanding. “Before I say somethin’ I’ll regret.”
“Ye already have,” she whispered hoarsely. Her tears shimmered in the firelight as she turned toward the door.
He felt his chest tighten as she reached for the handle, but he forced the words out anyway.
“Leave me be, Isabelle. I’ll nae be hounded in me own house.”
She spun around, eyes blazing once more. “Then may yer ‘peace’ keep ye warm, me Laird ,” she snapped, “for it’ll be colder than this cursed stone room ye hide in.”
Declan took a step forward, fury and regret battling in his gaze. “Ye’ll mind yer tongue, woman.”
“Or what?” she cried, her voice cracking. “Ye’ll command me like the rest of yer servants? Ye’ll chase me from every room until I’m naught but a ghost in yer castle? Ye’ve made yer wish clear, me Laird .”
She turned and fled from the room, her skirts swishing against the floor, the sound fading into the echoing corridor. The heavy door slammed behind her with a force that made the walls tremble.
Declan stood frozen. His breath came harsh and shallow, his fists clenched at his sides.
The echo of her words,cruel and cold, rang in his ears like a curse. He sank back into the chair, the weight of his own choices pressing down on him like a mountain.
“Damn it, Isabelle,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough. “Why must ye make me feel so damned alive?”
And though he told himself it was for the best, the truth gnawed at him; he had never felt lonelier in his life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Ye… ye bampot!” Isabelle shouted to herself as she paced the bedchamber the next day.
Her mind churned with uneasy thoughts, each one more cruel than the last.
Was I really enough for him?
The echo of consummating the marriage haunted her. She feared she had failed him, that he regretted marrying her, and that in his heart he had wished for Rosaline instead.
I am unsatisfactory in the ways of a wife. I daenae please him.
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the early morning light shimmered on the loch. Across the water, a small fishing boat bobbed gently on the waves, a particular boat she had never noticed before.
She hardly paid it mind, her thoughts consumed with Declan and the stubborn pride that kept him distant from her.
Her moment of frustration was interrupted by the cheerful commotion outside her door. Three little voices called out in unison, and soon Hallie, Beth, and Penelope tumbled into the room, their laughter filling the space with warmth.
Behind them, Mabel followed, her serene presence a contrast to the children’s wild energy.
“Lady Isabelle!” Mabel said softly, a gentle smile on her face. “The girls are eager to be with ye this day . They’ve been talkin’ about it all mornin'.”
The triplets shouted all at once, their excitement barely contained. “We came to find ye, Lady Isabelle!” Hallie said, bouncing on her toes. “We’ve got games to play!”
