Page 19 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Easy, lad. That's it." Ruaridh's voice was soft as he worked the curry comb through Storm's dark coat, the familiar rhythm soothing his frayed nerves. "At least ye dinnae argue with every word I say."

The stallion nickered in response, shifting slightly but remaining patient under his master's ministrations. The familiar scent of hay and leather surrounded them both, and here in the quiet of the stables, Ruaridh could almost forget the morning's council meeting. Almost push away the weight of leadership and the endless arguments about borders and threats.

"Can ye believe I had tae keep me knickers on fer hours of their bickering?" His strokes became more vigorous. "Hours of the same complaints, the same fears. Sometimes I think ye'd make a better council member than the lot of them."

The stable doors creaked open behind him, but he didn't turn. Probably one of the grooms coming to check on the other mounts.

"Ruaridh?"

He froze at the sound of Iona's voice. When he glanced over his shoulder, she stood silhouetted in the doorway, her MacDuff blue gown making her look every inch the clan lady she now was. Her auburn hair caught the afternoon light streaming through the doors, and for a moment she looked so much like the girl he'd once known that his chest tightened.

"Iona," he forced his voice to remain neutral, turning back to Storm's grooming. "What brings ye tae the stables?"

"I was looking fer ye." Her footsteps were soft on the straw-covered floor as she approached. "I hope I'm nae intruding."

"This is the only place in the castle I can get some peace and quiet." The words came out more like an accusation.

"Well, then ye'll have tae make an exception," she said, stepping closer. "Because I have questions that need answering, and I'm nae leaving until I get them."

Her boldness caught him off guard. He turned to find her chin lifted and her eyes sparkling with something that reminded him exactly why Highland lasses were known for their fire.

This wasn't the trembling bride from last night—this was the girl who'd once faced down three older boys to defend his honor. He braced himself for what was coming.

"Why did ye marry me?"

The direct question caught him off guard. He set down the curry comb and turned to face her fully. "What?"

"Why did ye marry me?" she repeated, her chin lifting with a defiance he remembered from childhood. "If peace is what ye wanted, then surely ye could have found a wife that daesnae bring ye so much danger. So why me?"

The bluntness of it stirred something hot in his chest. His eyes narrowed. "Ye think I married ye on a whim? That I didnae consider the consequences?"

"I think ye married a woman ye barely remember out of some misguided sense of duty, and now ye're regretting it!"

"Barely remember?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "I remember plenty, Iona MacNeill. I remember a lass who once dared me tae climb the highest tower in me faither's castle. I remember someone who defended me and never asked fer anything in return."

She blinked, clearly not expecting that response.

"When I heard of yer predicament," he continued, his voice gentling slightly, "I wanted tae help. We hadnae seen each other since we were children, aye, but we had once been friends. That means something tae me. It holds... weight."

"But surely⁠—"

"Nay one else would step up," he said simply. "Ye were left vulnerable tae that pig's actions. Nay one else was willing tae take the risk. So I did."

The silence stretched between them, filled only with the soft sounds of horses moving in their stalls and the distant clatter of castle life beyond the stable walls.

"I see," she said finally, her voice small.

Dae ye? Dae ye see that I couldnae bear the thought of ye facing that monster alone?

Instead, he picked up the curry comb again and turned back to Storm. "Is that what ye needed tae hear?"

"Aye. Thank ye fer yer honesty." Her voice was steadier now. "And thank ye fer remembering how I liked me milk. It was... thoughtful."

"I'm glad ye still like it that way." The words slipped out before he could stop them. He tightened his jaw.

"Some things havenae changed," she said softly. "Dae ye still hate carrots with the same passion ye did as a boy?"