Page 20 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. "I tolerate them now. In stew, at least."

"And dae ye still sneak honey cakes from the kitchen when ye think nay one's watching?"

"I'm a grown man, Iona. I dinnae sneak anything. I order what I want." But there was amusement in his voice, and she caught it.

"So ye order Cook directly now?"

"Something like that." He found himself almost grinning at the memory of speaking to Cook just that morning and grabbing a honey cake while her back was turned. He'd shoved it into his mouth just in time for Cook to turn and ask him about the crumbs on his lips.

Then just like that she laughed, and the sound hit him in his chest. It was the same bright, infectious laughter he remembered from their childhood, and for a moment the years fell away completely.

But then he caught himself looking at her lips as the laughter died into a smile, wondering what they would taste like, wondering if they were as soft as they appeared. The thought came so suddenly, so intensely, that he had to turn away.

She's nae that lass anymore. And clearly, ye're not that boy.

The smile died on his face as reality crashed back down. This wasn't some carefree reunion between childhood friends. This was a marriage of necessity, a political alliance born of desperation and duty.

"Ruaridh?" Her voice was uncertain now. "What's wrong?"

"Naething." He focused intently on Storm's coat, though it was already gleaming. "Ye said ye'd be a good wife. What daes that mean tae ye?"

"It means I'll support ye as laird. I'll dae me best tae be an asset tae this clan rather than a burden." Her voice grew stronger, more determined. "It means I'll stand by yer side and speak me mind when I need clarification or when I think ye're making a mistake."

He turned sharply. "I'm soon tae be laird of this clan, Iona. Ye dinnae question me decisions."

Her eyes flashed with fire. "And I'm the future Lady MacDuff. I'll support ye with me life, but I'll nae be silenced when I have concerns. If ye wanted a meek, biddable wife, ye chose poorly."

"Aye," he said, stepping closer until he could see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. Those gold flecks he remembered so clearly. "I'm beginning tae realize that sharp tongue of yers is going tae bring me naething but trouble."

"Good," she said, not backing down despite his proximity. "A laird who's never challenged grows complacent. And a marriage without honesty is nay marriage at all."

They stood there for a moment, close enough that he could smell the lavender scent of her hair, could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The air between them crackled with something he wasn't ready to name.

God help me, what have I gotten meself intae with ye?

"Is there anything else ye need to ken?" he asked, his voice rougher than he'd intended.

"Just one thing." She took a step back, creating distance between them. "Dae ye regret it? Marrying me?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. He could have said yes—it would have been easier, cleaner. Could have told her it was just duty and nothing more.

Instead, he found himself saying, "Ask me again in a year, lass. When we both ken what we've made of this arrangement."

She nodded slowly, as if that was answer enough. "Then I'll dae me best tae make sure yer answer is nay."

With that, she turned and walked toward the stable doors, leaving him alone with his horse and the uncomfortable realization that his new wife was going to be far more dangerous to his peace of mind than any enemy army.

That night, Ruaridh dragged his sleeping mat closer to the bed—not by much, perhaps two feet, but enough to honor his promise. Each night a little closer, he'd told her. Each night until she could bear his presence without fear.

The memory of their confrontation in the stables still burned in his mind. The way she'd stood her ground, demanded answers, refused to be dismissed. And that moment when she'd laughed—Christ, when was the last time he'd heard laughter like that? Pure and bright, exactly as he remembered from their childhood. When was the last time she had laughed like that?

Dangerous. She's dangerous tae yer peace of mind… but then again, what peace of mind?

She came out from behind the changing screen just as he spread his blankets on the hard floor.

"The mat's moved," Iona paused, before moving to sit by the window, brushing her auburn hair in long, hypnotic strokes.

"Aye." He kept his voice matter-of-fact. "Still too close?"