Page 90 of The Laird's Dangerous Prize
"I couldnae sleep." She closed the door behind her and moved toward him. "I had tae see ye first."
He rose as she approached, his natural courtesy overriding his weariness. "What is it?"
"I wanted tae thank ye." The words came out in a rush. "Fer everything ye've done today. For taking command when we needed it most, fer sending fer yer men, fer..." She gestured helplessly.
He was quiet for a long moment, his green eyes searching hers. "I love ye, and I willnae let Wallace take ye from me without a fight."
The simple honesty of it made her throat tighten with emotion. "The men respect ye already. In one day, ye've given them more hope than they've had in months."
"They're good men. They just needed someone tae show them their own strength."
"And what about ye?" she asked softly. "Who shows ye yers?"
He smiled then, the first real smile she'd seen from him since the messenger had arrived. "Ye dae, lass. Every day since I met ye."
She reached up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble beneath her palm. "I'm frightened," she admitted. "Nae of dying, but of losing ye. Of watching Wallace's men cut ye down and being powerless tae stop it."
"Hey." His arms came around her, pulling her close. "That willnae happen. I promise ye that."
"Ye cannae promise such a thing."
"I can, and I dae." His voice was fierce with conviction. "I've fought in a dozen battles, survived things that should have killed me ten times over. I dinnae plan on dying tomorrow, especially nae before I can make ye me wife properly."
Isolde felt her heart skip. Isolde had not fully processed what living with Ciaran as his wife would be like. "Yer wife… "
"Aye. After we send Wallace tae hell where he belongs." His hands framed her face. "And ye will give me plenty of babies tae run around the castle."
"Then ye have tae make sure ye stay alive fer me. Fer this," she lifted his hand to cover her heart. "And fer our future."
"Oh, Isolde MacAlpin. I want ye as me wife as soon as possible. I want tae protect ye and yer clan, tae build something lasting between MacCraith and MacAlpin." His thumbs traced her cheekbones. "Daes that sound like a good plan, lass?"
"Aye," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Aye, Ciaran MacCraith."
He kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of promise. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.
"Stay with me taenight?" he asked quietly. "I dinnae want tae spend these hours away from ye."
She nodded, and they settled onto the narrow bed together, her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped protectively around her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
This time, when they made love it was slower, but no less intense. Her hunger hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown deeper, more urgent in its purpose. She wanted to see him undone again. She wanted to own every moment they had left.
They stayed wrapped around each other long after the pleasure had ebbed, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms holding her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
They dozed fitfully in each other's arms as the night wore on, waking to touch and kiss and whisper soft words of love and hope. When the first pale light of dawn began to creep through the window, neither wanted to acknowledge what it meant.
When the dawn finally came, painting gold along the edge of the window, she lay against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Morning was coming and so was battle. But for now, they had each other. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.
The sound that finally broke through their protective cocoon was the deep, resonant call of a war horn echoing across the valley—not from their walls, but from the forest beyond.
Wallace had arrived.
Isolde felt Ciaran's entire body tense against hers, the warrior in him responding instantly to the threat. But for just a moment longer, he held her close, his face buried in her hair.
"Whatever happens today," he murmured, "remember this. Remember us."
"Always," she promised, then Isolde paused, eyes glistering. "Come back tae me, ye brave laird." The words were nothing more than a mere whisper.
