Page 15 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“Then help me. Me sister,” she said, her voice breaking. “Isolde. She went tae a ball without permission, chasin’ dreams of catchin’ some laird’s attention. She’d been gone fer days when I went tae look fer her, I was worried sick. I thought if I could find her quickly, we could avoid scandal.”
Ian’s chest tightened at the anguish in her voice.
“Aye. And I never found her.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “How long have I been here? Since ye seem tae ken everythin’ else.”
Ian’s heart sank. In all the shock of her identity being revealed, he’d hoped she might not ask this question again, but she deserved the truth.
“How long dae ye think?” he asked gently.
“I think… weeks. Maybe two months.” But uncertainty flickered in her voice as she looked toward the window again, barely seeing the bare branches, the gray winter sky.
“Look outside, lass. Really look.”
Rhona turned toward the window, and Ian watched as the horrible realization dawned on her face. “The leaves… they were turnin’ when I left,” she whispered. “It was autumn.”
“Aye.”
“And now ‘tis…” she pressed her hand to the glass, her breath fogging it. “’tis winter…”
“Three months,” Ian said softly. “Ye’ve been here about three months, I reckon.”
Rhona went utterly still, the blood draining from her face as the reality hit her like a physical blow. Three months. Three months stolen from her life.
“Three months…” her voice was hollow.
“I’m sorry. Truly.” Ian said, watching her struggle to process the information.
“Me family…” fresh tears pooled in her eyes. “They must think me dead. And Isolde – what if she never came home? What if we’re both…” She stopped herself, refusing to voice the terrible possibility out loud.
Ian saw her hands clench into fists at her sides, watcher her spine straighten as she gathered her strength. Even devastated, she wouldn’t show weakness in front of him. “We’ll find out about yer sister,” he said quietly. “I’ll send me tae make inquiries.”
“And me?” She asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil he could see in her eyes. “What happens now?”
His throat tightened. How could he tell her his Council wanted to force her into marriage? That knowing her identity made everything infinitely more complicated than he had make it seem? She would not fall for another vague answer, Ian knew that much.
“The Council’s discussin’ it,” he said carefully. “But I stand by me word tae help ye. Ye’ll nae be harmed so long as yer here, ye have me word.”
“Protection again.” Bitterness crept back into her voice. “Pretty words fer captivity.”
“Rhona–”
“Nay.” She stepped back, angrily wiping tears. “If I’m a prisoner, just say so. If I’m a hostage, admit it. But dinnae insult me by callin’ it somethin’ else.”
“Ye’re right,” he said after a moment. “I’ve been softening the truth. Ye deserve better.” He met her gaze directly. “Ye are in captivity here, Rhona MacAlpin. But ye’re under me protection too, whether ye want it or nae. And I guarantee I willnae let anyone harm ye.”
The honesty seemed to catch her off guard. She searched his face, looking for something. “Why?” she asked quietly. “Why should a Wallace care what happens tae a MacAlpin?”
Ian’s jaw tightened. “Because ye’re innocent in conflicts ye didnae create,” he said. “Because ye’ve suffered enough fer Douglas’s crimes. And because I willnae be the kind of man who lets harm come tae those under his care, regardless of clan.”
Her expression softened slightly. “Even if it brings ye trouble?”
“Especially then.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. “I should let ye rest,” Ian said.
“Me laird.” She stopped him at the door. “Will ye truly search fer news of me family. Fer Isolde?”
“Aye,” he promised. “Riders go out today. Whatever answers exist, I’ll find them.”
