Page 48 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“I have tae go,” she said abruptly, pulling away from his touch.
“Rhona, wait–”
But she was already scrambling to her feet, gathering her cloak with hands that trembled slightly. “I cannae… this cannae…”
“What cannae it be?” Ian rose as well, his eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her feel exposed in ways that had nothing to do with their circumstances.
“This!” she gestured helplessly between them, her voice cracking slightly on the word. “Whatever this is… it’s too… dangerous, too complicated, too…” she struggled for words that could encompass the magnitude of what was happening between them. “I need tae think… and I cannae dae that clearly when ye look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Ian stepped closer, close enough that she could see the tiny golden flecks in his green eyes, could feel the warmth radiating from his robust frame.
“Like I matter,” she whispered, the admission torn from her before she could stop it. “Like I’m more than just somethin’ tae be solved or a bargainin’ chip fer ye tae use in yer political schemes.”
“Because ye are,” Ian said simply, his voice rough. “Rhona, ye’re so much more than that. Ye’re…” he reached out to touch her face, then let his hand fall. “Ye’re everythin I never knew I was lookin’ fer.”
The words hit her like tidal wave, beautiful and terrifying in their honestly.
Without another word, she fled toward the castle, leaving Ian standing alone in the garden with the sunrise painting the sky behind him and the echo of footsteps the only sound in the crisp morning air.
As she reached her chambers, Rhona’s heart hammered even more fervently from withing the confines of her chest, like a wildthing seeking escape. Because the truth was, she couldn’t run from what was happening between them.
But even more unsettling than that, was the fact that she didn’t want to.
The truth settled over her like mist – slow, encompassing and impossible to ignore. It seemed her heart had made a very important decision without her input – her heart had chosen Ian Wallace. She wasn’t just attracted to his undeniable physical appeal, though that was certainly there, but drawn to the man himself.
Standing at her chamber window, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of gold, orange and rose, Rhona MacAlpin admitted the truth she’d been fighting against since the moment Ian had first looked at her with those remarkable, captivating, mossy-green eyes – she was lost. Completely, utterly, irrevocably lost to a man she was supposed to hate with everything inside her – a man whose touch made her forget every reason why loving him was impossible. A man who’d somehow become her salvation and her downfall, all at once.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Are ye certain ye have enough woundwort packed?” Rhona asked, checking the leather satchel one final time as the morning sun cast long shadows across Castle Wallace’s courtyard. “I heard young Brodie scraped his knee somethin’ fierce yesterday, and if it’s gone tae festerin–”
“Lass, I’ve been tendin’ wounds since before ye were a gleam in yer faither’s eye,” Baird replied with good-humored exasperation, though his weathered face creased in what might have been approval at her thoroughness. “I think I can manage a wee scrape.”
“Aye, I ken ye can.” Heat rose to Rhona’s cheeks at being caught fussing like an overprotective mother hen. “I just… well, I remember how quickly things can worsen if they’re not tended to properly.”
Baird’s expression softened. “Aye, that they can. And ‘tis good yer’re thinkin’ ahead – shows ye understand that healin’ is as much about prevention as it is about treatment.”
A warm flutter of pride bloomed in Rhona’s chest at the praise. The feeling of purpose that had begun to grow within her was strengthening with each healing session she completed – like a flame that refused to be extinguished despite everything that had tried to snuff it out.
“The lads seem eager enough,” she observed, watching the cluster of young soldiers adjusting their gear nearby. Alec, Gavin, Rupert, Malcolm and Callum – a handful of young men who had shown genuine aptitude for the medical field and earned Ian’s trust for learning combat medicine to serve as medics.
“Och, they’re good lads. And they’ll learn somethin’ valuable today – that servin’ the clan means more than just protectin’ castle walls.” Baird secured the last of his supplies to his horse, then paused, studying her face with those sharp healer’s eyes that seemed to notice everything. “How are ye feelin’ about all this, lass?”
The question caught her off guard with its gentle concern. “Grateful,” she said honestly. “More grateful than ye ken. This feels like…” she paused, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal too much of the aching loneliness that had been her constant companion. “Like comin’ home tae meself again.”
“Good.” Baird’s gruff voice carried a note of satisfaction. “That’s what I hoped ye’d say.”
The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew their attention toward the castle gates, where Ian rode into the courtyard astride hisblack destrier. Even disheveled from what had clearly been an early morning ride, he cut an impressive figure, and those remarkably green eyes alert and assessing as they swept over the assembled group like a hawk surveying its domain.
Curse the man fer lookin so… so…
Her thoughts scattered like leaves before a gale as Ian’s gaze locked onto hers from across the courtyard. The now-familiar jolt of awareness that shot through her veins burned like whisky hitting an empty stomach, and Rhona had to muster all her strength to keep her composure.
“Me apologies fer keepin’ ye waitin,” Ian called as he dismounted with the fluid grace of a born warrior. “I wanted tae check the southern borders before we headed out.”
“Did ye encounter any trouble, me laird?” Baird asked, though his tone suggested this was more routine concern than real worry.
“Nae more than the usual. A few MacPherson riders have been testin’ our boundaries, but they scattered when they saw our patrol.” Ian’s expression darkened like storm clouds gathering over the loch. “Lachlan’s getting’ bolder, but he’s nae ready fer open confrontation yet.”
