Page 11 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“And what am I supposed tae dae if somebody’s home?”
“Give ‘em a smile, wave and get us an invitation inside.”
She gaped at him in consternation, making Struan chuckle to himself again. He walked around the back of the hut, making sure there was nobody hiding back there. The clothes that still hung on the line made him think that whoever had lived here, had left in a hurry.
He looked at the breeches and tunic hanging on the line. They might be a bit tight, but they looked like they would fit, so hepulled them off the line and tucked them under his arm before walking around to the front of the hut.
“There’s nobody home,” Isolde said from the other side of the hut.
“Aye. Seems that way,” he replied. “Looks like we’ll be takin’ shelter fer the night here then.”
“We cannae just move intae somebody’s home.”
“We’re nae movin’ in,” he replied. “We’re borrowin’ it fer a night. They’re nae home.”
“I dinnae think ‘tis right, Laird Cameron.”
“Me name’s Struan, lass.”
“I cannae call ye that. It is too familiar.”
“I believe we are getting familiar enough during this trip, dinnae ye think so”?
“Fine, point taken. I dinnae think ‘tis right,Struan.”
“There’s nobody here. By all appearances, it looks like they abandoned the hut and may never be back,” he said. “What’s so wrong about seekin’ shelter fer a night in an abandoned place?”
“Because it daesnae belong tae us.”
“By the look of it, it daesnae belong tae anybody.”
“But—”
Struan glared at her. “I’m goin’ tae stay inside that buildin’ taenight when it gets cold and dark,” he sounded harsher than he intended. “Ye’re free tae dae what ye want. But I have tae tell ye, ‘tis a lot scarier and far more dangerous when ye’re wanderin’ around the woods in the dark.”
It was a bluff. The last thing he wanted was for her to go wandering around the woods in the dark. Being that she was the only one who knew where his brother was, Struan had no intention of letting her do that. More than that, the thought of her being out there alone sent a stitch through his heart. If she seemed intent on going, he would stop her.
Isolde folded her arms over her chest and stamped her foot, a frown stretching her lips as her face radiated disapproval.
“Fine,” she finally said. “But if somebody comes?—”
“Then I’ll apologize and tell them we meant nay harm,” he said.
It was then that her gaze fell on the bundle of clothes under his arm. “And what are those?”
“I found them.”
Her cheeks reddened. “So, nae only are we stayin’ in somebody else’s house, ye’re stealin’ their clothes too?”
“I’m nae stealin’ them.”
He pulled a piece of silver from his bloodied tunic that Murdoch’s men didn’t manage to find during his capture and showed it to Isolde before he set it down on the sill of the window.
“I had nay intention of stealin’ these. This silver should more than cover the inconvenience,” he said and gestured to himself. “But I’m tired of wearin’ these rags and want tae put on somethin’ fresh and clean.”
Isolde’s face softened, as if she understood his plight. She didn’t argue further. The matter seemed settled, and Struan was getting what he wanted.
He knew they would be much better for it after a good night’s rest. But before they bunked down, he wanted to wash the blood and grime off his body. The storm had made the roads and paths little more than mud and he felt caked in it.
