Page 20 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“There’s only one bed,” Isolde noted. “I suggest we sleep in shifts and take turns?—”
“Ye can sleep on the bed. Nay need tae take turns.”
She shifted on her feet again and would not meet his eyes. “’Tis only fair.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine on the floor,” he said and pointed at the bed. “Ye can have the bed.”
“Are ye certain?”
“Aye. I’m certain.”
She gave him a smile that was filled with gratitude. She lay down and was asleep almost instantly. Struan sat at the small desk in the corner. Inside, he found some parchment and a quill and inkpot. Taking it all out, he set it down and sat back in the chairfor a moment, carefully considering the words he would put to paper. Just in case the letter he was writing to Ewan, his second in command and lifelong friend, was intercepted by Mackintosh men, he did not want to say too much. Especially not about Isolde being in his company.
As the thought of her passed through his mind, Struan’s gaze was pulled to her as if the woman possessed a gravity all her own. Her breath was slow and even. She was deep in sleep. He admired the way the sunlight slanting in through the window cast a golden glow upon her fair skin, making her look almost warm and rosy.
His gaze traveled up and down her body, drinking in her soft, feminine curves, sliding up the graceful curve of her neck, then down her jaw. Struan shook his head and forced his eyes away from her. Those kinds of thoughts and feelings were dangerous. Worse, they were foolish. Even if his feelings were reciprocated, which he was sure they were not, there could never be something between them. He was a Cameron and she was a Mackintosh. The bad blood and feuding between their clans stretched back many long years.
Fate and happenstance had forced them together for the moment. They were mutually beneficial to each other. But it was only a matter of time before reality set in for both of them.
Struan stretched out on the floor for a bit. He thought a couple of hours of sleep would do him some good.
CHAPTER NINE
Struan had let her sleep for a bit longer, and Isolde was grateful for it. She woke up feeling refreshed and far better for having slept on a soft bed rather than on the hard packed ground of the crofter’s hut. She stretched luxuriously and for a moment, let herself pretend she was in her own castle, with her own bed, living the life she wanted, rather than on the run from men who would see her dragged back to her father in chains, forced to live the life they wanted her to.
“Ye hungry?”
Struan’s voice shattered that brief fantasy and as she gave herself a little shake, clearing away the cobwebs of sleep that clung to the corners of her mind, and her vision came into focus, she saw him sitting in a chair at the small desk beneath the lone window in the room.
She had to admit, though only to herself, that he wasn’t half-bad to wake up to. There were certainly worse things—and people—to see the moment she opened her eyes.
“I suppose I could stand tae eat somethin’,” she admitted.
“I could as well,” he said. “Let’s go down tae the common room and get us a hot meal.”
“That sounds lovely.”
They tidied themselves up and walked out of the room and downstairs together. Night had fallen and the common room was dim, lit only by several oil lamps that hung from the rafters and the flames inside the great hearth on the far side of the room. They took a seat at an empty table and a moment later, a serving girl came out.
“Two cups of ale and two whiskies,” Struan said. “Also, two plates of food.”
“Meat and veggies all right fer ya?”
“Aye,” he replied. “Also bring some bread—warm if ye got it.”
“Right away.”
Isolde was thankful to not have to make a decision about what to eat and drink. The truth was, she was so hungry, she didn’t actually care what they put in front of her. Struan excused himself for a moment and walked over to the innkeeper and had a few quiet words with him. The man nodded and although she wasn’t a lip reader, she was able to make out the words, “right away,” leaving Isolde wondering what that was all about.
Struan returned to their table and took his seat across from her. A few moments later, the serving girl came back with their food and drink. Isolde breathed in the delicious aromas. Struan raised his cup of ale to her and giggling to herself, Isolde picked up her own cup and tapped it against his. They both took a drink then tucked into their meals.
The food was amazing—it tasted even better than it smelled. And the ale was strong. It was far stronger than the watered-down wine she normally imbibed and she immediately felt the effects it was having on her. Her head grew muzzy, but it made her feel lighter. And it took the edge off things nicely.
“Ye two are a lovely couple.”
The woman’s voice snapped Isolde out of her head. She turned to see an older couple, both of them white-haired, smiling at her. The woman was small, the man large and gruff. Isolde noticed they were holding hands and felt her heart warm.
“I’m sorry? I wasnae payin’ attention,” Isolde asked.
