Page 21 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“I said ye two are a lovely couple.”
Struan looked mortified and opened his mouth, likely to refute the woman’s words. But Isolde felt a wicked streak of mischief shoot through her and she smiled wide at the older woman.
“Why, thank ye,” she said, preempting Struan. “We’re very happy.”
Her ‘husband’ stared at her in silence for a long moment but as she grinned at him, her eyes glittering mischievously, the tension in his shoulders eased and a slow grin spread across his lips. He tipped her a wink then turned and looked at the older woman.
“Aye. We’re very happy indeed,” he said, playing along with her.
“’Tis wonderful tae see a young couple in love,” the woman said. “Ye two remind me of Angus and me here when we were yer age.”
“What a lovely thing tae say,” Isolde said. “Ye two are a lovely couple yerselves. And how long have ye been together?”
“Oh,” the woman said with a laugh. “Far longer than either of us would care tae admit.”
Angus smiled and nodded his head. He patted his wife’s hand gently and the way he looked at her was with the purest adoration Isolde had ever seen. It was the way she’d always dreamed of her husband looking at her.
“Would ye mind me givin’ ye a little bit of advice, love?” the woman asked.
“Nae at all.”
“Dinnae ever go tae bed mad at one another,” she said. “Whatever yer problems, nay matter how big of a fight ye’ve had,dae whatever ye have tae dae tae make amends before ye go tae bed. The last thing ye want tae dae is wake up in the mornin’ still mad at each other… or, may God himself forbid it, one of ye daesnae make it through the night. Ye dinnae want the last words ye speak tae be spoken in anger.”
“’Tis very good advice,” Isolde said. “Thank ye fer sharin’ that with us.”
“Aye,” Struan said, laying his hand on her arm. “Me wife and I will take it tae heart.”
The feeling of his hand on her arm and the way his fingertips brushed her skin made Isolde’s stomach turn over on itself as rivers of fire flowed through her veins. She did not know if it was simply the drink she’d had, but she felt suddenly unsteady and she swayed in her seat. Struan pulled his hand away, leaving her skin cold and she lamented its absence. But he looked at her with genuine concern in his face.
“Are ye all right?” he asked.
“Aye. I just feel… lightheaded. A little fuzzy.”
“Let’s get ye back tae the room then, eh?”
Struan helped Isolde to her feet before she could reply, and she leaned against him heavily. Her legs trembled and her knees shook. She felt like they were ready to give out beneath herat any moment. Struan held her upright and kept her steady, moving as they ascended the staircase.
“Bleedin’ hell,” he said. “Ye’re drunk.”
“I’m nae drunk,” she replied then paused to consider. “Actually, maybe I am.”
“How in the bleedin’ hell can ye be drunk?” he asked. “Ye had a cup of ale and a whisky? ‘Tis nae like ye drank a lot. Surely ye had more at yer faither’s banquets?”
“Me faither only ever allowed me tae drink watered wine.”
“Oh,” he replied, genuinely surprised.
“He said only women of low morals and character allow themselves tae get drunk,” she said. “’Tis why he always watered me wine.”
Although she didn’t necessarily enjoy the feeling of being drunk, mostly because she didn’t enjoy feeling out of control, Isolde let herself savor the moment. She’d made the choice to drink with dinner and she felt good about that. It had been her decision. One of the first she’d ever made for herself. Her father controlled every facet of her life at Moy Castle, so she reveled in the feeling of having made her own decision.
They made it back to the room and on the far side saw the bathing tub. Thick tendrils of steam curled off the surface of thetub, the air in the room was warm and humid, and a myriad of herbs filled her nose. She turned to Struan, and he shrugged.
“I thought ye might want a hot bath,” he said.
“’Twas very thoughtful of ye.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll go downstairs and have another drink while ye enjoy the tub. Before I go is there anythin’ I can get fer ye though?”
