Page 32 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
She turned to him with a smile upon her lips. He reached out and gently brushed a lock of her hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. The urge to lean forward and kiss her was almost overwhelming. But he managed to restrain himself. His lips burned though, desperate to feel the warmth of her mouth upon his.
“Ye seemed pretty comfortable bein’ me wife,” he said with a grin.
“Ye stop that.” Her cheeks burned brightly, even in the dim light.
“Stop it? Ye ken ‘tis true.”
Her laugh echoed across the moor and her face lit up, brighter than the stars overhead. “Nae nearly as comfortable as ye posin’ as me husband.”
“Ye think so, eh?”
“Oh, I ken so.”
“Ye seem pretty sure of yerself.”
“And why would I nae be, then?” she asked. “Ye’d be a lucky man tae call yerself me husband.”
His gazed lingered on hers for a long moment and the air between them grew suddenly charged, as if lightning was forming. It carried as sense of anticipation. Expectation, perhaps.
“Aye,” he said seriously. “I believe I would be.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked away. Her cheeks burned brightly but Struan could see the look of wonder upon her face and for a moment, he pondered its meaning.
They shared a laugh and Struan relished the easy, warm feeling between them. They had come so far in such a short time—and he wasn’t talking about the distance from Moy Castle. And her smile… it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. The corners of her eyes crinkled, and her lips curved. It was a sight that nearly stole the breath from his lungs.
An addictive glimpse of pure joy. Struan could not get enough of seeing it.
Isolde met his eyes, and another shy, demure smile touched her lips. But then she cleared her throat and sat up, a curious expression crossing her face.
“Ye are more devoted tae yer people than any laird I’ve ever seen. Ye seem tae think of them in everythin’ ye dae. ‘Tis a rare thing,” she said.
“It shouldnae be.”
“But ‘tis rare indeed,” she replied. “Ye’re different.”
He shook his head. “Nay. I’m nae so different. I ken more lairds who think like I dae than those who dinnae. Those like yer faither.”
A shadow passed over her face at the mention of her father, chasing away the light in her eyes. Struan felt its absence keenly and frowned at himself. He hadn’t meant to upset her.
“I saw the kind of laird me faither was and decided I wanted tae be like that,” he said. “Me faither believed a laird’s duty was tae serve his people and the land—never the other way around. ‘Tis how I was raised, how I was taught.”
“’Tis noble.”
“Shouldnae be,” he countered. “Those with more should dae all they can tae help those with less. I think the world would be a better place if more people did that, lairds or nae.”
“Aye. I agree,” she said softly. “The world would be a much better place if more people acted as ye dae than how me faither daes.”
The fire sparkled in her eyes and that warmth returned to them, making Struan’s heart swell. She stared at him with something akin to admiration, which made him squirm. Though fearless in battle, he never liked being stared at the way Isolde was staring at him. Like he was something special. Like he was something…noble. He was not. He was simply a man trying to do right by his people.
“Yer faither sounds like a good man,” she said.
“Aye. He was a good faither,” he said wistfully.
When Struan saw her face fall as memories, painful by the look of them, swept across her features, he fell silent, biting off the rest of his words. He recognized the fact that while he’d had a good father, a man who cared for him greatly, Isolde’s experience had been far different. She hadn’t had the sort of love and care he had had. And it made him feel terrible for her. Struan wanted to pull her to him and hold her. To comfort her. But he stayed his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said, settling for the warmth in his voice. “I didnae mean tae bring up bad memories fer ye.”
She shook her head. “Nay. ‘Tis nae ye. I’m glad ye had such a pleasant upbringin’,” she said. “Me experience was just… the opposite. I used tae dream of havin’ a faither like yers.”
