Page 34 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
But then her gaze dipped, and the heat between them gave way to something more careful. Isolde turned to him, her expression growing serious.
“Tae be completely honest, I would like tae have a choice,” she said simply. “The chambermaids got tae choose who they married. They got tae marry fer love, or at least who they chosefer whatever reason, nae fer what they could bring their faither in return.”
It was such a simple statement—such a simple desire—and Struan could relate to it, of course. As laird, it was expected that he would marry and he was presented with a wide array of possible brides.
What he enjoyed, that Isolde did not, was options. He had more women to choose from whereas she was forced to marry whom her father required her to. He had a choice, even if it had to be a certain type of woman. She didn’t. And although he was nowhere close to marrying himself, it made him wonder if the woman he chose to marry would feel as Isolde did. That she had no choice either. It was such a simple statement from Isolde, and yet it was also incredibly profound to him.
“What about ye?”
Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts again and he focused on her. “What about me?”
“Is there a lass waitin’ fer ye back at Achnacarry?” she asked.
A cocky grin curled the corner of his mouth. “Are ye volunteerin’, Mrs. MacTavish?”
Her high, loud laughter rang out through the night, chasing away the lingering awkwardness and filling Struan’s soul with warmth once more. The fire gleamed in her eyes.
Why daes the lass find amusement in this? What if I wasnae joking?
“Nay. There’s naebody waitin’ fer me,” he finally said. “I havenae really thought about gettin’ married, tae be honest. There’s been a bit too much goin’ on.”
“But ye need tae have an heir.”
He nodded. “Aye, I dae. And once this conflict with yer faither draws tae an end, maybe I’ll think about it. If I’m tae marry, I’d like tae marry fer love. Like me parents did,” he said, his eyes fixed firmly on her. “But if ‘tis nae in the cards fer me, I’ll dae me duty and find a bride who can produce an heir tae keep the clan stable. And I’ll raise me child as me faither raised me.”
“I have nay doubt,” she said, her voice soft.
They were quiet a few minutes and the warm glow that had surrounded them seemed to dissipate. Isolde tried to stifle a yawn.
“We should get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll want tae be on the road at first light.”
“Aye.”
“’Tis cold out,” he said. “Ye should sleep beside me—like we did in the crofter’s hut.”
She cast a sly look at him. He chuckled and held his hands up, trying to look innocent.
“I’m only tryin’ tae keep the both of us warm,” he said.
“’Tis that so?”
“Aye.”
She studied him for a long moment then shook her head. “Fine.”
They stretched out on the ground beside each other. As she nuzzled against him, her back to his chest, Struan laid his thick cloak over the both of them. He shifted against her, marveling at the softness and warmth of her body. It was all he could do to contain his arousal. The breath was driven from his lungs with a loud “oof,” when she drove her elbow back into his stomach.
“Stop squirmin’,” she said with a laugh.
His laugh was a breathless croak, but he grinned. “Aye. Sorry.”
Isolde nuzzled against him again, pressing her body even more firmly to his. Struan draped his arm casually around her waist and smiled to himself. She was so soft and delicate, yet so firm and tough at the same time. The contrast was addicting and tempting. And as they lay together, their bodies fit so well, he thought it felt like they had been made for each other. Struan closed his eyes and for the first time in a long time, drifted away into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Isolde’s eyes fluttered opened and she sat bolt upright, her heart hammering in her chest. The first thing she realized was that she could not see. The world around her had been blanketed in a thick, white fog, keeping her from seeing any farther than the fire Struan had built. Tendrils of smoke rose and drifted into the wall of fog, the fire nothing more than smoldering embers now.
The second thing Isolde realized was that she was alone. Struan was gone. Her mouth dry and her pulse racing, Isolde threw his cloak off and jumped to her feet.
