Page 6 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“Why did ye help me?”
His face darkened and his eyes grew thoughtful but guarded. It was as if he was searching for the answers inside himself. The man eventually shook his head.
“I dinnae ken,” he replied. “I just saw ye were in trouble and reacted.”
“Well… thank ye,” she replied. “I’m grateful.”
He nodded. “Ye’re welcome.”
He started to turn away again and Isolde felt another tide of panic welling within her. He seemed to be the answer to the question she hadn’t thought to ask before.
“But… I cannae stay here. I cannae return tae Moy Castle,” she said.
“Ye should,” he replied. “All ye’re goin’ tae manage tae dae is get yerself killed and I’m nae goin’ tae be able tae pull yer backside out of the fire again. I’ve got tae go.”
When she didn’t say anything, he gave her a look that made her blush and continued. “Where is it ye were headed, anyway?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice. “Ye out tae go meet some lad? Havin’ a tryst yer daddy wouldnae approve of, are ye?”
Isolde’s cheeks flushed and she gaped at him, outrage flooding her veins. “I wouldnae ever! I am nae that kind of lass!”
Her voice echoed around the woods, sharp and high, startling a group of birds who noisily took wing and flew away. He chuckled and shook his head then leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, which sent an unexpected chill through her.
“Aye. Yell louder. I dinnae think the rest of yer faither’s men heard ye,” he said with a grin. “That should work out well fer the both of us, eh?”
Isolde tried to suppress her shudder as the memory of his lips brushing her ears and his warm breath on her neck lingered. Her stomach turned over on itself and she had to swallow the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. She coughed into her hand and raised her eyes to him.
“I just… I cannae go back tae Moy Castle,” she admitted.
“Why nae?”
“Because I cannae,” she said, not looking him in the eye.
“’Tis all ye’re goin’ tae tell me?” he asked and she noticed the curiosity in his voice.
“There’s naethin’ more tae say.”
“Nay secret lad, eh?” he teased.
“I said nae. That I wouldnae dae that,” she replied.
“Then what is it that makes ye need tae flee?”
“Me reasons… they’re me own,” she finally looked at him only to face his stormy eyes.
His gray gaze lingered on her for another moment before a grin quirked the corner of his mouth. He shook his head then turned around and stalked away.
“Good luck tae ye then,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ve got a clan tae get back tae. Me people need tae see me alive and I need tae dae what I can tae help them after this… debacle. So, I wish ye the best.”
Isolde stood where she was, watching him walk away. He stopped and finished picking the pockets of the unconscious men on the ground around them. He snatched a couple more daggers and tucked them into his sheaths on his belt then pickedup Merrick’s sword. Satisfied he’d taken everything he needed, he continued walking.
Her mind spun furiously. She realized she didn’t stand much of a chance out on her own. Running from her father’s men was one thing. She hadn’t even stopped to consider the idea of bandits and brigands roaming the woods. There would be no way she could take on one of those vicious men, let alone three of them. If she didn’t have help, she would be in very big trouble.
“Laird Cameron, wait…” she called.
He didn’t stop walking so Isolde shifted the pack on her shoulders and ran after him. She caught up and fell into step beside him. The man didn’t look at her and kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked. They stepped into a small clearing and found the soldier’s horses. Struan walked to them and began rifling through the saddlebags, throwing out anything he didn’t deem necessary. Isolde knew if she let him mount up and ride away, she would never see him again and would be on her own.
“Take me with ye,” she whispered.
“I’ll nae take such responsibility on me shoulders. I can give ye one of these fine horses,” he replied. “So ye dinnae have tae walk tae wherever it is ye’re goin’... which is anywhere but near me.”
