Page 65 of The Rogue's Bride
Rhona’s mouth thinned, before her gaze shifted back to the Sea-gate, almost as if she expected Caitrin to reappear at any moment. “If I ever find out he’s mistreated her, I’ll ride to Duntulm and sink a dirk into his guts,” she growled.
“There will be no need for that,mo ghràdh,” Taran replied, amusement lacing his voice. “Ye can see MacDonald adores her.”
Rhona drew back, favoring Taran with an arch look. “What’s wrong with ye this morning?”
Taran smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. To most folk he had a frightening face, made even more so by a formidable expression. But to Rhona he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. It was nearly a year since they’d been wed, and with each passing day she grew to love Taran MacKinnon more.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Only that I know what it’s like to lose yer heart to a woman … long before she knows ye exist.”
Rhona felt chastened by that, remembering how she had seen Taran before they’d been wed. He’d been her father’s faithful warrior, her servant, and a friend of sorts. But she hadn’t seen him as a man. “Ye think it’s a good match then?” she asked, still unconvinced.
Taran nodded, before he slung an arm around her shoulders and turned her back toward the keep. The others, who’d come out to see the MacDonald party off, had all dispersed, including MacLeod and his wife—driven indoors by the wet weather. “Perhaps. But only time will tell,” he replied before he leaned in and kissed her. “Come on … let’s get out of this rain.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sing for Us
ALASDAIR STOLE A glance at the woman who was now his wife
It didn’t seem real.
He had much to thank Gavin MacNichol for—the man had made him see sense, had made him look truth squarely in the eye. He’d taken a risk. His visit to Caitrin could have gone terribly wrong. She could have rejected him and thrown him out of her bower. She could have called for her father’s guards and caused an ugly scene.
But she hadn’t.
Something had shifted within him since that night. It was as if a bitter thorn that had been festering within his flesh had finally been lanced. He felt lighter, freer. He hadn’t realized just how big a burden he’d been carrying. Ever since making the decision to take Caitrin back to her father, he’d struggled with it. What a relief it was to cast the weight aside.
They were riding east, across a stretch of bare hills. The rain clouds hung over them in an oppressive grey curtain. Shortly after leaving Dunvegan, they’d been soaked through. Strangely, Alasdair didn’t mind. He felt as if he’d been reborn; all the things that used to matter didn’t.
Glancing right, he saw that Dùnglas was managing to keep up with him. The wound to its shoulder was healing well. The wolf hound trotted along, tongue lolling. It had shadowed him ever since leaving Dunvegan. Alasdair smiled. He’d almost forgotten about taking the dog with him, but when he’d led his horse out of the stables that morning, Dùnglas had been there, sitting upon the cobbles in the rain, waiting for him.
It was as if the hound knew he was leaving and was determined not to be left behind.
Alasdair glanced up, his gaze sweeping the road ahead. To the south-east he spied great brooding peaks just visible through the shroud of rain and mist, but they weren’t heading that way. By the end of the day, they’d cross into MacDonald lands, and then turn north for Duntulm.
For home.
Alasdair cut Caitrin another glance, his gaze lingering on her profile as she looked ahead. Sensing his gaze upon her, his wife shifted her attention to Alasdair.
“What is it?” she asked, her lips curving in a way that made him wish they were alone. During the two nights they’d spent together, Caitrin had surprised him; she was lustier and more sensual than he could have ever hoped or dreamed. She had given herself to him wholeheartedly.
Alasdair smiled back. “Just gazing upon my wife’s beauty.”
Caitrin huffed although her eyes gleamed. “Ye have a honeyed-tongue, Alasdair. I’m wet, bedraggled, and smell of wet wool and horse.”
“Aye … but ye are still the bonniest lass I’ve ever set eyes on.” He gave her a long look then that made her cheeks pinken. “Or ever will.”
She cleared her throat, embarrassed by his declaration. Yet he saw from the twinkle in her sea-blue eyes that she’d responded favorably to it. “Ye are a rogue, husband. The world is filled with fair-faced women. How do ye know ye won’t meet one prettier?”
“None lovelier than ye, Caitrin,” he replied. “That I promise ye.”
As dusk neared, they made camp at the bottom of a shallow valley. The rain continued falling in a steady patter upon the already soaked earth. Caitrin dismounted from her palfrey, her already soaked boots squelching on the wet grass. They stood in a grove of beech trees, where the men started to erect an awning between three trees for the party to shelter under, and another a few yards away for the horses.
The bedraggled wolf hound they’d brought from Duntulm shook out its wet coat and sat down under a tree, watching the men work.
“If this continues, we’ll have to build ourselves an arc and row the rest of the way to Duntulm,” Boyd MacDonald grumbled as he removed a roll of hide from behind his saddle. “We’ll be lucky if we find any dry wood for a fire.”
Darron MacNichol snorted, relieving him of his roll. “Well, I’m sure if anyone can, it is ye. Off ye go and find us some then.”
