Page 34 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
“Ye might see it that way,” she said after a pause, “but I dinnae. I see it as ye takin’ me away from a place I couldnae bear another day. Castle Ross was nay home to me; it was a prison.”
His hands stilled mid-motion, his brows furrowing deeply. “A prison ?” he repeated, his tone suspicious. “And what exactly do ye mean by that, Isabelle? Were you mistreated?”
“I… I… it’s hard to explain,” she said.
“Ye’ll tell me in full tomorrow. I’ve no time for riddles now—I’m for inspection duty. But mark me, lass, I’ll want to ken precisely what ye meant when I return. There’s more to that tale, and I’ll have it from yer own lips.”
As he straightened, Isabelle found herself watching him despite her better sense. The morning light spilled across his long, brown hair, tied neatly back, and the faint scar at his jaw caught the glow. His shirt clung to his broad shoulders and muscularform, and for a moment, she wondered if every Highland man carried such power so effortlessly.
Her pulse fluttered as she looked away, embarrassed by the warmth rising in her cheeks.
Declan reached for the door, his hand on the latch, ready to leave. But before he could open it, Isabelle’s voice stopped him.
“Wait, Declan,” she said quickly. “Ye’ve still nae told me what’s expected of me as yer wife. Surely I should ken me duties before ye go.”
He turned, one brow arched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Aye, that’s simple enough,” he said in his low, steady drawl. “Ye’re to raise me daughters. They need a maither figure, and ye’ll do just fine.”
Her lips parted to speak, but he had already turned back to the door. Without another word, he left the chamber, the heavy wood closing behind him with a dull thud.
Isabelle stood there, her thoughts spinning, unsure whether to be insulted or flattered. A mother figure, he’d said, as though it were naught but another task to be done. And yet, a strange, unspoken warmth filled her chest at the thought of being needed at all.
“Daughters? He has daughters?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Declan strode through the long corridors of Castle McCallum. Servants pressed themselves against the walls as he passed, bowing their heads quickly, too afraid to meet his gaze.
He could not shake the image of Isabelle’s wide eyes nor the defiant tilt of her chin when she’d spoken of Castle Ross being no home to her.
I ken her faither and cousin were rude to her at our weddin’, but what must have they done to make her so unhappy? And why does the thought of her being sad upset me so?
As he stepped out into the courtyard, the morning wind bit against his face. Declan’s fists clenched at his sides as he crossed toward the guard barracks. The cold air did little to cool the fire building in him. He told himself it was not jealousy, it was duty, nothing more. Yet deep down, he knew it was more than that.The idea of anyone having hurt Isabelle made something fierce awaken inside him, a protective rage he hadn’t felt in years.
The heavy doors of the barracks swung open, revealing the scent of oiled leather, smoke, and steel. The vast stone hall was alive with the sounds of men, laughter, sharpening blades, and the scrape of armor being buckled into place.
Weapon racks lined the walls, and banners bearing the McCallum crest hung proudly from the rafters.
At the sight of him, a roar of cheers went up that shook the room.
“Hah! There’s our laird!” Killian Gibson shouted, his grin as broad as his shoulders. “The newly wedded man himself!”
The men cheered again, raising their flasks and tankards in celebration. Declan allowed himself a brief smirk, inclining his head to acknowledge them as he stepped inside.
Killian pushed through the crowd, clapping Declan firmly on the shoulder.
“In honor of our laird and his bonnie new bride,” he said loudly, lifting his flask high. “We wish ye both all the blessings this world has to give, and a marriage that lasts long!”
The barracks erupted into applause, followed by a round of whistles and good-natured hoots.
Declan raised a hand.
“Aye, aye, that’s enough of that,” he said though a faint smile lingered on his lips. “I’m honored by yer words, lads, but there’s much work to be done. We’ll drink to the marriage later, after our duties are seen to.”
The laughter died down, replaced with nods of respect and murmurs of agreement as they went back to work.
Killian grinned, leaning against a table piled with maps and gear. “Ah, ye never change, Declan. Straight to business, even after weddin’ vows. Yer poor wife’ll have her hands full.”
Declan gave him a warning glance though his tone stayed measured. “That’s none of yer concern, Killian. I married her, aye, but the clan’s matters come first. Always have, always will.”
