Page 28 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
She wrapped her arms around herself, pacing before the fire. Her gaze fell on a table near the hearth where a bottle of port and a single silver goblet stood waiting.
She poured herself a small glass. The dark liquid caught the firelight like garnet. She took a sip, grimacing slightly at the strength, but it warmed her throat and her chest in an instant.
“To helpin’ me sleep,” she murmured to no one.
One sip turned to another, and before long, the bottle was half-empty. The warmth in her chest turned hazy, and her limbs felt light as if she were floating. The fear still lingered, faintly, but dulled now by the pleasant fog of the drink.
She set the glass aside and sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing the thick rug beneath. A yawn escaped her lips as she lay her head on the pillow.
CHAPTER TWELVE
By all the saints, I enjoy vexin’ the lass far more than I ought to.
The torches flickered along the stone corridor as Declan strode through the halls of Castle McCallum. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought of her fiery tongue and the way her eyes had flashed at him earlier that night.
He didn’t know why he held back from telling her what he truly expected of her as his wife, but seeing her cheeks flush with temper gave him a satisfaction he couldn’t quite explain.
She’s too bold for a lass, too quick with her words, and yet her fire draws me in like a moth to flame.
It had been long since anyone dared talk to him that way, most cowered before his name, a man not to be trifled with. But Isabelle… she challenged him without fear, and that both enraged and intrigued him.
Declan turned down another corridor and stopped at the heavy oak door of the library, carved with the McCallum crest. His sister Mabel had never been one to sleep early, especially when her prayers or her books kept her company long into the night. He gave the door a short rap and stepped inside, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. Mabel looked up from her place near the hearth, a smile spreading across her face.
“Declan!” she exclaimed, rising quickly and rushing to him.
Her habit rustled as she wrapped her arms around him. “Och, ye finally came home! Saints be praised, it’s been far too long.”
“Aye, it’s good to see ye too, Mabel.”
“Now, tell me, how went the weddin’? Did the lass faint at the sight of ye, or did she run the other way?”
Declan smirked and moved toward the hearth, lowering himself into the chair opposite hers as they both sat down.
“There was an incident,” he said, his tone dry. “But aye, I did get married. Just… nae to the woman I went there to marry.”
Mabel blinked, her brows furrowing. “Nae to the woman ye… Declan Cain, what have ye done?”
He leaned back, one arm draped lazily over the chair’s armrest, a faint glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “I married Isabelle Connelly.”
“Isabelle Connelly?” Mabel repeated slowly, her mouth falling open. “Ye mean the daughter of Laird Ross?”
“Aye, that would be her.”
Mabel pressed a hand to her lips to hide a grin. “Saints preserve us, braither . Ye always did have a taste for trouble. But tell me, how did this happen? I thought ye were to wed Miss Rosaline?”
He shrugged, his expression turning more serious for a moment. “Fate had other plans, it seems. There was an incident involvin’ Isabelle, and through… circumstances best left untold, we wed.”
“Untold?” Mabel tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Declan, ye cannae expect me to rest easy after that. Ye’ve gone and married a different lass without so much as explainin’ why.”
Declan’s lips curved faintly though his gaze drifted to the flames. “It’s done now. The reasons dinnae matter much. She bears me name, and that’s all anyone need ken.”
Mabel studied him for a long moment. “Och, I see that look in yer eyes. Ye may act as though ye dinnae care, but somethin’ about her has gotten under yer skin.”
He gave a sharp huff, half amusement, half irritation. “The only thing she’s gotten under is me patience. The lass talks back, questions every order I give, and walks about as if she has no mind to obey me as she should.”
Mabel laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Aye, she sounds just like someone else I ken. Perhaps ye’ve finally met yer match, braither .”
Declan shot her a look though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve nay need for matches, Mabel. I need obedience, respect, someone to raise the triplets as her own, and peace in me halls. Nae arguments and fiery stares.”
