Page 45 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
Her hand stilled, the cloth trembling slightly in her grasp. “And I’m yer wife,” she said firmly. “Which means when ye come home torn and bloodied, I’ll tend ye, whether ye like it or nae.”
Declan’s lips twitched faintly though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Ye’re as fierce as any soldier I’ve led.”
She gave a sharp sniff. “Aye, and likely twice as clever.”
For a moment, silence filled the room but for the soft crackle of the fire. Isabelle bound his wound with a strip of linen, her fingers gentle now. He watched her, expression unreadable, as if torn between pride and gratitude. When she finished, she stepped back, wiping her hands.
“There,” she said, her tone calmer. “That’ll hold till mornin’. But ye’re stayin’ abed.”
Declan gave a scoff. “I’ll not be kept down by a scratch.”
Her brow arched. “Ye will if I’ve to sit atop ye to make ye stay.”
That earned her a low, rumbling laugh, short but real, the first since he’d entered.
“Heavens, woman, ye’d make a fine commander.”
“I’d make a widow if ye dinnae listen to me,” she said softly, her tone half jest, half truth.
Something shifted in his gaze then, some of the iron melting away. He reached up, his hand brushing her wrist. “Ye’ve spirit, Isabelle,” he murmured. “More than I deserve.”
She blinked, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. “Aye,” she whispered. “But maybe that’s what ye need.”
She moved to stoke the fire, her heart still pounding from their quarrel. She looked at the empty bucket and picked it up.
“We are out of water,” she said.
“I'll go. Ye cannae wander the castle dressed in naught but yer nightshift,” he offered.
“Nay. I will; ye will rest,” she said.
Isabelle looked at the whiskey in his hand.
“If ye’re going to drink that much whiskey, then ye’ll be fed proper, mark me words. I’ll slip on me day dress.”
She turned on her heel and pulled the day dress over her head, but she didn't bother tying it tighter than needed. She covered herself with a large shawl and slid her feet into slippers. She headed toward the kitchens, the bucket heavy in her hands but her determination heavier still.
Vera, the cook, paused mid-sweep, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Isabelle entering the kitchen.
“Me Lady?” she said, curtsying low. “Ye should have called for yer maid Sarah if ye needed something.”
Isabelle shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Nay, Vera, I’m a woman that does her own work if I am able,” she said. “I’ll need fresh water for this bucket and a tray of food for me and the Laird; he’s just arrived, and he’ll need a hearty meal.”
Vera arched an eyebrow but did not protest, her hands already busy. “Of course, me Lady , but allow me to carry the tray up to ye. Ye cannae carry a bucket and the tray both, ’tis far too heavy for one.”
Isabelle nodded in acquiescence. “Very well. I thank ye,” she said, watching as the cook moved efficiently to refill the bucket with clean water. Vera poured the water with care, handing the pail back to Isabelle, and for a moment, their eyes met in mutual respect.
The walk back to the bedchamber felt longer than it should, each step weighted with anticipation.
Isabelle’s breath caught as she entered the room and saw him. Declan stood completely nude. The firelight flickered across the strong lines of his broad back, sculpted shoulders. masculine thighs, and firm buttocks.
Her eyes traced the taut muscles of his body and the curve of his spine, and she felt a heat stir in her stomach she hadn’t expected to confront so soon.
She swallowed hard, stepping lightly across the floor, unable to tear her gaze away. Every movement he made was magnetic, every subtle shift of his form sending a thrill through her.
Her fingers twitched as if she might reach out and touch him though propriety and her own self-restraint held her back. Yet the desire burned, insistent and unrelenting, making her cheeks flush with an unfamiliar heat.
Setting the bucket on the hearth arm, she positioned it carefully so the water would warm from the fire’s heat. Steam curled lazily into the air, filling the room with the scent of warmed metal and stone.
