Page 100 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
“I am fine, only shaken.” Isabelle managed a faint shake of her head though her lips trembled.
Declan placed a reassuring hand over hers, his jaw tight. “She’s safe now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
The boats drew nearer until their hulls nearly grazed, the torches casting flickering gold over the black water. Declan straightened in his seat, his voice ringing clear through the mist.
“Listen well,” he called. “The bandits had Lady Rosaline of Clan Ross with them. She’s the one behind this whole cursed thing.”
Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Lady Rosaline? Yer intended bride?” he repeated, the name coming out like a curse. “By the saints, are ye certain, me Laird ?”
“Aye, ’tis me cousin. She planned it all,” Isabelle said.
Declan gave a curt nod, his jaw tightening. “Aye, I saw her with me own eyes. Commanded those bandits.”
Liam swore under his breath, his oar pausing mid-stroke.
“So, she’s the unknown lady we’d heard whispers of,” he said grimly. “The one leadin’ the bandits from the shadows.”
Declan’s expression hardened, his gaze fixed on the shore behind him.
“Aye,” he said. “I tied her to a tree at their camp. Go, bring her back to the castle dungeon. She’ll answer for what she’s done.”
Killian gave a sharp nod, already turning toward his men. “Aye, me Laird . We’ll find her and make sure she cannae harm another soul.”
Declan leaned forward, his tone firm and commanding. “Liam,” he said, meeting his guard’s eye. “Take some men and scour the woods. Make certain there are nae more of those bastards lurkin’ about.”
Liam tightened his grip on his oar and gave a grim smile. “It will be done, me Laird ,” he said. “We’ll see to it that the loch’s shores are clear before dawn.”
Declan gave one brief nod, the weight of leadership steady on his shoulders.
“Good,” he said quietly, glancing toward Isabelle, who watched from her seat, pale but resolute. “Then let’s finish this and get her home where she belongs.”
Killian’s torchlight glinted across the loch as he and Liam’s boats split off, one turning toward the far shore, the other hugging the misted tree line.
Declan watched them vanish into the fog, his hand resting protectively on Isabelle’s shoulder. The night was far from over, but his purpose burned brighter than the torches around him. At last, he was taking his wife home.
The boat scraped against the snowy shore, the sound harsh against the quiet mist. Declan leapt out, his boots sinking into as he hauled the craft higher.
Two guards hurried forward, torches flaring against the wind.
He turned back, gathering Isabelle carefully into his arms, her body trembling against him.
“Sound the bells!” Declan barked, his tone sharp and commanding. “There’s been an attack on Lady Isabelle! The castle is to be searched, every corridor, every hall. I want a guard posted outside me bedchamber as well.”
One of the men nodded, already sprinting up the slope toward the gatehouse while the other moved to secure the boat. The clang of the first warning bell soon broke across the loch.
Declan strode through the open gate and into the castle courtyard, his arms firm beneath Isabelle’s slight weight. The courtyard erupted into motion, maids gasping, men shouting orders, dogs barking in confusion.
Isabelle’s head nestled against his chest, her breath warm through his tunic despite the cold. Declan glanced down, his jaw softening as he met her weary eyes.
“Yer safe now,mo chridhe,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I swear to ye, I’ll nae let harm come near ye again.”
Isabelle’s hand rose shakily, brushing along his jaw. “I ken that,” she whispered, her voice faint but sure. “Ye came for me, Declan.”
His heart clenched at her words, heavy with love and regret. “Ye shouldnae have had to suffer even a moment’s fear,” he said, his tone low, guilt threading through it. “I’ll spend the rest of me life makin’ it right, I swear it.”
She smiled weakly, her fingers gripping his cloak. “All I ever wanted was to be in yer arms again.”
