Chapter 8

She looks more bonnie every time I lay eyes on her.

Alex watched, enraptured, as Isobel appeared at the kirk doorway.

He shifted his weight, feeling nerves flutter anew in his chest as he watched her slowly walk toward him. The gown suited her well enough, the dark green setting off her golden hair like a sunrise on a hill, but she did not look quite like herself. He preferred his warrior woman telling him what he could do, now that he had won her.

He couldn't believe the course his life had taken. Only a few months ago, he had stood on the deck of a ship, bellowing orders in the driving rain as they carved their way through the ocean.

Now, he was a laird of his own lands, marrying the most beautiful lass in the Highlands. He continued to watch her approach, feeling the same apprehension and fear flow through him as he thought of the sacrifices she had been forced to make to take a Pirate Laird as her husband.

Why would she settle for one like me? Nay better than the blaggard who once destroyed her life.

Alex swallowed, realizing what it was he was feeling. It was shame. He was ashamed of how he had behaved, and this time he had no orders to excuse his behavior—his choices were his own.

He knew that their marriage may be a relief to the council, and perhaps to some of the people of Rothach, but the journey they were set to embark on would not be a smooth one.

Alex was jolted out of his melancholy thoughts as Laird MacRoss reached the top of the aisle, giving him a single nod as he released Isobel's arm and retreated to stand beside his wife.

Alex turned to Isobel, enjoying those wild, river-blue eyes as they looked up at him once more. He would never grow tired of them.

The wedding passed in a flurry of uncertainty. He wanted to be as present as he could, but he was unable to shake the idea that she was standing beside him because he had shot an arrow into a target. What bride would want him as a husband? None that he could imagine. And as time progressed, he felt more despondent by the minute.

As their hands were bound, Alex finally turned to his new wife, leaning down toward her and pressing a brief kiss to her lips, then pulling back. She looked up at him, confusion in her gaze at the chaste kiss, but Alex was in too much turmoil to pay mind to anything but his thudding head.

He could barely gather himself enough to offer Isobel his arm as the cries and cheers of the congregation sent them on their way. Alex had never felt like such a fraud at that moment.

He managed to give Isobel a tight smile as they walked into the sunshine, never more grateful for the cool Highland air filling his lungs.

They made their way toward the green fields behind the kirk, where crowds had gathered and many of his people stood waving and cheering for the new bride and groom.

"They brought yer things to Rothclyde," Isobel said as they approached the cheering crowds.

There were ribbons in Rothach and Clyde colors flying high in the air, and something in Alex rejoiced at the sight.

"Och, aye?" he asked.

"Is it common for a laird to have one trunk placed in his chambers?"

He waved a hand at the crowds. "Have ye been rootin' through me things, lass?"

Isobel's cheeks flushed. "Of course nae. If ye will delay movin' into yer own castle, yer intended will have to make choices for ye."

"Me wife can make as many choices for me as she wishes, but it doesnae mean I'll follow them," he retorted, watching the spark come alive in her eyes.

"The same is true of me husband," she replied as they walked further into the fields.

The setting reminded him of the first time they had met, and he felt his lips quirk up as he remembered Isobel reaching for the knife beneath the layers of her dress as they had spoken on the hill. He schooled his features swiftly, but she was looking at him quizzically.

"Ye think I wouldnae defy ye?" she asked.

"That thought hadnae crossed me mind. I was just wonderin' whether ye had brought any weapons beneath yer skirts today."

"I would have," she confessed irritably. "Me sisters wouldnae let me bring me bow."

He snorted, looking down at her as she returned his gaze, and for the first time, he saw her impish smile.

They made their way through endless crowds and processions of people until Alex was quite turned about by the madness of it all.

It was not until he looked down at his new bride that he saw the exhaustion and discomfort on her face. She must have greeted every man, woman, and child in the valley, and the toll it was taking on her was evident.

He took her hand gently, knowing the fiery woman who lived beneath that very proper gown. She frowned as he raised his eyebrows and nodded his head toward the two horses that were tied at the back of the kirk.

Her eyes lit up at the sight, and he felt a small smile tug at his lips as he took her around the back of the kirk, as fast as he could, toward their mounts.

Jock, Alex's black steed, stood obediently by the fence post, with the slightly more nervous filly beside him. The mare had no name yet and was known for her flighty nature—he had decided she would suit Isobel perfectly.

He pulled them to a stop beside the fence, and Isobel shook her head, looking up at him in confusion.

"We are already married, ye ken. Ye need nae kidnap me," she said, stroking the mare's neck as she approached her.

Alex nodded. "I take it ye'll ride yer own horse, Lady Rothach?"

She turned to him at the new name, and he could see her turning it over in her mind. She nodded.

The horse reared back slightly at the rustle of Isobel's skirts as she moved to her flank.

"She's a wayward one," Alex warned.

"She needs to be ridden, that's all," Isobel said softly, running a hand over the horse's back.

As though under a spell, the mare quieted. Alex watched as Isobel placed a hand on either side of the saddle. Despite her small size, she had the strength of ten men in her arms, as she pulled herself, and all those layers of fabric, effortlessly onto the horse's back.

Alex watched her, trying not to show how impressed he was with that feat. As she settled herself, she looked back at him, her hair falling loosely to her shoulders—the wild wisp in her taking flight as she galloped away from him, with a grin.

He felt fire shoot through him at the sight of his fierce bride. He mounted his stead, following her swiftly as she rode ahead of him, the finest horsewoman he had ever seen.

It took them only a short while to reach the edge of the forest. Alex had caught up with Isobel quickly, and they had ridden together beneath the trees for a little while. He had enjoyed the solitude, but he had not recognized where they would emerge until it was too late.

As they emerged from the trees, he could suddenly hear the thunder of the ocean beneath the cliff's edge, and he swallowed nervously. He had not been near the sea for many weeks, and he had not missed it.

"Beautiful, is it nae?" Isobel asked, staring out at the wide horizon.

Alex had seen it before—the sea never changed to him. It was all fearsome, violent water, every wave holding more horrors than the one before.

He looked over at his bride, who sat on her horse with her eyes closed, breathing deeply into the wind. The discomfort he had seen on her face had disappeared, and she was relaxed once more.

His bride's cheeks were flushed, her hair falling about her shoulders in disarray. This was the warrior he had first met, and he much preferred her to the prim and proper lady he had married in the kirk.

Alex listened to the sound of the waves, his headache returning, trying to think of anything that might distract him.

"Ye looked like a wild beast in a cage back there," he said to her, keeping his eyes fixed on the forest and the safety of the wide-open sky.

"Ye flatter me, husband," she drawled, her eyes flashing.

Alex paused at her tone. Clearly, Isobel Knox—Bain now—did not like anyone witnessing her weaknesses.

"But I thank ye," she added after a moment. "I was feelin' trapped within those endless groups of people. I didnae like the idea that I couldnae escape if I needed to."

Once more, he was reminded of Lionel's words and the bitter truth of the life Isobel had lived before he had met her.

"I dinnae like small spaces," she continued. "Being confined. It's…" she trailed off, the lightness in her expression fading. She shook her head. "It matters nae, I thank ye all the same."

"I ken that feelin' well," he answered honestly, thinking back to his many years in the tiny passageways of the ship, never having any option but to do the captain's bidding. Always under orders, always waiting for the next instruction.

Isobel turned to face him then, her eyes becoming harder as she did so. "Do ye? Yet, ye still went through with the wedding. Trappin' me in a marriage that's as tight as any cage."

The waves were pounding more rapidly now. Alex could feel the tension running through his arms and up his back—even Jock canted forwards, getting nervous at the tightness running through him. Alex dismounted hurriedly without answering, leading them away from the edge.

Isobel did the same, landing beside her horse just as gracefully and swiftly as she had mounted it.

"Ye arenae speakin' now, is that it?" she asked, walking beside him, her wild fury as strong as the waves on the shoreline.

"Ye believe this was only me doin'?" Alex asked, tamping down his fears that she was right. "Ye are the one who arranged that tournament. Ye shouldnae aim at a target if ye cannae see it," he chided quietly, his pulse slowing as they neared the edge of the woods.

Isobel was silent, stroking the neck of her horse. She would not meet his gaze, and it was making him uncomfortable.

Her eyes should always be focused on me.

He looked her over as she stood before him, her tight waist highlighted by the dark fabric, the woven threads of gold that were laced through it catching the last rays of the sun as it set beneath the cliffs.

Alex moved unwittingly toward her, convincing himself it was merely to distract his mind from the relentless pounding of the waves on the shore, but she was still one of the finest women he'd ever had the pleasure to look upon.

Isobel looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the want in his own. She sniffed primly and stepped around the horse to face him.

"I won every round in that tournament before ye arrived. Many lairds had been and gone, and I had bested every single one of them."

"Ah, now ye flatter me. Was that a compliment that slipped from yer lips?"

Isobel's cheeks were flushed with passion. "Ye can delude yerself however ye like. I shall never compliment ye until the day I am in the ground, Alex Bain. I'd never commend a man who has trapped me as ye have."

The truth in those words hit home. Suddenly, he found himself moving toward her. He gripped her around her waist as she made a cry of protest, pushing her back into the forest until her back hit the large trunk of a tree.

She was flushed and breathing heavily, as was he.

"Are ye trapped now?" he asked, his hands coming up on either side of her head, blocking her escape.

"I'm nae afraid of ye!" she cried.

But as she said those words, her eyes flicked to his lips, and a shudder ran through her.

He moved closer, his fingers scraping across the bark of the tree trunk as he held himself at a distance. He brought his mouth to her neck but did not touch her, listening to her unsteady breathing as her hands gripped the tree behind her.

"I wouldnae wish ye to be," he said softly as she shivered at his proximity.

His nose rubbed against the line of her jaw, and, to his delight, a whimper escaped her mouth—the kind of sound he alone had heard from Isobel Knox, he was certain of it.

In an act of boldness, or perhaps forgetfulness, Isobel pushed her hips away from the tree, almost connecting with his own, before he pulled back with a soft smile. He explored her skin, rubbing his cheek gently against hers as a whisper of a moan escaped her.

"Ye ken the rules, lass," Alex stated, though he was having trouble abiding by them himself. "Ye have to beg me to touch ye, remember? Ye set them yerself."

Her fingers clawed at the tree trunk, her nails digging into the uneven surface, until finally, she let out a frustrated gasp as he moved his lips so close to her neck that he could have kissed her with a whisper of a movement.

"All right!" she gasped. "I yield. Kiss me, husband."

He chuckled softly, his nose rubbing against her skin as she trembled beneath him. "No please?"

The sound that left the back of her throat was more of a growl this time, and he smiled as he heard the word he had so longed to hear tumble from her lips.

"Please."

Alex pulled his hands from the tree trunk, placing them firmly around her waist. He hoisted her higher against the trunk, pressing his body against her smaller frame as she let out a gasp of pleasure, and he lowered his head, claiming her lips in a long, passionate kiss.

She melted against him, his tongue driving into her mouth as she met it with hers. The small sighs and moans that she let out were a balm to his soul.

He pushed her further into the solid trunk of the tree behind them, claiming her with every kiss, their mouths meeting again and again as the waves pounded relentlessly on the shore below them.