He pressed his lips to her brow as they passed through the great hall, the firelight flickering against the stone walls.
“Then that’s where ye’ll stay,” he said softly, his voice thick. “From this night forth, Isabelle, ye’ll nae leave me sight again.”
She sighed, her cheek resting over his heart. And as he carried her toward their chamber, the castle bells still ringing above them, Declan felt, for the first time in years, that he had truly come home.
Declan set Isabelle gently upon the bed, his hands lingering at her shoulders.
She reached out, grasping his sleeve.
“Donae leave me, Declan,” she whispered, eyes wide with fear and relief.
He shook his head, his voice low but firm, “I’m only goin’ to give orders to the maid to bring ye a hot bath. I willnae have ye get sick on me. Ye’ll be safe here.”
The door burst open before he could move, Mabel’s presence filling the chamber like sunlight.
“Declan! The bells are ringin’ and talk of an attack on Isabelle! What has happened to her?” she demanded, breathless and anxious.
Declan straightened, his jaw set. “Lady Isabelle was taken by her cousin, Lady Rosaline of Clan Ross. She is safe now, Mabel. She’s unharmed.”
Mabel crossed swiftly to Isabelle’s side, grasping her frozen hands.
“Ye’re frozen, me dear,” she said, concern lining her voice. “I shall go order the servants. Ye’ll have a hot bath, hot tea, and stew to warm yer bones.”
Isabelle gave a small, grateful nod, her fingers tightening on Mabel’s hand.
Declan’s eyes softened as he watched his sister fuss over Isabelle.
“Thank ye, Mabel,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave ye to it as I’ll stay at Isabelle’s side.”
Mabel smiled though worry still shadowed her features. With a quick nod, she turned and hurried from the room, the sound of her skirts fading as she went to rally the castle staff.
Isabelle sank back against the pillows, her breath coming easier now that she was finally safe. Declan remained standing besideher, one hand brushing her hair from her face, his eyes never leaving hers.
“D’ye ken how foolish I felt, Isabelle?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I swore I’d never let harm come to ye, and it was me avoidin' ye that had ye outside alone without me at yer side. I’ll be damned if ever let ye out of me sight. Not anyone, not any man, dares try that again.”
She gave a faint laugh, shaking her head.
“Ye’ve done enough, Declan. Ye’ve brought me home.”
He knelt beside the bed, taking her hands in his, thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “Home,” he repeated softly, his eyes dark with love, “is wherever ye are, Isabelle Cain, wife.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Isabelle shivered slightly as Declan wrapped a thick fur around her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment on her arms.
“Here,” he said, pressing a flask of whiskey into her hands, “this’ll warm ye through, lass.”
She took a careful sip, the warmth crawling down her chest, easing the chill from her bones.
“Ye’re fierce, Declan,” she murmured, her eyes lifting to meet his, “but it was dangerous to take on those men alone.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Fierce?” he said, his voice low and rough with amusement. “Aye, that’s ye. I just happen to be stubborn enough to match ye.”
She laughed softly, feeling the tension in her chest ease. “Stubborn together, then,” she whispered, letting her head rest against his shoulder, “but I’m glad ye came for me.”
Declan walked to the hearth and tossed a few more logs onto the fire, the flames leaping higher, bathing the room in a warm glow.
