She shot him a glance, both defiant and uncertain, and he felt the stirrings of desire and frustration mix within him.
God help me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Nay harm will come to ye while I stand guard.”
Declan’s words echoed through her mind. The boat rocked gently over the dark waters of the loch, its rhythmic sway matching the flutter of Isabelle’s heart. The wind nipped at her cheeks.
For reasons she could not understand, the words had struck something deep within her. Her heart had skipped a beat when he’d said it, his voice low and certain, the kind of voice that left no room for doubt. It was a strange thing, to feel safe in the presence of a man she barely knew, a man with a reputation soaked in blood and rumor.
Folk whispered that Declan Cain had the devil’s temper, that he’d killed men with his bare hands and cast aside anyone who crossed him, even kin. Yet the man who sat behind her now, silent as the grave, did not seem a monster.
“There it is, lass. Castle McCallum,” Declan said.
Isabelle turned her gaze to where the castle rose proud and unyielding on its rocky isle. Castle McCallum had tall towers biting at the sky and banners whipping in the wind. Its stone walls glowed amber beneath the dying sun.
"Aye, ‘tis a beauty," she observed.
For a fleeting moment, awe overtook her fear, and she forgot the unease that had shadowed her since the wedding.
The boat scraped gently against the dock, and one of the men steadied it. Declan extended his hand to her, his expression unreadable. Isabelle hesitated then placed her gloved hand in his as he helped her onto the planks.
“Careful, lass,” he murmured. “The boards are slick from the mist.”
“I’m fine,” she said softly, her voice betraying the smallest tremor. Her feet touched solid ground, and she looked up at the massive gates ahead. Lanterns flickered along the walls, glowing like scattered stars against the dusk.
Declan stood beside her, his dark hair stirring in the breeze. His expression was unreadable, cold as the loch itself.
“This is yer new home,” he said quietly, his voice carrying over the rippling water. “Ye are now Lady of Castle McCallum.”
Isabelle’s breath caught. The title sounded foreign, heavy and unreal. “It is a grand home, indeed,” she whispered, almost to herself, her eyes sweeping the grandeur before her. “I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”
Declan’s jaw tensed, and for the first time, she saw a spark light his eyes, a moment of pride that transformed his features.
“Aye, it is,” he said, his tone rough but warm with conviction. “And I would die for it, Isabelle. This land, this castle, it’s the heart of me clan.”
She turned to look at him, startled by the sudden fire in his words. “The place is a part of ye.”
“It is,” he replied simply. “McCallum Castle stands because me forebears refused to bend the knee to any man. When others yielded, they fought. When others fled, they stayed. And when the loch froze over and the walls near crumbled, they built them again with their own hands. That is what it means to be McCallum.”
Isabelle folded her arms, studying him carefully. “And what does it mean to be the Lady of it?” she asked, her tone curious but edged.
Declan’s eyes flicked to her. “It means ye’ll stand beside me through storm and steel alike,” he said. “It means ye’ll protect what’s ours as fiercely as I do. Ye married into a clan, lass, nae a fairytale.”
She raised her chin, refusing to be cowed by the weight of his words. “I didnae ask for fairytales, Laird,” she said quietly. “Only honesty. Ye took me hand in marriage, but I’ll nae stand by and be treated like a possession. If I am to be yer Lady, then I’ll do it in truth.”
Declan’s brow furrowed, and for a heartbeat, the air between them crackled like lightning.
“Ye’ve fire in ye,” he said at last, almost grudgingly. “I can respect that. But mind yerself, Isabelle, the Highlands are nay place for soft hearts. If ye wish to survive here, ye’ll learn what loyalty means.”
Her eyes flashed, dark and determined. “Ye’ve been cold since the vows were spoken, Laird McCallum. Am I to be wife only in name?”
He stepped closer, his breath warm against her temple, his tone low and dangerous. “Ye’ll be me wife in every way that matters. But dinnae mistake me restraint for coldness, lass. I’m givin’ ye the chance to breathe before I claim what’s mine as I have said I would.”
Isabelle’s pulse leapt though she refused to let him see the effect he had on her with those words.
He turned and escorted her toward the doors. Isabelle gazed up at the towering castle. The loch shimmered behind her, vast and deep, and she felt the weight of her new life settling on her shoulders. A shiver ran through her, not of fear but of change.
