Highlander Enchanted(79)

“Ye owe me no apology, Lady Cade.” His features glowed with mirth, and he regarded her with tenderness. He ran his thumb over her lips. “I forgave ye when we met. Yer English.”

“I am not,” she replied. “I am Lady Isabel de Clare of Saxony, daughter of a Highland noble and Scottish king and wed to a MacLachlainn. I am more Scottish than you.”

He chuckled. “Verra well, lass.” He rested his forehead against hers once more, and they stayed in the peaceful quiet, listening to one another breath. “Ye doona wish to return to yer uncle in England?”

“No, Cade. I belong here. With you,” she murmured. “I swear to you I will keep no secrets or lie to you again. We will do as you spoke of on our wedding night and trust one another.”

He pulled away, studying her. Light glowed in his eyes, and his smile was warm. “My wife,” he said, touching her face gently.

“My husband,” she replied.

They gazed at each other in silence, and emotion stronger than any she had experienced welled within her. Needing to feel his strength, to reassure herself the storm was over, Isabel flung her arms around him and hugged him hard.

Cade held her, sighing once more. “’Tis true? Your brother is alive?” he asked.

“He is.”

“How can it be?”

“You took his madness, and a Saracen woman rescued him,” she explained. “He is not himself, and he has forsaken Saxony, but he lives.”

“My madness was worth it, if I saved him.”

Her heart swelled, and more tears stung her eyes. “You are a good man, Cade. Forgive me for being too blinded by my anger to see it.”

“I will ne’er let ye go again, Isabel.”

The sky was clear, the sun bright. Surprised by how quickly its warmth and light drove away her fear, she allowed herself to sigh in relief. “The sun shines because of you?”

Cade chuckled then grimaced, holding his stomach with one hand. “Yea. I feel … hope. ‘Tis not natural for me,” he admitted, gazing down at her. “I doona wish t’be apart from ye again, Lady Cade,” he said firmly.

Joy and relief bubbled within her. “’Tis wise, if this is what happens when we are not together,” she retorted.

“My brave, foolish wife. How can I no’ love ye?”

He held her. On the verge of collapsing into a weeping heap, she gripped his tunic. The heat filling her was of a different nature than the lust she recognized from each time they touched. This was deeper, a sense of belonging, of profound affection and gratitude.

“Cade!”

She released him. The disheveled, drenched Father Adam was hurrying towards them, a sheathed dagger in his hand.

“Yer late, Father,” Cade told him.

Breathless, the priest crouched beside them. He tossed the weapon down. “I canna do it,” he puffed.

Cade picked up the dagger and tucked it into the back of his trews. “You willna have to so long as Lady Cade is near me.”

Isabel smiled at the priest, who appeared distraught. Neither of them explained the weapon. Before she could ask, Father Adam turned hopeful features towards her.

“Did ye bring me wine from court?” he asked.

“Niall did,” she replied.

“Ye went t’court?” Cade asked, eyeing her.

“I did,” she replied. “John signed our contract in place of my uncle, and I presented it to the king along with a demand for him to assist me.”

“A demand,” Cade repeated. “Ye commanded the king t’help ye.”

“Your life, my brother’s life, and the lives of every member of your clan were in danger. Of course I commanded him to help,” she replied.

“My sweet lass.” Cade’s gaze misted over. “I doona ken if I can love ye as much as ye deserve but I will try.”

“Build me a keep overlooking the ocean and never leave my side,” she ordered him and then smiled. “’Tis all I ask.”

“And five children?”

She flushed, not expecting him to recall all she had said when he was in his madness.

“Och, ye need a healer before ye can sire children,” Father Adam said. “Lass, ye must fetch Marie’s daughter.”

Isabel started to correct him, to remind him he could not order around the Lady he served. But one look at the exhausted priest’s face, and she rose with what grace she could muster. Her ankle blazed with pain, and she gritted her teeth, unwilling to let her weakness show.

“Remain here,” she directed her husband. “I will fetch her. Do not think to fight or move.”

Cade studied her, as if he, too, were about to remind her who the laird was. “Verra well, Lady Cade,” he said with a crooked smile. “But if ye weren’t leading my men, what lass did I see?”

“Fianna.” Father Adam’s gasp was accompanied by his rising with alacrity Isabel had never seen from the priest. He hurried towards a scarlet cloak dropped amidst debris from the storm.

“’Twas her I saw not Isabel,” Cade said and grunted, climbing to his feet.

Isabel limped to his side to support him. “Is she well?” she asked quickly.

“Richard beheaded her,” Cade replied in a tight voice.

Isabel gasped.