Stolen Vows by Stephanie Sterling

retire to my rooms and rest.”
     
    Lady MacRae looked absolutely outraged by this suggestion.  “Ye canna see Graem,” she snapped.  “He had one of his turns while ye were away getting married and is in nae state to see anyone.” 
     
    “In that case, we’ll retire immediately,” he nodded, taking a step towards the large castle doors.
     
    “Would ye like me to find a room for Miss Cameron?” Lady MacRae asked icily.
     
    Roan turned back to face her.  “Mother,” he said.  He did not raise his voice but his tone was clearly menacing.  “Isla is my wife.  I therefore expect ye to treat her as such,” he warned.
     
    A flush of color appeared on Lady MacRae’s cheeks.  She pinched her thin lips together very tightly and refrained from further comment.  Roan shook his head and made to walk up the rest of the steps and into the castle. 
     
    Isla bobbed a low curtsy, and murmured: “Please to meet you, Lady MacRae,” which earned her another fierce scowl from her mother-in-law, and was then pulled along after her husband.
     
    “I am sorry about that,” Roan sighed, once the doors had been opened for them and then were walking through the castle’s grand entrance hall.
     
    “We knew it would be difficult.” 
     
    “I have a feeling that it may get more difficult before it gets any better,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. 
     
    Isla was of the opinion that it would definitely get more difficult before it got better, but wasn’t inclined to say so aloud.  She looked around, trying to take in the interior details of the castle, but Roan was walking so swiftly she barely had a chance to turn her head from side to side as she struggled to keep up with his long strides.   She almost careened into him when he did stop, throwing open a large oak door and leading Isla into his bedroom.
     
    “Home sweet home,” he sighed.  He walked over to a chair that stood beside the unlit hearth and sat down, groaning audibly as he took the weight off his feet.
     
    Isla felt a tender smile tug at her lips.  “Poor thing,” she breathed softly, shutting the door and then walking over to her husband.  His eyes had already dipped close.  “Ye need to sleep,” she said gently.
     
    “I’ll be fine,” he murmured.  “I need to see Graem. I dinna care what mother says, tis nae right that he does nae ken about ye being here.  And I need make sure one of the servants brings up yer luggage.  And I -”
     
    “Need to rest!” Isla giggled. 
     
    She crossed the room to the bed, drawing back the blankets so Roan could get in, before returning to his side, intent on prodding him into action.  He was already so dear to her.  Isla’s heart ached with an emotion she was too afraid to examine as she stared down at Roan, studying his handsome face.
     
    “Come now,” she said gently, kneeling before her husband and going to work on his boots.  Isla smiled when Roan dropped a hand to her hair, gently patting her head as she heaved and tugged until both of his boots were off.
     
    “I can manage,” he yawned, but made no actual move to help himself when Isla’s fingers rooted for the bottom of his shirt.
     
    “I dinna want ye to manage,” Isla answered, and then surprised herself when she leaned forward and dabbed a kiss against his lips.  Roan looked surprised too, his tired eyes flickered open, but he smiled warmly as Isla helped him out of his shirt and pulled him up on his feet. 
     
    “Ye’ll sleep more comfortably without these on,” she murmured, hesitating when he was clad in nothing more than his breeches.
     
    “Undoubtedly,” Roan chuckled. 
     
    He reached for his laces himself, sensitive to Isla’s embarrassment, but she reached out a hand and stilled him, intent on finishing what she’d started.  She was not being ruled by passion, but by a deep desire to help Roan - to take care and look after him like a real wife.  A wife bound to her husband by more