than just the law.
Of course, that didn’t stop Isla from drinking in the sight of Roan’s body. She had no point of reference to use as a comparison of course, but she knew instinctively that her husband was as close to physically perfection as a man could hope to be.
“Sleep now,” she whispered soothingly, taking his hand and leading him towards the bed. He went without a word of protest, which rather impressed upon his wife how exhausted he was really feeling.
Roan released his breath in a huge, contented sigh as he sank down onto the soft mattress. Isla smiled softly, watching his eyes shut as she straightened the coverings. She was just starting to pull away when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
“Where are ye going?” he sighed, eyes still closed. Roan’s voice was heavy with sleep, but he didn’t let Isla go.
“Nowhere,” she promised him, brushing his hair off of his forehead.
“Come to bed,” he murmured, patting the space beside him.
“In a minute,” she laughed quietly, kissing Roan’s cheek and then slipping out of his grasp. He was too tired to resist the lure of slumber any longer, and in a matter of mere seconds his breathing was deep and his chest was rising and falling steadily.
Isla stood and watched him for a few minutes. She was exhausted herself, but the adrenaline and terror that had flooded her veins on arriving at Erchlochy Castle was acting as a powerful stimulant. She didn’t know if she would be able to sleep even if she did crawl beneath the covers, but then she wondered if it really mattered. Just curling up beside Roan would be heavenly.
She had nothing to wear to bed though, no nightdress; her cases hadn’t been brought up to Roan’s room yet. She could sleep in her chemise, but she had been wearing it for days, had already slept in it once. Isla thought it better if she changed out of the undergarment… which only really left one option.
Isla slipped quickly out of her clothes, tossing them over the back of the chair where she had folded Roan’s things. She felt a guilty little thrill as she slipped beneath the covers, reveling in the cool crisp feel of the clean sheets against her skin, and then basking in the warmth of her husband’s skin as she wriggled up against him.
She needn’t have worried about dropping off. The second she let her head touch the pillow, Isla was out like a light.
..ooOOoo..
Isla didn’t know how long she slept, only that there was still daylight seeping through the windows when she woke. She pried open one eye, feeling more tired than she had when she’d first crawled into bed. Roan was standing in front of a mirror trimming his beard and his skin was damp from the bath she assumed he’d just taken.
“Ah, yer awake,” he said, without turning to look at her.
Isla wriggled back under the blankets and pretended not to be awake. If she was awake she’d have to get up. If she got up that would undoubtedly lead to all sorts of unpleasant things, like meeting the MacRae’s Laird, and seeing Roan’s mother. All in all the bed seemed a far safer place to stay.
“There’s a fresh bath awaiting ye,” Roan chuckled, which had the desired effect of coaxing Isla to abandon her pretence of sleep.
“A bath?” she whispered hopefully.
“Aye,” Roan grinned, nodding in the direction of a large brass tub sitting in front of the hearth.
“Oooh,” Isla cooed in appreciative longing.
She sat up, and then quickly clutched the blankets up to her chin when she remembered that she had discarded all her clothes. She couldn’t imagine walking across the room in front of her husband completely naked. What had seemed like a good idea when she’d been getting into bed suddenly looked a lot less clever now.
What was worse, Roan seemed to know what was troubling her. He was leaning against the washstand,
Of course, that didn’t stop Isla from drinking in the sight of Roan’s body. She had no point of reference to use as a comparison of course, but she knew instinctively that her husband was as close to physically perfection as a man could hope to be.
“Sleep now,” she whispered soothingly, taking his hand and leading him towards the bed. He went without a word of protest, which rather impressed upon his wife how exhausted he was really feeling.
Roan released his breath in a huge, contented sigh as he sank down onto the soft mattress. Isla smiled softly, watching his eyes shut as she straightened the coverings. She was just starting to pull away when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
“Where are ye going?” he sighed, eyes still closed. Roan’s voice was heavy with sleep, but he didn’t let Isla go.
“Nowhere,” she promised him, brushing his hair off of his forehead.
“Come to bed,” he murmured, patting the space beside him.
“In a minute,” she laughed quietly, kissing Roan’s cheek and then slipping out of his grasp. He was too tired to resist the lure of slumber any longer, and in a matter of mere seconds his breathing was deep and his chest was rising and falling steadily.
Isla stood and watched him for a few minutes. She was exhausted herself, but the adrenaline and terror that had flooded her veins on arriving at Erchlochy Castle was acting as a powerful stimulant. She didn’t know if she would be able to sleep even if she did crawl beneath the covers, but then she wondered if it really mattered. Just curling up beside Roan would be heavenly.
She had nothing to wear to bed though, no nightdress; her cases hadn’t been brought up to Roan’s room yet. She could sleep in her chemise, but she had been wearing it for days, had already slept in it once. Isla thought it better if she changed out of the undergarment… which only really left one option.
Isla slipped quickly out of her clothes, tossing them over the back of the chair where she had folded Roan’s things. She felt a guilty little thrill as she slipped beneath the covers, reveling in the cool crisp feel of the clean sheets against her skin, and then basking in the warmth of her husband’s skin as she wriggled up against him.
She needn’t have worried about dropping off. The second she let her head touch the pillow, Isla was out like a light.
..ooOOoo..
Isla didn’t know how long she slept, only that there was still daylight seeping through the windows when she woke. She pried open one eye, feeling more tired than she had when she’d first crawled into bed. Roan was standing in front of a mirror trimming his beard and his skin was damp from the bath she assumed he’d just taken.
“Ah, yer awake,” he said, without turning to look at her.
Isla wriggled back under the blankets and pretended not to be awake. If she was awake she’d have to get up. If she got up that would undoubtedly lead to all sorts of unpleasant things, like meeting the MacRae’s Laird, and seeing Roan’s mother. All in all the bed seemed a far safer place to stay.
“There’s a fresh bath awaiting ye,” Roan chuckled, which had the desired effect of coaxing Isla to abandon her pretence of sleep.
“A bath?” she whispered hopefully.
“Aye,” Roan grinned, nodding in the direction of a large brass tub sitting in front of the hearth.
“Oooh,” Isla cooed in appreciative longing.
She sat up, and then quickly clutched the blankets up to her chin when she remembered that she had discarded all her clothes. She couldn’t imagine walking across the room in front of her husband completely naked. What had seemed like a good idea when she’d been getting into bed suddenly looked a lot less clever now.
What was worse, Roan seemed to know what was troubling her. He was leaning against the washstand,
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