Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Aye, ye are me husband and I be yer wife,” she told him. “Do ye no’ remember?”
    Oh, would that he could! He prayed fervently for some tiny sliver of a memory that would prove she was jesting, but his mind was as blank and dark as a cave at midnight. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to find the courage to open his eyes. Convinced that when he did, Rose would be laughing at him and would admit the truth: that she was simply jesting as some demented way of getting even with him for going back on his word.
    But when he opened his eyes, he did not find any such expression to either ally his fears or prove he was correct.
    Nay, there was no jest, no humor in her eyes. Instead, those big blue eyes of hers were filled with adoration and happiness.
    Fear overtook him. He sat up so quickly that his head spun and he nearly retched. He did not let that stop him from scurrying from his bed. “This be a mistake,” he declared. He was having a rather difficult time forming any kind of coherent thought, let alone the ability to put voice to what he was feeling.
    The adoration he’d seen only a moment ago, turned instantly to hurt. “A mistake?” she asked.
    Giving his head a rapid nod — a movement he instantly regretted — he said, “Aye! A mistake!”
    She stared at him in dismay. “’Twas yer own idea, Ian. Do ye no’ remember?”
    He thrust his hands onto his hips only to realize he was standing before her completely naked. Immediately he began searching for his clothes. “Nay, I most certainly do no’ remember!”
    “I do no’ ken why ye’re shoutin’ at me,” Rose said. “’Twas ye that insisted — nay, demanded — we be married. Ye said ye regretted yer decision to break our troth and could no’ live the rest of yer life without me.”
    He gave up searching for his trews. He needed to get out of his chamber as quickly as possible. He found his plaid lying on the floor on the other side of his bed. “I was drunk,” he told her. “I was in no condition to marry anyone!”
    She quirked one delicate eyebrow. “Ye regret marryin’ me then?”
    Were he not so flummoxed, so stupefied, and so hung over, he might have been able to have a more intelligent conversation on the matter. “Aye, I regret it!”
    Without his boots or so much as a by-your-leave or a backward glance, he quit the room in such a hurry, one would have thought his arse had just caught fire.

    * * *
    S ilently fuming , she watched him leave. For a long moment, she sat on the edge of the bed, holding on to tears she was determined not to shed. One moment she felt as though her heart had been cleaved in twain; the next, she was mad enough to tear the door from its hinges. Ian had been confusing and confounding her for weeks now. And for the life of her she could not figure out why. Last night, he had sworn on his mother’s grave that he cared not if she ever bore him a child, he loved her either way. If that was not what was holding him back, then what was?
    At the very least she felt he owed her an explanation. Something more than ye deserve better than me.
    They had shared so many things, when they’d been at the McLaren keep. After Mermadak had set the keep ablaze, she had willingly stayed behind with Ian, to help tend to those who had been too injured from the fire, or too sick to travel to Mackintosh lands. Together, they had worked hard to feed those people, kept them warm through that brutal winter by living in the old granary.
    But the moment they had set foot on Mackintosh land weeks ago, everything between them began to change. Gone was the camaraderie, the stolen kisses, the playful jesting and friendship they had forged. Ian no longer sought her out to share their meals together or inquired how she fared.
    Then he’d come to her a week ago and said he was breaking the promise he had made to her that winter. He no longer wished to marry her.
    Just like that, her hopes and dreams of building a life with him were