Stolen Vows by Stephanie Sterling

had fallen sufficiently low enough to reveal a generous portion of his chest. His left arm was bent at the elbow and his head was resting against his hand as he watched her carefully. 
     
    He was far too close, and far too male, and Isla didn’t understand why she was locked in place, letting him caress her as if she were a frightened colt.
     
    “Crying, lass?” he murmured his voice husky from sleep.
     
    There was no point denying what he already knew, so Isla nodded.  Before she knew what was happening, he leaned towards her and brushed his mouth against hers, in a warm, gentle kiss.
     
    It was over in a heartbeat and it was nothing more that the briefest flutter of his lips against her own, but it sent shivers tingling to the very tips of Isla’s toes.  She sighed softly when Roan drew away, earning a curious glance from her new husband.
     
    “Why were ye crying, Isla?” he asked after a short lapse of silence. He swept his wife’s long hair back from her face so that he could see her better.
     
    Isla found that his question was more unsettling that his kiss.  Once again, she was faced with feelings and circumstances that were beyond her understanding.  She was lying in bed with a naked man - a man whose fingers were softly stroking her face, whose lips had been pressed against her own - and yet she felt completely calm.
     
    “I -” she took a deep breath and then blurted.  “I’m so sorry that this happened, Roan.  I ken ye dinna want to be married.”
     
    For the longest time he didn’t say anything.  Isla didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was choosing very carefully what he did want to say.
     
    “Well, what’s done is done,” Roan eventually murmured, giving Isla no indication of how he felt.   “We’ll just have to come to terms with it as best as we can.” 
     
    Isla nodded again.  She fell silent for a while, pondering what “coming to terms” might involve.  She supposed he meant that they would make the best of the situation, and so she might as well get to know her husband better.
     
    “Roan?” 
     
    “Hrm?” 
     
    “What is yer home like?” she asked.  “And what about yer family?”
     
    Roan propped himself up on the pillows, so that he could sit a little straighter.  “My family?”  A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.  “Well there’s Ma, Eithne, Sorcha, Bridghe and me.”  Roan’s smile widened with each name.
     
    “Three sisters!” Isla exclaimed.  “I pictured ye with brothers,” she said, although she couldn’t say why she had thought that.
     
    “I had a brother once, but the English saw to him,” Roan muttered.
     
    “Oh!  I’m sorry!” 
     
    “I dinna really remember him,” Roan shrugged matter-of-factly, but his eyes were distant.  “He was the oldest, and well - I’m the wee one in the family,” he said, his grin returning.  Just seeing him smile made Isla feel so much lighter.  “Eithne’s the oldest now, then Sorcha, and then Bridghe,” Roan chuckled when he said this last name, and Isla found herself smiling along with him.  “There’s less than a year between us, Bridghe and me.”
     
    “She’s yer favorite?”
     
    Roan laughed.  He actually laughed.  Isla felt a smile blossom on her own lips.  “If I was allowed to have a favorite sister, she would be.  Of course, they’re all long since married,” he said, and then fell abruptly silent.
     
    The smile slid from his face and a shadow returned.  Isla realized that he was thinking about her now.  He was thinking about their marriage.  She wondered if she would ever be able to make him smile in the carefree manner that his sisters’ could - and decided to make it her goal.  If she could just make him happy then surely things would be alright.  After a brief burst of optimism, Isla’s doubts returned. She wondered for the first time if there was someone back at Erchlochy Castle who Roan had already