Chapter Nine

Sleep had evaded Grant. Why would his mother take his wife away from him? Didn’t she understand that would make him want her more? Of course she did—that’s what she’d done with anything he’d not appreciated as a child. It worked every time.

Was she trying to teach him a lesson? As he tossed and turned all night, he’d come to the conclusion that it had been in poor taste for him to compare his wives. They were nothing alike, neither were the circumstances for their marriages. Isobel deserved fair treatment and a chance to prove herself.

Taking the steps two at a time down into the hall for breakfast, he thought on the days ahead. He might not be with her tonight, but his mother wouldn’t be able to separate them on the journey to Edinburgh. He’d have Isobel mostly to himself. Of course he had to bring a couple men and Annis, but he would manage to get her alone.

As he sat at the table, a serving lad brought in a trencher piled with eggs and breakfast meats. He should probably enjoy them now, because on the trip there would be days where they would need to set up camp and would have only the provisions they took.

As he shoveled in a bite of eggs, his gaze was caught by a flurry of heads turning toward the entrance. His gaze landed on a bonny lass standing in the entryway, and he stopped chewing. It was Isobel.

Without her hair falling all about her face, he was able to enjoy her large sultry eyes, long regal neck, and full pouty lips. She was studying the room as if deciding where to go, like she had a choice. She wasn’t shy often, but that bit of uncertainty was alluring.

“Isobel,” he called across the room then tilted his head toward the seat at his right. A tentative smile broke across her lips and she started toward him.

Her dress had been laced properly and the fit of her gown hugged her waist, accentuating the curves that lay beneath. His hands itched to wrap fingers around that waist and pull her naked form down onto this. His last wife had looked as if she would break with any sudden movement, while Isobel looked as if she were built for pleasing a man.

“How did ye sleep, husband?”

“Nae well wondering where ye were.”

She reddened and turned away just as a lad appeared with a plate for her. “Ye dinnae want me there anyway.”

“On the contrary. I have decided I dinnae have to like ye to enjoy the benefits of being married to ye.” Damn, why had he said that? She did have some redeeming qualities and he’d missed their banter the previous evening. Maybe in time they would grow fond of each other, but telling her he didn’t like her wasn’t going to improve their relationship.

Isobel’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of rose, and he decided he rather liked the look on her face, so he kept up the conversation he was interested in. Expecting the answer would be “no” from her lack of experience kissing, he asked, “Have ye ever been with a man before?”

As he expected, the flush deepened, and her gaze drifted down to her plate. “I havenae.”

Suddenly, he felt guilty again. She was innocent and he was goading her. But he was curious how, after the rumors he’d heard, she was still a maiden. According to the whispers floating around the Highlands, the lass with the Royalist Resistance made camp with the other men.

“And how did ye manage that on all yer nights camped out with the Resistance?”

“I slept with a knife, and most men would stay away, worried they would incur the wrath of…” She trailed off.

Had there been a man who looked out for her, then? Did they care for each other? An irrational anger washed through him. “Who was he?”

“’Tis no’ important.”

“It is if I have reason to believe some man may come and try to take ye.”

“He was like a brother, nothing more.”

He didn’t press, but decided to ask again when she was more comfortable opening up to him.

“We will be traveling to Edinburgh tomorrow.” He’d apparently caught her off guard, and she didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Parliament is planning a vote on the Solemn League and Covenants. Have ye heard of them?”

She nodded.

“I hope to be able to convince them ’tis no’ in Scotland’s best interest to get involved with the English war.”

“Do ye think they will listen?”

“I dinnae ken, but I have to try. I will also try to locate this Campbell man while we are on our journey.”

“He is probably looking for me.”

“I’m hoping I will be able to persuade him to guard your identity. I’m willing to broker some type of truce with him.”

“He will never agree.” When she shook her head, her curls bounced playfully.

“I want ye to stay out of it and let me handle it.”

“I can help.”

“Nae, ye cannae.” He was aware Isobel could handle herself in battle and had even enjoyed observing her form in the lists yesterday. He’d thought for a moment she looked wild and untamable, like the mountains and pines of his home: strong, formidable, and beautiful. He would probably enjoy sparring with her, but on that fateful day, he’d watched helplessly as the Campbell man had sliced her arm. His stomach lurched at the vision that intruded. He pushed the image away.

“Will ye let me carry a sword to defend myself?” Dressed like she was she had nowhere to hide a weapon, and she needed to appear as if she would never have been near battle. And he couldn’t trust her not to run after the man who would turn her over to the Covenanter leader.

“Nae.”

“A knife?”

If he reassured her they would be safe, maybe she would voluntarily give up the dangerous life. “’Tis nae need. Ye and Annis will be well guarded.”

Panic flashed in her eyes. Did not having a sword really scare her?

“Nae. Annis must stay here,” Isobel insisted. “If we are looking for a Campbell, she could get hurt.”

“She’ll be fine. And she is coming.”

“Why?” Isobel’s rosy cheeks had paled.

“Because we will see important people, and ye will need to look like a lady, no’ the wench who would cut their throats if they dinnae agree with ye.”

Pausing with her fork in the air, she tilted her head and a rosy hue returned to her cheeks. “Ye are mistaken if ye think that is who I am.”

“Ye are incorrect if ye think I’m fooled by yer new appearance. I ken who ye are. But this is our opportunity to make ye appear so and prove ye cannae be part of that group.”

He had a hard time believing her, and he’d had enough of this sparring. It made him want to plant his lips on hers until she couldn’t speak, and he wanted that crimson on her face to come from a heated exchange of another kind.

Pushing back his chair, he stood. “Be ready to leave at first light tomorrow.”

Taking the stairs back up to his room, he alighted into the hallway on his way to make sure he had everything in hand for the trip. Movement caught his eye and he stopped. Annis came from his cousin Skye’s room and walked toward the steps at the front of the castle.

Sliding down the hall, he made his way to the room and peeked in. He pulled open the door and walked over to the dressing table to inspect the contents. A bottle caught his eye, and picking it up, he sniffed it and was rewarded with that exotic scent that was all his wife.

After replacing the stopper, he strolled casually around the room, inspecting it before stopping at the key that hung next to the door. Taking it into his hand, he smiled as he walked through the door, shutting it behind him.

…

Isobel followed the cat into the kitchen. She had to find someone who would care for the creature while she was gone and if she was lucky, maybe they would keep it. But her main reason for being here was to find a dirk. She had the small one under the nightstand in Grant’s room, but it was better suited for cutting a tender potato than wielding in battle. Grant was crazy if he thought she would leave Annis’s and her safety up to people she barely knew.

Letting Annis do her job so far had not worked—his gaze still roamed over her body as if he wanted her as a man desired a woman. Her husband had admitted to not liking her, but he’d apparently decided that wouldn’t stop him from taking her to his bed.

Swallowing, she acknowledged if she had to give her maidenhood to anyone, her husband was a well-built, bonny man. And he smelled good, like the air after a rain or the woods of a pine forest. The kiss they had shared was testament to his ability to please a woman. Would he care if she liked their bed play or would he seek to only satisfy his urges and toss her aside?

Thankfully, with his mother’s help to move her to another room, she’d been able to delay the inevitable, but once this journey began, he would want to claim his rights or seek out another woman to fulfill his needs. For some reason, that choice angered her.

After spending the day exploring the castle and grounds with Fenella, she’d concluded the Isle of Skye and Cairntay provided the MacDonalds with a fortification she’d only have dreamed possible. The imposing towers of the castle along with the tall cliffs of the landscape that overlooked the churning waters of the channel gave this land advantages over its enemies. It was also beautiful, filled with pines, oaks, and hedges in the most vibrant and varied shades of green. She’d even caught whiffs of wild lavender and occasionally saw the purple-colored bushes dotting the meadows and hillsides.

After enjoying the late meal she strolled into her room and stopped. It somehow looked different. Her items were gone, the mirror was smaller, and the wood dressing table looked darker.

Her gaze landed on the bed and she inhaled sharply—it was her husband’s and his first wife’s. The rooms had been switched. Och, that meant he’d probably found the knife she’d secured.

Chills spread down her spine as the door behind her clicked then glided open. A rush of cool air enveloped her. She was afraid to turn; a charged current in the room made her scalp prickle. It must be Grant behind her. She swallowed just before arms wrapped around her waist and drew her into a solid frame.

His warm breath filled her ear and his gruff voice said, “Tonight, ye will come back to our room, wife. ’Tis time we made this marriage real.”