Chapter Eleven

Isobel was afraid to move as the sun rose the next morning. Her husband still lay beside her, their bare skin touching, one arm slung over her belly. She had to relieve herself, but didn’t want him to see her in full daylight, so staying beneath the covers seemed like a good idea.

She couldn’t handle the shame if he looked upon her and decided he no longer wanted her. And now that she knew how pleasant bed play could be for a woman, she was afraid he might turn her away. She ached between her legs, but what she’d experienced last night had made it worth every second.

Grant’s fingers started dancing on her skin, making gooseflesh arise and take hold of her body. When she glanced over, his gaze was on hers.

He smiled and asked, “How did ye sleep?”

“Well. Ye?”

He groaned and rolled onto his side as if he planned to climb on top of her, but all he did was study her. A warm flush gripped her. Och, what must her tangled mess of hair look like?

“Ye should eat well this morning. I’m nae sure where we’ll be stopping along the way, and the provisions we bring with us will be more to fill our bellies than for taste.”

She was used to that, hiding in the woods with the Resistance, but she didn’t want to remind him of her involvement with the group. Not now, when he seemed to be pleased with her.

“I’ll send Annis in to see ye are ready.”

“Does she ken we are leaving? Did she have time to pack for herself?” Isobel’s mind started racing with ways to keep the lass comfortable.

“Aye. I told her.”

Drawing back the covers, he started to scoot from the bed, but stopped short, staring down at his manhood then to the bed where they had been snuggled together. Her cheeks reddened when a small staining of blood caught her eyes. Looking away, pretending to still be sleepy, she was relieved he said nothing and rose to dress.

When his boots hit the floor and stopped at the door, she studied him where he was, hand on the knob, staring at the exit. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he opened the door, walked out, and shut it quietly behind him.

It felt like mere moments before a light knock sounded.

“’Tis Annis,” the maid called out.

“Enter.” She sat up and as Annis pushed in the door, a little blur ran in and jumped onto the bed, nearly missing the top, but digging in its claws and climbing the rest of the way. “Good morning,” she said to her maid as she rubbed the creature’s neck.

“My sister is going to collect yer kitten to watch while we are gone. She’ll return her when we get back.”

“She isnae my kitten. Does yer sister want to keep her?” The creature was already rubbing its head against hers and making that adorable sound.

“Nae, they have too many animals already.”

“How do ye ken it’s a girl?”

“I looked. Ye should give her a name.”

No, she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want a cat. How was she to get rid of the thing? She stroked its head and the wee creature pushed up into her hand. She’d have slept with it last night, except she’d been with her husband. A blush stole across her face.

“I was told to pack light. We willnae be taking a carriage.”

Good, because she’d felt claustrophobic the few times she’d been in one. She much preferred the open air where she could see threats if one came upon them.

Realizing she was still naked beneath the covers, she scanned the room for her shift. It was near the far wall where Grant had peeled it from her body last night, along with her gown, slippers, and stockings. Och, what a mess, and now Annis would know.

But she was a married woman. Supposedly, she’d been with her husband on the night of their marriage—it should come as no surprise to the lass. Pulling the blankets close, she swallowed. “Will ye please bring my shift?” She pointed to the wadded-up material.

“Aye. I’m sorry I wasnae here to help ye last night.”

“Nae, ’twas no problem.”

A knock sounded. Annis said, “Ah, ’twill be Fergus. Yer husband sent him to retrieve water for ye to bathe before our journey.”

It surprised her Grant took the time to see to her needs. She smiled, anticipating the warm water.

Half an hour later, Isobel was clean and Annis had dressed her in a dark green gown with her hair pulled up. She headed down to break her fast.

As she strolled into the great hall, she saw her husband seated next to the laird. With a deep breath, she made her way toward them and eased into the chair next to Grant.

“But ye ken that wouldnae have stopped him,” the laird said, his expression sad. As Grant shook his head, his father continued, “There was nothing any of us could have done.”

A servant set a plate down in front of her; her husband kept his attention on his father. She nearly flinched when his hand rested on her thigh, a reassuring touch, as if her presence was welcome. A flutter started in her stomach, and she wondered if he could grow to care for her, but she pushed the thrill aside. Thankfully, Grant’s mother came in and took the seat next to hers.

“I have a gift for ye.” Fenella beamed.

“I have everything I need.” She was trying to be polite. No one ever gave her gifts—she wouldn’t know what to say if someone gave her something.

Grant’s mother took her hand and turned it palm up. She placed a pendant attached to a long gold chain in the center and smiled at her. “I want ye to ken ye belong here, and ye will be loved as if ye were family born to us.”

Her eyes began to sting, and Isobel fought an emotion she shouldn’t let in. She didn’t deserve the kind words or a gift. Glancing down, she studied the pendant. It was an enameled replica of the MacDonald crest, circled by alternating rubies and pearls. Her eyes blurred as she fingered the detailing on it. It was fashioned with a pin so it could be worn as a brooch.

“I cannae accept it.” As much as she wanted to belong, she was certain fate was just playing a cruel game on her.

“’Tis yours when ye are ready to wear it. I’m sure this is a tough transition, but when ye are ready, I am here for ye.” Grant’s mother closed Isobel’s fingers around the necklace, leaving the solid weight of it resting in her hand, then she let go and turned to work on the food that had just been set in front of her.

Isobel sat stunned as she held the object under the table, not sure what to do with it.

The rest of the meal, Fenella spoke about the journey her husband and she were about to make. It was pleasant conversation, and it lulled her into a peace she wasn’t sure she wanted, because she couldn’t afford to become complacent. The pendant became heavier and heavier in her hand.

…

As soon as his wife entered the great hall, Grant looked away. All he could think of was their evening together, and how she’d fallen apart beneath him. Isobel closed the distance and sat next to him. She wore a dark green gown that made her skin glow as if she stood in golden beams from the sun. He rested his hand on her leg, not to pin her as he had on their wedding night, but because there was something reassuring about how easily she’d slid into the space next to him. His cock became hard and painful when he caught a whiff of her perfume.

He didn’t look at her because he was finding it difficult to calm the raging desire ignited last night. His father continued his lecture about the uncle he’d lost years earlier. The topic sobered him, and he became more focused.

Leaning in, his father whispered, “Do ye think ye are resisting this match because of what she’s done in the past, or because she reminds ye of my brother?”

“They are nothing alike.” The denial was out of his lips in an instant, but there was a truth to the laird’s statement Grant didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Then ye have not stopped to consider why Isobel was fighting for the Resistance. Have ye bothered to ask her?”

“Aye, but she didnae give me a straight answer.”

“I bet there is something there ye dinnae see. Take the time to ken who she is while ye are gone. I think she will surprise ye.”

Taking his last bite of eggs, Grant thought about his father’s words then took a sip of his drink and pushed away from the table. Addressing Isobel, who was engulfed in a conversation with his mother, he interrupted, “We should be ready to go within the hour. I’ll meet ye and Annis at our chamber to see what I need to carry down.”

Before she had a chance to acknowledge him, he made his way toward the stables to ensure the horses and the men accompanying them were ready. If he’d seen those full red lips, he might have wanted to drag her up to the room and have his way with her one more time before they left. But he’d witnessed the blood this morning. If he took her too soon, it might hurt her. Better to be safe.

As he walked, he enumerated how his wife and his uncle were different.

As a lass, she had no business going into battle, but his uncle had been young and had had no business facing down the MacLeod men who ultimately killed him. If she gave peace a try, she might find it worked, and if his uncle had given peace a try, he might still be alive. Just like his uncle, she had a sharp tongue and strong intellect.

Damn, they were similar.

But unlike his uncle, if she disappeared from his life tomorrow, he wouldn’t miss her.

Och, but was that true anymore? He’d not stopped thinking about her since waking, and he’d begun to enjoy their verbal sparring, just as he had enjoyed practicing in the lists with his uncle as a child.

Her reaction to him was what drew him in the most. She’d arched into every caress and movement he’d made, urging him on and calling to a primal part of him he hadn’t known existed. He’d never been with a woman who seemed to enjoy bedding as much as she did, and that knowledge sent him to new heights.

His wife was dangerous, but he wanted more.

Owen, Ian’s twin brother, was preparing the horses when he walked into the stables. “We will be ready to go within the half hour.”

“Great.” He asked Ian, who came from one of the stalls, “Do ye think the Royalists have a chance of stopping the Solemn League and Covenant?”

“If there is hope for peace, the other clans will be glad to have ye there by their side.” Ian rubbed his hands on his plaid.

“I will need both of yer help.”

“With what? I dinnae have the same way with words ye do.” His friend laughed.

“With my wife.”

Owen turned his head to the side then quipped, “She is quite bonny. I’d be happy to help if ye cannae handle her.” A hearty laugh filled the stable.

“’Tis no’ what I am asking of ye.” Anger lanced him. Giving Owen his best battle-hardened glare made the man back off.

“Ye ken I was jesting?” Owen threw his hands up in the air.

Yesterday, he didn’t think the remark would have bothered him. He knew the man was joking, but the thought of another’s hands on Isobel’s curves made his skin boil.

“What do ye need?” Ian chimed in.

“I am telling ye, because I ken ye two will keep her safe. She was in the Royalist Resistance.” Owen whistled just as Boyd strolled up to join the group.

“Nae! I thought she looked familiar.” Ian was genuinely surprised.

“I cannae let her meet with them. Someone has guessed her identity, and if they report back to Argyll, he will come for her and the MacDonalds.”

His friend shook his head.

“I need help keeping an eye on her, especially while I’m in with Parliament. I dinnae trust her not to get herself into some kind of trouble.”

Ian nodded. “Aye. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Boyd and Owen agreed.

“And dinnae let her ken ye ken the truth.” His gaze strayed over all three men until they nodded.

“I’ll go get the ladies. Meet back here in half an hour.”

A few minutes later, he was climbing the stairs and striding toward his room. When he opened the door, he found Isobel lying on her side on the bed, stroking the wee kitten. Suddenly, he wanted to be that creature and feel her hands caressing his body.

Annis was absent, so he strode over and sat near Isobel; the motion turned her to face him and she smiled.

Och, it was an invitation if he ever saw one.

Dipping his head to hers, he caught a whiff of her exotic scent just before their lips met. She seemed as eager as he was when he drove his tongue into her mouth. His cock tightened and grew as the embrace became more heated and she arched into him, moaning with a need that matched his own. Damn, she knew how to send him off balance.

He was just reaching for the ribbons at the front of her dress when he heard the door swing in. He pulled back and glanced over his shoulder to see Annis stroll into the room.

“I’m sorry. I’ll come back later if ye want.”

“Nae, ’tis fine. We need to be on our way.” He was thankful his plaid covered what his wife had been able to do to him only by being on their bed. Pointing to the satchels by the door, he said, “Is this everything?”

“Aye. There wasnae a lot of room, so we will have to wash frequently.”

“I dinnae need all that fancy stuff.” Isobel waved her hand dismissively at the satchels.

“Aye, ye will while we are in Edinburgh.” He didn’t want to add in front of Annis that Isobel needed to look like a soft, stylish lady who would never sully her hands by touching a sword. For the first time, he worried there might be danger in bringing her along. What if Torsten Campbell was looking for her or had told others? If she was recognized, there could be trouble. But if the man had told anyone, Argyll would have already been upon their shores demanding his clan relinquish her.

Turning his attention to something harmless, he asked, “What are ye doing with the cat?”

“I’ll drop her in the kitchens until Annis’s sister gets here. I’m hoping the girl will decide to keep it.”

As he slung the bags over his shoulder, his gaze was caught by Isobel bringing the cat to her cheek and giving it a hug. He didn’t know why she wouldn’t admit she wanted the thing. He had no problem with her keeping a pet—it might even keep her from wanting to return to the battlefield.

“Let’s be on our way,” he said.

Standing, Isobel kept the kitten cradled close and made her way through the door, followed by Annis and then him as he pulled the door shut with his free hand.

They stopped in the kitchens to leave the animal, and his wife set it down and ran out as if the wee thing might follow her and cry for more attention. He stifled a laugh. Annis trailed behind, and it occurred to him Isobel might be trying to keep distance between her maid and herself as well. Did the lass just not like people?

After securing the bags to the horses, he helped Annis on her mare then moved toward his wife to find she’d already mounted on her own. She looked so proud sitting there, back straight, head held high. She breathed in and smiled, closing her eyes and soaking in the glowing warmth of the morning sun.

Her hair was pulled up and she looked like a lady, but he wouldn’t be fooled by the new appearance. Underneath, she was still the hellion who was rightfully feared by the Covenanters roaming the Highlands. He’d even found a knife she’d hidden in their room. It proved he couldn’t yet trust her.

They were only riding the animals down to the ship on the beach. He didn’t want to take his new bride along and he wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t run off and start a war or if it was because he wanted to drag her back up to their bed and keep her on her back beneath him.

Isobel and Annis followed as he led the way to the horse path and down to the beach, where a ship would carry them across the fast-flowing water that separated the Isle of Skye from the mainland of Scotland. The path was treacherous and steep, but there was not an ounce of fear on Isobel’s face while Annis kept her mount as far from the drop as possible.

How different his first wife was from his second. Isobel faced the descent head-on, while Lyall had clung to him and nearly scared the horse they’d been riding into plunging down the side. His wife was well suited to this land. She was wild and untamed, like the jagged rocks of the shoreline and the imposing cliffs and mountains of Skye, a beauty that stole your breath when gazed upon.

Lightning struck in the distance as dark clouds came from the south, the direction they were headed. Cursing the weather, he picked up the pace, the rest of the party following suit, and in no time they were dismounting and boarding the boat for mainland Scotland.

The rain didn’t come on softly, it appeared in an instant and pelted down on them like thousands of tiny dirks. Although everyone else ran for cover, his wife stood at the rails, head tilted up to the wet deluge. Some of her hair had fallen free and blew in the wind, making her appear wild and free and untamable. Then she was looking down at the waves, enjoying the dance of the turbulent sea. When her attention shifted to him, she smiled.

An image of his uncle fighting The MacLeod in the pouring rain washed over him. He shuddered, recalling his uncle’s head severed then falling to the ground.

Too late, he realized his father had been correct—Isobel was too much like the mentor and friend he’d lost all those years ago.

It had been a huge mistake to bring her on this trip.