“’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.
Chapter Twelve
By midday, Isobel was tired of the pounding rain, and poor Annis had barely spoken a word. The lass probably didn’t have much experience being out in the elements. She could handle it, but a coldness had crept in as soon as she’d seen Grant staring at her like she were a ghost or like he could see through her.
It had been unnerving, and since then he’d put distance between them, not even wishing to help her when they’d mounted their horses again. The man she’d only met this morning, Owen, whose twin, Ian, also rode with them, helped Annis onto her horse.
Sometime in the afternoon, the rain gave them a short break and they huddled around a small area that had been used as a campsite by previous travelers. She sat on a log, stuffing bread and cheese into her mouth, and wished it had been dry enough to start a fire. She shivered and when she glanced up, it was to find Grant watching her. She gave him a weak smile. She was certain she looked like a drowned rat, and her husband would never want her affections again if he was put off by her appearance.
Och, she didn’t know why she cared.
Once they finished up, she walked back to her horse. Really, she shouldn’t think of the animal that way. It was the same horse she’d ridden into the village the other day, but it belonged to Grant’
s cousin, not her. And it was better that way, even if the horse neighed and looked at her with big eyes that reminded her of the chocolate she drank as a child on special occasions back home.
She turned away from the beguiling eyes to find her husband beside her, ready to lift her. She smiled and let him, pulling her skirts up so as to ride easier.
Grant stiffened, then his hands were on the bottom of her gown, inching it up to see the knife she had fastened to her thigh. “What the hell do ye think ye are doing?”
“Protection.” She leaned down and hissed at him. She didn’t want the attention from the others his outburst had generated. The rest of their party was now watching them, although they studiously pretended not to.
“Ye willnae be needing this. Ye have us to protect ye.” His fingers deftly untied the cord she’d used to secure the dirk she’d found on her search in the kitchen.
At first she felt anger, but the rain started again, pelting her, and a bone-deep resignation and sadness washed over her. How was she to guard Annis if she didn’t have a weapon? She couldn’t count on the men to be there.
No one had been there when she needed help.
Her eyes blurred but instead of letting a tear escape and show her weakness, she turned her head as the weight of the weapon slid away. It was replaced by a warm weight on her shoulders as Grant covered her with a dry plaid.
The rain continued the rest of the afternoon, although the pace was slower. It had done its damage to their progress and by the time they found an inn for the night, Annis was ready to fall over with fatigue.
They ate a quick meal in the common area then went above stairs. Grant had secured three rooms, one for Ian, Owen, and Boyd, another for Annis, and the last for himself and her. As soon as the door was shut and bolted, he pulled the laces from her gown and peeled it from her body. He laid it across a chair to dry then removed her shift. She would shiver under his intense gaze, but she actually felt warmer with the wet garments off.
After kicking off her shoes and removing her stockings, she hung them and found Grant was naked, too. He backed her to the bed and they were joined and panting before she knew it.
The next morning, sun shone through the window like the storm from yesterday was a distant memory. When she scooted toward the edge of the bed to rise and retrieve her clothing, Grant drew her back to his hard body and wordlessly took her again. A closeness in his gaze she hadn’t seen before pulled her under, intensifying the feelings and odd emotions swirling in her chest as she fell to pieces beneath him.
When he collapsed to the side of her, he traced his fingers along her curves. She blushed then reached to draw the blankets up and hide from his study of her body.
“What are ye doing?” Grant took her hand in his. She let go of the covers and he reached to lay her arm over her head, which pushed her breast up for his viewing.
She tried to pull it back down, but he held it there, gentle but determined. She called on her reserves, the strength that allowed her to not care what others thought, but, exposed to him as she was, it didn’t work well, She hated she could feel the warmth creeping up her neck and her face redden. “I look like a boy.”
“Why would ye think that?”
“I’ve always looked like a boy.”
Grant’s brows knit together. “Ye look nothing like a lad. Is that why ye dress up in men’s clothes and fight?”
She tried to turn her face, because the question was not far from the mark and reminded her of that day. The one she wanted to forget. The day she hadn’t fought hard enough and had let her world crash around her.
“Nae. ’Tis just what I’ve been told.”
“Well, whoever told ye that is blind. Ye are quite bonny. Even dressed as a boy, ’tis no way ye can hide yer lovely face.”
She froze. What was he talking about?
“And these.” He trailed kisses across her breasts. His head rose and he gazed at her with blue eyes that made her want to fall into them. “Ye are bonny and dinnae let anyone tell ye different.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips then rose and started to dress.
As she pulled on her still damp clothes, she couldn’t help but think maybe he didn’t hate her. Her heart did this weird flutter, because things never worked out for her—people who cared for her got hurt and left.
The next week continued on in the same way, with them barely having time to speak during the day then coming together at night. But now, she avoided talking, deciding she needed to examine her feelings, because she was developing a fondness for her husband. It might be time to put some distance between them before he had the chance to make her care.
It had been easier to argue with him than to have conversations.
He didn’t seem to mind, because he made her body feel like she was a woman each evening and the next day left her to Annis’s company while he conversed with his men. But he always kept a watchful eye on her and the maid, and his smile seemed to be given more freely now.
As they traveled, her maid regaled her with tales of growing up on the Isle of Skye and of the MacDonald clan, even some involving her husband as a mischievous, carefree boy. What had happened to him? He always seemed so serious she couldn’t imagine he’d ever done anything without a purpose.
As they neared Edinburgh, she spied a familiar tree laid across the side of the road rotting, and she stopped to examine it. The scar on her shoulder where she’d been sliced by Torsten Campbell’s blade burned, and she remembered this was the spot of that skirmish. She tried to recall what had happened to Tomas MacPherson, but the memories remained elusive. She was certain she’d never seen the man.
It was evident Grant knew where they were as well. He stared down at a wooden cross that had been planted on the opposite side of the road. When he looked at her, the sadness in his gaze turned to resentment. Even from several yards away, she could see him shaking and feel rage and despair radiating from him.
Grant turned and trotted off without a word or a backward glance. He was back to his brooding, and he appeared to put distance between them again. Good, because that felt more normal than the flutter in her chest that ached because he blamed her for his loss.
When they stopped for the evening, it was to find the inn only had two rooms available. She would stay with Annis and Grant with the other men, which was fine by her. As she stretched out in one of the two small beds in the room, she fought the emptiness that tried to envelop her. She was becoming accustomed to sleeping near her husband, and that wouldn’t do.
Grant brooded the next morning over a quiet breakfast, and she didn’t mind. His disgust with her meant there was a chance he’d let her leave, which was exactly what she intended to do. She was not wife or mother material, and she had no desire to examine why the thought of him hating her made her chest feel heavy.
…
Grant hadn’t slept. He had almost thrown his arm over Boyd during the night, thinking the man was Isobel. He’d spent the rest of the evening stewing over how comfortable it had become to have her next to him and how he missed it after only one night apart. It was only because his body had become accustomed to spilling his seed inside her each night, he was certain of it.
He’d kept his distance during the day, but as they approached the city, he found himself falling back next to Isobel’s side. He would need to keep a close eye on the faces of strangers in Edinburgh to make sure no one recognized her and an even keener one on her to ensure she didn’t jeopardize her safety or that of their group.
“’Tis bonny.” His wife appraised Edinburgh Castle sitting high atop a hill with cliffs dropping from three sides. One roadway led to the proud, foreboding gate, barring any enemy who dared consider breaching its formidable walls.
“Aye, that it is. Have ye been here before?”
“Nae.” Isobel’s gaze darted around the city. “We had planned to come for the meeting, but once I was injured on the way here, Alex sent me home.”
He hadn’t made it to Edinburgh, eithe
r—he’d been helping to deliver his friend’s body back to MacPherson land. But he’d been here other times and knew the area well.
His hands tightened around the reins, but instead of his thoughts turning to his friend’s death, it was the unfamiliar name on his wife’s lips that sparked a burning in his chest. It felt similar to the anger he’d felt when his father had praised his cousin for besting him in a sparring match.
“Who’s Alex?”
She said nothing.
“Is this the man with the Resistance who looked after ye?”
“Aye.”
“Does he have feelings for ye, then?” The sun beat on him, and he could feel his brow heating. She’d told him no before, but she’d held back from him. He needed to be certain.
“Nae. Nothing beyond a familial concern.”
How could a man look on Isobel and not want her? “Ye are to stay away from him.” The order came out clipped, and he chided himself for not clarifying she was safer staying away from the man. And Alex would really be the one in harm’s way if Grant caught him anywhere near his wife.
“Ye willnae tell me who I can speak to,” she snapped.
“Ye have already caused enough trouble. If I catch ye with anyone from that group, ye will find yerself locked away at Cairntay.”
Isobel’s eyes flashed with defiance. “I willnae be caged like an animal.”
“I cannae let ye bring war to our clan.”
But that wasn’t really what worried him, because the MacDonalds were a fierce lot and if Argyll came to their shores, they would be able to defend themselves, especially with their allies, the Cameron clan, to the south. It was more the twist in his gut at the thought of waking without her.
It must be the fear of losing another wife. He had to prove he could keep this one safe. That was it. It had nothing to do with Isobel herself.
Isobel looked over to her maid and stilled, except for a slight nod of the head. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to him. “I willnae put anyone in danger.”
He nodded then pulled up to the front of the group, satisfied that his wife would behave. But even if she didn’t, he’d worked out a schedule with the men to keep an eye on her. Her innocent eyes didn’t fool him for an instant.
Highland Obligation (Highland Pride) Page 10