Highland Obligation (Highland Pride)

by Lori Ann Bailey

  Grant’s forehead rested on hers, nuzzling back and forth.

  “Morna blamed me. When we made it back to Ross and then the castle, she told everyone I didnae help her and she left. She was my best friend and I let her down.” She paused, thinking that now her story was told the pressure should ease, but it was still ever-present. “Ye asked me once why I fight.”

  Grant nodded.

  “I do it because I didn’t fight hard enough when I needed to and now since I’m stronger, I can. Because I need to protect people who cannae defend themselves.”

  “Ye were just a child. There was nothing more ye could have done.”

  “She was my responsibility. I didnae keep her safe, and she left me.”

  Grant’s hand clasped onto hers, the caress tender, without judgment. “Nae. Ye were in her care and she shouldnae have blamed ye for something ye couldnae control. The blame lies with the men who attacked ye.” His gaze took on a dark sheen. “Were they found?”

  “I think my brothers found them, but all they ever said was that I would never have to worry about them again. When I fight for the Royalists, it’s not because I’m passionate about my religion or the king. ’Tis because I have to protect Stew and my family.”

  “Ye ken ’twas nae yer fault. Ye were but a child fighting grown men.”

  “Morna said I didnae do enough.”

  “She was but a child, too, and ye were the only one she could blame. Ye were both lucky to be left alive.”

  No one had ever told her it wasn’t her fault. She’d kept it locked up inside and only opened the cork and let the anguish out when she had someone to fight. Until now, it had been her only way of dealing with the pain. This was new, and she didn’t know how to take his kindness and understanding.

  It might make her believe she could trust a man to keep her safe again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grant planted his lips on Isobel’s. She was warmth and reassurance, innocence and loyalty, qualities he’d thought her lacking. She’d only been hiding behind the persona she’d adopted. She was a good woman who had been hurt, not the bloodthirsty monster he’d believed her to be.

  He wanted to move closer, breathe her in, and revel in who she was. He wanted to protect her and show her that she wasn’t alone and he’d never let her be harmed again, and he wanted to show her that she was all woman, his woman. There was nothing boyish about her, but she’d let the words of those arses and unjust accusations taint her perception of who she was.

  Deepening the kiss, he let his tongue slide into her mouth to claim his wife, this time feeling a deeper connection with her, a closeness that hadn’t existed before. Something more than pleasure spiked in his blood—it was the need to keep her near, keep her safe and make her happy. He wanted to bring back the innocence she’d lost long ago and show her the world could be a good place.

  Her tongue twirled with his and her head tilted into the embrace; her answering response told him she was not immune to his touch, that soon, she would be falling into oblivion in his arms. He wanted to do that to her, make her come undone and forget about life outside this room.

  Need crashed over him and an urgency to be inside her body overwhelmed him. His fingers forked through her hair. She flinched, and he felt a bump on the back of her head. Remembering all the scrapes and new bruises forming on her hands and back he cursed to himself.

  She had taken a real beating today. If she hadn’t been able to take care of herself by the time he’d gotten there, she could have been dead.

  Freeing her, he pulled back. “Are ye hurting?”

  “Aye. Some, but there is nothing to do for it.”

  His thumb slid across her cheek. He placed his forehead on hers, soaking her in, and said a prayer of thanks to God he’d not lost her today. His lips fell to hers again, savoring slowly and asking for her to give him all.

  Matching his strokes, her fingers inched into his curls, massaging, sending tingles through his scalp that begged him to turn into her touch. The pressure in his cock called for him to move faster, to take her and fill his wife with his seed. Somehow, he kept it in check.

  Withdrawing, his gaze took in her swollen lips, her dilated eyes, and accelerated rise and fall of her chest beneath her thin shift. Desire darkened her eyes, and the knowledge drove him mad with want.

  “Ye dinnae need this.” He gently tugged at the last barrier between him and Isobel’s tender flesh. “I dinnae want to hurt ye, or I’d rip it from yer body. Take it off.”

  Her hand dropped from his head, and she pulled up the shift. She shimmied until the material was at her hips, then she sat up and raised the cloth above her head as his gaze rested on her breasts.

  His lips caressed the slight dip between her shoulder and the soft mound beneath. Kissing, he worked his way onto her breast and to the peak in the middle. He flicked his tongue across the hard tip as his hand slid up Isobel’s side to clasp the other mound, holding it firmly as he suckled the first. She moaned and arched into his touch, driving him to take more, to suck harder, and squeeze the tip of the one he was holding. A soft whimper escaped her throat.

  The longing in her gaze mirrored his own hunger. Remembering the bruises still forming on her back he asked, “How are yer knees?”

  “Huh?”

  “Yer knees. I ken yer back is hurt, but yer knees.” Pushing the covers away, he noted they, too, bore scrapes. “Och. I dinnae wish to injure ye.” He slid toward the edge of the bed and stood, motioning her to do the same. She had a mildly curious look on her face, but she obeyed.

  Once she was on her feet, he guided her toward the chairs. Before sitting, he turned and his gaze drifted over her lean form. It was the body of a woman honed to fight in battles, the figure of the woman who would bear him children. She was lovelier than any lass he’d ever seen, even with scraped knees and the darkening on her face, which foreshadowed the bruising to come.

  “Ye are bonny.”

  Her face held a look of disbelief.

  “Dinnae let the past blind ye to what I see so clearly. I wouldnae want to do this if I didnae think ye were the most beautiful lass in all of Scotland.”

  His lips pressed to her forehead and dotted little caresses all over her warm flesh, down her uninjured cheek to her neck. He stopped to lavish more attention on her sensitive nape. Gently sliding his arm around her waist, he clasped her rear and drew her nearer. His cock ached as the movement pushed him into the smoothness of her belly, and he rotated his hips back and forth, savoring the sensation.

  All the while, he didn’t let up the assault on the sensitive part of her elegant neck, gliding to where it met her shoulder. He nipped and she leaned into him, a soft sigh deep in her throat. He did it again and she arched, putting more pressure on his staff and driving him to the point of need that spurred him to go faster. He held back.

  His free hand stroked and he enjoyed the sleek softness as she tilted into him. He closed his mouth on her again, his teeth skimming her skin as he sucked. She clasped his side and urged him on, tightening her grip on his waist.

  He found the soft curls at the apex of what made her all woman and ran his fingers through the silky strands. Isobel’s breath hitched. He took his time, wanting to draw out his need, to make the completion, when it came, that much more enjoyable.

  Exploring lower, he slid toward her welcoming heat. Spreading her legs slightly, he roamed all the way to the nub at her apex. Gliding his finger over it, he was delighted to feel the moisture there that meant she was ready to take him in. As he circled, she gasped. He could wait no longer.

  He eased down into the chair. Taking his cock in his hand, he readied himself. “Come. Put a leg on either side of me.”

  She inched forward, tentative and unsure. As their centers neared, he let go of himself and pulled her near. She let his lips take from hers. Their tongues swirled in the madness of the moment and the need to sate the hunger that had built and filled him with a need bursting to a level he’d neve
r imagined. He wanted to be one with her, to own her body and her soul, to brand her as his and to show her she would always be safe with him.

  Rotating his hips, he rubbed his staff against her pelvis. He wanted to draw out the sensation of ultimate need, because once he was inside her, it would be mere moments before he reached his peak. He was almost ready to burst just with the slightest touch.

  Then the pressure was too much to bear. He guided Isobel onto the tip of his manhood. Slowly, savoring the ecstasy of her channel closing in around his shaft, he drew her down, impaling her and making them one. It was like they belonged together, fit perfectly, like the mist on the morning shores of Skye.

  Isobel’s hands came to rest on his ribs, clinging like a ship moored to the coast. Aye, they were two completely different people, but this was right, this was real. Sudden clarity dawned. He was happy to be tied to this woman, bound to her for the rest of their lives.

  Gripping her hips, he thrust, up and into her core, claiming her body. She arched into him, her head lolling back and lips separating on a moan. The sight of her pleasure was more intoxicating than the rush of heat, igniting feelings in him he didn’t know he’d been capable of. He’d learned his wife was not the savage he’d believed her to be, but a decent, kindhearted woman who only thought of others.

  He ground into her and her hands tightened on his sides as her dilated gaze locked with his, lingering, and showing him her utter abandon. He continued rocking with his hips, clasping one hand onto the back of her neck, pulling her closer. He had to taste her.

  The movement drew her body flush with his, her breasts on his chest, the apex of her legs rubbing against his pelvis as he closed his lips on hers. As their embrace deepened, her exotic scent washed over him. Anytime he smelled her, his thoughts would turn to being lost in her arms.

  Small mewling noises started in her throat. They turned more urgent and he knew she was about to reach that sweet climax, which pulled him closer to the edge. It was an impossibly high precipice after the fear of her being hurt, the realization he cared for her, and the trust she had placed in him tonight.

  Isobel fell into him, every muscle in her body tightening around him, her tongue in his mouth stilling as her breathing changed to gasps of ultimate pleasure. Her sheath clenched around his shaft and pulsated through him. The intensity was almost unbearable. Frenzied currents crashed into him, his seed started to pump into her, and he held on as if he were that ship fighting the raging sea and she was the shore to which he was secured.

  She collapsed onto him, her head resting on his shoulder as if she had all the trust in the world in him. And he knew something had shifted for her as well. They were no longer enemies, but had a shared path. In her own way, Isobel had been looking for peace, too. Trying to make amends for something she hadn’t needed to and protecting those who were weaker.

  They stayed there, sated in each other’s arms, for a little while longer. When he felt Isobel starting to relax, he lifted her and carried her to the bed, careful to avoid her injuries. As he placed her on the soft mattress, he caught a glimpse of the red welt on her cheek. It was a reminder he could have lost her today.

  A vision of the man he’d grown up with as a brother intruded. The true-life nightmare he’d lived time again in his mind reappeared. It was the vision of the MacLeod laird’s son severing his beloved uncle’s head from his body. It was a fight his uncle should not have been in, because he had been defending a MacLeod lass who had been abused by the arse. His need to protect the innocent had been the reason trouble had come to the beaches of Skye on that rainy day so long ago.

  Until Isobel changed, he couldn’t get attached and risk that heartache again. Despite these newfound emotions, he had to keep his distance. Not until the threat from the Campbell man had been dealt with, and until she gave up her quest to guard everyone.

  He’d lost his uncle to the man’s need to defend and shelter others. It had crushed him. What would happen to him if he lost Isobel for the same reason?

  …

  As sunlight shone through the window, Isobel woke with a clear head and a conviction she’d done what she could to protect Annis the day before. That didn’t, however, stop her from squirming as she fought the urge to jump up and run to check on the lass.

  Grant lay beside her, his arm draped over her belly. It was comfortable and becoming a familiar sensation, but she couldn’t rise without waking him. She also had a strange desire to stay there and savor the moment, despite the aches plaguing her body. Here, she could study Grant’s masculine jawline and his dark lashes that matched the thick black hair she wanted to run her fingers through.

  Lulled into a sense of security she’d not felt since she was young, she let her mind wander to a life where battle wasn’t an everyday occurrence, where childhood dreams still had a chance of coming true, and people didn’t leave.

  Once they were on their way back to Skye, she’d feel more confident about Annis’s security. There, she could more easily keep an eye on the dangers facing her maid and when she wasn’t, she could make sure this baker knew to guard her closely. A trickle of fear spiked in her chest—did the maid believe she’d done enough to protect them yesterday?

  She took in Grant’s relaxed posture. She’d told him the truth last night, and he’d made her believe she wasn’t responsible for what had happened all those years ago. She gulped. She was becoming attached to her husband. She’d been successful for years at keeping others at bay, but now, she’d let herself care about two people—Annis and Grant—who could destroy her if they ever decided they no longer wanted her.

  He’d held her last night like she was important to him, like he could come to care for her, and her past would no longer spark outrage in his eyes. She’d never felt so connected with another person. She pushed away the doubt, the fear he would one day rise up and say he no longer wanted her, that she wasn’t worthy. It reminded her there was still a threat out there, one greater than she’d ever faced.

  Torsten Campbell. She had to get to the man before he could harm Grant.

  “Good morning,” she said when she realized her husband was watching her.

  “Aye, it is. Good morning.” He pulled away quickly as if her skin was a hot kettle that had burned him. The chilled air in the room enveloped her and she shivered.

  Grant slid from beneath the covers, his features granite and unreadable, the connection from the previous evening gone.

  Did he hate her now that he knew her secret?

  “We’ll take the midday meal with representatives from the other Highland clans today.”

  Grant’s face was solemn. He bore a heavy weight. Though not yet laird, he helped his father shoulder the responsibility of his people. Not only was he born for the role he was destined to inherit, he had the drive and the will to make the tough decisions. He was a born leader.

  “To discuss how to proceed, now that Parliament is moving forward with the Solemn League and Covenant?” she questioned.

  “Aye. ’Tis going to be a rough road ahead. We’ll have to find a way to no’ anger Parliament, but still stay true to ourselves. We will do what is necessary to keep the clan safe.”

  “It may be the best way to keep those ye care about from being harmed.” She never thought she’d come to admire the way he tackled hard situations, but she was proud to call him husband.

  “We need to pack now, because afterward, we’ll be on our way home to Cairntay.”

  His clan still wouldn’t be safe if they didn’t eliminate the threat she’d created. “We still have to find Torsten Campbell.”

  “Nae, we dinnae. I will worry with that.”

  She sat up, putting her fists on her hips. “Aye, I do.” She was sure the authority in her voice was diminished by the lack of clothing she wore. Pulling up the blankets, she covered her breasts. Grant only smirked then retrieved his shirt, pulling it over his head and ignoring her reply.

  She rose and ran across the room to collect a fresh
shift. After slipping the garment over her head, she faced Grant, who was nearly dressed, and said, “Torsten Campbell is my responsibility. We need to seek him out now. If he comes to MacDonald lands, he may hurt someone in order to get to me.”

  “I have a plan to deal with the Campbell. Word has been sent to him, and he’ll come to me. ’Tis best if ye stay out of it.”

  “Nae.” She put her hands on her hips, but winced at the pain. Hell, she hurt everywhere.

  “Ye are my wife and will do as I say. After this meeting, we are going home where I can face him on familiar ground, and where I can be certain ye are safe.”

  “I will take care of it.”

  “Dinnae challenge me, wife.” Grant stalked toward her then stood over her as if he were already laird and ready to do battle to defend his clan. The command in his voice dripped with conviction and power.

  Shivering, she spun away and was about to collect her skirts when Grant’s arms circled her waist.

  His breath was hot on her ear. “For once, let someone shield ye,” he pleaded. He nuzzled into the side of her head, inhaling as if he were breathing her in. Then he was slipping out of the room and she was met with a closing door and the certainty that no matter what she said, he would not give.

  But she wouldn’t, either.

  A light rap sounded, followed by the creak of the door. “Good morning,” Annis chirped as she hobbled into the room.

  A heaviness weighing on her chest lifted. Isobel rushed forward to hug her, relief flooding her when Annis’s arms closed around her in return.

  “How is yer foot?”

  “I’ll survive. It only hurts when I put my whole weight on it.” The maid giggled.

  “Thank you for nae being angry with me.”

  “Why would I be upset with ye? Ye saved both our lives yesterday. I’ll no’ be leaving yer side the rest of the journey back.”

  Isobel’s eyes stung with moisture.