The news shattered her heart. She had known her brother did not hold much love for her. But what he’d done had been cruel. Beyond cruel. It had been wholly self-serving and hateful.
The worst part of all was that there was no solution now to avoid the challenge Brodie had laid at her feet. She would still need to fight Edmund the Braw. And she would certainly lose.
Cormac was no longer plagued by guilt regarding Isolde. Not since he made up his mind about his intentions.
Especially when he knew she was not inclined to wed Brodie. The very thought of the man left Cormac scowling. And, frustratingly, neither he nor any of his men had any luck with uncovering more information about the Ross clan’s involvement with an attempt to overthrow the rightful king of England.
Though Cormac tried to push away such thoughts, he could not help but be burdened by them as he dressed with great care for the feast that evening. It wasn’t until he caught sight of Isolde across the Great Hall that all thoughts of Brodie completely fled Cormac’s mind.
For how could he even think of the rival clan, or anyone else for that matter, when his gaze fell on such beauty? Her auburn hair was bound back in a single braid with slight wisps framing her face. She hadn’t seen him yet, and he used that moment to study her.
Her head was tilted at a slight angle as though in consideration. Her blue gaze swept toward him as he approached and held. All at once, a smile of recognition lit her face and warmed in his chest. Matilda offered him a curtsey from where she stood behind the seat next to her mistress, clearly holding it for him.
He nodded his thanks to her maid and took the saved seat. Isolde’s rose scent teased at his memories, igniting the heat of passion anew. His arms ached to curl around her, and he longed for the caress of her sweet lips.
He sank into the seat and drew her hand to his mouth for a kiss. It was a courtier’s move, one he’d seen Graham use on ladies. It was never one he had thought he would personally indulge. Until Isolde.
“I have news to share with you,” she said in a voice low enough to fade into the din around them. “I cannot say it here.”
Cormac nodded, grateful they would have cause to leave the feast and a chance to be alone so that he might ask for her hand in marriage.
For the time they were there, however, he was content to be at Isolde’s side amid the other attendees. The blanket of awkwardness he’d always harbored around women seemed to fall away as he jested with her and enjoyed the easy flow of conversation between them. Every now and then, however, he would catch flashes of tension in her eyes.
That was what brought the most concern. Whatever she needed to tell him, away from prying eyes, was most assuredly not good.
The feast finally ended with their stomachs full of hearty food. Tables were pushed aside for dancing, a perfect opportunity to lead her from the Great Hall to somewhere they might speak privately. “Lady Isolde, I believe the rain has finally stopped falling.” He extended his arm to her. “Would ye, and yer maid, of course, care to join me for a walk?”
Isolde flushed and slid her hand in the crook of his arm. He loved how she gently rested her hand on his forearm, featherlight.
Cormac led her from the Great Hall outside, beyond the servant’s tables and to the outskirts of the village with Matilda several paces behind, her presence to ensure no one overheard their conversation more so than to protect her mistress’s virtue.
Isolde gazed up at him, beautiful in the wash of moonlight. Her skin gleamed like a pearl, and her auburn hair shone with a luxurious sheen. “I had Matilda ask about the Ross clan during the joust today.”
Cormac ground his teeth in frustration at himself. He never should have mentioned looking into the Ross clan to her. Of course, she went of her own volition to see what she could uncover. “And ye found something?”
Isolde nodded. “Aye, they are planning to overthrow King Richard.”
Shite.
Cormac sighed. “I hadna wanted ye to know.”
Someone shouted in the distance followed by the raucous laughter of men. Cormac stepped closer to ensure their speech would not be overheard.
“That was not all Matilda discovered.” Isolde bit her lip, and her eyes went glossy with unshed tears.
Cormac reached for her and gently held her slender arms in his hands. “What is it?”
“’Tis not the Ross clan who is behind the coup.” Isolde sighed. “’Tis my brother.”
Cormac didn’t speak for one stunned moment. “How did ye learn of this? I sent Alan to gather information as well, and he heard none of this. Nor did either of my other two men.”
“Alan is not as beautiful as Matilda.” Isolde lifted a brow. “I cannot imagine your other men are either.”
He tipped his head in surrender. “People dinna trust the Scottish enough to divulge their secrets to Lachlan and Duncan. Alan has a better chance of that when it comes to the English.” The latter part held more truth than Cormac cared to admit. It was why he continued to employ Alan. “But beauty does have a means of moving the most stoic of men.”
Her distress cleared as she gazed into his eyes. “Does it?”
“Pip isna my dog,” Cormac confessed.
Isolde gave a quiet laugh. “I know.”
“Marry me, Isolde.” The suddenness of his request surprised even him. “Here. Tonight. Let me take ye from all of this. If ye’re wed to me, ye willna be free to marry Brodie. We’ll be bound together by God.”
Her smile faded into a frown of concentrated thought.
“Ye’ve been ignored by men who should have protected ye for too long.” He closed the scant distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “I canna stop thinking of ye. No’ since the first moment I saw ye, when I thought ye were the bonniest lass I’d ever laid eyes on.”
“Did you?” Her blush was evident even in the low light.
“Aye.” His fingertips brushed just beneath her lips. God’s Teeth, how he longed to kiss her. “But ye’re no’ just bonny. Ye’re brave, determined, strong.” He shook his head. “There’s no’ a lass like ye in the world. And I’d rather die than lose ye to a man like Brodie Ross who sorely does not deserve ye.”
She shuddered at his words and started to shake her head, no doubt to tell him she would not allow him to take her place in the challenge.
“Ye’ve always been poorly cared for.” Cormac drew his arms around her, securing her to him. “For the rest of our lives, let me protect ye. Let me love ye.”
The last bit had not been intended. But he did not regret it. For there in the empty moonlit field, with her in his embrace and gazing up at him as though he were the only man in the world, he had never wanted anything more than Isolde Maxwell as his wife.
Was he in love?
His finger traced over her full lower lip, and she drew in a soft breath.
Possibly.
“Will ye?” he asked when she did not answer. “Will ye marry me?”
12
For the first time in Isolde’s life, someone was truly seeing her. Not as a source of wealth or a means of advancing their status, but her as a woman. Not once had Cormac mentioned her dowry. Indeed, he had even asked her to marry him after she had confessed that her brother was a traitor.
And he wanted to protect her. Evidence of his intention was not only in the earnestness of his words but in the strong, warm circle of his arms. He made her feel safe.
In all of Isolde’s life, no one had ever sought to save her. Her father had focused all his attention on Gilbert, his prized son, who would carry on the name and title. Once Gilbert assumed the earldom, he had cared for her only in how her future union could give him a powerful alliance.
Earlier that evening, before the feast, the servant from her home that she had paid to inform her of Gilbert’s well-being had finally arrived. He informed her that her brother was well after several days of being terribly ill. And that he was furious.
However, he no longer considered he
r to be his problem, but Brodie Ross’s, and would leave her to him so long as she returned Gilbert’s clothing posthaste. Isolde complied, but intentionally omitted his armor. After all, she did have need of it the following day. He could do whatever he liked with it when she was dead.
The thought was a sobering one, which recalled the severity of the situation she still faced.
“I do not know if I will live past tomorrow,” Isolde said with sincerity. “But I do truly wish to marry you.”
Cormac gave her a wide grin that put his dimple on full display. “Ye needn’t worry about fighting Edmund the Braw anymore. I’ll be fighting in your stead.” Before she could open her mouth, he put a finger to her lips to still her protest. “Ye’ll be my wife, and I protect what’s mine.”
Isolde shook her head. “Nay, I cannot allow you—”
“I will keep ye safe no matter the cost.” He leveled his stare to meet hers, his words brimming with conviction.
“I cannot lose you.” The words caught in her throat. “There must be another way.”
He pulled her more firmly against him, drawing her to the wall of his powerful body. She nestled into him and breathed in his wonderfully masculine scent.
“We will think on it more in the morning,” he said into her ear. “Come, let us find a priest and be wed before anyone can try to stop us.”
Giddiness rushed through Isolde as she took Cormac’s offered hand. “Come be our witness, Matilda,” she called out to her maid. “We are to be wed.”
If Matilda had any reservations about the abruptness of her mistress’s decision, they were well hidden in the beaming smile. Together, Isolde and Cormac ran like children toward the heart of the village, their hands enfolded in one another’s.
Surely, a priest could be found at such an hour.
In Isolde’s younger days, when she’d always done as she was supposed to, she had never been impulsive. Now, in the span of only four days, she had poisoned her brother, stolen his armor to wear as she pretended to be him, fought for her own honor and won, and was now agreeing to wed a man she’d known only days. But her choices were ones she had made, without anyone’s permission but her own. It had all been liberating and empowering.
They slowed to a walk as they came to the village and looked at each other with joyfully shared laughter while they waited for Matilda to join them.
“Promise me something,” Isolde said.
“Anything.” It was in the earnest manner he readily agreed as well as the adoration evident in his eyes that Isolde knew he meant it. She could ask him for the very moon at that moment, and he would ensure she had it in her hands anon.
“Promise me you’ll never fill my life with rules and that I may continue to train with my sword.” Her words came out breathless from the exertion of their sprint and the force of her own excitement.
He held her face between his large hands. “I promise.” His mouth pressed to hers.
Isolde tilted her chin to better enjoy the kiss. She had been simmering with lust throughout the day at the recollections of their last one, of how he had awoken within her a burning need. Her tongue teased over his lips and they parted to allow his tongue to stroke against hers.
A groan sounded in his throat and sent ripples of pleasure prickling over her skin. She curled her arms around the back of his neck and pressed as close to him as possible, deepening the kiss as they had done earlier that day.
He nudged her back against the nearby hut, pushing her into it with his body. Brodie had done similar, although he had been forceful in his efforts, and such attention had been unwelcome. With Cormac, she wanted to part her legs and feel the full force of his desire against her most intimate place.
“A priest,” he growled against her lips. “We need a priest.” He pushed off of her and held out his hand, his chest rising and falling with the quickening of his breath.
A glance back at the field surrounding the village confirmed Matilda was nearly to them.
Isolde’s fingers shook with anticipation as she set them to his palm and allowed him to lead her into the heart of the village. It was difficult to walk at a steady pace when such a bone-melting kiss had weakened her knees.
Procuring a priest amidst a tournament had seemed an easy enough task. However, it proved to be a difficult feat. One that appeared impossible.
The first two had been found in the taverns, slobbering over serving wenches and so ripe with drink, their words were incoherent. Even if they could recall the wedding vows, it was doubtful they would be understood. One of them had at least pointed in the direction of a man who might help.
They found him rushing through the village. He took one look at their clasped hands and gave an exasperated sigh. “Another union in a hurry?” He looked upward as though seeking God’s agreement at the incredulity. “These tournaments are preposterous with so many rushed weddings.”
“Will ye be free to wed us?” Cormac asked.
“Not tonight,” the priest replied in a brusque tone.
“Is there another priest then?” Isolde asked in a rush of desperation.
He shook his head. “There are only three of us, and someone’s already enlisted my services. I take it that the other two were already sotted?”
Isolde nodded and tried to suppress her disappointment, for it weighed as heavy upon her as a millstone.
His severe expression softened, and she could see that he was actually quite young. “I’ve no plans on the morrow,” he replied. “I can marry you then. After the feast.”
Isolde’s heart slid into her stomach. There were too many things that could go horribly wrong in the morning. When the fight against Brodie’s impossible champion ensued. There may not be a tomorrow.
“We’ll see ye after the feast on the morrow,” Cormac said confidently.
The priest nodded and dashed off, muttering to himself. Matilda kept her distance in order to allow Isolde the opportunity to speak candidly with Cormac.
Isolde clasped his hand more tightly. “That is too late.”
He shook his head. “Nay, my love. We will wed tomorrow. I will defeat—”
She pressed her mouth to his to still his words. Her heart could not bear to have that conversation again. How could she allow him to fight Edmund? Especially after she’d seen that great hulking beast of a man.
Undefeated.
How could either of them possibly win?
She didn’t want to think about any of it. “Bed me tonight,” she said between kisses.
He pulled back and regarded her with uncertainty.
She ran her hand over his cheek, and the short stubble rasped over her fingertips. “No one need to know the priest cannot do it tonight. We’ll be wed tomorrow but can tell everyone we are man and wife already, especially once I’ve been bedded.”
He was beginning to shake his head, but she caught his face between her hands to stop the action. “My honor is already in question. If I’m to be judged for something I did not do, I might as well enjoy it.” Despite her bold words, a hot blush stole over her chest and face. “With the man I will soon wed.”
He frowned, apparently not liking the idea.
“Please,” she whispered. “Is that not what you say when I’ve told you ‘nay?’”
“I’m no’ saying ‘nay .’”
Isolde bit her lip to still the widening of her smile. “Then I will take that as an ‘aye.’”
How could Cormac possibly refuse Isolde’s request when she gazed at him thus? Her eyes were bright with hope; her mouth still red from their kisses; her cheeks flushed with excitement and desire. He would take her here and now if he could.
After all, they would be wed on the morrow.
He cradled her face. “Aye,” he replied gruffly as he lowered his lips to hers once more.
He could spend a lifetime kissing her in the middle of the village, his body hot with the flames of lust. Thunder rumbled overhead, and rain began to spatter out of the clouds in a mist th
at warned of an oncoming storm.
She leaned her head back and smiled coyly at him. “Come to my rooms at the castle.”
He hesitated. He would be having her before they were wed. His father would roll in his grave at the idea of Cormac even considering taking a lady’s innocence without first being her husband.
She laughed at Cormac’s delayed reply. “We cannot very well go to your tent.”
“Isolde, mayhap we ought to—”
The mirth dimmed from her eyes, and she shook her head. “Please don’t change your mind.”
He went quiet, unable to speak what they both were thinking. As confident as he was in his own ability to fight, it did not eliminate the possibility that he might soon die. If he got her with child…
She put her hand in his once more, wrapping her tapered fingers around his wide palm. “Come.” She tugged at him in an effort to lead him toward the castle. Toward her bedchamber.
He allowed her to pull him toward the Rose Citadel, but as they neared, he drew back. “Have Matilda find a servant to fetch me. I’ll no’ have someone see ye leading me to yer rooms.”
She nodded and let her gaze slide down his body in a way that left a lingering burn humming over his skin before she disappeared into the castle. Several minutes later, after the bells of the curfew had rung out, Alan approached with a grin on his face and Pip trotting at his side.
“Matilda found me and bade me show you to her rooms.” Alan lifted his brows in a suggestive gesture.
“And ye know where they are?” Cormac folded his arms over his chest.
Pip stood before Cormac, wagging his tail so ferociously that it made his whole body rock from side to side. Cormac sighed and crouched down to pet the beast.
“I’ve gone all through the castle.” Alan shrugged. “’Tis part of my job to know who is who and where they are. I figured you’d especially like to know the location of Lady Isolde’s room should trouble arise. Especially with the likes of the Rosses.”
Cormac gave a final pat to Pip’s velvety head and straightened, nodding at Alan’s foresight. The man might have injected himself into Cormac’s life, but he was helpful to have about.
The Highlander's Lady Knight Page 10