Highlander Untamed

by Monica McCarty

  She knew her touch was making him crazy. But she wanted more. Aching to feel him, she reached between them and traced a light trail down the cords of muscle lining his stomach. His body clenched. He seemed unable to move or breathe as her hand slid down his belly. Isabel smiled, enjoying the moment of control.

  Slowly, she found him.

  This time, no plaid separated the feel of her hand encircling him. She felt his body stiffen as her hand wrapped around the velvety skin of his arousal. Isabel was shocked at the feel of rigid steel surrounded by the softest skin she could imagine. She explored his length with her fingers. Glancing shyly at him from under her long lashes, she was surprised to see his face contorted in pain. His eyes were hooded, his teeth clenched, the hollows beneath his high cheekbones even more pronounced.

  “Show me.”

  She didn’t know if he heard her. Then he slowly opened his eyes. “I don’t think I can,” he whispered tightly.

  “Please.”

  The small entreaty seemed to break him. He taught her to find his rhythm. Fascinated, she watched his face as she brought him to the edge of surrender—astonished by her ability to arouse him. She felt the power in him waiting to explode. A warm feeling of tenderness enveloped her heart as she watched the pleasure of her touch transform his features with unbridled passion. She was the master of this powerful warrior. She held him in her hand. He was hers.

  “Enough.” He unfurled her fingers from his length. “I cannot wait any longer.”

  His hand moved between her legs. He eased a finger between her folds and groaned. “Do you see how your body wants me?” He leaned down to kiss her. “You’re already wet for me again.”

  He grabbed her hips and lifted her to him, slowly moving his staff between her legs. He teased her with the thick round head, sliding along her damp opening until heat flooded between her legs. She opened wider, and he eased himself in inch by inch. Her body tensed, instinctively fighting the invasion. He was too big. Too thick. Too much. Sensing her fear, jaw clenched with restraint, he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Isabel, trust me. It will hurt only for a moment.”

  And before she could think, he plunged deep inside her, tearing through the web of her innocence.

  He covered her cry with his mouth. Isabel stiffened with the pain. She felt as though she’d been ripped in two. She pressed against his chest, trying to push him off her. But he wouldn’t budge.

  “God, you feel good,” he groaned. “Trust me, Isabel. Relax. Feel me in you. Concentrate on my mouth.” He kissed her again, wooing her. Teasing her, making her forget, and, finally, easing the pain.

  Slowly, she felt her body come alive again. The sensation of him inside her was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. He filled her, claimed part of her that she never knew existed.

  He began to move, easing himself in and out. She felt the fever return as the movements quickened. She reached up to grab his shoulders, steadying herself against his hard thrusts. Instinctively, she lifted her hips to meet his masterful strokes.

  Isabel was acutely aware of the slow building within her, a building even more intense than before. He pounded harder, faster, deeper. Frantically, she raked her fingers down his back, clutching his rock hard buttocks as she felt it coming closer. And closer. Her pulse contracted. Heart beating rapidly, she clasped her legs around him and let herself go, exploding with a violent release. Shattering into thousands of pieces like shards of broken glass tossed over a cliff.

  As she quivered with the contractions of her exploding passion, he clutched her bottom and lifted her hips, driving into her one last time, filling her completely. Throwing his head back with a roar, he stiffened with his release, spilling his seed deep in her. They clutched each other, rolling on the tide of their shared climax. Where there had been two, there was now one. Joined together in perfect surrender, floating on the crashing waves of heaven’s most magnificent ocean.

  Rory collapsed on top of her. Neither wanted to break the connection that joined them in the sultry cocoon of the silk-curtained bed. The warm air was thick and damp, burgeoning with the musky scent of spent passion. Still tingling, Isabel felt the waves of passion slowly ebb around him. The fevered pace of her heart began to slow. Her breathing steadied. Finally, with seeming reluctance, Rory rolled off her, gently pulling her naked body close to his. Isabel savored the way their damp bodies slid together—molding perfectly in a delightful tangle of limbs.

  A warm, prickly happiness unlike anything she had ever experienced crept through her weary bones. Sighing with contentment, she snuggled closer to the warm strength next to her and closed her eyes. Never had she suspected that such beauty or closeness could exist. She wanted to hold on to this man forever.

  But could it last? Refusing to allow any nefarious implications to cloud the blissful moment, she concentrated instead on the steady beat of his heart—lulling her into a wonderfully exhausted and well-sated sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Isabel woke to the gentle warmth of the morning sun streaming through her window and to Rory awakening her in an altogether different manner. She felt his arousal pressed firmly against her bottom, but this time he did not jump from bed. This time she felt his fingers caress her until her body dampened with desire. Holding her hips, he slid in from behind. Filling her. Wedged between her thighs, he felt even bigger and thicker than before, but rather than cause pain, the sensation took her breath away.

  His hands stroked her breasts, lightly circling her nipples, cupping and squeezing her harder as he slowly slid in and out, drawing himself to his full length before quickly sinking back inside.

  She felt the tickle of his breath at her ear. “Have I shocked you?” he asked softly, holding her hips tight against him for a moment. He was planted so deeply, he seemed to touch the very heart of her.

  “No. Yes. Maybe a little bit,” she admitted shyly. “But I like it.” She trusted him completely. There was so much that she did not know, Isabel didn’t bother being embarrassed or shy. Rory had opened an entirely new sensual world for her, and she wanted to explore every inch of it with him. She made a small sound of pleasure as, still holding her tight, he circled and rocked his hips, stirring her to an erotic frenzy.

  “Do you know how long I’ve ached to do this?” He thrust hard to emphasize his words. “Do you know what torture it was for me not to slide into you when you snuggled your bottom against me this last month?”

  “I didn’t know,” she gasped between slow, deep thrusts.

  “There are many things you do not know, my sweet. But I intend to teach you all of them.” The sensual promise of his words sent a thrill shooting through her. He nuzzled her neck and kissed the curve of her shoulder. No longer content with lazy strokes, he increased his rhythm, and when he knew she was approaching release, his hand reached around in front of her. With one deft caress of his thumb, Isabel felt herself tremble, shudder, and break apart. He stiffened from behind her, but instead of spilling himself inside her as he’d done last night, he withdrew at the last minute and pulsed his release onto the bedding.

  Fighting the haze of delirium, Isabel needed a moment to realize what he’d done. Despite the euphoria of her release, she felt strangely empty. As if he’d deprived her of part of himself. When the rise and fall of his chest slowed and his breathing returned to normal, she turned to him with the question in her eyes.

  He took a long look at her and sighed. Clearly, he would rather not have this conversation. “I’ve taken your innocence, Isabel, but I will not risk getting you with child.”

  A sharp pain twisted in her chest. To hear his intentions spoken with such brutal honesty after the intimacies they’d just shared knocked the air right out of her. Emotion burned behind her eyes, and she rolled on her back to hide her disappointment. What had she thought? That he would change his mind just by making love to her? That he would fall in love with her as easily as she had him?

  The errant thought stopped her cold.
>
  She loved him. The truth hit her square in the heart with a certainty that could not be denied. After last night, she could no longer pretend, even to herself. She’d fallen hopelessly, deeply in love with her handfast husband. Each time she looked at him, her heart flipped. Each time he smiled, she felt as if the sun were shining just for her. His merest touch set her aflame.

  She loved his strength, his honor, his prowess, but most of all the solid, steadying force of his presence. She loved the way this fierce warrior could touch her with such gentleness. She loved the way he made her feel warm and protected, as if nothing could ever harm her.

  At Dunvegan, she’d found what she’d spent a lifetime longing for. Rory had given her a family and provided a place for her to feel needed and protected. And he’d given her a new perspective on her own family, making her realize that her perception of her own father’s and brothers’ feelings might be more complicated than a simple matter of not loving her.

  But he would not give her his child.

  She should admire his honor and nobility but was instead stung by his ability to think rationally while she was in the throes of newly discovered love. At the most amazing moment of her life, when she’d given him her heart, he’d hit her with the hard truth. Unless she changed his mind, the man she loved would marry another in a little over six months.

  “Second thoughts?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head, emotion gathering at the back of her throat threatening to spill. She could not allow him to see how much his forthrightness had affected her. Most important, she didn’t want to give him any reason to think she would not be content with their arrangement. She knew Rory. He would stop if he realized how much he was hurting her. She pasted a happy smile on her face. “Of course not. I merely did not understand how these things worked.”

  Rory looked relieved and let the matter drop.

  As he took her in his arms again, Isabel fought the rise of panic in her chest. Time was running out. What if her plan did not work? What if he did not fall in love with her? He kissed her with such tenderness that Isabel understood the only thing she could do. She must squeeze every bit of happiness she could out of the next few months, because it might need to last her a lifetime.

  Hours later, Rory dragged himself from bed. He could linger no longer, no matter how tempted. His gaze fell on the naked siren on his bed. He dressed quickly and quietly so as not to wake her. The lass deserved her rest.

  They’d made love more times than he could count, but still it was not enough. His hunger for her seemed insatiable. Her openness and her uninhibited passion astounded him. This morning when he woke with her soft bottom nestled against his arousal, he’d wickedly done what he’d wanted to do for the past month. He’d thought he would shock her, but she’d welcomed him, returning his eagerness with her own.

  How could he defend himself against such a gift?

  But something bothered him. He hadn’t missed the flash of pain in her eyes when he’d reminded her of his duty. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also did not want to encourage false hope. If he could find a way to persuade the king to return Trotternish to the MacLeods without Argyll’s help, then maybe it would be possible. He’d been racking his brain for another way, and so far nothing had come to him. But he had some time to think, as King James had yet to agree to hear the matter—even with Argyll’s support.

  Still, Rory wondered whether he’d done the right thing in making love to her. For either of them. The intimacy, the connection between them, was already strong. What would it be like in six months’ time? It was only sex, he told himself. But he knew that for the lie it was. What he’d shared with Isabel was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Raw, shattering, soul-encompassing sex. Sex that made him lose control and spill his seed inside her. A mistake he’d never made before. Ever.

  He slipped out of the room and headed down the winding stairs, making his way outside and down the path to the old keep. His men would be waiting for him. He’d just entered the hall when his brother caught his eye.

  “Sleep well?” Alex asked innocently.

  Rory frowned. “It’s none of your damn business. Where are Douglas and Colin?”

  “Waiting for you in the private dining room.”

  He followed Rory into the small room behind the great hall. With Alex recovered, they’d gathered to discuss the threat of attack by the Mackenzies.

  His guardsmen rose as he entered. Another of the king’s damn restrictions, Rory thought. Limiting the number of his household men. Colin stepped forward with a letter in his hand. “It arrived only this morning,” he explained. “I did not think you wished to be disturbed.”

  Apparently, the entire castle was aware of what had transpired last night. If Colin had an opinion on the matter, he kept it well hidden. Like Rory’s other men, he would never question his chief.

  Rory nodded, flipped over the parchment, and recognized Argyll’s seal. Damn. He opened the missive and read. It was the news he’d been waiting for. News that should make him happy. Instead, he felt the noose of duty closing around him. Argyll wrote that the next time the MacLeod presented himself at court, the king would agree to hear the matter of Trotternish. Isabel was slipping through his fingers. He related the contents to his men, and they all fell silent.

  Finally, Alex asked the question they all were thinking. “You will still repudiate the handfast?”

  Rory smothered the almost visceral response to deny. Instead he said, “Aye. It is necessary. Argyll has proved his sway with the king by getting him to agree to hear the matter at all—something James has previously refused to do. With the Mackenzie supporting Sleat’s claim, we need Argyll’s influence.”

  “If only there was another way to make James see Sleat for the overreaching tyrant that he is,” Alex said.

  Rory smiled at his brother who was so infuriated on his behalf. “Be assured, if there is another way, I will find it.”

  He put aside the disturbing emotions evoked by the contents of Argyll’s letter, and returned to the discussion for which they’d gathered—defending against an attack by the Mackenzies. Rory didn’t want any more surprises. The Mackenzies’ boldness in attacking so close to the castle concerned him. Alex relayed the events of the attack as he’d done earlier, including the conversation between Isabel and Murdock Mackenzie. Something Alex said stopped Rory cold.

  “You’re sure?” Rory asked.

  Alex nodded. “I was in and out of consciousness, but Murdock knew that you had delayed your stay in Edinburgh with Argyll.”

  Rory felt a flicker of unease. How the Mackenzies knew of his plans bothered him. He’d purposefully kept his stay with Argyll quiet.

  Rory thought for a moment, his eye catching Argyll’s letter on the table. Suddenly, he recalled another letter, one received by his bride only yesterday. He’d realized just how much he’d grown to trust her when Sleat’s letter yesterday caused barely a flicker of unease.

  Rory held his face impassive. “Did my bride send any letters while I was gone?”

  The men looked distinctly uncomfortable. Douglas answered. “Only one. To her father, Glengarry.”

  “I’m sure it was a coincidence,” Alex said, jumping to Isabel’s defense.

  Rory didn’t believe in coincidences, but for her sake, he hoped it was.

  “The lass is a MacDonald. Can we trust her?” Douglas asked the question Rory did not want to voice himself.

  Rory thought for a moment. The memories of last night assailed him. He thought of the woman who’d given herself to him freely and without conditions. He thought of the contentment he’d known while holding her in his arms, the strange sense of peace that had settled over him. He thought of her kindness to Margaret, her radiant charm, her loneliness, and the happiness she’d found at Dunvegan. If not in his mind, Rory knew the answer in his heart.

  “Aye, I trust her.”

  But if he ever found out she’d deceived him, her loss of innocenc
e would be the least of her problems.

  Chapter 17

  As the yule celebration gave way to Hogmanay, and winter faded into spring, Isabel kept her vow to squeeze every bit of happiness she could out of her time at Dunvegan with Rory. They made love every day except…Isabel sighed wistfully, recalling the day a couple of weeks after Christmas when she’d gotten her flux. Though she did not want a child without a husband, she felt strangely disappointed. And hurt by Rory’s visible relief—relief she understood, but which pained her nonetheless.

  At times, Isabel felt her new plan was working and that Rory had begun to love her. Alone at night, cradled in his arms, she believed nothing could ever come between them. At meals, or over the long hours spent planning the festivities for the Highland games, he would laugh and tease her as if she were part of the family. And occasionally, she would catch him looking at her with something akin to tenderness in his eyes.

  But other times, she was not so sure. He had not discussed a change of intent or broached the subject of their handfast at all. She wanted to believe he’d reconsidered, but any casual reference that she made to a future beyond July was ignored or met with an uncomfortable smile and a swift change of subject. And then there was that odd conversation about the letter she’d written to her father. He’d seemed to think she might have told her father something of import, but what? He’d started to question her, but her answers had seemed to satisfy him and he’d dropped the subject.