Isolated Hearts (Legends of Love Book 2)

by Avril Borthiry

  “He’s no doubt afflicted by the spring season,” Luc said, “and the poor beast has no mares.”

  Giselle chuckled. “Maybe you can teach him to use the pell.”

  Luc laughed, a sound Giselle rarely heard from her guardian knight. Her heart gave a funny little leap.

  He bridled Minstrel, clambered onto his back, and reached for Giselle.

  “Hold tight to me, my lady,” he murmured, still grasping the axe as he settled the rope across Minstrel’s withers. Giselle shuffled closer and wrapped her arms around him as far as she could.

  “I’m ready,” she said, once again certain, at that moment, she would not swap places with anyone else on earth.

  *

  Luc halted Minstrel at the edge of the forest. He kicked his leg over the stallion’s back and dismounted, setting the axe and rope down before turning to help Giselle. She all but fell into his arms, hair spilling over her shoulders.

  “My braid came loose,” she said, eyes bright. “The ride was wonderful. He’s an amazing animal. Would he let me ride him alone, do you think?”

  “Nay.” Luc set her down. “That is, I doubt it. No one but me has ever taken his reins.”

  Luc was hard, the result of firm female breasts pressing against his back as they’d travelled. He’d have little trouble chopping down a tree. God knows, he needed some kind of physical diversion.

  The exercise that morning had helped, but he still had a surplus of repressed energy. Not all of it was lustful, either. Warmer days had made life on the island more pleasant. He and Giselle had settled into a routine of sorts. Attraction aside, he’d grown used to her and genuinely enjoyed her company.

  Even so, due to his discomfort, he released her now with a measure of abruptness and some of the joy in her expression faded.

  “This way,” he said, beckoning her to follow. “I’m eager to see what you think of this… whatever it is.”

  He paused at the top of the hill and drew Giselle to his side. “Close your eyes,” he said, “and tell me what you hear.”

  Instead, her eyes widened. “Look at this place. These stones. They’re… why, they’re magnificent. Did they originate here, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” Luc fidgeted. “Close your eyes, Giselle. Tell me what you hear.”

  She huffed at him but did as bidden. “I hear the birds.” She frowned. “Waves on the rocks. Um, the breeze through the pines. You, breathing. And my voice, telling me what I hear.”

  He stifled a laugh. “Very droll.”

  “Well, you asked.” She opened one eye and peered up at him. “Is there a purpose to this?”

  “Come with me.” He led her into the circle.

  Standing in the center, Giselle pivoted, her inquisitive gaze sweeping over every one of the monoliths. Luc looped his thumbs into his sword belt and waited.

  “It’s magnificent, but I really don’t see…” Only as she faced him again did her jaw drop. Her hands flew to her ears. “Oh, my God. I’ve gone deaf.”

  Luke chuckled and shook his head. “Nay, not deaf.”

  “But I can’t hear the waves or the birds. It’s…”

  He nodded. “Totally silent.”

  “But how can this be?” She stepped out of the circle and back in again. “’Tis beyond curious. Some kind of magic, perhaps?”

  “I wish I knew. There’s no obvious explanation for it. Nor for the light we saw.”

  Expression thoughtful, Giselle placed her hand on one of the stones. “It’s not harmful.”

  Luc raised a brow. “How do you know that?”

  “I…” She looked at him and shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s just something I feel.”

  “Hmm. Well, it doesn’t seem to do harm. But it’s troublesome that Minstrel won’t come near the place.” He glanced up at an uncluttered sky. “The birds don’t like it, either.”

  Giselle hugged herself and gazed out over the island. “There’s something strange about this entire place, don’t you think? I’ve felt it since the beginning. I think Ninian tried to explain it to me, but I couldn’t understand him.”

  “I’ve felt it, too.” He gazed out across the sea. “And I still cannot fathom why Ninian did not own a boat. His supplies had been recently replenished. But by whom?”

  “Mmm, it is odd.” Giselle shaded her eyes against the sun. “Look at that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the mainland so clearly defined. It’s like I could reach out and touch it.”

  “So close, yet so far,” Luc said.

  “How far do you think?”

  “I’d estimate twenty miles. Maybe a little more.”

  “Not terribly far, then. Could you perhaps build a raft using wood from the trees?”

  “I have considered it”

  “And?”

  “I am neither shipbuilder nor carpenter. Besides, there are too many risks attached to such a venture. For now, at least, you’re safer here.”

  “Me?” Giselle pondered for a moment. “So, in other words, if I wasn’t here, you’d attempt to build a raft and escape this isle.”

  He gave her a bemused glance. “Since you are here, your statement has no merit.”

  “I believe it does. Answer me. If I was not here, would you have already made an attempt to escape this place?”

  “Probably. But that does not mean—”

  “I’m a hindrance, then.”

  Luc blew out a breath. Was the girl spoiling for a fight? “I did not say that.”

  “A burden?”

  “Nay. Why must you provoke me, Giselle? Cease with this foolishness.”

  “Not till you admit it.” Defiance shone in her eyes. “I’m quite aware of your reluctance to play nursemaid. Being given this mission dented your pride, didn’t it? You try to hide it, but it shows plainly in your face, in how you look at me sometimes and push me away. You blame me for this mess we’re in, don’t you? But it’s not my fault we’re—how did you so charmingly put it—stuck with each other on this forsaken piece of earth. You could have refused my uncle’s request. Or ignored your misplaced sense of duty and simply saved yourself the night of the fire.”

  Giselle’s fingers ploughed through her hair, raking it back from eyes alight with anger. When her hand fell to her side, the rebellious tresses tumbled forward again, swirling around her shoulders in shimmering waves.

  Luc’s groin tightened. Christ. “Have you finished?”

  She scoffed and folded her arms. “See? You don’t deny it, so why not admit it? I’m naught but a pain in your knightly arse. It would have been better for you if you’d let me drown with poor Anna.”

  He looked heavenward and threw his arms wide. “As you wish then, my lady. I admit it. You are a thorn in my side. An irritating burden. It would, indeed, have served me better to let you drown. Abandoned you to the same fate as your unfortunate maid. There. Is it what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now?”

  She glared at him. “Bastard.”

  He laughed at the irony of her insult and stepped toward her, coming to within an arm’s length. “May God protect me from the folly of women. What do you want from me, Giselle? Are you merely testing the limits of my patience? Or is this some feminine wile? An irrational way of seeking compliments through insult? Very well. How’s this? You look incredibly beautiful at this moment, my lady, with the blush of anger on your cheeks, fire in your eyes, and that hair of yours flying about. I am totally aroused. My cock is as hard as steel. I want nothing more than to kiss you. Touch every part of you. Make love to you right here, on the grass.”

  The color on her cheeks deepened as her gaze flicked to his groin. “Liar,” she whispered.

  “I’m a bastard and a liar?” He laughed again, snaked his arm around her waist and tugged her against his erection. “There. Can you feel that? You drive me to madness, lady. I live every day in perpetual frustration.”

  Her eyes widened and her chin lifted. “Release me.”

  The demand had as much substance a
s a dried flower. But did she mean it? He hoped not. He’d never been so aroused, but he would not force her. He relaxed his hold, searching her face for some indication of what she truly felt. He’d release her in a heartbeat if he thought she actually feared him. A flush still colored her cheeks and her chest rose and fell in an impassioned cadence. Were these responses created by fear? If she truly sought release, why did she not struggle against his grasp?

  He touched his thumb to her bottom lip and heard her sudden intake of breath. Luc lifted a corner of his mouth, knowing beyond a doubt Giselle wanted him as much as he wanted her. But reason refused to remain silent. To act on his desire would be madness. Utter folly. He had taken an oath and, although the original plan had changed, he felt sure one day they would be found and rescued. He would complete his mission and return to claim his estate.

  Then Giselle moved against that rigid part of him and Luc’s resolve died like a candle’s flame in a gale. Release? Aye, the girl would have her release. And, by Christ, so would he.

  He cupped her face, bent his head, and kissed her. It was a gentle embrace, one suited to virgin lips. He moved his mouth over hers, touching the seam of her mouth with his tongue. She tasted of salt and the way she leaned into him drew a growl from deep in his throat.

  Her lips opened beneath his and she whimpered as his tongue met hers. Luc’s heart beat with such force he feared for his ribs. He broke the kiss. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes as he cradled her head in his hands, “and not once have I regretted saving your life.”

  A small frown settled on her brow. “But…there are times when you seem to resent me.”

  He smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I do not resent you, Giselle de Courtenay. I resent the way you make me feel. You are my weakness. My downfall. My torture. Since the day you stood on the deck of that stricken ship, terrified yet defiant, and released me from my oath, I have wanted you. Ached to caress you. To take you and make you mine. I fight it every day. Every waking hour. Aye, and even in my dreams.”

  “I have wanted you, too.” Giselle stroked her fingertips along the line of his jaw. “I have dreamed of being in your arms. Of being kissed by you.”

  There were tears in her eyes. And desire, damn it. Maybe it was due to their forced isolation. Maybe the strange atmosphere on the isle had stoked his most feral desires. Maybe it was even love. Whatever the reason, all thoughts of abstinence vanished. Luc was beyond redemption. A man drunk on arousal. He had to have her. At that moment, there was nothing he wanted more and to hell with the consequences.

  He kissed her again and, this time, Giselle surrendered with more confidence, returning his kiss with unabashed passion. She whimpered and pressed against him. Luc lifted his head and hissed through his teeth.

  “Easy, little maid,” he murmured, fingers seeking out and tugging at the laces of her robe. Moments later, the dress fell from her shoulders and tumbled around her feet. He kissed her temple, her cheek, the soft spot beneath her ear. His hands slid down her throat and cupped her breasts through her shift, his thumbs drawing tight circles around her nipples. Her head tipped back and the sound she made almost finished him.

  His cock twitched as he dispatched her shift the same way as her robe. Now naked before him, Giselle made no attempt to hide herself. Of course, Luc had seen and touched her body before. Massaged her frozen limbs and held her against him through the cold night. But the contact, at that time, had been prompted by a different necessity.

  Now he craved her. Ached for her.

  “Lie down,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking off his shoes. She did so, observing him without modesty as he undressed. Even her scrutiny of him was arousing.

  “I want you to know that I’m not in the least afraid,” she said, as he gave freedom to his manhood. “I am yours to do with as you please.”

  “You have no cause to be afraid, Giselle,” he said, settling at her side. “And I shall take my pleasure from giving you yours.”

  Her eyes darkened as he stroked his fingertips across her nipple, the light sensation making her gasp. Then he bent his head and took the tight peak into his mouth, at the same time shifting his body to partially cover hers. Giselle parted with a soft sigh and pushed her fingers through his hair, holding on to him as he sucked and nibbled.

  The absolute silence heightened the sounds of their passion. It was sensual and seductive, stimulating the senses beyond anything Luc had ever experienced.

  His hand slid over the soft curve of Giselle’s waist and sought out the moist warmth between her thighs. Giselle moaned and raised one knee, opening herself to his exploration. He moved his lips back to her mouth as he caressed the sensitive spot at the entrance to her core.

  A whimper came from her throat and she lifted her hips, enticing his fingers to explore further. He slid one inside her, then two. Slow at first, his exploration became more rhythmic as he sensed her increasing excitement.

  She tore her lips from his “Luc, please, I… I can’t…”

  His mouth returned to her nipple, tongue flicking the sensitive tip, teeth nipping. Giselle dug her nails into his back and cried out.

  “That’s it,” Luc murmured, moving to enter her. “That’s it.”

  He stole her virtue with a single, steady thrust, gritting his teeth as her fluid heat tightened around him. Then he lay still.

  “The pain will ease in a moment,” he whispered, stroking some damp strands of hair from her face. “Let your body adjust to mine.”

  Giselle shook her head and writhed beneath him. “No, don’t stop. I feel no pain. Please, Luc, I want this. I want you.”

  Jaw clenched, he pushed himself up on his arms and thrust deeper. He had bedded his share of women, but had never burned with such ferocious need.

  “You are merciless,” he said, on the end of a groan. “But, by God, ’tis the sweetest torture I have ever known.”

  Balancing on the crumbling edge of climax, Luc pulled out and slowly entered her again. The feel of Giselle’s silky tightness was beyond exquisite. He groaned and repeated the movement, gritting his teeth. Giselle moved with him, meeting each of his thrusts with eager passion. Molten desire rushed through his veins, urging him to move faster and harder.

  Giselle gasped and pulsed around him, spine arching as she cried out his name. At the same time, he withdrew on a dizzying eruption of ecstasy and spilled his seed across her belly.

  For a while, they lay in a quiet tangle of limbs, the only sound that of their breathing, heavy with the aftermath of passion and satisfaction. Luc had never been so sated. Never felt such contentment.

  It amazed him. And terrified him.

  “I had no idea,” Giselle whispered, trailing a fingertip down the center of Luc’s chest.

  “About what?” He placed a hand atop hers, stopping its exploration. By all things holy, he already felt a fresh stirring in his groin.

  “How utterly…delicious love is.” She lifted herself onto an elbow and looked at him. “I know nothing of the swordplay you mentioned, but I suspect the pleasure of it must come a distant second to what we just experienced.”

  Luc chuckled and tucked an errant strand of Giselle’s hair behind her ear. With her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, she had the look of a woman well pleasured. And, by God, it was surely love that shone in her sweet, honey eyes. Luc refused to listen to the small whisper in his head, the one telling him that loving Giselle de Courtenay was folly. That taking her virtue would be something he’d come to regret.

  Instead, he embraced what his heart told him. That this bright, courageous girl had the ability to set his spirit alight. That she had given him the greatest gift a woman could give a man.

  So why did he hesitate to voice what his heart declared? What splinter of misgiving still festered within it? What would his response be if she asked him to remain in Scotland should they be rescued?

  The elusive answers came later that
day, after a tree had been cut and the setting sun cast its golden light through the cottage windows. On his modest pallet, Luc made love to Giselle again, this time slowing his touch, exploring, tasting, and caressing every part of her. For the first time since arriving on the island, as he heard his name cried out in passion, part of him wished they’d never be found. No other paradise, he told himself, could ever compare to this.

  Then, cheeks flushed with contentment, Giselle snuggled into Luc’s arms and began to recount tales of her childhood. She described Dieudonné, the house and gardens, her voice quivering when she mentioned her mother’s favorite apple tree.

  And he cast his foolish wish aside as his vision of paradise changed.

  Giselle obliged his secret curiosity, describing everything from the new glass-paned window in the dining hall to reading lessons with her mother. She even told him of the lake where she’d learned to swim. “I used to sneak out and play with some of the local children,” she said, “although I suspect Mama knew about it. I never thought it would one day help to save my life.”

  Dieudonné sounded beautiful and Luc said so. Giselle squirmed in his arms.

  “I was basically a captive there.” She stifled a yawn. “So was poor Mama. I wonder what Henri will do with it now?”

  Still wrapped in Luc’s arms, she fell asleep.

  Luc didn’t sleep at all.

  Chapter 14

  Hamish MacRoth reined in his horse at the head of the glen, panting nigh on as deeply as the trembling animal beneath him. It had been an exhilarating ride, one that swept the dust from Hamish’s somber mood and pumped hot blood into his muscles. And it was not yet over. The stallion, who answered to the noble name of Falchion, was a recent addition to Glenross’ stable. The beast danced on the spot, obviously eager for more.