Rogue Highlander: A Captured Heart

by Grey, Sondra

  Isla didn’t quite, but she nodded all the same. Give and take. It was certainly something to think about later. Her relationship with her parents was the only real example she had of married life, and it had been a one-sided relationship. Niall was usually off on Clan business for the Stewarts. When he was at home, he did her mother’s bidding. Deirdre had run that relationship with a will of iron. In fact, the only time Isla had ever seen her father truly relaxed was when they were out of her mother’s sights.

  “You send me word when the baby is born, and we’ll be over as quick as we can,” her aunt continued. Then she reached over the table and grabbed her niece’s hand, squeezed, Isla squeezed back, realizing she wasn’t just anxious. She was terrified.

  “You can’t come with me, can you?” Isla asked, trying to make the request sound like a jest but meaning it with all her heart.

  “Would that I could,” said Rhona, smiling. “When I do come and visit you, it’ll be the furthest I’ve ever travelled from home.” She shook her head, “I’m not worried for you, Isla. You’re a brave young woman, and you have a good heart. But watch that you pay attention. You’re in the bad habit of seeing the world only so far as your nose extends. You need to learn a bit more about people, they are not all like you or me, and they are certainly not like your mother.” A thought seemed to strike her and she examined Isla with concern. “Have you told the Laird about Elleric?”

  Isla shook her head. “No, I almost mentioned it but the Earl stopped me.”

  Rhona pursed her lips, “I’d have advised that you not keep something like that a secret. But the Earl stopped you, you say?”

  “Interrupted me when I began to speak of it.”

  Rhona pursed her lips and shook her head. “Dundur is not so far from Stewart lands that word might not travel.”

  “I’d like to forget Elleric ever happened,” said Isla. In fact, in all that had happened to her since, it was easy to forget what she’d been accused of. And did it really matter anymore? She wasn’t Isla the Healer, or Isla, Deirdre and Niall’s daughter. Now she was Isla, Lady of Dundur…

  “You may like to forget, but I can’t advise keeping secrets from your husband.”

  Isla pondered it for a moment and then shrugged. “If there’s an opportunity, I will say something.”

  Rhona seemed to have nothing further to say and sat back, watching out the window while Isla continued with her breakfast. Finally, when the last crumb had been devoured, she said, voice low with emotion, “It feels like losing Deirdre again. Promise you won’t disappear, Isla. Promise you’ll write to your aunt.” She turned and looked at Isla, her eyes, green as Deirdre’s, full of tears. Isla felt her own eyes moisten in response, and she said, barely audible. “I will. I promise.”

  It was hour later that Calum, Gair, Tom, and a few Grant clansmen rode into the stable yard, bringing with them a pack horse saddled with what few belongings Isla had acquired in her two months at Gighty Grey.

  Isla watched Calum throw a casual leg over his horse and dismount. Her husband. At Dundur he’d seemed more rigid, somehow, more aware of himself, of his movements. Here, there was something looser about him, less structured. It was as if, without the eyes of his clan upon him, he could relax. His hair was tied carelessly off his face, he seemed less aware of his size, and his presence. He seemed preoccupied as well, and went to speak to a clansman before turning to see who had entered the courtyard.

  Spying Isla, who stood with Rhona near the entrance to the yard, he strode over. Approaching Rhona first, Calum bowed over her hand. “Mrs. Huntly,” he said, “I thank you greatly for your intervention. I understand it was you who alerted the Earl to Isla’s condition.”

  Isla felt heat flood her face, and even Rhona looked a bit flustered. She opened her mouth to respond, but Calum continued. “I would not have known otherwise,” he said. “And you should know that I will do my best to see that your niece is well cared for.”

  Rhona inclined her head. “That is all I can ask.”

  Calum then turned his dark eyes on Isla, and Isla felt that now familiar pang of longing shoot like lightening through her blood, sizzling low in her abdomen.

  “Wife?” he said, as a question, holding out his hand for her. “The ride will take most of the day, and it will be dark by the time we reach Dundur. But I’d like to be off.”

  Isla nodded, mutely, for there was little else for her to do but follow his lead.

  The Earl came out to see them off and gave a grand speech about love and alliances. Then he came over to Isla, gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek, and bid her name the baby for him, should it be a boy. Isla wasn’t disappointed to be bidding him farewell. She understood why her mother had been so keen to leave. The Earl’s position of power left his canniness unchecked. He was a master manipulator, and Isla had spent enough time beneath his thumb.

  She hugged her uncle and cousin, and Gair promised to visit soon, next time his father had business in Inverness. Her aunt she held onto longer and would have stayed there clinging, but Rhona detached her and gave her a shove towards the horses.

  Mind on her family, Isla gripped the pommel to mount up, only to find herself entirely unfamiliar with the saddle. Isla was no horsewoman. When she’d ridden with her father, as a girl, she’d ridden astride, with her skirts hiked up. When she’d ridden with Calum, that first time, it had been the same way. When she’d ridden to Cairnie, she’d ridden astride. But this didn’t look like any saddle she’d ever used…

  She realized that people were staring at her, and she grew flustered, staring around to meet Calum’s gaze where he sat atop his brown stallion. He blinked at her, understanding filling his eyes suddenly, and he swung down. Before Isla could turn to question him, he had his hands about her waist and was lifting her effortlessly up. He perched her on top of the horse, with both of her legs hanging over the side. Side saddle. She was sitting a side saddle. Isla had seen a few women riding this way (The Lady Stewart rode side saddle, as did Gavin’s mother), but that didn’t mean she knew how to do it.

  As if he were merely touching her, Calum brushed his hand up her knee, fitting it against the saddle, wordlessly showing her where to position her legs. Once she was seated, albeit uncomfortably, he left her, striding back up to mount his horse.

  Isla stared at the reins, unsure of how to proceed. Usually, when she was riding, she directed the horse with her knees, like her father taught her. She was rescued from having to fumble further as Calum rode up, reached over, and removed the reins from her grasp. “Grab the pommel,” he said, his voice low, and when she did, he kicked both horses into a trot.

  Isla clutched the pommel, unsure of how to keep her balance sitting this way. She thought back on the Lady Stewart, who’d had one of the clansmen lead her through the market, seated similarly, legs to the side, skirts neatly folded around her ankles. This was how ladies rode, then. Impractical, thought Isla. And there was no one for her to look at to see how she was supposed to manage a trot.

  “Is this necessary?” she hissed beneath her breath. Calum looked over at her, took in her discomfort and slowed the horses to a walk. His men looked back and slowed as well, casting interested glances her way.

  “Let’s get out of the sight from the castle, and I’ll show you how to sit it,” he said, frowning. “But to be fair I’ve never ridden side saddle before.”

  “Can’t I just ride astride?”

  “You could I suppose. But that’s a lady’s saddle and you’d be uncomfortable trying it.”

  Isla sighed and shifted. “No more uncomfortable than I am now,” she said. “I could ride without a saddle. I’ve done it before.”

  Calum stared at her a moment. Then he looked ahead, to where Leith Macleod and the Macleod’s were riding.

  “I’d rather not let the Macleod men return home with tales of Calum Grant’s wild wife riding with her knees bare and without a saddle,” he said, slowly.

  Isla pressed her lips together, but said nothi
ng. Fine.

  Calum rode beside her, instructing her beneath his breath until she got the hang of directing the horse with the reins, but even this wasn’t easy. Seated as she was, she had to turn awkwardly to manage the reigns. In the end, she gave up entirely, and let her horse bump against Calum’s.

  At one point Leith rode back with them and gave Calum a pointed look that suggested he wished to speak without listeners. Calum turned to Isla and gave her a questioning glance, asking her without words if she could handle her horse. Isla, uncomfortable and flustered, had become irritable and shot him a scowl in return. Calum cocked his head at her and then, in a move that clearly dismissed her, rode off after Leith towards the front of the column, leaving Isla alone in the middle of the Grant men.

  The Grant men, it seemed, weren’t sure how to act around her, and so they rode about her, speaking mostly in low voices to themselves. The men were probably used to riding without food, for they rode straight through noon. Isla, who’d found herself to be hungrier and hungrier as the pregnancy progressed, grew irritable to the point of anger, and sat in her saddle seething.

  It was a few hours later where the road split. Leith and his men were travelling west while the Grants were heading north, into the Red Hills.

  There were no grand gestures of farewell, just a few soft parting words between Leith and Calum, a manly hug, and the MacLeod’s rode off.

  Isla was sure they’d stop to eat, but the Grants kicked the horses back up, content to keep riding. It was then that Isla gave into her temper.

  She hauled her horse to a halt, so abruptly, that the poor thing danced sideways a moment before settling. About her, horses reared and riders cursed, trying to regain control as their mounts shied away from hers.

  “Milady?” A few of them murmured with question, but Isla sat there, expressionless as a stone until Calum rode back to see what was holding everyone up. One look at his wife was all he needed. “Ride on!” he called to his men. “We’ll be right behind.”

  The men looked concerned, but did as their Laird bid, and Calum waited until they were out of ear shot. “Well then?” he said, “What’s amiss.”

  He seemed so cool, so dismissive that Isla had to work to reign her temper. “I’m hungry,” she said. “I need food.”

  Calum blinked at her a moment and then dismounted, digging into his saddle bag for whatever he’d taken from the kitchens. He handed her a small hand pie and an apple and then grabbed her waist and helped her dismount. Isla was too upset to say thank you. She sat down on a nearby rock and began to eat.

  When she was finished, Calum took the apple core from her, tossing it into the woods. Isla stood, moved over to her horse and stared at its saddle with intense dislike.

  “Come,” he said. “I’ll not let you ride back to Dundur without a saddle, but I won’t make you ride in that anymore either. Wasn’t my idea. Your uncle gave us the horse and tack.”

  “Of course he did,” Isla muttered.

  Calum tied her horse’s reigns to his pommel and helped her mount his horse. Then he mounted up behind her, squeezing her into the front of the saddle so that the pommel was pressed tightly between her legs, her behind was squeezed firmly between his thighs, and her skirts were tangled about her knees.

  “Better?” he murmured into her hair. She could feel a blush sweeping through her, especially when he ran a hand down her arm and guided her to grip the pommel firmly. “There’s a lass,” he said, shifting suggestively behind her, his hand on hers firming.

  She was breathless a moment, and he kicked his horse into a trot before she could find the words to reprimand him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  T he ride back to Dundur was an incredibly uncomfortable one. Calum was in a fine mood and tortured her with small touches. Around dinner time, he didn’t stop the horses, but reached into his saddle bags for more food, making sure that Isla ate. They rode another hour or so after the sun sank before they reached the castle. By the time they reached Dundur, Isla was in a state. She’d never been more aware of her body, or his. On top of that, she had no idea what her reception at Dundur was going to be. She anticipated shock and anger. She was an interloper who had seduced their Chieftain and forced him into marriage.

  She’d hoped that they’d be returning late enough that the castle would be mostly abed, however as they rode up to the gates, the castle was still ablaze, lit by torches and crowded with people.

  “Easy,” said Calum, sensing Isla’s growing anxiety. “I sent them word. They know I’m wed.”

  That didn’t help. As they drew the horses through the gate and halted before the keep, Isla saw none other than Fergus, Greer, Allan, and Mrs. Allan standing at the head of a whole host of clansmen. And to make matters worse, they were applauding, some clansmen were even cheering.

  Calum handed Isla down to Geordie, who’d shown up suddenly at his hip. Geordie squeezed her hands and beamed at her, and Isla had only a second to gawp at him before Mrs. Allan was in his place, squeezing her tightly and saying to her, “Oh thank goodness, lass, you were sore missed!”

  Sore missed? “Did something go wrong with Hugh’s healing?” she asked, confused. But she was passed from Mrs. Allan to Mr. Allan, who gave her a hearty hug and a fat kiss on the cheek. A few more of the castle women came up to embrace her and wish her congratulations. But not all, she realized. Greer was standing with Fergus, who’d cornered Calum and was speaking to him, gesturing with intensity in the direction of the castle wall, as if something was happening in the West that required the laird’s attention.

  “Come dear,” Mrs. Allan was back, grabbing Isla’s hand and tucking it through the crook of her arm, “Or shall I say, my lady?”

  “Isla, please, Mrs. Allan,” murmured Isla, confused enough to still be attempting to spin around and take in the scene. People weren’t angry, they were delighted. There were smiles and laughing, and it sounded as though the clansmen were regaling each other with the story of their laird’s hasty wedding.

  “Then you can call me Judith,” said Mrs. Allan. “Isla, you had us all fooled. A village healer, indeed.”

  Isla didn’t know what to say and so she said nothing, and allowed the woman to lead her into the castle. “It’s all so sudden! The poor house keeper had a terrible time getting everything ready in a day’s notice; oh, she made a terrible uproar…” Mrs. Allan was more animated than Isla had ever seen her.

  “Mrs. Allan. Judith,” she said, correcting herself. “I am so incredibly grateful for the warm welcome…”

  “And we’re incredibly grateful to you,” she said, turning to face Isla. They were in the hall near the kitchens, and the torch light cast shadows over Mrs. Allan’s face, making it difficult for Isla to read her expression.

  “He was terrible after you left,” said Mrs. Allan, her voice low. “Absolutely terrible. He rode off to Skye that very day and didn’t come back until days later, engaged to a Macleod and black with a temper that didn’t abate for months.”

  She shook her head. “It took us a while to understand what was wrong. In the end the pieces weren’t too hard to put together. He was in love with you, and he had to let you go. He couldn’t marry a village healer, not with the fate of the clans sitting on his shoulder. Allan tried to speak with him, to see if it wasn’t too late to call off the engagement, to speak to The Grant and ask old John the Red Bard about sending one of his sons to the Macleod daughters… but Calum said it was too late. What happened lass? How did you two end up wed? I want the entire story!”

  Isla opened her mouth, uncertain of what she was supposed to say, of what they knew…

  “Judith!” roared Calum from down the hall. “Where are you dragging my wife?”

  Isla breathed a sigh of relief and smiled to herself as Mrs. Allan stepped in front of Isla to face down the Laird of Dundur. “To eat,” she said. “No doubt you rode straight through the day and the poor thing is probably famished.”

  “Out of the way,” he growled, good-naturedl
y. “She’s eaten. You can send food to our room. My wife has had a long day and needs her rest.”

  “Is that it?” murmured Mrs. Allan, but she stepped aside and allowed Calum to grab Isla’s hand.

  “I’ll send up food, dear,” Mrs. Allan murmured as Isla was all but dragged past her. “But you’d best go with him. I’ve seen men like this, and there’ll be no talking sense to him until he’s had his fill of you.”

  On the way up to their rooms Calum was silent, but his grip on Isla’s hand was tight and he didn’t stop until they were behind a set of solid oak doors. The he dropped her hand and rounded on her.

  Isla opened her mouth, dozens of questions on the tip of her tongue. But before she could ask them, Calum was kissing her, hands reaching down to grab the firm globes of her rear. He groaned into her mouth. “Do you know what it’s like to have that pressed up against me for hours. Hours. And not touch?”

  He didn’t want an answer because he was kissing her again, hands roaming her body, loosening laces, and peeling away her gown and her chemise…

  Isla lost herself in the kiss. It seared away her anxieties, her questions, leaving only a burning need in its place. Somewhere in the kiss, Calum lost his clothing as well, his hands were hot on her skin and her breasts were pressed against the crisp curls of his chest hair. His arms banded around her and before she knew it, they were atop the bed, Calum underneath.

  Though her legs were sore from the night before, from spending the day in the saddle, Isla spread her legs on either side of him, clamping down when he would have rolled them over.

  Calum reached up and grabbed a handful of Isla’s dark hair, bringing her face down to his and scorching her with another long, incinerating kiss. Isla pressed against him, delighting as she felt the hard length of him pressing against her from behind. She reached around, her fingers gripping the hard, hot length of him with the same firmness he’d had her grab the pommel. The breath whooshed from Calum’s chest and he closed his eyes, releasing her hair and arching into her hand.