It was foolish to run, given she could hardly see, but she found herself doing so anyway, racing ahead blindly toward the mountain pass that Maria told her would be at the other end of this path. Her breathing sped up with her running so that in between the tat tat tat of her heart, her breath whooshed in her ears. The sounds distracted her so much that she felt she could hardly concentrate on running when wham! She was on her back with the air knocked out of her and staring up at the starry sky, trying to determine what had just happened.
A dull ache sprang to life in her head, and as she sat up, dizziness rolled over her. She put her head between her knees and breathed deeply. The smell of soil, leaves, and myrtle filled her nose. Her forehead tingled then, and she let out a yelp as she swatted at what she thought was a bug only to have her fingertips graze something warm and sticky. Struggling to control the fear she knew was overcoming her, she brought her fingertips to her nose and sniffed. Blood. She’d cut herself.
She glanced up, and the moonlight caught the branch above her in all its thick, gnarled glory. As she placed her palms on the ground to push herself up, she frowned. Heaven above, she’d dropped her dagger! An owl hooted somewhere above her, and it was as if the owl had given a signal to the creatures of the forest to come alive. Bird calls came from the sky, and the croak of frogs seemed to come from very near. Even the wind picked up and whistled around her as she patted the freezing ground in search of the dagger.
She had to find that weapon. Moving to her knees, she swept her hands in a wide circle around her, desperation seeping into her blood and sending it rushing in hot waves through her body. Over and over she brushed the ground, branches and rocks scraping her fingers and the pads stinging with tiny cuts. Finally, she moved her hand over the ground again, and it met with cold, hard steel. A cry of relief came from deep within, and tears sprang to her eyes.
As she reached to wipe the useless tears away, a low, menacing growl sounded to her left, then her right. Sheer black fright coiled through her as she scrambled to her feet with the dagger in hand. The growl from the right grew louder and became a low howl. She feared moving and causing the wolf to pounce on her, yet she feared staying still just as much. Her body prickled with unease all over, like a thousand bees had swarmed on her at once. The growl to her left became louder, and as she stared into the darkness, yellow eyes glowed back at her. A desperate wish to survive sent her forward without thought, half running and half stumbling.
Behind her, the howling wolves gave chase, and she got no more than ten steps before the snap of sharp teeth grazed her right leg. A scream ripped from her throat right before a deep voice yelled, “Duck!”
She complied immediately, too afraid to worry that she’d been found.
Chapter Nine
Graham threw his dagger at the closest wolf and hit it true, taking the creature down immediately. Four more stood behind that one, and fear for Isobel sent him racing toward her, heedless of the danger to himself. He whistled loudly and made a motion to Cameron and the others to attack the wolves, but as he did, a large wolf jumped out of the darkness toward Isobel. Graham lunged in front of her, and the wolf fell on him, sinking its teeth into his shoulder.
Isobel screamed and pain lanced through his body in sickening waves, but he brought his sword up into the belly of the clinging wolf and gutted the creature. It fell at his feet with a thud. He jerked on his sword to release it from the first felled wolf, and another sprang from the black night. Just as he turned to attack, a dagger flew by his head, so near that the whisper of steel slicing through the air tickled his ear. The dagger struck the wolf in its chest, and the beast dropped to the ground, howling and growling before dashing off into the darkness it had come from.
Panting, Graham looked around at his brother, men, and the fallen beasts. The blood roaring in his ears lessened, but not the pain in his shoulder. A hand came to his wound, and when he glanced to his right, he was shocked to see Isobel gingerly touching the gaping cut with what looked like deep concentration.
“I’m sorry I threw the dagger so near,” she said. “I’ve never thrown one before.”
“Ye threw the dagger?” he asked.
She nodded. “Aye. I just learned how.”
“Ye’re a quick learner,” he said, his chest squeezing when that shy smile came to her face. Then she cast her gaze downward, her cheeks growing pink.
Praise must truly embarrass her. She was so different from any of the lasses he had known. They had all longed for praise and had become mulish when they did not get it.
He glanced at the wolf she had killed and back at her. Three times now, Isobel had sacrificed her concerns for others. Once by coming to the cave to help him, then by abandoning her plan to escape during the battle with his uncle and saving Cameron instead, and just now by throwing her dagger, a weapon he was sure she would have rather kept hold of for her own protection, yet she had used it to defend him. He wanted to show her his appreciation, as well as let her know that she had earned a small bit of his trust.
He quickly retrieved her dagger while everyone stood silently watching. Marsaili, who had insisted on coming with them, though he had offered for her to stay back with one of his men for protection, helped Rory Mac lead Cameron’s and Graham’s horses toward him and Isobel. Graham walked back to Isobel and stood until she glanced away from her feet and met his eyes. Dirt streaked her beautiful face, and a cut slashed across her forehead.
Before he could mention it, she said, “Ye need to cleanse yer shoulder and seal the wound.” It was said so matter-of-factly it was as if she had done it before.
He was curious how she knew the healing arts, but there was no time to ask her about it now. Instead, he held the dagger out to her. “Thank ye for yer help.”
Her eyebrows arched high, but she quickly took the dagger. “I can hardly believe ye are thanking me or that ye are giving me back my dagger.”
“Neither can I,” he admitted. Then, feeling suddenly as if he had revealed something of himself he had not intended, he said in a gruff voice, “Ye’ll be verra sorry if ye make me regret the gesture. Do ye ken me?”
The small smile that had been on her lips disappeared. “Aye,” she said dully. “I ken ye.”
She sounded as if he had hurt her, and it twisted his insides, which only irritated him further. He could not allow himself to be overly concerned with her feelings.
“We ride,” he said gruffly, gripping her by the arm before she could even think of running off.
She glanced down at his hand and then up into his face. Her lips twisted into a scornful smirk. “Ye believe I’ll run?”
“Will ye nae?”
“Nae yet,” she replied, surprising him with her honest reply. “I’m nae a fool. Ye are my best hope of getting out of these woods alive, but I assure ye, once that is done, I will escape ye again.”
Determination gleamed in her eyes, and he found he liked that about her very much. He wanted to ask what had happened with her father, but if she was fleeing him now, Graham was certain she now knew the man her father truly was.
“Ye may try,” he finally replied, motioning for his horse and allowing her a brief moment to embrace her sister. Once Marsaili and Isobel stepped apart, he helped Isobel onto his destrier and then settled himself behind her.
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her snugly between his thighs. He told himself it was simply to keep her safe, yet her nearness sent a rush of desire through his body that made him forget the pain in his shoulder for a moment. He knew then it was not just for her safety that he had pulled her close. His yearning for her had grown with her acts of courage, selflessness, and honesty. He wanted to know her, and that was more dangerous than mere desire. Lust could be controlled, and it did not make you weak. Women, though, ones to whom you gave more than your desire, made you vulnerable, and he refused to be that pathetic ever again.
He could recall well his mother telling him that he had a wicked weakness that dwelled
in him. Strong men, she had often said, needed nothing but their swords and the ability to conquer their enemies. He had vowed never to be ruled by emotion again because emotions made him long for things that made him weak. Yet, here he was, not even a year after making the vow, affected by emotion once more.
“Why is yer family nae pursuing ye?” he asked, wishing to push the emotions away.
Her body tensed between his legs. “They believe me dutifully sitting in the tower, perchance sleeping, waiting like a foolish lamb,” she muttered. The pain in her tone stoked his curiosity further, but he kept those questions to himself.
Instead, he said, “’Tis a good thing they think you dutiful. It gives us a chance to get away. Now hold tight. We will ride fast and hard.”
As he set his destrier to a swift pace, Isobel clutched his thighs with her hands, and the intimate action sent a pulsing through his groin that matched that of his shoulder, except this pulse, though painful, was edged with the promise of pleasure. He concentrated on getting them out of the woods as quickly as possible, and once they exited the trees, Isobel stiffened when he thought she would have been relieved.
“What ails ye?” he asked, slowing Dante just a bit.
“I’ve a terrible pain in my head,” she answered, her voice shaky.
Concern immediately filled him as he recalled her injury. “How did ye get wounded?” he inquired, gritting his teeth against the pain of his own wound.
Her fingers dug into his thighs hard. “Please, I must stop. I feel ill.”
He flicked his gaze to his brother, who had moved his horse alongside Graham’s, likely to see why Graham had slowed when they should be beating a rapid path from this place. “We can stop for a moment,” Cameron offered, surprising Graham.
“We should nae,” Graham countered, a pang of guilt striking his chest. He wanted to stop for Isobel, too, but to do so would be foolish when they needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and their enemies.
“Please, Graham,” Isobel whimpered. He tensed at the tears in her voice. “I am going to be verra ill. I—”
She slumped sideways, and Graham had to lunge to catch her, almost unseating them both. When her head rolled forward, worry shot through him. He immediately stopped his horse and signaled for the rest of the men to do the same. He dismounted as gently as he could and helped Isobel, whose eyes were fluttering open, to stand. Her long hair fell in a gentle cascade over her forehead and obscured the right side of her face. Unable to resist, he reached toward her and brushed the locks back, savoring the silkiness of her tresses. She sucked in a quick breath, and for a moment, they stood in silence staring into each other’s eyes.
“Do ye wish me to lead ye to the water to take a drink and cool yerself?”
Staring into Graham’s hypnotic, warm, caring eyes, Isobel felt her lips form an answer of agreement to Graham’s question, but she caught herself right before uttering the words. She blinked and purposely looked away from the powerful warrior. She no longer considered him her enemy, but that did not change the fact that he was still delivering her to the king. She would have a choice in who she married, if she could. The only possible hope she saw to gain that choice, however, was escaping Graham now that he’d gotten her safely out of the woods and heading toward Oban.
“Isobel?” he asked, his voice like a gentle caress to her weary soul. “Do ye need me to carry ye?”
Dear heaven above! She wished he would stop behaving so nice and be mean and cruel. If he were dishonorable, she would not have this twinge of guilt going through her about being so deceptive and cunning. It would be so much easier to deceive him then!
When his arm slid around her waist as if to pick her up, a jolt went through her body. Quickly, she pushed a palm against his hard chest and shook her head. “Nay. If ye dunnae mind, I’d prefer a moment alone.”
Indecision flickered across his face, and she feared he would deny her request out of distrust of her. “I’ll take Marsaili to guard me,” Isobel offered, hating to drag her sister into her deception but having no choice.
Marsaili quickly came to Isobel’s side and linked her arm through hers. “I’ll watch her,” she promised.
Isobel held her breath as Graham and Cameron exchanged a long look. She saw Cameron give an almost imperceptible nod, and her guilt worsened. He’d likely hear an earful later about his misplaced faith once she escaped, and she knew he only gave her that faith since she’d saved him from Lord MacLeod.
Finally, Graham nodded and stepped aside while motioning to his right. She could see a river in the distance in the early-morning light. “Dunnae tarry or I’ll come for ye,” he warned.
She nodded and walked slowly to the embankment of the river with Marsaili, not daring to speak until they were a good distance away. “I’m sorry, Marsaili,” Isobel said when they were at the edge where she would need to climb down to get into the water, “but I’ve lied.”
Marsaili’s eyes widened. For a long moment, she simply stared at Isobel, then her lips twisted into a wry smile. “I can see it’s nae taken ye long to learn the dishonest ways of the outside world.”
Heat rushed to Isobel’s cheeks, and she took her sister by the elbow and turned her so they were facing the water. She could feel Graham’s burning gaze on her. She did not understand how, but she knew he watched her, and if he thought she was going to try to run, she had no doubt he’d be on her swifter than a hound hunting a rabbit.
“I have been forced to this by men,” Isobel muttered.
Marsaili sighed. “Aye. Ye have. We women are all but pawns in the game of men.”
“Jean is nae,” Isobel rebutted.
Marsaili snorted. “Dunnae deceive yerself, Isobel. Jean dunnae make a move without Father’s agreement. She just likes to make herself appear strong, which is likely why she is so cruel. She’s angry about her lot, I suppose.”
Anger rose in Isobel’s chest. “I will nae be a piece to be moved as a man pleases.” She quickly told Marsaili of the women rulers in history that had chosen their husbands as she was hoping to do.
Marsaili shook her head. “Ye dunnae even ken yer grandmother. Even if ye make it to Oban and to this leader of the Summer Walkers and he agrees to aid ye, yer grandmother may nae agree to allow ye to choose yer husband. What then?”
Isobel bit her lip. “Then I will marry without her consent. And once the deed is done, she must hand the castle to me and my new husband.”
Marsaili smirked. “And who would ye marry?”
A picture of Graham flashed in Isobel’s mind, making her belly tighten. He would never agree to marry her, a Campbell, and if he did, it would only be to control Brigid. And she’d only be marrying him because he could protect her. And he was very easy to look upon. And he was honorable. And—
Marsaili clapped in Isobel’s face. “Is there someone ye have in mind as a possible husband?” She quirked up an eyebrow.
“Nay!” Isobel rushed out. “I was thinking of my escape. I’m sorry to ask it of you again, but will ye help me?”
“Aye,” Marsaili immediately answered. “But how?”
Isobel glanced at the river and then behind her to where the men were. To her relief, Graham was not looking their way but talking to Cameron and Rory Mac. She faced the stream and whispered to Marsaili. “I’ll swim away. If I try to run on foot, they’ll see me directly.”
“Swim!” Marsaili hissed. “Ye’ll freeze to death! Or ye’ll drown.”
“I’m a verra strong swimmer,” Isobel said, but she could not stop the shiver that coursed through her at the thought of the icy water. “As for the cold, I’ll bear it because I must. I’ll nae be in it long enough to freeze. Simply stand at the edge here and talk down toward the water as if I’m still here.”
“For how long?” Marsaili asked, her brow furrowed.
“As long as ye possibly can. I’ve nae a doubt Graham will give chase once he kens I’m gone.”
Marsaili’s eyes shone with conc
ern. “Ye best pray he dunnae catch ye. I fear he’s a man once crossed is always an enemy.”
“I fear ye’re right,” Isobel replied, wishing there was another choice but seeing none. She wanted to hug Marsaili, but she did not want to raise suspicions. “I am sorry I did nae believe ye about Father,” Isobel said.
Marsaili sighed. “I’m sorry I was right. Ye dunnae ken how I wish he was the man ye thought.”
Isobel’s throat tightened with sadness and regret at having to part with Marsaili. “May God bring us together again one day.”
With those words, she picked her way down the rocky embankment to the water. She slipped off her shoes, fearing they would add too much weight to swim well. Taking a deep breath, she quietly walked into the water. The icy temperature turned her blood cold, sending sweeping gooseflesh over her and stealing her breath. Her lungs seemed to shrink as numbness immediately set in.
Above and behind her, Marsaili talked steadily, and Isobel forced her sluggish legs to walk the rest of the way into the deep water. Her teeth chattered until the moment she slipped all the way under the water and began to swim away. With every kick, she was sure that a hand would suddenly grab her ankle and drag her backward. Her worry grew and her heart raced, so that when she did finally hear Graham’s deafening roar behind her, she gulped in large mouthfuls of water before she was able to control her nerves and renew her efforts to escape.
Anger was a powerful thing. Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, Graham surged through the glacial water as he cursed Isobel in his mind. The lass was deceitful, foolish, but damnation, if he did not have to admit that she was brave. Never had he met such a fearless lady. He crushed the admiration with ferocity and a reminder that she had lied to his face, and in doing so had now put herself, him, and his men in danger by delaying their journey back to Dunvegan. It was unacceptable, and when he caught her, she would have to be punished.
When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4) Page 11