When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4)

by Julie Johnstone

  When she caught the eye of the woman Rhona, who was staring open-mouthed at Lena, Isobel exploded. “Get out!” she ordered in a sharp voice. When the woman simply stood gaping, Isobel grasped her by the arm, dragged her from the room, and slammed the door in her face. When she turned back, Marion and Bridgette were struggling with Lena, who was trying to claw at her own skin.

  “Dunnae look at me!” she wailed, flailing her arms.

  Isobel raced to Lena and caught her wrists. “Stop it!” she commanded. “Each time ye feel shame ye let Findlay win.” Lena still twisted violently to free herself, but a wretched sob broke from her. Isobel took a deep breath. Lena was hearing her!

  “Each day that goes by and ye hide yerself in filth and grime, and cloak yer heart in hatred, is another day that Findlay has conquered ye,” Isobel went on. Lena’s struggles lessened, and the broken sobs gave way to heaving. Isobel’s heart squeezed painfully for the shattered woman. “Each day that goes by and ye allow the past to rule yer future is another day lost to ye, and Lena—” she released the woman’s wrists and grasped her by the upper arms “—soon what made ye who ye were before my family captured ye will be lost forever unless ye cease this.”

  Lena’s tear-filled eyes circled the room and finally came to Isobel’s face. “I’m afraid,” Lena whispered, blinking back tears. “I kinnae return to him. I would rather be dead.”

  Marion and Bridgette came near as Isobel ran her hand gently down the length of Lena’s arm. “I ken,” she said, “and I vow to ye this: ye will nae return to him.”

  “But the king has ordered it,” Lena whimpered.

  “The king be damned,” Isobel said fiercely. She wanted to tell Lena what she had overheard about her brothers making arrangements for Alex MacLean to help to hide her safely, but she could well imagine why they had not told her or their wives. They were likely afraid one of them would give the plan away, or worse, they had worries that their plan wouldn’t work. “I vow to ye, whatever it takes, I will nae allow ye to fall into my family’s clutches again.”

  Lena sagged against Isobel and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m so verra tired,” she cried.

  Isobel whispered soothing words to Lena as she patted her on the back. Over Lena’s shoulder, Isobel met Marion’s and Bridgette’s grateful but doubtful gazes. She had no idea how she would manage to keep her vow, but somehow she would.

  After Lena settled, Isobel, Marion, and Bridgette helped her into the bath, and washed and dried her hair. When Isobel caught Bridgette grimacing and complaining of lower back aches, she insisted the woman retire to her bedchamber as the hour had grown late.

  Later, while Isobel, Marion, and Lena were curled around the fire in silence, Marion fell asleep, and Isobel roused her and sent her on her way, too.

  Lena who had barely said a word or even glanced away from her sightless staring at the fire suddenly blinked and looked at Isobel. “Ye dunnae have to stay. I’m certain my brother is impatiently awaiting ye in yer bedchamber.”

  Isobel could not help but release a bitter laugh. When Lena arched her eyebrows at Isobel, she felt she had to explain. “I fear ye were nae far from the truth earlier tonight in the great hall when ye said if Graham had wanted me to sit by him he would have said so.”

  Lena bit her lip. “I am sorry. I was trying to be cruel.”

  Isobel waved her hand. “Dunnae fash yerself.”

  “He’s nae been cruel to ye, has he?” Lena asked with indignation.

  “Nay!” Isobel quickly explained what had happened with Graham. “He has nae asked me to share his bedchamber,” she admitted.

  Lena’s eyes rounded. “He did make the marriage true, did he nae?”

  “Aye,” Isobel mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment on her face.

  Lena squeezed Isobel’s hand. “I ken how awful the joining is. I am sorry!”

  Isobel’s jaw dropped slightly. “It was nae awful but wonderful,” she divulged, forgetting her embarrassment in her surprise. Then horror dawned at what Lena must have experienced in joining with Findlay.

  Lena gave Isobel a doubtful look. “I’ve joined with a man, Isobel, ye forget.”

  “Nay,” Isobel said in a firm voice. “I kinnae forget that as I’m certain ye kinnae, either. But, Lena, with a good, passionate, gentle man like yer brother, the joining is a beautiful thing.”

  Lena still looked doubtful, but she nodded and then yawned. “I’m so verra tired,” she said groggily. “I have nae slept well ever since I was married to Findlay.” She glanced shyly at Isobel. “Would ye stay by my side until I fall asleep?”

  “I’d be honored to,” Isobel said, meaning it.

  Lena tossed and turned for a long time, and when she finally fell asleep it was fitful at first. Isobel was certain that terrible dreams haunted Lena because she moaned and cried out several times. Desperate to calm her, Isobel started singing a chant of peace the Ceàrdannan had taught her, and eventually Lena grew quiet and her breaths deepened as sunlight skittered across the sky.

  Isobel rose from where she had positioned herself at Lena’s bedside and stretched her stiff legs. Her eyes were bleary and her head achy from lack of sleep, but when she opened Lena’s bedchamber door and discovered Graham sitting just outside of it with his head resting on his knees, her heart swelled with boundless love.

  He stood up as she walked out of the room and came to her. His large hands cupped her face as he gazed at her with what appeared to be a mixture of wariness and awe. Mayhap she was simply overtired because what she was seeing could not be.

  “Thank ye,” he said, his voice hoarse as if he barely held great emotion back.

  Dare she hope?

  Choosing her words with great care, she said, “For what? Bathing yer sister?”

  “Nay,” he said, running his hand down her face so gently it felt as if his fingertips were feathers tickling her skin. “Thank ye for doing what none of us could. Ye reached her. Marion told me.”

  “She came to ye?” Isobel asked, surprised. Marion had seemed so tired, Isobel would have thought she had gone straight to bed.

  “Nay.” He shifted his gaze away from her, and she knew for certain she saw wariness now. “I was here when she came out of Lena’s bedchamber.”

  Astonishment swept through Isobel. “Ye have been waiting here since we brought Lena into her bedchamber last night?”

  “Aye,” he admitted. “I wanted to be certain that ye could manage her, and that she did nae pose a threat to ye.”

  “But if Marion told ye all was well within, why did ye stay?” Isobel asked, feeling as if her grogginess was making her miss something important.

  He shifted his weight, and his face clouded. “I had to see ye,” he admitted, his tone suddenly inflamed.

  She delighted in the small but important victory for one breath, before her yearning for him took over and she rose on her tiptoes and brushed her lips to his, seeking in her tired mind one of the lessons of seduction Bridgette had imparted. She reached her hand between them, clasped his groin, and squeezed. A hard growl came from him as he pulled her securely against his chest and possessed her mouth with his. He kissed her with the same frenzied need of the night before, and her passion rose like a swift tide to meet his.

  Before she knew what he was doing, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to his bedchamber. He kicked open the door, and as he brought her into the room, he shut it with his foot. As he started toward the bed, his steps faltered, and she feared he was starting to think about what he was doing and how he had lost control for a moment.

  “Set me down,” she commanded and tried to instill a note of huskiness in her voice.

  He looked at her with surprise and set her on her feet. With slow, purposeful movements, she stripped her clothes off until she stood as naked as the day she was born. Then she crawled onto his bed, glanced behind her, and was pleased and hopeful to find him staring at her open-mouthed with his hands curled into fists by his sides.

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nbsp; She licked her lips slowly, caught his gaze with hers, and said, “I want ye to take me from behind.” She could hardly believe she had uttered such words, but Bridgette assured her it could be enjoyable and that Graham would likely nae be able to resist such an offer.

  “Ye what?” he asked, his voice sounding strained.

  “Ye heard me,” she replied. “Take me, Graham. Claim me.”

  “A Dia!” he groaned before closing the space that separated them. Her body flamed from fear of the unknown and then to intense desire when he unclothed. He came onto the bed and crawled toward her with the look of a predator.

  His fire consumed her before he even touched her, but when his hands came to her—searching, seeking, scorching with every caress—triumph flared with hope. Was this the unguarded moment when love might have a chance to enter his heart? When he realized longing was good, and she would give all to him that he asked, if he would only give to her in return?

  His lips blazed across her neck, her back, her buttocks. And while he made her squirm and become breathless with the passion of his kisses, his hands sought the juncture between her thighs, delved between, and brought her such pleasure she forgot she was supposed to be seducing him.

  As the need within her grew tauter with every stroke of his fingers, she begged him to take her. He brought one hand gently to her collarbone, while the other pressed low on her belly, and he slid into her with exquisite care, setting a pace of slow strokes that nearly drove her out of her head. When her insides clenched and her body pulsed in hot waves around him, she threw her head back in surrender. As she found her release from the blissful torment, she felt him tense and growl and knew he had also found his.

  When he rolled off her, she flipped onto her back and looked over at him as he slid onto his and moved one arm behind him to rest his head. She could not contain how she felt. “I love ye, Graham,” she whispered.

  The change in him was swifter than water releasing from the sky. He jerked his gaze to her, all his body rippling with a tenseness that consumed the room. The hot passion in his eyes changed to cold fury, but whether it was at himself or her she did not know. And it truly did not matter. His response was like a blow to her soul.

  “Dunnae love me,” he ordered in a ruthless tone. “I told ye that I kinnae love ye back.” He scrambled off the bed, and she saw that he was trembling. “I kinnae return the gift ye wish to give me, and I dunnae want to hurt ye. Dunnae love me,” he repeated. “I’ve wickedness in me that, when not controlled, makes me weak.” He turned from her and swiftly dressed.

  “Too late for both,” she whispered. He stilled for a moment but did not turn to her.

  Tears flowed freely down her face as she watched him exit his bedchamber and shut the door. She curled into a small ball, much the way she used to do on her mat in the convent at night, feeling so lonely and unloved. Her emotions careened from hopelessness, to a certainty that she was foolish to try to gain his love, to fierce determination to win his battered heart. Then his parting words rang in her head.

  She sat up with a jerk. Marion and Bridgette had been right. Isobel sobbed so hard she could not catch her breath. She saw it so clearly now, but she had no notion how to help him other than offer love that he may never take. She did not know how long she could lay her heart bare to him and allow him to trample on it, but she would do it as long as she could and pray it would be enough.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the next week Graham avoided being alone with Isobel or coming into close contact with her, yet he knew where she was every moment of the day. Without seeing her, he could sense her. When she entered a room, he immediately recognized her scent or the sound of her voice. He kept himself apart from her because he could not let himself forget how he had almost succumbed to the longing inside him. He had overheard her tell Lena that joining with a man was beautiful when he was good, passionate, and gentle. He had been astounded and fearful to hear her say she thought him good because, deep within, he was sure he would disappoint her and then she would know he was not worthy of her love.

  Every day he broke his fast before anyone else had awoken, and several mornings he rode into the woods to hunt, asking Lachlan to train in his place. Graham sought peace and quiet, but there was no peace or quiet to be found, even in solitude. His head rang with her voice, her declaration of love, her murmurings that it was too late for him not to hurt her when he had stormed away from her. He could not make her voice fade, and it made him testy and stewing to battle. He noted his brothers watching him warily the first three days, and on the fourth day, when he was told she had gone to the shore, he stormed down, intent on confronting her, but he stayed in the shadows when he realized she was safely surrounded by his brothers and their wives.

  He devoured the sight of her like a man who had not eaten or drunk in weeks, hungrily soaking up every detail—the way her hair curled against her breasts, the shades of mahogany in the chestnut strands that glittered in the bright sun, the blue gown that clung to her hips, and the sun-kissed hue of her skin, which told him she had been outside more than he had known. When she started to make her way back to the castle, he knew he should move so that she would not see him, but he could not find the will to do so.

  Though a great space divided them as he was on the seagate stairs and she was on the shore, their eyes locked. He felt as if all the air was sucked from his lungs when she raised a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun, cocked her head, and smiled her beautiful, devastating smile. Each thud of his heart thundered in his ears as he memorized how it curved her lips, but when she mouthed I love you, he turned and walked slowly away, each step harder to take than the one before.

  Later that day, he took down every warrior he went against, including Iain and Lachlan. As the men left the training field, he gathered his weapons, and when he looked up, Lachlan stood there studying him. “Ye are driving yerself mad,” his brother said simply.

  “Nay,” Graham growled. “I am doing what must be done.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “Careful, Brother, that ye dunnae become so hardened that ye lose her.”

  Graham frowned. “I kinnae lose Isobel. She is my wife.”

  “If ye believe that will stop ye from losing her, ye are verra much mistaken. If ye push her too far, she will simply fall away.”

  Graham shook off Lachlan’s words and retreated to his bedchamber.

  The next day, trouble was reported at one of their borders and Graham volunteered to go, glad to have a reason to put actual distance between him and Isobel. He vowed to himself that by the time he returned, he would have the wall in place so securely that he could once again be around his wife and touch her, even claim her body, without feeling as if he was desperate to let her in and show her what dwelled inside his heart.

  Isobel passed her time during the week by learning how to use a sword and how to ride a horse. Cameron was her teacher, albeit a very reluctant one. Actually, she had to remind him that she had saved his life and that he could at least repay her by teaching her how to defend herself in case she ever needed to and how to properly ride a horse in case she ever had to flee from an enemy.

  In truth, she had more reason than she had admitted to Cameron for wishing to learn these things. If she did have to flee to Oban or go in search of the Summer Walkers, she needed to know those things. But she also had a desire to show Graham she had strength that she could give to him and with that strength, he would be stronger, not weaker.

  Yet even with the training and riding lessons the week seemed endless with Graham away. Never had Isobel experienced such wretched, soul-ripping loneliness. She prayed to God on her knees—which she had been unwilling to do since the day she left the nunnery—for the strength of heart to continue to try to reach Graham and the wisdom to know when it was simply time to give up and gather the remains of her tattered heart before there was nothing left.

  The moment she heard a thundering of horses in the courtyard below, she knew Gra
ham had returned. Her plan was to show him that he could not erect a wall between them by openly giving him her love. With this in mind, she raced down to the courtyard, arriving just as he was handing off his destrier to the stable master. When Graham turned toward her, her breath caught deep in her throat and an aching need to touch him pulsed within.

  He had several days’ worth of stubble that she longed to run her fingers against, and he wore a pair of braies that hung low on his hips and accentuated the sharp cut of his stomach muscles. He watched her with the steady gaze of one who bore silent expectation. Without hesitation, she went to him, ignoring the men around him and rising on her tiptoes. Praying he did not push her away, she brushed her lips over his. “I’ve missed ye, Husband.” Her heart pounded hard with her words.

  “I’ve missed ye, as well,” he replied, his words wooden and automatic. Her gut twisted as he set her gently away. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rhona standing to the right with a group of women who were there to greet their husbands, but when she caught Rhona’s gaze, the woman cast her eyes down. Isobel frowned and settled her attention upon Graham once more.

  “I’ve moved my things to yer bedchamber,” she said, deciding to be bold.

  His eyes widened, and then his lips set in a grim line. “Ye should nae have done that, Isobel,” he replied in a low voice she was grateful for, as her embarrassment was now acute. “I value my solitude,” he added. “When I’ve need of ye, I will come to ye.”

  Need of ye. The cold words sent a chill through her. “What of the passion between us?” she demanded, refusing to relent.

  He flinched. “I desire ye, Isobel, but I am master of my desire,” he responded, though there was strain in his voice.