Isobel was curious—about everything. He was certain she would be curious about that part of him as well.
He would show her his full potential.
She dunked under the water to rinse her hair, and he laid her clothes flat on the rocks to dry. When he straightened, she’d swum closer.
“Are you coming out now?” he asked.
“Maybe. Turn around.”
He shook his head, and then released his sword, his sporran, and loosened his plaid. Her eyes widened with surprise, but also with excitement as his plaid dipped low.
“You need to dry off,” he said. He grasped the edge of the rectangular-shaped material and stretched it out in front of him, as naked now as she was. “Come, Isobel. I canna take much more of you frolicking in the water.”
“I’m not frolicking.”
He shrugged and let the silence stretch between them. The pressure mounted for her to do as he’d asked.
Finally, she spoke. “Lift the plaid higher so you canna see me. And this time, no peeking.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, one eyebrow quirking.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I’m sure.”
He raised the plaid until he could no longer see her face. The bottom edge hit the tops of his knees, and he wondered if she was hoping it would go higher.
Then he heard splashing, and when she rose from the water and started walking toward him, her face came into view. He adjusted the plaid as she moved closer, so as not to expose her body. He would not break her trust in this.
But he would watch her. When she saw his eyes on her face she hesitated, and panic flitted there briefly.
“I canna see anything, Isobel. Keep coming.”
She rushed the last few steps. Before she could grab the plaid, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, covering her all the way down to her knees, and pulled her tight into his embrace.
She fit perfectly against him, tucked beneath his chin.
“I’m getting your plaid wet,” she protested, sounding breathless.
He smiled against her hair. “I doona mind. It will be wet after I bathe too.”
He wanted to kiss her. Nay, he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that. Her pelvis rocked against him, maybe unconsciously, but he knew what it was even if she didn’t—an invitation.
His stones jerked in response, tight and hard against the base of his cock, swelling so taut, he gritted his teeth against the ache. Without thinking, he slid his palm down her spine and over her arse to grip the back of her thigh before he stopped himself.
“Izzy?” he ground out, more a grunt than an actual word.
“Aye,” she croaked.
“Should I take that swim now?”
Seconds passed that seemed like hours. Time seemed to stop between them. Finally, she said, “Aye.”
He let out a frustrated breath, and then closed his eyes, trying to find some calm in the middle of the storm. When he opened them, he released her leg and cupped her jaw with both hands. He stared at her…and then lowered his head and kissed her. Hard.
Letting go was a test of his resolve, especially when she rose up on her tiptoes and pushed against his lips.
He pulled away abruptly, his heart pounding. He could see she wanted more, and when she dropped her eyes to his mouth, he quickly stepped past her and strode to the water. One hand gripped his cock and stones to relieve the ache. He didn’t look back, but he knew without a doubt that her gaze traced his backside like his had traced hers.
“Dry off, Isobel,” he said over his shoulder. “I may be a while. I wouldnae want you to get a chill while I cool off.”
***
“You want to do what?” Kerr asked as he wheeled toward Isobel, his eyebrows raised so high he wondered if they would ever come down. Around them, the birds chirped loudly to one another, and he could almost imagine they were as perturbed as he was.
Although he didn’t know why he was surprised. He’d known it was coming.
She took another step along the trail, the leaves crunching beneath her shoes, before seeing he’d stopped and turning to face him. Diabhla stopped as well and swung his head around to watch them.
“You said you would teach me everything Gregor taught you,” she said. “Well, a lot of your time spent with him was learning sword play and other forms of combat.”
“I have ne’er played with a sword in my life. Nor have my brothers. We learned how to use weapons to kill other men with weapons. Is that what you want, Isobel?”
“If that’s what it comes to, aye.” She took a step toward him, and he almost grabbed her by the folds of his shirt—looking so damn provocative on her, despite how big it was—and dragged her all the way in for a kiss. Except his arms were full of her wet plaid and chemise, and he feared if he started kissing her, he would not be able to stop—and neither would she.
Lord help him. How was he going to get through the night?
“I want to know how all the different weapons work, and how to defend myself if I need to—like Maggie and Amber. And I want to know about war and strategy and the best ways to take a castle or defend it.”
“You want to lead.”
She stilled, and her eyes darted to his. “And why not? Because I’m a woman?”
He sighed. He’d always known it would come to this. “Nay, because you doona have a castle to defend or a clan to lead. Gavin does…and now Deirdre along with him.” She gasped, and he could see the hurt in her eyes, but he pushed on. “And when Gavin dies, then Ewan will have a castle. You are not the heir, Isobel.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because unless you plan to get rid of your loved ones, you need to find another castle to defend, another clan to lead.” He stepped closer. “My castle, Izzy. My clan. Say the word, love, and we can be married.” He shifted her wet clothes to one arm and grasped her hand. “We can do it right now. Handfast one another right here. And then we can have a church ceremony with Father Lundie and our families when we return.”
He moved even closer, and her gaze rose to his.
He dropped his voice seductively. “Think of everything I could teach you about bed play. We could have a wedding night tonight. You like to learn new things. I have no doubt you’d become an expert at it in no time…and you wouldnae have to worry about sleeping in my dirty shirt.”
Her cheeks flushed and her fingers tightened on his, but after a moment she took a step back. Then another, as if she still didn’t trust herself standing so close. When she released his hand and turned around to continue along the path back to the cabin, he suppressed a sigh and caught up.
He’d made progress with her the last few days. Great progress. She just needed time to come to a proper conclusion—one that ended with them in their marriage bed…and leading his clan together.
“What if Eirik had turned out to be a bad man?” she continued, as if he hadn’t just asked her to marry him…again. “I wouldnae have been able to fight him off.”
He snorted. “You’re not the only one. Eirik is like Gregor—a force of nature—but even bigger.”
“Well, you can beat Gregor. I’m sure you could beat Eirik too. You would think of something.”
Warmth exploded in his chest as pleasure coursed through his veins. ’Twas the greatest boon, knowing that she thought him capable of such feats; that boded well for her assessment of him as a husband.
“I would protect you to the death, sweetling. If Eirik did get the better of me, it wouldnae be an easy fight. Besides, I think Siv would turn on Eirik if he e’er put a foot wrong with you.”
She smiled. “My great defender. Maybe I’ll keep an eye out for an abandoned wolf pup like her and raise it as my own.”
“I doona think there are any other wolves like her.”
She made a sound of agreement in the back of h
er throat, and they continued, walking in silence back to the cabin. He could see she was tired, and he considered asking if she wanted to ride Diabhla. But he liked having her next to him.
The sun was low in the sky, and the air had begun to cool. In her arms she carried a basket of greens, fruit, and herbs they’d foraged for in the woods earlier. He’d shown her where to look for them, which plants were edible and which ones were not. And he’d made a special point of testing her over and over again on the plants that would kill you if you made a mistake and put them in your stew.
In addition, they’d made a crude bow and arrow that she’d practiced with, but when it came time to use it on a rabbit they spotted, she’d put the bow down. Instead, she’d started investigating ways to build a trap. He could have shown her how, but in this she didn’t want—or need—his help. Of course, he doubted she’d be able to kill the rabbit once she caught it.
“Are you tired, love?” he asked when she sighed.
“Aye. ’Tis a pleasant kind of tired, though. Tramping through the woods always leaves me feeling this way—happy and content—yet feeling like once I stop, I willna rise again until morning. And my head is full of everything you’ve taught me today.” She reached across and slipped her hand into his, linking their fingers. “Thank you.”
His heart swelled in his chest. “You’re welcome.”
She grinned up at him. “And tomorrow, after our lesson, I’ll be even more tired, I’m sure.”
“You have no idea. You will hurt in places you ne’er even knew you could hurt. At the end of the day, you’ll be glad to slip into the cold stream…although you may not be able to get out again.”
She looked at him sideways, and he had to repress a grin. Maybe if he pushed her hard enough, she wouldn’t want to keep training. God knows Gregor had pushed him and his brothers beyond their limit countless times. He suspected that once Isobel had a basic understanding of things, she would delegate tasks that were better handled by other people—like sword fighting.
’Twas part of being a good leader.
“Maybe we shouldn’t start with sword play, then,” she said, sounding a little leery. “You can teach me some of what Amber knows—how to defend myself if I’m attacked.”
“I can do that. But remember that most of what Amber knows depends on her aggressor being surprised. The techniques I’ll teach you aren’t to be used to fight a bigger opponent. You doona have the strength or knowledge for that. They’re to give you time to run away.”
“Run away?”
“Aye. Take Eirik for example. If he had come after you, there’s naught you could have done to save yourself. He’s too strong and too skilled. He could easily contain you with one hand. But if you did something he didn’t expect and broke his hold on you—maybe imparted a little pain, like when Amber twisted my stones, or if you were to bash in his nose with the back of your head—then you might have time to get away.”
Her eyes lit up. “The first one…that sounds like a great move! I want to know how to do that.”
“Of course you do,” he said with a sigh. “But if you want to learn the technique as an excuse to fondle my privates, you doona have to go to so much trouble. You may fondle them at will—after you handfast me.”
“Kerr!” she reprimanded—but he thought he detected a hint of laughter beneath the rebuke. Excitement too.
“What? You doona want to fondle them? Or you doona want to handfast me?”
She shot him an exasperated look, and then pulled her hand free, making him regret his joke. He almost grabbed her hand back and apologized, but another part of him wanted to see where this conversation would lead.
She ran her fingers through her drying hair, lifting it away from her face and behind her shoulder. It was an unconscious movement, but from his experience, when women tried to spark his interest, they often played with their hair.
It encouraged him to see Isobel do the same.
“I doona know yet what I want,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
Which means she might want me.
Hope burst like a bubble in his heart and he almost danced a wee jig. Although he was pretty sure if he did, his chances with Isobel would diminish. It would be best if she didn’t see him dance like that until after they were married.
Ahead of them, the trail dwindled to an end. He slowed, placing a hand on Isobel’s arm and whistling softly to Diabhla. The stallion stopped without making a sound. Isobel glanced up at him inquiringly, and he put a finger to his lips. He crept forward through the trees, still hidden, and settled in to watch the cabin and surrounding glen to make sure no one had arrived while they were gone.
Isobel crawled up beside him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothing that I know of. But we need to be certain.”
She settled on the forest floor beside him, and he tried not to be distracted by her fresh scent and the way her hair shone in the dying rays of the sun. Or the way her legs were exposed above her knees when his shirt rode up on her.
He returned his attention to the glen, looking for any sign of disturbance at the cabin or the lean-to, scanning for any movement or a glint of steel. He listened, too, sensing for disturbances in the forest, including sounds that should be there but weren’t.
When he was certain it was safe, he said, “We can go.” He helped Isobel up and whistled for Diabhla.
Approaching the cabin felt almost like coming home, and he imagined he was a farmer, not a laird, and Isobel was his wife, not another clan’s lady. Reaching out, he took her hand, palm to palm.
She squeezed back, and the only thing that could have made the moment any better was if she had a baby balanced on her hip and he held the hand of another child. And maybe a third child riding Diabhla.
He hoped what he saw in his mind’s eye was a vision of their future.
When they reached the cabin, he hesitated for a second before he laid her wet clothes on the railing, took the basket from her hands and put it down, and then opened the door wide. She raised her brow at him.
He took both of her hands in his. “Can I carry you over the threshold, lass?”
Understanding bloomed in her eyes, and her cheeks reddened.
She knew what he was asking—would she handfast him, right here, right now. Say the words and then allow him to carry her into the cabin, over the threshold, and to their marriage bed.
She dropped her gaze from his and peered into the cabin. Her eyes landed on the mattress covered in Kerr’s extra plaid. Slowly, she returned her gaze to him. “You didnae listen before. I said I wasn’t certain yet.”
“All right… When will you be certain?”
She sighed and met his eyes. “I doona know, Kerr. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.” Releasing his hands, she picked up the basket she’d been carrying and entered the cabin on her own.
He scraped his fingers through his beard in frustration. It had been worth asking her again—if for no other reason than to keep his intentions in the forefront of her mind.
Still, the rejection hurt, and he knew deep down that he shouldn’t have pushed.
“Kerr.”
He glanced over and saw Isobel standing at the door, hands on her hips. She didn’t look mad, exactly, but definitely determined. “Aye?” he answered warily.
“Other than the days Ewan was found and Gavin and Deirdre were married, this has been the best day of my life. Please, doona ruin it by pressing me for something I’m not yet ready to give.” Then she spun around and went back into the cabin, softly closing the door behind her.
He grinned, and then danced that little jig. When he finished, he said loudly so she could hear, “And tomorrow will be even better. I’ll knock you into the dirt with the flat of my sword more times that you can count. Your wish is my command, Lady MacKinnon!”
Seventeen
She burrowed in deeper…her arms pulling that big, muscled body closer, her legs opening to him, so he pressed hard against her center. Her cheek rested on a firm chest covered with a sprinkling of hair, and she nuzzled into it.
He shifted closer, angling his shoulder, and she found the tiny nub of his nipple.
Greedily, she sucked on it.
Kerr’s low groan filled her ears, and the vibration that rumbled through his warm chest and into her body woke her. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at the notch in his throat…and she realized she wasn’t dreaming this time.
Heart racing, she raised her head, expecting to see his dark gaze upon her filled with wicked amusement, but his eyes were still closed in sleep. Even so, his breaths had quickened, and his cock lay hard against the front of her hip.
God’s blood…he was huge down there too.
His bare thigh had somehow become wedged between hers—and need crashed through her body. She clenched her jaw, trying to contain it, but it raged uncontrollably.
Unable to help herself, she rocked her pelvis against the bulging muscles in his leg. Heat and heaviness spread in her loins, and then arced like lighting through her belly to the tips of her breasts and lips, making her gasp.
Dropping her eyes, she quietly panted as she stared at the expanse of his chest—so big, so tanned. She wanted to rub her cheek along his skin like a cat, her teeth grazing—nipping occasionally—her throat filled with the sound of purring.
Even in sleep, his pectorals bowed outward with a little valley down the center, and she wanted her breasts pressed there with nothing in between them; she wanted that coarse hair to tease her own hardened nubs.
Without stopping to think, she found the tie of his shirt, which she was wearing, and pulled it loose, so the too-big neckline fell off her shoulders and exposed her small, sensitive breasts.
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