And he loves me!
Finally…he’d said the words.
“Kerr Anghos Finnian MacAlister!” she yelled, letting go of the gunwale and rising near the edge. Her words were loud and strong, and her fear and panic faded. He turned his head and looked at her, his stroke faltering when he saw her on the gunwale, her chin raised, her shoulders back. “You forget yourself, husband. You do not decide what is best for me. I decide.”
Then she jumped off the boat.
***
Kerr launched himself toward Isobel before she even hit the water, the blood surging in his veins and pushing him faster, harder, than ever before.
But the distance between them was too great, and she plunged beneath the black waves.
Fear squeezed his chest and shoved upward into his throat, choking him. Where was she?
He should have known she would jump, known she would go with him no matter what. Isobel always went after what she wanted.
But how could he have anticipated this? She was deathly afraid of deep water.
She broke the surface and dragged in a great gulp of air. “Kerr!” she screamed, her arms flailing and her breath sputtering.
“I’m coming, Isobel. Hold on!”
But she dipped under again—she always did, no matter how hard she tried to stay afloat.
He dove down and saw her sinking, her arisaid tangled around her and stopping her from kicking her legs. He grasped her hand and tugged her up, wrapping an arm around her waist and swimming for the surface.
They broke through together, and Isobel heaved air into her lungs, then coughed and spewed out water. She clung tightly to Kerr’s neck, her head on his shoulder, her legs around his waist.
Siv had jumped in too, but she stayed back. Eirik drew the boat closer. He reached an oar out to them. “Hold onto this,” he said, keeping the blade steady.
Kerr hooked his elbow over the paddle and rested there, working to get his heart rate under control. He caught Eirik’s eye, who shrugged. “It is as I said. She is not happy to be left behind. Do you want me to take her back and tie her down?”
“Nay!” Isobel protested and then started coughing again. “I’m going…with you.”
Kerr ground his teeth together. She would jump in again if he tried to leave her. But what would happen to the Norseman if he arrived at MacKinnon land with Isobel trussed up? They would have his head.
He couldn’t ask his friend to do that.
He shoved his wet hair back and looked over his shoulder. Diabhla was still swimming for shore, but the stallion could easily veer off course. Or the rope could get caught between his legs. He couldn’t wait much longer; he had to decide now.
“God’s blood, Isobel. You could have drowned!”
“Aye.”
“Aye? That’s all you have to say about it? I had to let go of Diabhla’s lead. He isna safe out there on his own.” He released the oar, and they sank back into the water. She let out a fearful gasp.
“Do you plan to swim to shore?” he asked, as he stroked through the water with one arm until he reached the boat’s prow.
It was a rhetorical question, and she didn’t respond other than to look guilty.
Good.
He grasped onto the ring at the front and called out to Eirik. “Can you row ahead of the stallion, so I can secure him?”
“Ja. But wait, Siv has your pack.” The Norseman hauled the wolf back into the boat with Kerr’s saddlebag in her jaws. Eirik tossed the bag to the bow and it caught on the gunwale. Kerr reached up and slipped it over his shoulder. He hadn’t even realized it had floated away.
Sitting back down, Eirik picked up the oars and headed toward Diabhla.
Isobel squeezed Kerr tighter when they moved, and something cold and hard pressed into the side of his neck. He looked down, but all he could see was her fist.
He lifted his hand to investigate, and when he felt his mother’s ring on her thumb—his ring—happiness burst though him…which was opposite to how he wanted to feel right now. She’d put herself in danger—again. He wanted to nurse that anger.
He tried to tamp the joy down, but it still smoldered like an ember in his gut. Maybe she put the ring on so it wouldn’t fall off. Maybe she planned to remove it once they landed.
Or maybe she would keep it on for the rest of her life—which could have ended a few minutes ago and might still end any time between now and when he killed the men who were trying to kill them.
His anger returned full force. Good.
Maybe he should consider Eirik’s offer to tie her up and return her to Gavin…
They passed the stallion, and he spoke gentle words to the horse so as not to spook him. When they were a little ahead of him, Kerr let go, and Eirik backed off with the boat.
“Do you see the lead?” Kerr asked him.
“Ja, it is trailing behind him on the far side.”
Kerr moved over, and then grasped Isobel’s arm and tried to move her around him, but she hung on tight. “Get behind me, Izzy. Hold onto my shoulders, not my neck.”
She shifted reluctantly. He could feel the vein in her wrist thrumming under his thumb when he held her arm, hear her panicked gasps, and feel the quick puffs against his wet neck when she tucked in close to him. He spoke soft, slow words to calm her, like he had to Diabhla.
“No sudden moves,” he said, as Diabhla approached them. He grasped the lead near the stallion’s head and then gathered it up. The horse blew out a breath when he neared, and Kerr gently rubbed his cheek.
“I want you to move over into the saddle,” he said. “You’re going to ride him like you would on land but hold onto his mane, not the reins, so you doona pull his head. If you feel like you’re going to float away, squeeze your legs against his sides. We’ll be ashore in no time.”
“I willna be too heavy?” she asked, and he noticed her teeth had started to chatter.
“Nay, the water will take much of your weight. Pull your skirts up so they doona trap your legs.”
He floated next to the stallion, kicking to stay abreast with him, and rested a comforting hand on his withers.
“I’m ready,” Isobel said, and then slid her leg and arm over Diabhla’s back, grasped his mane, and let go of Kerr.
Kerr drifted away, wanting to give the stallion more space. Isobel had a moment of panic, and he calmly said, “Hold his mane and grip with your legs. If something happens, I will dive under and drag you up again.”
She nodded jerkily.
He raised his gaze and met Eirik’s. The Norseman was standing in his boat, watching them, Siv on the bench beside him. He inclined his head in farewell. “You are a good man, Kerr MacAlister. I will tell your brothers and Gregor MacLeod what has happened here and give them your note.”
“I canna thank you enough, friend. Godspeed.”
“Ja. Until we meet again.” He raised his hand in farewell, and Kerr did the same.
Eirik sat down and grabbed the oars. He turned the ship and began rowing away, picking up speed. Siv moved to the stern and watched them. Then she tilted back her head and howled. Diabhla’s ears twitched, and he jerked his head at the sound. Isobel squeaked and gripped his mane harder.
“You’re all right,” Kerr said. “Both of you.” Then he put the lead in his mouth and struck out for shore.
Twenty-Two
Isobel shook out Kerr’s almost-dry plaid and carefully laid it on top of another plaid that she’d spread on the floor of the cave. She kneeled down, pleased with the softness of the makeshift bed, and then flattened out any ripples in the material.
She wanted everything to be as close to perfect as possible for Kerr’s return.
A small fire, encased in a ring of rocks, burned in the center of the cave, and she glanced around the enclosure, looking for something else to do. She’d already cle
aned up the area as best she could and laid out her arisaid beside the fire to finish drying, as well as Kerr’s saddlebag, his sporran, and everything that had been inside them—including a hairbrush, which she would take advantage of later.
Outside, a horse nickered in greeting, and she rushed to the cave’s entrance. Fortunately, the sky was clear and the moon bright, and she easily made out Diabhla a few feet away, loosely tied to a tree outside the cave. Kerr’s large figure approached, carrying an impossibly big load of wood. The sight made her shiver, and that soft place between her legs swelled and tightened with need.
She couldn’t wait for him to come inside.
During their swim to shore, she’d been too frightened to think about anything except drowning, but after that had come long hours riding Diabhla, in which all she could think about was seducing her husband, especially when his big body had been pressed tightly behind her in the saddle. Although the sight of him jogging through the forest beside the stallion in his thin white shirt that fell midway down his thighs had been just as arousing…and inspiring.
She’d had so many ideas, she didn’t know where to start.
She quickly loosened the tie of her white linen shift so the neck fell open, and then fluffed out her tangled hair, hoping that the light from the fire would shine through the thin material and reveal a sight too tempting for him to resist.
She intended to become Lady MacAlister in more than name tonight.
He glanced up, and when he stumbled upon seeing her, she dipped her head to hide her smile. “Are you well?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said huskily. “I tripped on a rock. It’s been a long day.”
She stepped back as he drew near, dropping her lashes enough to be seductive. “Come in then. I’ve made our bed. You can lie down, and I’ll rub your brow.”
He stopped abruptly and turned to her, one eyebrow rising. “I’ve known you since you were two months old, Isobel MacKinnon, and I’ve ne’er heard such a tone from you. Or ever imagined you’d utter such words.”
She pouted, trying to make it look pretty.
His other eyebrow rose. “Or make a face like that!”
Her eyes narrowed, and her hands flew to her hips. He grinned. “That’s more like it.” Then he dumped the extra wood by the fire.
“Should I just take my shift off, then?” she asked, pleased to see his head jerk up and his grin disappear. She started to gather the material in her hands, raising the hem inch by inch, biting her lip to stop her satisfied smirk when his shirt quickly tented out in front of him.
“Nay!”
“Are you sure, husband dear?” She raised it over her knees and kept pulling.
His skin had flushed, and his eyes, fixed on her bare flesh, glittered in the firelight. “Isobel, wait…please.”
She pulled the material up another few inches, her thighs almost fully revealed now, and teased him with the darker depths hidden beneath. Just when it seemed as if she would pull the shift all the way up, she turned to their bed, put an extra swing in her hips as she walked toward it, and sat on the plaid. “I’ll wait, but only if you bring me the hairbrush and come sit with me.”
Kerr exhaled a long, pent-up breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “I doona think that’s a good idea. We’re both tired, and we canna wash before bed.”
“We were swimming earlier today.”
“And since then I’ve run through the forest, gathered up two loads of firewood, and been on a horse—you have too.”
Her eyes fell on the full flask hanging from his belt. They’d finished the ale on the trail when they’d eaten their meal of cheese and apples, and since then, he’d found water and filled it up. She’d wager he’d washed himself too. ’Twas in his nature.
She rose to her knees, lifted her hem again, and then ripped off a piece of linen from the bottom. She held out her arm toward him. “I’ll wash for you then, dearling. Please, pass me the water.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked. He cleared it and then said, “You doona have to do that.”
“I want to. And then I can wash you.”
“Isobel,” he said, sounding pained. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and muttered something beneath his breath before saying, “I’m hungry; we havenae had much to eat today.”
She barely held back her grin. “You can eat me.”
His gaze came crashing down, and he seemed to grow bigger, more intense, if that were possible. She used to be afraid of him when he got like this, but now she liked it. All that intensity and attention turned on her. And when he’d been fighting for their lives, she’d welcomed the extra fierceness.
“I doona think you know what that means,” he growled.
“I doona think you want me to know what that means,” she countered.
“Have you done it before?”
She laid the cloth down and sat back on her hip. “Come over here and I’ll tell you. I promise to stay on my side of the bed…for now.” He took a predatory step toward her, and she shivered, the muscles clenching down low in her belly.
Aye, she liked him like this a lot.
“And doona forget to bring me the brush.”
He picked it up and then trudged toward her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, that much was obvious—temptingly so—but he was fighting something within himself—a conflict he hadn’t had this morning when they’d almost tupped back at the cottage.
What has changed?
No doubt it had something to do with her almost getting killed. Or maybe her near-drowning. Or the danger they were riding into at his clan.
But none of that mattered. She would always win this battle because she had a secret weapon.
He loved her—he’d said the words, and he couldn’t take them back.
“What are you smiling like that for?” he asked as he released his belt and pulled his sword and scabbard over his head. He laid them beside the plaid, and then sat on the farthest edge before tossing her the brush.
“Like what?” she asked as she caught it, curious to know what she’d been projecting.
“You looked smug.”
“Smug?” She didn’t like the sound of that.
“Aye, but also excited and happy.”
That was better. She started working the bristles through her tangles. “I am excited. And happy. And perhaps also a wee bit smug.” She dropped her gaze to his cock, making such a large, long bulge under his shirt. She was tempted to crawl over there, lift up his shirt, and put her lips over it, but when she raised her gaze to his, he looked even more determined to keep his distance.
He drew up his feet and locked his arms around his knees. “Isobel, I doona think we should do this tonight.”
He’d said it firmly, a steel in his voice he rarely used with her, and it gave her pause. “Why not?” she asked, truly wanting to know. “You wanted to this morning.”
He sighed again. “Aye, but things have changed since then. Things have happened that have made me doubt—”
“Is this because you think you didn’t save me at the beach? Because you did. First, you doona know if you would have been killed or what would have happened before Siv and Eirik arrived. Second, the only reason Siv and Eirik came for us was because of the bond you created with Eirik. You did that by knowing whom to trust and being someone Eirik could trust. He respects you, Kerr. I heard what he said before he left. He thinks you’re a good man. As do I. I couldnae be more proud to call you my husband.”
He stared at her, unblinking, and when a tiny tremor moved through his lower lip, he firmed his mouth. “Thank you,” he said, sounding hoarse. “I hadnae looked at it like that, but…that wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“Oh. Well, what do you doubt, then? Is it me?” A sick feeling invaded her stomach, and she dropped her hands from her hair. �
�Is it because I’m impetuous at times? Do you no longer love me?”
“Nay, Izzy, it’s not that. It’s…” He pressed his lips together and then inhaled, as if he was trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. “Your life almost changed today—irrevocably. At the very least, you would have been taken prisoner, held captive, and then returned to Gavin. At the very worst… God’s blood, I doona even want to think about the worst that could have befallen you.”
“But it didn’t.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m here, Kerr, right beside you. Safe.”
“Aye, by the grace of God.”
“Doona you want to celebrate our aliveness?” She yearned to close the distance between them, but she knew this was important to him. He had to get the words out or they’d continue to eat away at him.
“Of course I do. Desperately.” He hesitated, and then moved closer toward her on the plaid. “I had two thoughts running through my head this morning when we were fighting for our lives. How much I love you, and how you’ve barely stepped into the woman I know you’re meant to be. I couldnae allow you to be taken from the world so young.”
Her throat tightened. “I couldnae be taken from you so young.”
“Nay, you’re bigger than me, Izzy. You light up the world. My family—”
“I doona care about your family.”
“You should.” He released her hand to shove his fingers through his hair, tugging sharply on the ends. “When we leave here tomorrow, we’ll ride all day, and arrive at the farm of a woman named Una MacAlister. Una lives on the edge of MacAlister land with her twin lads…who are my brothers.”
Her eyes widened. “How old are they?”
“Fourteen.”
“And their names?”
“Andrew—Andy for short—and Aulay.” He smiled, and the moroseness that had befallen him eased a little. “You’ll love them.”
She smiled back. “I’m sure I will. I canna wait to meet them.” But then her happiness faded as the darkness within him came back.
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