Highland Obligation (Highland Pride)

by Lori Ann Bailey

  “Did he love her?” Of course he did. Why would she even ask? The man had insisted his previous wife would dislike her.

  “I dinnae ken. I think ’twas an arranged marriage like yers, but he was good friends with her brother, the MacPherson heir. The two were inseparable when they got together. ’Twas always fun to watch the pair of them when the MacPhersons came to visit—Tomas always getting them into trouble, and Grant always finding the way out.”

  She remembered hearing the MacPherson heir had died in the melee where her husband and she had met for the first time. Maybe he thought the Resistance had started the conflict, and it was his reason for hating her.

  Glancing at her face in mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. She looked like the lady her mother had always wanted her to be. Had this been her parents’ plan all along? She wouldn’t put it past them. Smiling, she touched her temple; the curled tresses Annis had left loose bounced gleefully.

  For a moment, she was the little girl who had wanted this world, had held hope for the future, and thought it was enough to be a lady and do her duty as a wife. But then Annis came to stand beside her, beaming, holding out the scent she always wore, the one that reminded her of the past and what she had lost, when she had stopped looking in mirrors and dreaming of a peaceful, happy life.

  “I found this in yer chest. ’Tis a lovely scent, and I think it matches ye perfectly.”

  “Thank ye.” Her smile faded as she took the bottle and applied the jasmine oil to her wrists and neck.

  Gazing at the mirror one more time, she sighed and shook her head. The lass looking back at her let bad things happen to people she loved. It wasn’t who she was anymore. Isobel turned her back on the reflection.

  Chapter Nine

  Sleep had evaded Grant. Why would his mother take his wife away from him? Didn’t she understand that would make him want her more? Of course she did—that’s what she’d done with anything he’d not appreciated as a child. It worked every time.

  Was she trying to teach him a lesson? As he tossed and turned all night, he’d come to the conclusion that it had been in poor taste for him to compare his wives. They were nothing alike, neither were the circumstances for their marriages. Isobel deserved fair treatment and a chance to prove herself.

  Taking the steps two at a time down into the hall for breakfast, he thought on the days ahead. He might not be with her tonight, but his mother wouldn’t be able to separate them on the journey to Edinburgh. He’d have Isobel mostly to himself. Of course he had to bring a couple men and Annis, but he would manage to get her alone.

  As he sat at the table, a serving lad brought in a trencher piled with eggs and breakfast meats. He should probably enjoy them now, because on the trip there would be days where they would need to set up camp and would have only the provisions they took.

  As he shoveled in a bite of eggs, his gaze was caught by a flurry of heads turning toward the entrance. His gaze landed on a bonny lass standing in the entryway, and he stopped chewing. It was Isobel.

  Without her hair falling all about her face, he was able to enjoy her large sultry eyes, long regal neck, and full pouty lips. She was studying the room as if deciding where to go, like she had a choice. She wasn’t shy often, but that bit of uncertainty was alluring.

  “Isobel,” he called across the room then tilted his head toward the seat at his right. A tentative smile broke across her lips and she started toward him.

  Her dress had been laced properly and the fit of her gown hugged her waist, accentuating the curves that lay beneath. His hands itched to wrap fingers around that waist and pull her naked form down onto this. His last wife had looked as if she would break with any sudden movement, while Isobel looked as if she were built for pleasing a man.

  “How did ye sleep, husband?”

  “Nae well wondering where ye were.”

  She reddened and turned away just as a lad appeared with a plate for her. “Ye dinnae want me there anyway.”

  “On the contrary. I have decided I dinnae have to like ye to enjoy the benefits of being married to ye.” Damn, why had he said that? She did have some redeeming qualities and he’d missed their banter the previous evening. Maybe in time they would grow fond of each other, but telling her he didn’t like her wasn’t going to improve their relationship.

  Isobel’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of rose, and he decided he rather liked the look on her face, so he kept up the conversation he was interested in. Expecting the answer would be “no” from her lack of experience kissing, he asked, “Have ye ever been with a man before?”

  As he expected, the flush deepened, and her gaze drifted down to her plate. “I havenae.”

  Suddenly, he felt guilty again. She was innocent and he was goading her. But he was curious how, after the rumors he’d heard, she was still a maiden. According to the whispers floating around the Highlands, the lass with the Royalist Resistance made camp with the other men.

  “And how did ye manage that on all yer nights camped out with the Resistance?”

  “I slept with a knife, and most men would stay away, worried they would incur the wrath of…” She trailed off.

  Had there been a man who looked out for her, then? Did they care for each other? An irrational anger washed through him. “Who was he?”

  “’Tis no’ important.”

  “It is if I have reason to believe some man may come and try to take ye.”

  “He was like a brother, nothing more.”

  He didn’t press, but decided to ask again when she was more comfortable opening up to him.

  “We will be traveling to Edinburgh tomorrow.” He’d apparently caught her off guard, and she didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Parliament is planning a vote on the Solemn League and Covenants. Have ye heard of them?”

  She nodded.

  “I hope to be able to convince them ’tis no’ in Scotland’s best interest to get involved with the English war.”

  “Do ye think they will listen?”

  “I dinnae ken, but I have to try. I will also try to locate this Campbell man while we are on our journey.”

  “He is probably looking for me.”

  “I’m hoping I will be able to persuade him to guard your identity. I’m willing to broker some type of truce with him.”

  “He will never agree.” When she shook her head, her curls bounced playfully.

  “I want ye to stay out of it and let me handle it.”

  “I can help.”

  “Nae, ye cannae.” He was aware Isobel could handle herself in battle and had even enjoyed observing her form in the lists yesterday. He’d thought for a moment she looked wild and untamable, like the mountains and pines of his home: strong, formidable, and beautiful. He would probably enjoy sparring with her, but on that fateful day, he’d watched helplessly as the Campbell man had sliced her arm. His stomach lurched at the vision that intruded. He pushed the image away.

  “Will ye let me carry a sword to defend myself?” Dressed like she was she had nowhere to hide a weapon, and she needed to appear as if she would never have been near battle. And he couldn’t trust her not to run after the man who would turn her over to the Covenanter leader.

  “Nae.”

  “A knife?”

  If he reassured her they would be safe, maybe she would voluntarily give up the dangerous life. “’Tis nae need. Ye and Annis will be well guarded.”

  Panic flashed in her eyes. Did not having a sword really scare her?

  “Nae. Annis must stay here,” Isobel insisted. “If we are looking for a Campbell, she could get hurt.”

  “She’ll be fine. And she is coming.”

  “Why?” Isobel’s rosy cheeks had paled.

  “Because we will see important people, and ye will need to look like a lady, no’ the wench who would cut their throats if they dinnae agree with ye.”

  Pausing with her fork in the air, she tilted her head and a rosy hue returned to her cheeks. “Ye are mistaken if ye
think that is who I am.”

  “Ye are incorrect if ye think I’m fooled by yer new appearance. I ken who ye are. But this is our opportunity to make ye appear so and prove ye cannae be part of that group.”

  He had a hard time believing her, and he’d had enough of this sparring. It made him want to plant his lips on hers until she couldn’t speak, and he wanted that crimson on her face to come from a heated exchange of another kind.

  Pushing back his chair, he stood. “Be ready to leave at first light tomorrow.”

  Taking the stairs back up to his room, he alighted into the hallway on his way to make sure he had everything in hand for the trip. Movement caught his eye and he stopped. Annis came from his cousin Skye’s room and walked toward the steps at the front of the castle.

  Sliding down the hall, he made his way to the room and peeked in. He pulled open the door and walked over to the dressing table to inspect the contents. A bottle caught his eye, and picking it up, he sniffed it and was rewarded with that exotic scent that was all his wife.

  After replacing the stopper, he strolled casually around the room, inspecting it before stopping at the key that hung next to the door. Taking it into his hand, he smiled as he walked through the door, shutting it behind him.

  …

  Isobel followed the cat into the kitchen. She had to find someone who would care for the creature while she was gone and if she was lucky, maybe they would keep it. But her main reason for being here was to find a dirk. She had the small one under the nightstand in Grant’s room, but it was better suited for cutting a tender potato than wielding in battle. Grant was crazy if he thought she would leave Annis’s and her safety up to people she barely knew.

  Letting Annis do her job so far had not worked—his gaze still roamed over her body as if he wanted her as a man desired a woman. Her husband had admitted to not liking her, but he’d apparently decided that wouldn’t stop him from taking her to his bed.

  Swallowing, she acknowledged if she had to give her maidenhood to anyone, her husband was a well-built, bonny man. And he smelled good, like the air after a rain or the woods of a pine forest. The kiss they had shared was testament to his ability to please a woman. Would he care if she liked their bed play or would he seek to only satisfy his urges and toss her aside?

  Thankfully, with his mother’s help to move her to another room, she’d been able to delay the inevitable, but once this journey began, he would want to claim his rights or seek out another woman to fulfill his needs. For some reason, that choice angered her.

  After spending the day exploring the castle and grounds with Fenella, she’d concluded the Isle of Skye and Cairntay provided the MacDonalds with a fortification she’d only have dreamed possible. The imposing towers of the castle along with the tall cliffs of the landscape that overlooked the churning waters of the channel gave this land advantages over its enemies. It was also beautiful, filled with pines, oaks, and hedges in the most vibrant and varied shades of green. She’d even caught whiffs of wild lavender and occasionally saw the purple-colored bushes dotting the meadows and hillsides.

  After enjoying the late meal she strolled into her room and stopped. It somehow looked different. Her items were gone, the mirror was smaller, and the wood dressing table looked darker.

  Her gaze landed on the bed and she inhaled sharply—it was her husband’s and his first wife’s. The rooms had been switched. Och, that meant he’d probably found the knife she’d secured.

  Chills spread down her spine as the door behind her clicked then glided open. A rush of cool air enveloped her. She was afraid to turn; a charged current in the room made her scalp prickle. It must be Grant behind her. She swallowed just before arms wrapped around her waist and drew her into a solid frame.

  His warm breath filled her ear and his gruff voice said, “Tonight, ye will come back to our room, wife. ’Tis time we made this marriage real.”

  Chapter Ten

  Isobel trembled as her husband released her and backed away. She didn’t have a fear of what was to come, so why was she shaking? She’d seen what men and women did in the light of the campfires and had an idea of how it would go. She was a married woman now, and it was time she stopped living as a child.

  He reached out and took her hand. The moment felt more intimate than the kiss they had shared; it was an acknowledgment that she trusted him and he, in turn, was asking for that trust. He didn’t gloat or make her feel as if she were anything less than him.

  In this moment, they weren’t two enemies with a shared past, but two strangers making a commitment toward a truce that would guide them through the years ahead. They were like thunder and rain, both fierce forces coming together to form the perfect storm.

  “I have to tell Annis no’ to…”

  “Dinnae worry about her. I told her I would help ye tonight.”

  His hand was warm and strong, reassuring as he drew her out the door and across the hall to their room.

  As the door swung in, she could see not only had the furniture been exchanged, but it was rearranged, with the bed on a separate wall. It had a different feel. It was still light outside, but he’d drawn the curtains and lit candles on either side of the bed.

  After guiding her inside, he closed and bolted the door. She moved to the dressing table and touched the tip of her perfume bottle as she inspected the rest of her belongings, which had been laid out across it.

  Her gaze drifted up to see Grant, still near the door, his steady stare lingering on her, studying her movements. “I’m sorry about what I said. Lyall was a good woman. She would have liked you.”

  The mention of his late wife chilled her like jumping into a loch in February. She shut her eyes. When she opened them, he was in front of her, reaching out and taking both of her hands. “I’m telling ye because she wasnae here long. This room is as much yers as it ever was hers. And ye can do with it whatever ye like.”

  She nodded.

  “What I really want to say is we should start over. Let’s ken each other.”

  But she never let herself get close to anyone. He didn’t know what he was asking for.

  Giving what she hoped was an acquiescing smile, she squeezed his hand. She might be able to share her body with him, but that was it—she had nothing other than that to offer. His words said he was a man of peace and he could be a good husband who would provide and care for her and a family, but the girl who truly believed in those things had been lost a long time ago.

  Still, he deserved her acceptance and admiration. She could give him that.

  “Aye.” The word finally escaped her lips.

  His hands left hers and drifted up her arms, gooseflesh erupting in their wake as he made his way to her temples. “I want to run my fingers through yer hair.”

  Pins and ribbons fell to the floor as he plucked them out and her tresses unwound in a flurry of curls that fell to her waist. Fingers spread into her hair and massaged against her scalp. She almost moaned at the sensations that rocked through her, nothing like the poking and prodding when Annis had installed them.

  His hands cradled the back of her head and tilted it toward his as he dipped his mouth to claim hers. It was no tentative kiss, it was demanding and needy, and the sensation of his lips on hers sent waves of something she couldn’t name spreading into her core, heating her and making her wish for more. When his tongue darted in to claim hers, she met it with her own. A hunger awoke in her as she let her hands come up and land on his waist.

  He groaned, one hand falling to her back and drawing her in while the other continued to cup her head to keep her close. The melding of their mouths was like magic, a connection she’d never let herself experience with anyone. That sensation elicited a trust she hadn’t let herself feel in…well, since the horrid incident which changed her life.

  Their tongues continued to dance. He tasted of ale and honey and something so masculine and pure she didn’t think this one kiss would be enough. His fingers fisted in her hair and he pulle
d her deeper as he tilted sideways and ground his body into hers.

  Releasing slowly, he drew back. His heated gaze pinned her with an emotion she couldn’t name, couldn’t explain, except it made her insides quiver. There was a hint of confusion as well, like he’d not expected the intensity at which their connection burned.

  His fiery stare drifted to the front of her gown and then he looked offended before he swirled her around, took her hair, and moved it over her shoulder. He worked at the laces down her back as his lips came near her ear. “I’ve thought of nothing else today but pulling this from your body and seeing my wife for the first time.”

  His voice was gravelly and raw and twisted her into a tense knot of desire that wanted him to continue whatever course he was on, even if it meant her getting close to someone.

  As the gown loosened, instead of feeling like she could breathe, her skin felt tighter, like a tree bending with a fierce wind. Her breasts were heavy and full, engorged and crying out for attention. Grant pulled at the material and drew it over her shoulders, leaving her in her shift and slippers.

  Then, he let go of her and she felt cold and abandoned. He pulled off his boots, tossing them to the side before reaching to unbelt his plaid. The space between them gave her clarity and brought back the awareness that had fled with his touch. This man was about to take from her the one thing she’d never allowed anyone. Would it open her up to hurt?

  Swallowing, she became riveted on his powerful calves when the tartan material fell from his body. Gaze drifting upward, she followed the curvature of his legs as the exposed muscles gleamed like dark marble in the low, flickering light of the candles. If she touched them, would she feel the strength beneath?

  “Isobel.”

  She met his dark blue gaze but she couldn’t speak, could barely breathe as her mouth fell open, wishing for another one of those kisses.

  “Yer slippers and stockings.” It was a moment before she understood he wanted her to remove them. She nodded, kicking out of the slippers then bending to take one stocking off at a time.