Highlander Untamed

by Monica McCarty

Almost.

  Isabel held her head completely still, chin lifted, ears alert, eyes scanning back and forth, listening for the smallest sound or flash of movement. Hearing nothing other than the steady movement of the loch on her left and the sound of the breeze flitting through the leaves and underbrush of the forest on her right, she looked carefully once more behind her, then headed for the jagged, rocky entrance that lay hidden before her.

  She urged the frightened horse forward, straight into the face of the cliff where it joined with the edge of the forest. Taking a deep breath, praying for strength, she pulled the reins for a sharp turn to the left and slid into the cool, dark dampness of the tunnel.

  Chapter 26

  Hold fast that which is good.

  —I Thessalonians 5:21

  Isabel was cold, exhausted, and hungry. She’d waited in the tunnel until the sounds above in the kitchens had quieted before pulling herself carefully through the secret door, winding her away through the darkened corridors, and stealthily making her way to the Fairy Tower.

  Unsure of her reception, Isabel approached the tower with burgeoning unease. What would Rory do when he found her in his room? Would he toss her out without listening to her? Or worse? She wished she could be sure she was doing the right thing. But she thought of her misery the past week and a half and knew that she had no other choice. She had to try to make things right.

  She paused in the doorway of the Fairy Tower, casting a quick glance around before darting across the entry. She’d just started to climb the stairs when someone grabbed her from behind, yanking her momentarily against a chest as hard as stone. A scream caught in her throat.

  Her captor spun her around to face him, and she exhaled. Rory. She was so relieved to find him after all that she’d gone through to get here, after the days of agony that had marked their separation, after thinking she might not ever see him again, that she could have collapsed and burst into tears. Her knees weakened; if not for his support, she would have slid to the floor in a grateful heap.

  Then he spoke, and her relief stalled. “By all that is holy, Isabel,” he swore, “what are you doing here?”

  She shrank from the fury in his voice. Cautiously, she raised her eyes to his. So long had she been anticipating this moment, the rush of emotion in just seeing him again was far more overwhelming than she could have imagined. She took in every beloved detail of his face. The strong, hard lines of his ruggedly handsome features, the brilliant blue eyes, the square jaw, the thick golden strands of his…She stopped and frowned. Actually, Rory looked horrible. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. In truth, he looked as awful as she surely did. Something kindled inside her. Was it possible? Had he missed her? She dared not allow herself to hope.

  So desperately did she want to touch him, she placed her hand against his chest, savoring the heavy beat of his heart under her palm. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness, but she couldn’t bear the pain of his rejection. Not again. Not until he’d heard what she had to say. If he would listen.

  His eyes were hot as he scanned her face, almost hungrily. For a moment, she thought he wanted her, and her body responded, softening with awareness. He tightened his grip on her arms, pulling her imperceptibly closer, and she felt the heat radiating from his body, smelled the beloved scent of heather and spice. He was so achingly close, it hurt not to press her body against his.

  He seemed tight with restraint. His teeth clenched, and she noticed the telltale tic in his jaw. “Well? Explain why I find you here and not at Dunscaith or on your way home to your father?”

  “I needed to see you. I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I have to explain.” Before he could argue, she burst out, “When I agreed to help my uncle, I did not know you or your family. I was only trying to help my clan. I should have told you the truth as soon as I realized how I felt about you, but I couldn’t. Not while I was unsure of your intentions. Spying on you when you told Alex where you kept the flag was wrong, and unintentional. I’m sorry for it, but even by then I knew I would never betray you or your family.” Her eyes raked his face, looking for any indication that her words might have penetrated his steely barrier, but all she could see was a man barely keeping a check on his anger. “I know you have no reason to believe me, so I’ve brought you proof of my loyalty.”

  “And this proof of your loyalty is the reason I see you like this? So weary you can barely stand?” His eyes turned black. “Where is your escort?”

  She looked down sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably beneath his piercing gaze.

  “You traveled almost the length of Skye by yourself?” Incredulous, his voice shook with anger. “Forsooth, don’t you realize what could have happened to you? Dear God, Isabel, how could you be so reckless?”

  He was livid, but Isabel also detected a thread of alarm in his voice. His hands still gripped her shoulders, and she didn’t know whether he wanted to shake her or crush her against his chest. She wanted so badly to believe that he was happy to see her, was she only imagining his concern? Unshed tears burned behind her eyes. “I was desperate. I had to see you. I’d hoped you…” wanted to see me. She couldn’t get the words out.

  Something flickered across his face. For a moment, she thought he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead, he dropped his hands and turned away, raking his fingers through his hair. After a few minutes, his eyes found hers again. “You used the secret entrance.”

  Isabel bit her lip. She knew he’d be angry about that. “I was very careful. I feared you would refuse my entry if I came by the sea-gate.” She looked up. “I couldn’t take the chance.”

  “I forgot how many of our secrets you share.” He reached down to stroke her cheek, wiping the dirt and grime from her face. The gentleness of the movement stunned her. Emotion gathered in her throat, hot and raw. The longing for the closeness they’d once shared was nearly unbearable, the times when she didn’t have to stop herself from touching him. “What am I to do with you, Isabel?” He took an ominous step closer. “First you will explain what has brought you here in such haste and with disregard for your own safety.”

  Isabel felt light-headed with relief. She had a chance.

  But sudden fear gripped her, so much was riding on this. She took a deep breath and began. “While at Dunscaith a few days ago, I was helping Willie recover some missives that he dropped on the floor when I noticed Sleat’s badge on a letter addressed to Robert Cecil, the first Earl of Salisbury.” She paused, waiting for Rory to glean the significance.

  She caught the sudden spark in his eye and continued, this time excitedly. “I immediately questioned why Sleat would be writing the queen of England’s secretary of state. I suspected that my uncle was trying to find another way to obtain the Lordship for himself. He hinted as much to me in a conversation we had at the gathering. When I found the letter, I realized that Sleat and probably Mackenzie were in treasonous contact with Queen Elizabeth.”

  “You deduced this from the name on a missive?” Rory asked, clearly impressed.

  “I was desperate to find anything that would make you understand that I would never betray you. And the letter, well, it just seemed odd. Of course, when I read it I could not believe what I’d stumbled upon. Sleat proposed a new rebellion in the Isles. He offered his service to Elizabeth, actually precipitously referring to himself as the ‘Lord of the Isles.’ He proposed to unite the Highland chiefs to the queen and keep the Lordship for himself. And destroy the MacLeods in the process. With the MacLeods in shambles, there would be no one powerful enough in the Isles to contest his claim.”

  Rory shook his head. “’Tis even worse than I expected. I knew he wanted to reestablish the Lordship, but I didn’t think he would commit treason to assure it. I may be at the horn, and do not agree with James’s plans for the ‘barbarians’ of the Isles, but to invite the bloody English into Scotland is an extremely dangerous—and foolish—proposition.” He l
ooked back at her, his expression inscrutable. “Do you know what you risked in coming here? If your uncle realizes what you know, your life will be in danger.”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded, and her head spun with dizziness. Something was wrong, she didn’t feel very well.

  “Do you know what this means, Isabel? If the king discovers what Sleat has done, he will be destroyed.”

  “I know.”

  “And you rode for days to tell me this?”

  Isabel nodded again, too teeming with expectation to speak. Would it be enough to prove her devotion? Would he ever be able to forgive her? She forced herself to look at his face. What she saw there made the tears that she’d been holding start to fall. He gazed at her with such emotion, such longing, that her fear abated and the hope she’d been holding inside burst free, overwhelming her with the sheer intensity of emotion.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said roughly.

  “Say that you believe me.”

  He wiped the tears from her cheeks, his thumb running over her trembling lips. “Aye, lass, I believe you. But unfortunately, without the letter we have no proof.”

  She reached into her waistband and pulled out the folded parchment. “You mean this letter?” She smiled through the haze of happy tears.

  And promptly fainted.

  Rory thought his heart had stopped when Isabel crumpled to the floor. He lurched forward, catching her just before she hit the ground. The same fear gripped him that he’d felt that day in the forest. Only when he’d assured himself that she’d fainted did it dissipate—a little. But what the hell had she done to herself?

  Carefully, he lifted her in his arms and carried her up the stairs to his solar. Looking at the wan, dust-smeared cheek resting peacefully against his chest, he felt his heart flip. All that he could have lost hit him full force.

  When he’d first caught sight of her, he’d been shocked, not only to have her seemingly materialize out of his dreams, but to see her so obviously exhausted. Her glorious hair flew in wild disarray around her pinched face, and dark shadows circled her luminous violet eyes. She must not have eaten in days; her wrinkled gown hung loose about her thin frame. His first impulse had been to take her in his arms and prove in the most basic way possible that she was real, but anger at seeing her like that had checked him.

  When he thought of what she must have gone through to reach him, and the risk she’d taken in bringing him Sleat’s treasonous letter…He shuddered as the possibilities chilled him. If anything had happened to her, he would never have forgiven himself.

  The timing of her arrival could not have been more ironic. After the arrival of the king’s missive, Rory had made the decision to retrieve his bride. Even if he had to take an army to Strome Castle, he would get her back. But he had another plan and hoped that laying siege would not prove necessary. Putting that plan into motion had delayed his pursuit of Isabel.

  He’d still had many questions, but Isabel’s letter to the queen on his behalf was proof of her loyalty. Now, after what she’d brought him, there could be no doubt. Thanks to Isabel, he had the means to destroy Sleat and avenge the dishonor done his clan.

  He laid her on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open almost immediately, and Rory felt relief pour out of him.

  “What happened?” she asked, disoriented.

  “You fainted.”

  “I don’t faint.” She tried to sit up but quickly lay back down.

  He frowned. “When is the last time you ate?”

  A delicate flush rose to her pale cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  “I will send for something.” He started to get up, but she caught his arm.

  “Please, don’t,” she beseeched. “I don’t want anything, not yet. Not until I know that you can forgive me. I’m so sorry, Rory—” Her voice broke. “There were many things I did wrong, and I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I would never betray you.”

  He gathered her against him, her damp cheek pressed against his chest as he savored the sensation of holding her in his arms again. “I know.”

  She looked up at him with watery eyes. “You do?”

  “Aye,” he whispered, a husky caress deepening his voice. He could forgive her. Deep in his bones he knew that Isabel had not been merely acting over the past few months. She loved him; he knew she would not betray him. He must have accepted that when he sent her away, for she knew far too many of their secrets. If he’d truly believed her a traitor, he would not have allowed her to leave. Was not the badge of the MacLeods “Hold Fast”? God’s blood, he would hold fast to Isabel. She belonged to him, and he would have her. He could do his duty and have the woman he loved.

  Rory bent over her, cupping her chin in his hand and forcing her to meet his gaze. “I will forgive you for not telling me about your uncle’s plan, but you will promise me that you will not listen in on any other private conversations—unintentional or not.”

  Isabel blushed to her roots. “I promise. No more peeking through cracks in doors.”

  “Good.” He swept a lock of hair from her face, looking at her tenderly. “And more important, you will also swear that you will never endanger yourself like this again.”

  She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks again. “I didn’t know what else to do—”

  “Shush.” He stopped her with a press of his fingers against her softly parted lips. He’d waited long enough, he had to taste her. No longer able to hold back, he lowered his head, covering her mouth with his in a gentle, seductive kiss. His heart jumped at the achingly familiar taste. She was pure ambrosia; the honey of her mouth mingled with the bittersweet salt from her tears.

  But Isabel did not want a gentle wooing. At the first touch of his mouth, she moaned, encircling her arms around his neck, bringing him down hard on top of her. She strained and pressed against him, kissing him harder, with an almost desperate plea.

  Rory felt his own restraint snap, responding to the savage cry of her desire. The subtle seduction of moments before was replaced by a violent surge of demanding passion. His mouth moved over hers hungrily, possessively, branding her with his lips and tongue. She belonged to him; he would leave her no doubt. Her mouth opened, and he slid in his tongue, locking with hers in an intimate duel of thrust and parry. He delved deeper and deeper, tasting, exploring, as if devouring the very recesses of her soul.

  It wasn’t enough. Not until he was thrust deep inside her and she was shaking around him with the spasms of her release. Not until they had burned away the memories of their parting with the fire of their passion.

  Even then, Rory knew it would never be enough.

  From the first touch of his mouth, Isabel’s entire body shivered with relief and desire. She was nearly undone by the familiar taste and distinctively masculine smell of him. That wonderful mixture of salt and heather. She moaned, pressing her body deeper into his familiar hold. Gentle curves against warm, hard muscle.

  Her hands roamed his back and shoulders, exploring the familiar ridges of steel. He’d regained some of the weight he had lost from the fever, she realized. But there was still a hungry leanness to him that had not been there before the attack. His muscles bulged under her fingertips, and a spark of awareness surged through her. The heat between them flamed instantly, as if it had never been extinguished. As if it had merely lain dormant, smoldering, these last two weeks. There was an urgency to their movements that recalled the long separation.

  Isabel felt the familiar anxious tingling low in her belly; she instinctively shifted her hip toward his. Rory clutched her sore bottom, holding her firmly against the solid proof of his claim. The pain of the saddle was forgotten in the hazy warmth flooding her senses.

  Suddenly, his hands were everywhere, cupping her breasts, molding her hips, sliding down her thighs. His mouth pressed against her neck and shoulders, scraping the delicate skin with his rough beard. Her skin pri
ckled with gooseflesh, she wanted him so badly.

  She felt his fingers expertly work the laces of her gown. He pushed the filthy gown off her shoulders and pulled it over her hips to drop to the floor. Next went her stays and bolster. His fingers slid under the thin linen fabric of her sark, tauntingly tracing the curve of her breast. Isabel felt singed wherever he touched. When his mouth deliciously followed the path of his hands, she wriggled uncontrollably. She felt her hose slide off, felt her sark lifted over her head, until she lay completely naked. Awareness tinged her skin pink.

  But she was beyond embarrassment.

  And Rory had completely exhausted his reserves. Isabel was mesmerized by the power of the desire that flooded his eyes as they roamed her naked body.

  His voice was rough with emotion. “You are so beautiful, my love.”

  He unfastened the brooch that held his plaid and pulled his wrinkled leine croich over his head.

  It was her turn to admire him. Boldly, her eyes raked the flat stomach lined with muscle, the broad chest, the muscular arms and legs. The sheer size of his stiffened arousal. He was spectacular.

  “So are you,” she said huskily.

  “It’s been too long.”

  Her mouth felt too dry to speak. She nodded.

  He slid down on top of her. At the touch of his skin to hers, Isabel melted. She felt sweetly damp and hot where their bodies joined. When his length pressed into her belly, she circled her hips against him encouragingly, sliding her damp opening against the head of his arousal.

  “Isabel, if you do that again, I may unman myself.” His voice was gruff with desire.

  Isabel ignored him, reaching for him, grasping the velvety skin firmly in her hand. She moved her hand to the rhythm he had taught her. She watched his face stiffen, his jaw clench as if in pain. Wantonly, she increased the speed. Mesmerized by the feeling of control over this powerful man, she watched his flat stomach muscles clench. She could feel the pressure building beneath her hand and rubbed her thumb over the hot drop that escaped from his hold.