The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

by Trisha Telep

  Isobel shrugged into her nightshift while keeping an eye on Ewan to be certain he wasn’t keeping one on her. Taking advantage of the opportunity to look upon his masculine beauty, she perused his glorious sun-bronzed, battle-hardened body. The sight of his broad chest lightly dusted with golden hair, the sculpted ridges lining his taut belly, caused a heated clutch in the pit of her stomach. His big hands with their long blunt fingers rested on his thickly muscled thighs and her skin tingled at the memory of the gentle caress of his powerful, calloused palms skimming over her body. She’d thought she’d been dreaming until Roderick so rudely interrupted them.

  She wished she remembered more. She didn’t think it fair she had no memory of their joining. Her sisters had assured her the few moments of pain she would experience was nothing compared to the pleasure she would receive. Although considering the size of her husband’s manhood, she thought perhaps it was a good thing she didn’t remember. She lingered on the thick bulge beneath his plaid and her cheeks heated.

  “Have you looked your fill, lass?” he asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

  Her gaze shot to his and she didn’t miss the glint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. It was a welcome change from the anger that had darkened the brilliant blue to black last eve, but since it was at her expense, she took no pleasure in it. She had yet to forgive him for his behaviour upon learning she was his wife. Although she could understand his surprise – his shock – she felt his anger was uncalled for. Since he’d come to her bed, he’d obviously recovered from his fit of pique and she made a mental note not to surprise him in the future.

  She shouldn’t have let her disappointment get the best of her last eve. Although she’d hid it well at the evening meal, she’d been overwrought by the time she’d come to her bed. She should’ve trusted her nana’s gift despite Ewan’s reaction. Her sisters had warned her men could be frustratingly slow to acknowledge that special fated bond.

  He sighed. “Isobel?”

  She blinked. “Yes.”

  He stood and adjusted his plaid. She tilted her head to look up at him. “As I am sure you are now aware, our marriage canna be annulled. We shall have to make the best of it. I promise I will do everythin’ in my power to ensure you are content with the union.”

  Isobel frowned. Make the best of it? Content? She didn’t wish to be content. She didn’t wait all this time to simply be content. She wanted to be happy. She wished to be loved – like her sisters were loved. He angled his head as though awaiting her answer. “As will I.” Taken aback by his statement, she didn’t know how else to respond.

  “As long as my sons are happy and well cared for, I will be content.”

  Isobel began to think she disliked the word “content” even more than she disliked the word “patient”. Did he not wish his sons to be loved? Did he not wish to be loved? Recalling Edeen’s advice, her disquiet eased. Her sister had warned her that men had a difficult time expressing their love, their emotions – battle-hardened highlanders being the most reticent of all. Edeen had implied the best place to break through their defences was in the bedchamber. Isobel might be innocent, but she knew her husband desired her. She felt it in his touch – his swollen manhood pressed to her belly – saw it in the way he looked at her. It made perfect sense that her battle for Ewan’s affections would be fought in their bedchambers. She was certain – in a week at most – her victory would be declared.

  Four

  Three weeks later, sitting in the great hall breaking her fast, Isobel’s jaw hurt from gritting her teeth and from smiling when it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her husband was the most infuriatingly frustrating man she’d ever met. Her plan to win his heart had failed miserably – he had not visited their chambers once since that first night. If she hadn’t seen him with his sons, she’d think him the coldest, most distant man she’d ever known. But with Robbie and Connor, he was gentle and loving. What Isobel wouldn’t give to have him look at her the way he did his sons. The bairns followed him everywhere he went and not once had Isobel heard him utter an impatient word.

  Oh, aye, she’d felt him watching her, caught the flare of desire in his heavy-lidded blue eyes before he quickly looked away, but it went no further than that. He engaged her in polite conversation and was most considerate of her needs, but other than when they met at mealtimes, he seemed to go out his way to spend as little time in her company as possible.

  This morn, after awakening alone once more, Isobel’s much-vaunted patience was nowhere to be found. In its place was the temper her nana said Isobel had inherited from her father. She scowled at Nana who sat at the far end of the table breaking her fast beside Roderick, tittering like a lovestruck girl of sixteen. “Foolish old woman,” Isobel muttered under her breath.

  “Is somethin’ amiss, Isobel?” Ewan asked, a frown creasing his brow.

  “Nay,” she snapped and shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

  Ewan blinked. Robbie and Connor, who sat on either side of their father, looked up.

  “What’s the matter, mam?” Connor asked.

  Upon seeing the concern on Connor’s sweet face, Isobel berated herself for allowing her impatience to show. “Nothin’ is the matter, dear heart.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m goin’ to work in the garden today, would you and Robbie like to help?” she asked hopefully. She didn’t begrudge them the time they spent with their father, but over the last few weeks she’d hardly had any time with Robbie and Connor, and she missed them. She hoped the idea of playing in the dirt would be the incentive she needed to keep them with her this day.

  Connor cast a sidelong glance at this father, who studiously avoided his gaze. “Da’s goin’ to take us ridin’. Mayhap—”

  “Aye, mam, da says I can ride a horsie all by myself,” Robbie broke in excitedly.

  Isobel’s incredulous gaze shot to Ewan. “You canna seriously be thinkin’ to allow Robbie to ride on is own? He’s no’ yet four.”

  Ewan raised a brow. “Aye, I am. ’Tis best to—”

  She gave a disproving shake of her head. “Nay, I’ll no’ allow it.” From the end of the table, Roderick and her Nana looked at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

  “You, willna’ allow it?” Ewan’s tone was cold, a muscle twitching in the hard set of his jaw.

  “Mam, I want to go.” Robbie pouted, his bottom lip quivering.

  “Nay, I won’t,” she said firmly to Ewan, then reached over to pat Robbie’s hand. “I’ll make you a honey cake and—”

  Ewan’s chair scraped across the stone floor as he pushed back from the table. “Isobel, I would speak to you alone. Now.” The tension bracketing his full mouth left no doubt he expected her to obey. Since she wanted to tell him exactly how foolish she thought he was being, she followed him from the hall.

  He strode to the study and held the door open for her. She flounced past him. Unimpressed with his dictatorial manner, she turned on him as soon as he closed the door behind them. “Three,” she said, holding up her fingers. “He’s three years old, Ewan. He’s a bairn and I’ll no’ let—”

  His gaze hardened. Looming over her, his powerful warrior’s body crowded her and she took a step back, bumping into the edge of the desk.

  “He’s my son and I’ll decide what he’ll do or no’ do,” he ground out.

  She pressed her palms to his broad chest, refusing to be intimidated by his size and the icy glint in his eyes. “And I’m his mother. I willna let you put him in harm’s way.”

  “You’re no’ his mother and I’ll no’ have—” He stopped at her sharp intake of breath.

  She turned away so he wouldn’t see how much his words hurt her. She’d come to think of Robbie and Connor as her own and now he took that away from her – just as his cold indifference had stolen her hope for a happy marriage. She tried to push away from him but he brought his hands to her shoulders and held her firmly in place. “Let me go,” she whispered.

  “Nay.” He placed his finge
rs beneath her chin and forced her look at him. His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, Isobel. I ken you love Robbie and Connor. I shouldna have said what I did.”

  She bit her lip, trying to contain her tears, but one after another they slid down her cheeks.

  “Nay, please, doona cry.” He pulled her into his arms. “Shh, now,” he said, rubbing her back.

  The warmth of his embrace, his apology and soothing touch, eased some of the hurt, but not her concern for Robbie. She sniffed into his chest and swiped at her tears. Tipping her head to look up at him, she said, “Truly, Ewan, Robbie is much too young to ride on his own. I only wish to keep him safe.”

  He eased back and framed her face with his big hands. “As do I. You coddle them, Isobel. You’re goin’ to turn my … our lads into lassies.” He smiled at her, a tender smile.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m doin nothin’ of the sort.”

  He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, you are. I promise, I’ll keep them safe.

  Isobel stared after him as he left the study. A warm glow of hopefulness unfurled inside her. Mayhap they had a chance after all. Her happy smile faded when she realized he’d completely disregarded her concerns.

  Ewan sighed when, through the teeming rain, he saw Isobel framed in the entrance to the keep as they approached the stables. Robbie shivered in his arms. The bairn had been doing fine until a bolt of lighting had frightened his horse. Ewan managed to grab him before he fell from his mount, but the lad had hit his head on the pommel gaining him a knot the size of an egg. Ewan shook his head as his wife, heedless of the rain, ran towards them.

  “Mam looks plenty fashed, da,” Connor said as he slid from his horse.

  “Aye, she does.” Fashed and verra bonny, he thought, with her long chestnut hair curling about her adorable face, the rain dampening her pink gown, moulding it to her voluptuous curves.

  These past weeks, Isobel had tried Ewan’s restraint to the breaking point. With each passing day it had become harder for him to ignore the lust she aroused in him. After this morn, he knew he fought a losing battle. Harder to admit was that it was not only the memory of what she’d looked like naked, or the silken feel of her skin beneath his hands, that made him desire her. Isobel, unlike Lorna, adored Robbie and Connor. She was everything he could’ve hoped for in a mother for his sons. He’d not meant to hurt her earlier, but she’d roused his temper when she challenged him, and his growing attraction to her had already cast a pall over his good humour.

  “What were you thinkin’ keepin’ them out in this weather?” Scowling at him, she reached for Robbie, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the bump on the lad’s forehead. “Oh, my poor bairn,” she cried, taking him into her arms.

  His son, who’d been laughing only minutes earlier, thrust out his bottom lip and appeared ready to cry. “Doona baby him, Isobel, he’s fine. I didna plan for the storm, it blew up of a sudden, catchin’ me unawares.” He felt the need to add more after the condescending look she shot him. Bloody hell, she had a way of makin’ him feel like an irresponsible lad.

  “Hhmph,” she said and hurried off in the direction of the keep. Robbie, his legs wrapped around her waist, was smiling over her shoulder.

  “What is the wee imp up to?”

  “He likes the kisses and cuddles mam gives when she thinks you’re hurt.”

  “Smart lad,” Ewan murmured. Watching the sway of her bonny arse, the thought of kissing and cuddling with his wife had him rethinking his plan to keep his distance.

  “I like them, too,” Connor added and took off after his brother and Isobel. Reaching them at the door to the keep, Connor held up his hand. “Oh, my poor bairn. Mam will make it all better.” He heard her say. From the look she sent Ewan over her shoulder, he doubted she’d be giving him a kiss or a cuddle anytime soon.

  Ewan got the horses settled before heading to his chambers. His grandda waylaid him on his way up the stairs. “Yer wife is no verra happy with ye. She was goin’ to round up the men and send out a search party.”

  “With her no doubt leadin’ the way,” Ewan said dryly.

  His grandda grinned. “Aye, she’s a determined lass.” Roderick’s smile faded as he handed a missive to Ewan. “The McRaes are in need of yer sword arm against the Gunns. The bastards made off with three of the McRaes’ lassies.”

  Ewan ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair. He’d all but made up his mind that this night he’d return to his wife’s bed. He’d been a fool keepin’ his distance from Isobel. The lass was nothin’ like Lorna and it was about time he let go of the past.

  Once he’d changed into dry clothes and prepared for his journey, Ewan followed the sound of laughter to Robbie’s chambers. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe. His sons, tucked beneath a mound of blankets, lay snuggled in Isobel’s embrace. Their wee faces alight with happiness as her melodious voice wove a tale of a handsome warrior riding through the mist to claim his one true love.

  He frowned, not sure filling the impressionable heads of his young sons with notions they would find a lass destined for them – and them alone – was a good idea. He thought back to that moonlit night of long ago when he’d been tempted to believe just that, but he’d never found the lass. And his marriage to Lorna had quickly vanquished any thoughts of a life filled with love and laughter. Such notions were fine for lassies, but no for lads.

  His brow furrowed, wondering if Isobel believed in a love such as that. Since she was the one telling the tale, he thought mayhap she did. If that were so, she must be sorely disappointed to be wed to him. He didn’t like to think she was unhappy, but there was not much they could do about the situation. They’d just have to make the best of it.

  “Da, come listen to mam’s story.” Connor waved him over.

  Isobel’s startled gaze leapt to his and her cheeks pinked. He blinked, shaking off the thought that, in that one instant, she had the look of the lass he’d met all those years ago. “I wish I could, son, but I have to leave now for Eilean Donan.” At the concern in Connor’s gaze, he added, “I’ll no’ be gone long, a fortnight at most.”

  “Nay, Robbie, doona cry,” Isobel said, “We’ll make honey cakes for your da’s return, and if the weather improves, I’ll take you to the loch and teach you to swim.” As she rattled off a long list of what she and the bairns would do while he was away, Ewan had the feeling she’d be glad to be rid of him so she could have Robbie and Connor to herself. He felt a moment of regret that he hadn’t included her over the last weeks. She’d obviously missed spending time with the lads. He’d be more considerate of her feelings on his return.

  She searched his face, worrying her full bottom lip between her small white teeth. “You willna be in danger, will you?”

  “Nay.” He grinned. She might as well have told him. “I want you gone, but not dead.” He leaned over and kissed his sons goodbye. “What aboot mam?” Robbie asked when Ewan straightened.

  Isobel lowered her eyes, about to protest when Ewan bent down and kissed her. He’d only meant to brush her lips with his, but her mouth had tempted him for too long and he couldn’t resist deepening the kiss, if only for a moment. Feeling her soft pliant lips beneath his, he vowed that once he returned, his wife would no longer be sleeping alone.

  “You lads be good for your mother and mind what she tells you.” At her grateful smile and the shimmer in her topaz eyes, Ewan cursed the Gunns.

  Five

  At the sight of Leod in the valley below, Ewan urged his steed to a gallop. He was as anxious to return home as he’d been a month ago, maybe more so. He’d missed Isobel as much as he’d missed his sons. Missed the sound of her warm laugh, the sight of her smile and the way she looked at him when she didn’t think he’d notice.

  Covered in sweat and dust, he turned down the path to the loch. He grinned at his sons’ shouts of laughter above the raucous splashing and Isobel’s feminine shriek. He supposed he should have warned her th
at the bairns could swim like fish when she spoke of teaching them. With the loch so close at hand, for the bairns’ safety he’d ensured they’d learned at an early age.

  Ewan tied off his horse and stripped to his braies. He came to a halt at the edge of the clearing, swallowing hard at the sight of Isobel standing knee deep in the water. Her heavy linen chemise clung damply to her luscious curves. Robbie and Connor were splashing her, her full breasts jiggling as she tried to get away from them. Ewan crept unseen around the rocks lining the loch. It wasn’t as though he could walk up and greet them, not in the aroused state he was in after seeing Isobel.

  He picked a spot he was familiar with and dived beneath the cool azure waters. Robbie and Connor squealed when he came up behind them.

  “Da!” They cried and flung their arms around his neck. “You’re home!”

  “Aye.” He laughed as their slippery bodies attempted to climb up his. “Just in time to save your mother from bein’ drowned by the two of you.” He met Isobel’s gaze and smiled.

  She pushed her wet curls from her face, her breasts straining beneath the chemise with the movement of her hands. He couldn’t draw his gaze from her delectable feminine form, so close all he had to do was reach out and pull her to him.

  “Da, throw us in the deep part,” Connor pleaded.

  “Yeah, da, throw us,” Robbie chimed in.

  “Aye,” he rasped. Reluctantly dragging his gaze from his smiling wife, he tossed first Connor then Robbie into the water.