He pressed his forehead into his palms and breathed deeply. More than anything, he feared losing control and then losing the ability to think logically as he once had. The only way to maintain the control he needed was to erect a barrier between himself and Isobel, and keep it there. His gut twisted at the thought of hurting her, but it had to be this way to protect them both. He had proven to himself today that when he lost control, he once more became the jealous, clot-heid he had been most of his life. He’d not accept that.
The door was thrown open and banged against the wall. Isobel had returned, and he was guessing she was livid. He lifted his head and met her blazing gaze. When she opened her mouth to speak he held up a hand for silence, half expecting her to argue or ignore his command, yet she clamped her jaw shut, plunked her hands on her hips, and began to tap her foot.
The sudden desire to laugh filled him, and he allowed a chuckle to rumble from his chest. He knew in this moment, looking at his wife, who was much smaller than he yet matched him in boldness, that he was in grave danger of caring far more than he had admitted to her or even to himself. She possessed all the things he admired: bravery, honor, and determination.
In his anger down at the shore, he had punished her by leaving her behind, knowing it would humiliate her, and he could see by the trembling of her lips and the splotches of red on her cheeks that his arrow had struck the mark. He had never been more ashamed of himself in his life.
He sighed and motioned to her. “Come sit, so that we may talk.”
Her eyes widened, but she slowly closed the door and then came to sit by him. He looked at her, and her beauty struck him speechless for a moment. He cleared his throat, then asked, “Why did ye interfere in my discipline of Broch?”
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “I was concerned that he would harm ye,” she said.
Her honesty—and the knowledge that she would willingly place herself in harm’s way for him—was like a battering ram into the wall he must make invincible. It felt as if his body shook with her innocent hit. The urge to pull her close to him, bury his head against her soft neck, and inhale the smell of her fragrant hair was so strong that he had to lace his hands behind his head to keep from acting on his yearning. “I dunnae need yer concern.” Her lips parted, and her fingers twisted in her lap. He clenched his teeth against the fast-building desire to comfort her. He had to make her understand. “I’m a skilled fighter,” he added, hoping it would lessen her hurt.
“I ken, but I was fearful all the same. Ye have my concern whether ye wish for it or nae.” She scowled. “Truly, I wish ye did nae have it, but ye do. Ye stole it like a thief, right along with my heart!”
Her words froze him. He had her heart?
Warmth that could not be denied filled him. He had her heart. It was a precious gift, indeed, yet he could not return it. He forced a coldness into his head, chest, and heart. “Isobel, as I explained before,” he said slowly, “it is yer duty as my wife to care for me, so dunnae fash yerself that ye do.”
“Dunnae fash myself?” she repeated, her words ringing with astonishment. “I dunnae ken ye, Graham. Ye act jealous, which makes me believe ye might care for me, but then ye act so cold as if ye dunnae care at all.”
“I told ye,” he said, hearing the resignation in his own tone, “I care for ye. I will keep ye safe from harm, and I will treat ye well, but I kinnae give ye more than that.”
The raw hurt that glittered in her eyes made him nearly choke with disgust in himself. He had vowed not to hurt her, yet he was hurting her right then. But he could see no other path safe enough to take. He thought about how her father had crushed her hopes, and he could not let her believe there was anything wrong with her. “It’s nae something lacking in ye, Isobel,” he said. “It’s me.”
Doubt filled her entire body. He said it was not her, but mayhap it was. Her father had not loved her, either. No. She shoved back at the burgeoning doubt. Graham’s words made her more certain than ever that she had to understand his past to understand the man he now was and whether they could ever have a chance for love. Yet, she suspected, if he thought she harbored any hope, he would withdraw further. Possibly to a place she could never reach him, and then they would live a lonely existence as man and wife.
“I believe I ken ye,” she said, picking her words with care as she thought about what Graham had said and what she should say. “If it is as ye say, then I must content myself with that.” The lie burned on her tongue, but she would not retract it.
His eyes narrowed, and she almost sighed with relief. Graham clearly did not like that she had so willingly agreed to be content without his love. That had to be a good sign.
“Was there a reason ye came to the training ground?” he asked.
Oh, she’d forgotten all about that. “Aye. I’d like ye to call back my guards.”
“Nay,” he said without hesitation. “I kinnae be with ye to watch over ye every minute of the day.”
More likely he didn’t want to be, but she tried not to let her hurt take hold of her. “Yer having me guarded makes it look as if ye dunnae trust me and dunnae really wish to be married to me. Yer clan will nae ever accept me that way.”
“I have ye guarded for yer safety,” he rebutted.
“I ken that, but do ye honestly believe yer sister, or any of yer clan, would strike at me now that I am yer wife? It would be like striking at ye. Surely they would nae do such a thing.” She could see him considering her argument so she rushed to say more. “I’ll nae leave the castle without asking, and I vow I’ll tell ye if I encounter any trouble.” That did not include trouble already brewing, she decided. Father Murdock would take care of that before it took hold.
Graham scrubbed a hand across his whiskers, and her fingers twitched to run them down the prickly hairs that she could vividly recall against her inner thighs last night. Her gut twisted into a knot as she repressed the desire. She did not think he would welcome her touch, and it made her sad.
“I’ll need yer vow,” he finally said.
She was so excited that she forgot herself and kissed him. When her lips touched his, she froze and quickly pulled away. “I’m sorry. I was overcome with happiness.”
A low growl emanated from Graham as he pulled her to him and slanted his mouth over hers, causing heat to immediately fill her. Just as her thoughts began to spin out of control, he broke the kiss. “Dunnae ever apologize for kissing me, Isobel.”
The look of yearning he gave her put renewed hope in her heart, but then his eyes almost shuttered and became remote. “It is yer duty as my wife to give me yer body, and it pleases me ye do so willingly.”
She clenched her teeth in a pang of anger. He wanted her, devil take the man! She could see clearly that he did, but he was now trying to make it about duty and not desire. He was attempting to make everything between them cold, including the passion that burned so hot.
“I detest the word duty,” she snapped, unable to hold back any longer. “All my life the nuns told me it was my duty not to complain to my father about being separated or of their horrid treatment, and now ye talk of duty every time we speak! Is that all last night was to ye?” she demanded. “Yer duty to bed me to seal our marriage? Will every time ye touch me be because ye feel ye have a duty to get me with bairn? I dunnae want yer touch if I’m such a duty to ye!”
She shoved off the bed, intending to storm out of the bedchamber, but she did not get a step away before he clamped his hand around her wrist and she found herself propelled backward until she was flat on her back on the bed. In a flash he was looming over her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders, his legs on either side of her hips. She was caged in by him, and instead of it scaring her, she found it excited her.
His scalding gaze raked her boldly. “Damn ye, Isobel,” he swore, looking half-crazed. “Ye can be certain that touching ye is nae a duty to me. Last night was about desire.” His mouth covered hers hungrily, and he kissed her until she was pan
ting. “This moment is about desire,” he added in a low, seductive voice that she thought would make the devil himself blush. “When I touch ye it is about passion that burns so hot it sears me from the inside. Dunnae mistake that ever. Whatever is nae between us, there is passion. But I will master it,” he vowed and then covered her mouth with his once more.
His lips roved hungrily from hers to her neck, and then he slipped his fingers inside her gown and tugged it down gently. Her breasts sprang free, and his mouth took her in fully. As he teased and tormented one bud and then the other, she thrashed and moaned as the pleasure became almost painful.
She felt the slide of her gown up her legs and then a few tugs as Graham divested her of her undergarments. His fingers expertly found the spot he had awoken her to the prior night, and he showed the same mercy here as he had shown to her sensitive buds—none.
Heat rushed between her legs and then to her cheeks when he gently slid his fingers into her. “A Dia, mo maise. Ye are so wet, so ready,” he growled.
“Aye,” she panted. “Perchance it’s a sin.”
“Good Christ, woman, if it be sinful I gladly partake and willingly face the fires of eternal damnation.” He rose between her legs, lifted her hips, and plunged inside her.
This time there was no sharp pinch of pain. There was only a soreness from the night before, but it quickly disappeared as Graham set a fast, frenzied, pleasurable pace. Her body seemed to know just how to move with his, and before long, they were both crying out their release. When they were done, Graham lay beside her and pulled her into his arms.
She said a silent prayer that this moment would last as long as the previous night had, or longer. In their joining, she saw clearly now that Graham released the bonds of restraint he kept wound tightly around him. Holding her breath, she lay her hand on his heart and counted each precious beat. His hand came to cover hers, and they remained thusly until his heart slowed and her skin had cooled from the heat of passion.
A shiver ran through her at the slight chill in the air. Graham sat up, took off his plaid and wrapped her in it. He stared down at her for a moment, then said, “I need to go back to training. Remember yer vow to ask before leaving the castle, aye?”
She nodded and tightened his plaid around her as her stomach growled loudly. She slapped a palm on her stomach, mortified, but the boyish grin Graham gave her made her forget her embarrassment as her heart flipped in awe of her husband’s beautiful smile. That smile stayed on his face as he reached out and brushed a lock of her hair back from her face, but then the same remoteness from earlier came to his eyes, and he pulled back his hand as if only just remembering he had vowed only to care and protect and no more. She forced herself not to sigh with frustration.
“I dunnae believe ye had enough to eat when ye broke yer fast,” he said.
She quickly told him of her food being spilled as she was talking to Father Murdock, though she did not tell him of Rhona calling her a witch. “I believe Father Murdock dunnae feel wanted here.”
Graham frowned. “Why do ye say that?”
“He told me as much,” she replied. “Ye hurt him greatly yesterday when he asked ye to confess yer sins before our wedding and ye told him yer confessions went straight to God.”
“They do,” Graham said in the matter-of-fact way only men could think was seemly.
“Aye, of course, but perchance ye could confess to him, as well. He dunnae feel needed.”
“Father Murdock caused this himself,” Graham snapped.
Isobel frowned. “How?”
Graham rose from the bed and stretched his hands high above his head, causing the muscles of his arms, chest, and stomach to flex. Isobel’s core tightened with renewed desire, and Graham gave her a wolfish grin. “If ye continue to look at me that way, Isobel, I’ll nae ever get back to training.”
She could not stop her grin, nor order her thoughts beyond her desire for her husband. “I’m nae certain that would be such an awful notion.”
He leaned down and cupped her face gently in his hands. “Ye’re a lusty wench.”
Isobel’s eyes widened. “Possibly,” she teased, “but even lusty wenches need rest,” she said as delicately as she could. She had enjoyed every one of Graham’s touches, but she had no doubt that this morning, combined with last night, was going to leave her a bit achy.
The smile on his face disappeared as he stared at her. “Isobel, I did nae hurt ye, did I?”
His wretchedness made her even happier, which was surely a sin. Inside her husband, she was certain dwelled a deep caring for her that surely could blossom into love if she could get it out of him. Taking a bold chance, she placed her hand over his. “Nay. But I am a wee bit sore.”
“A Dia, Isobel. I’m sorry I’m such a beast. I did nae stop to consider—That is, ye make me forget myself.” She saw it the moment the wall went up around him. His eyes hardened, and his jaw clenched. He slid his hand away from her face and put physical distance between them, too. “Dunnae look for me until supper. I’ll be training the rest of the day.”
She slipped off his plaid, but he shook his head. “Keep it. ’Tis yers now. I’ve another.” Reaching into his trunk, he withdrew another plaid, quickly donned it, and started to leave. It was then that Isobel remembered Graham had not finished telling her about Father Murdock.
“Graham, why did ye say Father Murdock brought nae feeling needed on himself?”
Graham paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. “His habit of drinking too much mead has made him muck up many a thing people have asked him to do, and he has repeatedly confused requests made to him and caused arguments.”
Her mouth dropped open at the news as she thought of her request for him to speak to Rhona. Dear God! She was so consumed with worry over how Father Murdock might accidentally make matters worse that she didn’t even realize Graham had walked back toward her until he was kneeling in front of her.
“Isobel, ye did nae ask the priest to do anything for ye, did ye?”
If she told Graham, he might become angry at Father Murdock, and she could not stand the thought that the priest might lose his position at Dunvegan because of his unthinking words. Graham’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze locked on her mouth. “Nay,” she rushed out. “We simply talked of his position here.” The lie filled her with guilt, but she had no other choice, not one she could tolerate.
Graham stared at her for a long moment, his disbelief clear by the setting of his jaw. She braced herself for his demand that she speak the truth, but he stood slowly, keeping his probing gaze on her. “That’s good to hear, Wife. Because any task ye ask of Father Murdock, he is sure to make a mess of.”
Swallowing, she nodded. “I’ll be sure to remember that,” she added, her voice shaky even to her own ears.
Graham did not reply, merely turned and left without a word. Isobel feared that protecting Father Murdock had just cost her greatly. She had to speak to the priest and learn what he had said to Rhona, if he had talked to her yet at all. And if he had not, mayhap she would talk to Rhona herself. Isobel frowned. That would likely not help her case at all. She would have to tell Father Murdock exactly what to say and make him repeat it to her, and convince him not to drink any ale before he talked to Rhona.
With her stomach roiling, she creaked open the door and went to find Father Murdock.
Chapter Seventeen
“Where are my men?” Graham demanded as he strode up to Lachlan at the training site.
Lachlan turned toward Graham, not speaking but finishing his exercise with his sword. When it was completed, he lowered his weapon and swiped his upper arm across his eyes. “I dismissed them,” he replied.
“Why did ye do that? And without speaking with me first? I’m in charge of training now.”
“Aye,” Lachlan said. “Ye are, and usually ye ken I’d nae interfere. I dismissed them without speaking to ye because I kenned ye would nae agree, but I also ken after what Cameron told me occurred, that ye�
�re nae thinking clearly or ye would nae have demoted Broch for the crime of dancing with and speaking to yer wife.”
Graham opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but his brother was correct. He released a long sigh. “Isobel strips me of logic without even trying.”
Lachlan nodded. “Bridgette does much the same to me.”
Graham stabbed his sword into the dirt, feeling as if he would burst at any moment. “But it is nae dangerous for ye and her.”
“I’d argue that it can be,” Lachlan replied. “When she is on the battlefield with me, I’m more distracted than I should be.”
“’Tis not what I mean,” Graham growled.
Lachlan narrowed his eyes. “Then explain it to me.”
Graham inhaled deeply, wondering if he even could, if he even wanted to. He’d never put into words what he feared about himself, yet he felt he was splintering and needed to talk. “Without logic, emotions rule me, and when I allowed emotion to rule me, I was nae an honorable man.” He clenched his teeth, feeling his anger and desperation growing. “I kinnae allow her into my head.” Nor could he allow her into his heart, but he refused to speak of such things, even to his brother. He tapped on his chest. “Darkness dwells in here. I finally managed to lock it up, and I must keep it that way.”
“There’s nae darkness in ye, Graham,” Lachlan said quietly, stepping closer. “There was a yearning that went unfulfilled from our mother and there was jealousy, aye, but it was nurtured by Mother. She should have seen what she was doing to ye. Ye were a child, and ye did nae ken the wrong, until the wrong way was all ye did ken.”
“Nay,” Graham replied, refusing to give the blame to his mother. “I should have kenned long before I did that what I was doing was wrong. I should have stopped myself before I almost destroyed ye and Bridgette.”
Lachlan grasped Graham’s arm. “Brother, ye did nae destroy us, but ye helped to save us. Ye risked yer life to help me rescue Bridgette, and then ye risked yer life to avenge Lena. Ye set yer jealousy behind ye and overcame it and all yer injuries to become a fierce warrior. Ye did nae hold on to yer hatred of me because ye had nae ever given yerself fully to it. Ye kinnae hold on to anything ye dunnae fully give yerself to, including a woman.”
When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4) Page 23
