Per MacNeil’s demands, she could ensure Alex’s safety by marrying the bastard. But did she truly trust the laird to do as promised?
“I was,” she finally admitted in a whisper. “I kenned marriage to him didnae have to be forever. I could find a way to—”
“Nay.” God’s Blood, he hated the way his voice shook with fear, but he let her hear it. “Nay, Isabel, ye cannae marry MacNeil.”
“Why?” Suddenly, she swung toward the moonlight, and he could now see her determined expression. “Why no’? ‘Tis the most diplomatic answer. I’ll ensure Alex’s life, and I trust ye to get us all to safety afterwards. Why no’ marry the madman?”
Because I love ye.
Oh, shite.
Tav’s heart pounded against his ribcage, as he realized the truth. At some point over the last few days, he’d fallen completely in love with Isabel de Strathbogie. But she was destined to marry a powerful laird, such as MacNeil or the King’s brother…not some ex-pirate like himself.
So he couldn’t tell her.
Instead, he forced himself breathe and think logically. “Because…because ye cannae trust his intentions. He claims he only wants to raise the next Earl of Carrick to be the kind of man he thinks he ought to be. But…”
The way she leaned forward, hands clasped, told him she was just as desperate to be talked out of this plan of hers as he was to talk her out of it. “Ye think he is lying?”
Tav had no idea. “I think there’s nae way to understand his intentions. Once ye’re married, he’s made it clear he’ll expect certain…privileges.” MacNeil wanted her in his bed, and what man wouldn’t? “He’s likely planning on getting a son from ye. That son would become Alex’s heir, until Alex marries.”
She caught her breath. “And ye think…”
“I think, once his son is the heir to the Earl of Carrick, ‘tis possible MacNeil will ensure the wee earl disappears.”
She uttered the most unladylike curse, which just made Tav love her a bit more.
“I’m sorry, Isabel.”
“Nay.” She drew in a wobbling breath. “Nay, ‘tis my suspicion as well. The title shouldnae pass on like that, but ‘tis already on shaky ground with Alex being illegitimate. And though the Bruce is fond of him—of us—I suspect MacNeil is wagering on the title being passed to my second son instead of back to the Bruce line.”
Well, ‘twas good she understood the reality.
But…
“Ye’re still planning on marrying him?”
“Nay. I said I was considering it, but I realized before I’d even left Kisimul ‘twould no’ be the way to keep Alex safe.”
Tav settled his weight on his heels, his fingers digging into his arms as a way to keep from reaching for her now that he knew she wasn’t planning on marrying the bastard. “And what do ye think ‘twill keep him safe? What is yer plan?”
She took a deep breath and turned so her back was to him. The firelight highlighted the strength in her shoulders, which he’d always thought delicate. “Alex needs a father.”
“What?” he blurted.
Without turning, she shrugged. “Ye and I discussed this. He needs a father to teach him how to be a good leader, a strong man.”
In two strides, he was at her side, but he still hesitated to touch her. “Isabel, ye are a strong leader. Ye can raise yer son to be—”
“I’ll raise him to be compassionate and wise. I’ll raise him to be the kind of leader I think is appropriate, but MacNeil is right.”
“There’s naught right about what that bastard is doing.”
The breath she took was shaky as she turned to him. “Alex needs a father. No’ just for the future, but now. “
His gaze searched her face. “What do ye mean?”
“If I’m married, if Alex already has a stepfather, then MacNeil cannae force me to marry him to protect Alex. And if I’m married, then my husband will have a stake in Carrick and will do all he can to save Alex.”
God’s Blood, but Tav hated the plan. He hated the thought of her marrying someone so quickly because she thought he could protect Alex better than Tavish could now. He hated the thought of her in another man’s arms. And he hated that, despite his visceral denials, the plan was a good one.
Still, he had to try. “Isabel, nae man will do more to save Alex than I will, here and now.”
To his surprise, she turned to him. Lifting her hand, she rested it on his cheek. “I ken that, Tavish MacLeod,” she said softly, “but I need ye to do more for me.”
She was asking for his help?
He surged toward her, trapping her hand against his skin with one of his own as he wrapped his other around her waist. “Aught, Isabel. I’ll do aught for ye.”
Her fingers were warm against his cheek, and when she smiled, it appeared hesitant. Still, she was beautiful as she stood staring up at him, pressed against him like this.
“I was hoping ye’d say that, Tavish. I have a small favor to ask.”
“Aught.”
“Marry me.”
Chapter 8
Mayhap she shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.
“Me?”
Tavish sounded so incredulous, and suddenly, she wasn’t so certain any longer.
Still, she tried to remember why she proposed it. ‘Twas a good plan, and she needed to hold on to that certainty.
So she swallowed and lifted her chin, meeting his eyes in the flickering light. “Aye, ye, Tavish MacLeod. Do ye want me to beg?”
His, “Never,” sounded fervent. “But I am—”
“Ye are a good man. Ye are kind and noble and brave. Ye are a good father, and I ken ye could come to care for Alex the way ye care for Dane.”
He silenced her by dropping his forehead to hers and blowing out a breath.
“Isabel,” he whispered, then laughed slightly. “Isabel, ye dinnae ken me. Ye dinnae ken who I am, or what I’ve done.”
“I ken ye’re Charlotte’s brother. I ken she—and the Queen—trust ye to handle their business on the sea. I dinnae pretend that’s likely no’ messy and dangerous, the same as being an Angel, but ye do it for a good cause.”
“Ye dinnae ken my history.”
With her hand still on his jaw, she nudged him upright until she could meet his eyes once more. “Ye are raising yer son, even though ye second-guess yerself if ‘tis the right thing, which shows ye are more compassionate than ye ken. Ye look after Scotland’s interests at sea, which shows ye are brave and noble. Ye’re a laird’s son, and ye understand what ‘tis necessary to be a leader of men.”
“But I—”
“I ken ye.”
In the silence after her emphatic claim, their breathing sounded harsh.
Finally, shaking his head slightly—in denial or to clear it, she wasn’t sure—Tavish loosened his hold on her. “There are things about me ye dinnae ken.”
“Will they change my opinion of ye?” she snapped.
One corner of his lips tugged up ruefully. “Lass, no’ even my mother spoke so eloquently about me, as ye did just now. Most dismiss me as a useless fool.”
“Ye ken big words like eloquently. Ye are nae fool.” A sudden, horrible, embarrassing thought came to her. “Is it me? Are ye married already? Blessed Virgin, Tavish, if—”
He caught her hand. “Ye think I wouldnae have mentioned that to ye? Ye were the one who just insisted I’m a good man.”
Aye. Her breathing slowed. Aye, he was a good man. She was certain of it.
And standing there in the near darkness, her hand clutched desperately in his, she realized he was making small circles on her skin with the pad of his thumb. ‘Twas the same thing he’d done to offer her comfort on the day they’d met for the first time, that horrible day when Alex had been taken, and she’d had to pretend to be strong, when inside, she was falling apart.
Now, as then, his touch brought her comfort. But more than that, little frissons of need spiraled up her arm and down her chest, settling deep
in her stomach and lower, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d been with a man.
And how very handsome this man was, and how wonderful he made her feel.
And how their kiss had melted her completely, even though he’d been offering her comfort.
“Lass, any man would be honored to marry ye…but I’m a mere sailor.”
“There is naught mere about ye, Tavish. I admire ye greatly. Do ye think I make this offer to ye merely because ye are here?”
“Well, I am here, I have a boat, and I’m devastatingly handsome,” he corrected with a wry grin.
She chuckled lightly. “Ye are, and ye do. But I’m no’ suggesting we marry merely as a way to foil MacNeil. I could’ve simply claimed I was married today, if I thought ‘twould be enough to retrieve my son.”
He was studying her, although she wasn’t certain what he could see in the shadows.
“Ye dinnae think being already married will be enough to force him to give up?”
Nay, ‘twould take much more than that, but she wasn’t ready to discuss the next part of her plan. At least, not until she had his agreement he’d marry her.
“Isabel, ye are right. Being married will no’ only protect Alex from bastards like MacNeil, who would use him to gain power at court, but protect ye as well. Ye’ve lived under the protection of the King for so long, but when ye decide to return to Carrick…?”
He was right. Robert and Elizabeth’s good graces were one of the reasons she and Alex had remained at court in Scone for so long. Once she took her son to Carrick, where he belonged, there wouldn’t be anyone there she could trust, not right away. No one to lean on, no one to rely on. She’d have to be strong, every moment of every day, or she would risk Alex’s future.
“Aye.” Her voice was hoarse. “Aye, I ken it. A husband…” She swallowed. “No’ just a stepfather for Alex, but if I were married—married to a man I trust—I could look forward to some happiness in my future as well.”
“A man ye trust,” he repeated in a whisper. Then he blew out a slight huff, which might’ve been a laugh. “And ye trust me, despite having just met me?”
She took his other hand. “I trust ye, Tavish MacLeod. I trust ye with my own well-being, and more importantly, that of my son’s. I trust ye with the future of Carrick, which is saying something.”
“ ’Tis,” he agreed. His fingers tightened around hers. “Are ye certain, Isabel?”
“I—” Suddenly, she stopped. “Actually, nay. Nay, I’m no’ certain. But I have to get my son back and secure his future, and I think marriage to ye would ensure that. With my husband at my side, MacNeil would have to kill one or both of us to have a chance at claiming Carrick, and I am wagering he’ll no’ be able to do that.”
Tavish was nodding, which proved he understood the betting game she was playing here. “But me? Ye are certain ye want to marry me?”
Almost.
Slowly, she untangled her fingers from his and dropped her hold on his hands long enough to reach up to his shoulders. Being this bold made her uncomfortable, but ‘twas something she had to do. Fighting the urge to demur, to step away, Isabel knew she was blushing furiously when she whispered, “Do ye want to marry me?”
His chuckle sounded forced, even as he settled his hands on her hips. “Love, I’ll no’ force ye into aught.”
“I have to ken,” she whispered, unable to inhale.
He didn’t move for a long moment, and then, just when she thought her chest would burst, he lowered his chin. ‘Twas just a nod, an agreement to her demands, but it was enough. In one fierce eruption of movement, she sucked in a breath of air and surged up on her toes, slamming her lips against his.
With a groan, his arms snaked around her back, pulling her flush against him, and her hands crept up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck.
This was right. This was perfect.
His lips tugged at hers, his tongue tracing their seam, until hers opened and she whimpered against him. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed because he made a noise very much like victory as he deepened the kiss.
Blessed Virgin, aye!
As his lips and tongue showed her true passion, her nipples tightened, and she realized she was grinding against the hardness under his kilt. The thought of what that was made her breathless with need all over again, in the most wonderful way, and she nipped at his lower lip.
With another groan, he broke his lips away from her, but not for long. Nay, he dragged his mouth down her jaw, then began kissing her neck and what turned out to be an incredibly sensitive spot under her ear. She whimpered as she tilted her head back to give him better access, all the while scrambling at his back, trying to get closer.
Heedless of their surroundings, she didn’t even startle when his large palm dragged up her side, then cupped her left breast. Nay, it felt as though ‘twas the most natural thing in the world, and she managed to arch against his touch, which drew his lips farther down her neck.
“God’s Blood, lass,” he whispered against her skin, causing her to shiver as his thumb and forefinger closed around her nipple under her gown, “ye are incredible.”
“Tavish, please!” she whimpered, her pelvis gyrating against him, desperate for that delicious friction and pressure.
He didn’t answer, but his lips found hers once more, and he shifted his hold on her, so he was stroking the skin above the gentle swell of her breasts, as she sighed against his mouth.
Suddenly, a cry from the group around the fire pierced her haze, and as the men roared with laughter at whatever had been said, Isabel stiffened.
Tavish noticed and slowly straightened, dropping his hand to her hip once more and smoothing the wool of her gown. For her part, she was hard-pressed not to push forward, to ease the ache between her thighs with his hardness. But she forced herself to stand rock-still and allow the desire to dissipate a little more with each heartbeat as she tried to focus on her breathing.
By the fire, the men continued to call out crude jokes, and she was frankly relieved they weren’t laughing at what she and their captain were doing out here in the darkness. Tavish let out a little huff, which might’ve been a laugh.
At a loss for what to say, Isabel murmured, “I hope they dinnae wake Margaret.”
“If they do, Dane will soothe her.”
Aye, he likely would. But naught could soothe the hole which had just ripped open in her soul at the taste of his lips and the feel of his hands.
No man had ever—ever—made her feel the way Tavish MacLeod just had. Not even Edward Bruce, her once-betrothed, the man who’d taken her virginity, the man who’d given her Alex. Even he hadn’t set her body and heart aflame the way Tavish did.
When his fingers rested on her cheek, the touch seemed hesitant. “Isabel? Should I apologize?”
“What for?” She forced a chuckle. “I was the one who attacked ye.”
“And I just sat there like a drop of tar for yer attack,” he replied sarcastically. “If I took liberties ye were no’ comfortable with, I am sorry.”
Here she was, doubting herself, and he was concerned about her reaction to him?
“Och, Tavish,” she scoffed, quietly, reaching up to cover his fingers with hers. “I had to be certain.”
“About—about marriage to me?” He didn’t let her respond, but hurried on with, “Have I scared ye off then?”
Under the teasing tone, she heard his worry.
“I had to make certain I wasnae asking ye to do aught ye’d dislike. I would hate to think that marriage to me might be a—a chore.”
He scoffed. “I hope I’ve proven ‘twould no’ be a chore, Isabel. Do ye have any idea how many times I’ve watched ye at court and wondered how ye’d taste? Idly, of course, because I never considered ye’d even notice me—”
Thinking of all the times her eyes had sought out his broad shoulders, she interrupted, “Oh, I’ve noticed ye.”
“So…” He swallowed, his fingers
making those delightful small movements against her skin. “Does yer offer still stand?”
This had to be the most convoluted marriage proposal in the history of marriage. “I ken ‘tis for the wrong reasons, Tavish, but if ye marry me, ye’ll be able to help me save Alex.”
“I would give my life to help ye save Alex, Isabel,” he murmured, low and fervent. “Ye dinnae have to sacrifice yer future to me just for that.”
In the reflection of the distant flickering firelight, Isabel could see the sincerity in his expression. She took a deep breath and told him the truth.
“Tavish, I rather think I do. I’m coming to realize I need ye.”
And no’ just to keep MacNeil from marrying me.
His lips curled wryly. “Then aye. Lady Isabel de Strathbogie, I would be flattered to become yer husband.”
Part of her jumped in excitement at his agreement, but she wasn’t certain how one reacted to such a pact. When he lowered his head and brushed his lips against her, she was glad to have some kind of reaction she understood.
But the kiss was a quick one, apparently only intended to seal their bargain. When he straightened, he held her shoulders.
“Ye are certain this is what ye want, Isabel?”
“ ’Tis,” she whispered.
“Well, then…” He blew out a breath and pulled her against him, pressing her cheek to his chest so she could hear his heart beating under his shirt and plaid. “We can reach Dunvegan tomorrow. There will be a priest and Margaret will be safe there while we return to Barra.”
“Aye,” she whispered against his chest. “We have enough time.” Three days.
“I have some thoughts about that timeline,” Tavish mused.
Aye, so did she, but she kept her ideas to herself. Why? Was it because she was already deferring to her betrothed? Or because she was just too nervous to explain right now?
“Isabel,” he murmured against her hair, reminding her of how he’d comforted her when she’d embarrassed herself so thoroughly against him earlier. “I swear we’ll get Alex back. If ye think this is the best option, I’ll gladly moor my vessel to yers. Ye are a prize I never would’ve thought to try to win, but that willnae change how I think of this mission. We’ll save him, Isabel. We’ll save yer lad.” He paused, then added, “Our lad, I suppose. I will be a good stepfather. I give ye my word.”
The Pirate’s Angel Page 9
