Highlander Untamed Read online

  But honor, it seemed, had won.

  He couldn’t do this. Not when she was still vulnerable from her attack. Not when there were so many questions between them.

  She deserved more than he could give her.

  He stood up, his gaze held captive by what he’d forsaken for duty. She was temptation personified—her eyes half-closed with passion, her sensuous lips bruised by his kisses, her breathing ragged and shallow. He raked his gaze down to the soft ivory skin of her partially exposed breasts, the nipples dark and tight from his kisses.

  He must be insane.

  Isabel opened her eyes wide with surprise at his abrupt curtailment of the pleasure he was giving only moments before. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?” She sat up, fumbling self-consciously with the laces on her bodice.

  Wrong? She was so damn innocent.

  Rory turned, gazing out the window into the darkness, allowing his breathing to slow. Finally, he looked back to her. “I’ve told you how it must be.”

  She stood up, sliding her hands around his neck. “It doesn’t need to be.”

  It was almost too much. Perhaps he should just take what she offered, to hell with the consequences. But Rory would not act rashly when it came to the clan, not even with a woman he wanted above all others.

  Carefully he unfolded her arms from around his neck. He couldn’t think with her so near. “Why did you kiss me?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t trust me,” she said flatly.

  “Should I? You are a MacDonald.”

  Their eyes met, and he could see that his frank words had hurt her, but her answer was important to him. More important than he wanted to acknowledge.

  She lifted her chin, but the tremble of her bottom lip betrayed her distress. “Have I given you reason not to?”

  Rory stroked his jaw but didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure. “You’ve pushed me before,” he said, referring to the dress and flimsy night rail. “And you haven’t answered my question.”

  Isabel flushed, but whether from anger or guilt he did not know. “I kissed you because I wanted to. That is the only reason. If you will remember, we were discussing the attack at your request. Your suggestion.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him. “And if I choose to seduce you, you will know.” The sensuous, womanly confidence in her eyes took him aback.

  Rory almost smiled at her bravado, even as her threat sent a shiver of trepidation winding through him. He suspected that she was right. This woman was lethal.

  She let her threat hang for a moment before continuing. “Maybe I should question your motives. Why did you bring me here tonight?”

  “I asked you here to discuss the attack. Perhaps we should return to that and talk about the ramifications of your actions.” He paused, deliberating what those consequences might be.

  Isabel stood before him proudly, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed, but otherwise little evidence remained of her near undressed state of a few minutes ago.

  “I admit responsibility. Do what you will.”

  Rory shook his head. “I do not like your part in this, but it was Alex who was responsible. He was left in charge while I was away, and he will answer for his actions when he wakes. You have already suffered punishment enough at the hands of the Mackenzies. However, if you ever choose to disobey me again, mark me, Isabel, there will be severe consequences. I trust you will not do anything so reckless again.”

  It was not a question.

  “You may return to your chamber,” he said more gently. It wasn’t only Alex and Isabel to blame. Rory felt some responsibility for what had almost happened to her. He had not spread the news of their handfast, and this had contributed to Murdock Mackenzie’s suspicions that Isabel was not who she’d claimed to be. He’d also left her alone too long. The memory of her bitter accusation had not faded—his long silence had hurt her.

  Isabel ventured one last glance, pleading for understanding. He held her gaze but kept his expression inscrutable. The memory of what they’d shared stretched uncomfortably between them. Chastened, she turned and started to leave.

  He watched her go, his body still smoldering with unspent desire. The memory of her face as she’d shattered in his arms would haunt him for every day that remained of this damned handfast.

  He stopped her before she reached the door. “Why are you really here, Isabel? Why did you agree to the handfast?”

  She seemed surprised by his question. “’Twas my father’s wish.”

  “But what about you, what do you want?”

  “My clan to prosper, the love of my family.”

  “Is that all? Do you not want a man to love? Bairns to care for?”

  “Of course, but you’ve made it very clear that is not your intention.” Their eyes met and held. “Why did you agree to this handfast?”

  “I had no choice, the king demanded it,” he answered automatically. He saw the flicker of something in her eyes. Pain?

  “By handfasting with me, you did your duty to your king, but there is nothing to say that you may not enjoy it.” Her voice was very quiet. “I did.”

  He was silent for a moment, remembering the intensity of what they’d shared. “It doesn’t change anything.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken his words aloud until he noticed her expression. She looked as though he’d struck her.

  After a moment, she smiled sadly. “You’re wrong. It changes everything.”

  Chapter 14

  Isabel awoke as she’d done every day for the past month—cradled in Rory’s arms. She feigned sleep for a few minutes longer, relishing the sensation of those strong steel bands encircling her, the heat of his hard chest against her back, the spicy masculine scent of him, and the deep soothing sound of his even breathing. Safe. Warm. Content. She could stay like this forever.

  And today, like every day, she experienced the same sharp pang of disappointment and loss when he slid out of bed the instant he hardened against her, dressed quickly, and left. Some days it seemed he hesitated, but his honor was strong, and inevitably, she heard the door close with a definitive click behind him.

  Isabel never let him know that she was awake. As if by acknowledging the unspoken lure of their bodies, she might shatter the growing intimacy between them. The connection forged in the wee hours of the night, when she unconsciously reached for him, seeking the warmth of his body and the heat of his skin, and nothing else mattered but the press of his body against hers. And in those long, slow days spent awaiting the Christmas celebration, Isabel had come to realize how much she treasured his strength beside her.

  She’d been correct. That night in the library had changed everything.

  His gift to her had opened up an entirely new world. One that she didn’t know how she could possibly leave behind. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done. How it felt to be in his arms, the closeness, the ecstasy, and the magic. Though rightfully placed, his distrust afterward was the only thing to mar the beauty of her release. She wanted nothing more than to prove to him that he could trust her. But how could she, when he could not?

  The unspoken truce had created a pleasant lull, but one she knew could not go on forever.

  She dressed quickly, broke her fast with a small tray of food brought up by Deidre, and headed to the library to begin her tasks for the day.

  In the month since Rory’s return, Isabel’s daily activities had settled into a comfortable pattern. Alex’s recovery had progressed remarkably fast given the severity of the injury. She and Margaret had taken turns nursing him until one day, fed up with their “incessant hovering,” he threw them out of his room, declaring that he had been subjected to enough humiliation and was more than capable of bathing and feeding himself. His exact phrase actually contained the terms clean and arse, but suffice it to say, he was feeling much better.

  When they weren’t busy with their dut