Highlander Untamed Read online

  No such luck.

  “You look very well, niece—such a becoming rosiness to your cheeks. I feared, from the one short note that I received from you, to find you exhausted from the many tasks that keep you so well occupied. Glengarry and I have been quite concerned about you, yet here you are obviously thriving in your new home. And from the satisfied look of MacLeod here, it appears that your handfast agrees with you both. Such an inspired custom is handfasting, having a year and a day to decide whether a permanent arrangement is desirable. Never know what can happen in a year.” He paused dramatically.

  Isabel fought to control her temper at the slight to Margaret. Rory dropped his hand from her waist. With a surreptitious peep from beneath her lashes, she detected the inflexibility in his square jaw and the slight muscle twitch on his lower cheek, nearly imperceptible signs of anger that she would not have noticed nine months ago. Isabel knew him well enough now to realize that he itched to attack Sleat for his crass reminder, but Rory would never snap at bait dangled by her uncle.

  Instead of the anger Sleat sought, Rory smiled. “I believe my sister made a similar observation just the other day. Though she did remark how long a year could drag on.”

  Sleat’s face turned red as he took Rory’s meaning. Isabel fought the urge to giggle. Sleat turned to her with a sharp look. “I trust you have found everything you were searching for here at Dunvegan, Isabel?”

  His emphasis was not lost on her. So much for biding his time and waiting until they were alone. Obviously, Sleat was not fooled by the short note she sent him with the invitation, pretending not to understand his request for a detailed report. “I find everything much to my liking, Uncle.” She glanced meaningfully to Rory. “I’m sorry to have worried you, but I have been quite busy the last few months with my duties at the castle and organizing the gathering. I’m sure over the next few days I will have plenty of time to allay your concerns.”

  “I’m most anxious to hear all that you have to say. Let us not delay our little reunion for too long.”

  Thankfully, further conversation between Rory and Sleat was prevented by the boisterous arrival of her brothers.

  “Good to see you, Bel, I’ve missed you.” Ian smiled warmly and swallowed her in a firm brotherly hug.

  At only three and twenty, Ian already possessed the formidable height—without the awesome bulk—of their uncle. Each of her brothers was exceptionally handsome, but there was something special about Ian. Of the three, Isabel supposed he most resembled her, albeit a large emerald-eyed version of herself. Their hair was a similar shade, though his was streaked with a wee bit more golden blond than red from the extended periods of time he spent in the sun. His features, although masculine, were classic in their perfection. Fortunately, he was saved from true beauty by a square-clefted chin and a thin puckered scar that ran down the side of his slightly crooked nose. A warrior’s mark that if anything only added to his rugged appeal.

  Isabel was taken aback by the genuine emotion she detected behind the undeniable roguish charm. Had he really missed her? Was Rory correct? Had she misread her family’s inattention? Hope soared unfettered in her heart. She’d found the respect and sense of belonging she’d dreamed of her whole life with the MacLeods; perhaps she could find some semblance of closeness with her father and brothers.

  “I’ve missed you as well, Ian, missed all of you. We’ve much to discuss, but that will have to wait until after the feast. Come, let’s join the celebration in the great hall.” Noticing the eager faces of her carousing brothers, she chided teasingly, “But have care with the MacLeod cuirm—if you wish to compete at your best tomorrow.”

  Laughing at the mock affront in her brothers’ expressions at the slur on their ability to hold their drink, she turned and started toward the great hall, Ian on one side of her and Rory on the other.

  “I trust MacLeod hasn’t decided to permit lasses to participate in the trials this year, Bel. Or maybe he’s discovered that the MacLeods would be unbeatable in the archery competition with you on their side?”

  Isabel basked in Ian’s playful compliment. “Ah, but you should see Rory’s sister Margaret—of late, her skill surpasses mine.”

  “You jest. I did not think you could be beaten.” Glancing at Rory, he quipped, “You never know when having a sister skilled with a bow may come in handy.”

  Startled, Isabel fixed her eyes firmly on his face, but he would not meet her curious gaze. Was that just an innocuous comment, or was he outright acknowledging the arrow that saved his life? Isabel felt a warm burst of surprise and pride.

  Ian paused and considered something for a moment, then asked Isabel hesitantly, “But what of Margaret’s injury? Does that not interfere with her ability to use the bow?”

  Isabel shook her head. “Margaret has an extraordinary natural ability for archery. It is sometimes a challenge for her to gauge the depth, but for the most part she is able to compensate for the loss of vision in that eye.” Unable to resist looking at Sleat with a triumphant smile, she added, “I think you will all find Margaret very changed.”

  Rory seemed tempted to say something, but they had reached the hall and the opportunity for conversation was lost by the overwhelming din of the celebratory feast inside.

  By late afternoon of the next day, Isabel was wishing she had followed her own sage advice. In a mistaken attempt to assuage the tension she was feeling from the disrupting presence of her family in the midst of her fool’s paradise, she’d imbibed too freely of the cuirm and was now suffering the consequences of a blaring headache. But the games were far too entertaining to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of her chambers to rest off the lingering effects of the drink. Besides, watching Rory compete in the various trials of strength and skill made her heart race like an excited girl.

  Not surprisingly, the MacLeods, in large part because of Rory, were leading early in the competition. This morning, Rory had easily defeated the field in the swimming competition held in the loch, not an unexpected result given that he’d grown up swimming in those crystalline waters. He’d come in second, barely, in the steep hill foot race behind Alex, who’d then good-naturedly spent the better part of the day teasing him unmercifully for being an “old man.”

  Isabel eagerly looked forward to the stone toss and the dance competition that were to be held later that afternoon. Tomorrow, the wrestling, leaping, and throwing of the blacksmith’s forge were scheduled. But the final day of competition would see her favorite events: the tossing of the great tree trunk and the archery contest. Of all the events, Isabel thought the “caber toss” the most remarkable. A great tree trunk was tapered and cut to a height of about eighteen feet. The warrior ran with the caber balanced against his body, then tossed the trunk, hoping that it would flip end over end to land in a straight line. This was a trial of great strength, but it also required tremendous precision and accuracy. Likely the caber toss trial developed as a result of the Highlander’s penchant for novel methods of breaching enemy defenses.

  A quick perusal of the happy faces of the clansmen around her produced a satisfied smile. All in all, the gathering was proceeding quite well, even with the arrival this morning of Clan Mackenzie. Her duty of hospitality aside, she was grateful they had missed the feast last night. She had been able to avoid confronting the Mackenzie chief, the father of Murdock, who was killed by Rory not too far from the clearing where the clansmen were now gathered for the stone toss.

  “Enjoying the competition, niece? Your handfast husband is putting on quite a display.”

  Ouch, the pain in her head just got much worse. Isabel looked around for a graceful means of escape. No luck. Sleat had cornered her in a perfect spot for private conversation. Undoubtedly, he’d patiently bided his time for just such an opportune moment. Thanks to her pounding headache, Isabel had lingered in the shade on the edge of the forest a short distance away from the contestants and other spectators.

  Taking a deep breath to bolster her confidence for t