Highlander Untamed Read online

  He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the elusive grasp of her hand. “Surprise me,” he said with difficulty.

  She did.

  Rather than take him in her hand, she slithered down his chest, kissing and licking along her dangerously slow path. Rory couldn’t think; a red haze clouded his vision, and the blood pounded in his ears. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, giving her time to find her way.

  Oh God, she was so close. He ached for the press of her warm, hot mouth around him, sucking, taking him deeper. Suddenly, she stopped. His eyes flew open. Her mouth was inches from him. While he was watching, her tongue flicked out to lick him. His ass clenched as he fought the overwhelming rush of heat. Their eyes met and held. It was the most erotic, intimate moment of his life.

  “Mercy?” she asked.

  Rory couldn’t speak, he was too damn close to bursting. Her tongue swirled around his thick head. Every muscle in his body tightened. “Mercy,” he choked.

  She chuckled and finally slid him into her warm mouth. Her soft pink lips surrounded him, pulling him deeper as her tongue slid against him. He showed her how to take him deep and how to use her hand because there was too much of him. Finally, when he couldn’t take any more, he pulled her on top of him, entering her in one hard thrust.

  He held her hips as she moved up and down, clenching him like a silken glove with her muscles. Rory was out of his mind with need. She arched her back, and he knew she was close. He lifted her harder, faster, until she tensed, shuddered, and broke apart. Rory felt the pressure of his own release build from the deepest part of him. The intensity shook him. Every muscle, every fiber of his being, compressed in one hot moment, tightened, and then shattered into a thousand pieces. She rocked against him, wringing every last drop from his climax.

  Rory felt as if the life’s blood had been drained out of him. He couldn’t have moved if the tower were on fire. Slowly, the feeling returned to his limbs, and the haze faded. It took him a moment to realize what he had done. He’d spilled his seed inside her, a mistake he’d not made since the first time. A mistake that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with what he knew in his heart. He’d told her with his body, the words he could not say. He loved her. But the realization did not change the fact that he might be forced to marry another. And now he might have gotten her with child. Their child.

  What had he done?

  He reached over and slid a finger under her chin. “I’m sorry, lass.”

  She pressed her fingers over his mouth. “Shush. Don’t.” Ruin it, he heard her unspoken plea.

  He didn’t need to say anything. They both knew it would make no difference. If need be, Rory would do what he had to do. But the thought of Isabel bearing his child…

  It would tear out his heart.

  He couldn’t allow it to happen. The stakes had grown too high. He pulled her tight against him, tucking her under his arm and pressing his lips to her head. The idea that had taken hold two days ago could be the answer to all their problems.

  The alternative had become unthinkable.

  Chapter 20

  By late the following afternoon, Isabel had to smother a yawn behind her hand. It had been a long day following a short—very short—night. Peeking out from beneath her lashes at the man riding beside her, she hoped he hadn’t noticed. Thankfully, Rory seemed involved in his conversation with Alex and Douglas.

  She shifted her bottom in the saddle uncomfortably. It galled her to admit it, but she was beginning to feel sore after not having sat a horse at any length for some time. They had traveled much farther than they’d originally intended—a distance of nearly six leagues—past the coastal village of Bracadale and nearly halfway to Sligachan before turning back toward Dunvegan. The splendor of the spring infusing the countryside had urged them on with its vibrant color and fresh beauty. Shades of lavender from the heather and lime from the grassy moors undulated with the breeze. Isabel welcomed the opportunity to leave Dunvegan and explore Skye, but it was getting late and exhaustion from the excitement of the last few days was catching up with her.

  Rory had warned her that it would be too tiring, especially after their vigorous victory celebration, but Isabel had insisted on accompanying him and his men as they escorted her family, Argyll, and the MacCrimmons partway on their long journey south toward Armadale. Now she wished she had heeded his warning. Her mouth twisted. Though she’d never admit as much to Rory. He’d just look at her with that inscrutable expression, but she’d know exactly what he was thinking: I told you so.

  He knew her so well. At times, it seemed, better than she knew herself.

  Isabel’s thoughts kept drifting to the night before. Even with the extensive lovemaking of the past few months thoroughly expunging her innocence, she could not prevent the deep blush that crept up her cheeks at the memory of her all too willing surrender to the marauding warrior bent on wreaking new havoc on her senses.

  And last night he’d held nothing back, spending himself deep inside her.

  She tried not to put too much significance on what had happened, but it was impossible not to hope. Rory was not a man to make the same mistake twice—especially when he’d been so careful after that first night. Was he starting to see her as a part of his future? A future that after her conversation with Ian now seemed possible? All she needed to do was mollify her uncle and find a way to give Rory the land that was the source of the feud—that didn’t involve marriage to someone else. Isabel was not without friends in the royal household. Perhaps she could help Rory. But how?

  A strong, unusually warm coastal breeze tore an errant lock of hair from its feckless restraint. The red gold silken threads flew haphazardly across her face, tickling her nose and momentarily obscuring her view. Annoyed, Isabel captured the defiant tresses with her fingers and tucked them securely behind her ear.

  They’d departed Dunvegan not long after breaking their fast, but the day was nearly gone. The rose-hued sun lingered on the late afternoon horizon as they skirted the woodland and steered their mounts toward Dunvegan village only a few furlongs ahead. Almost home. She could soon relax. The incident in the forest was still too fresh in her mind, and she was glad Rory had insisted they take the longer route around rather than risk another attack in the forest. She wondered if it was more for her benefit. Did he realize how the shadowy darkness of the trees terrified her?

  Caught up in her own thoughts, she didn’t realize Rory had been watching her. “Tired?” he asked innocently.

  Isabel straightened her back and thrust back her shoulders, ignoring the shot of pain in her aching back. “Not at all.”

  “Stubborn lass.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, ’tis not much farther.”

  “Will we be back before dark?”

  Rory nodded. “We can pick up our pace when Colin returns.”

  They’d traveled slowly, enabling Colin and a small party of warriors to scout ahead of them as they rode. Rory was not taking any chances. With the Highland gathering and temporary truce behind them, Isabel knew that Rory anticipated an attack from the Mackenzies. In fact, Douglas had led a small party of MacLeod warriors to follow the Mackenzies early that morning to ensure that they departed Kyle Akin, where they would cross to Kyle of Lochalsh. Rory had also kept a close eye on Sleat, who had traveled in the party with her family as far as Dunscaith Castle. Dunscaith was very close to Armadale, where Argyll and her father would then cross to Mallaig.

  She inhaled the salt-filled air. The sea was close. The birlinns moored along the shore in the village would carry them back to Dunvegan.

  The deep laughter of men echoed in her ears. The MacLeods were still basking in the glow of their resounding victory. For most of the journey, she’d been subjected to the loud, boastful banter of Rory’s warriors replaying every second of the various trials of skill and strength that had taken place over the past few days.

  As the stories were mostly about him, Rory kept unusually silent, but he did seem amused by