Highlander Untamed Read online

  “Damn you, love. We’ll see how much you enjoy such torture.”

  Rory yanked her hand from him and roughly pinned both her hands above her head with one hand. She knew his strength; she would never be able to break free. Even if she wanted to. His golden hair spilled forward across his eyes, but she caught the wicked grin he gave her, and it sent another shiver up her spine.

  His tongue traced a path down her chest, flicking to nudge her nipples erect. Blowing, raking his teeth lightly across the tips. She writhed beneath him with pleasure, her hips rising to search for his length. He moved back, refusing her request. His mouth enveloped the tip of her breast, and he sucked gently. Isabel felt the sharp sensation of pleasure at the squeeze of his mouth, but she wanted more. Much more.

  Rory increased her agony as his mouth slowly, exquisitely, trailed down her belly. Licking and flicking her blazing, sensitive skin with his tongue.

  His hand reached down between her legs. Her anticipation caused her breath to catch. She couldn’t think about anything other than his hand, his mouth. Anything but how much she wanted him to touch her.

  He teased and taunted. Brushing, but not stroking the pulse that was clenching with desire. His mouth left feather kisses along the teasing path of his fingers. She lifted her hips to his mouth in silent entreaty.

  “How does that feel, love?”

  “Please, Rory.”

  He chuckled. “Tell me how much you want me.”

  “Please, I want to feel you touch me. I want you inside me.”

  He groaned. “I think you have learned your lesson in torture, my love.”

  His finger slid inside her as he began to bring her to heaven. She closed her thighs against his hand, increasing the pressure, the sweet friction that would make her shatter. She knew she was close, and her mind went black as the rush of heat and sharp spasms signaled her release. Quickly he moved over her, releasing her hands and driving into her in one all-consuming thrust. Isabel gasped to feel the strength of him inside her. The heavy, thick way he filled her. The sensation intensified the power of her climax as the spasms came harder and faster.

  He grasped her hips, lifting her to meet his long thrusts. Isabel arched her back, urging him to take her harder, deeper. She needed to feel the force of his passion, to feel how much he needed her.

  Rory sensed her urgency, and his hips pounded against her, wild with unbridled desire. He’d never been so rough with her before. She tightened against him again as wave after wave of sensation exploded inside her.

  He threw back his head and sank deep into her, pulsing as the force of his release gripped him in its shuddering hold. He held her deep, allowing the waves of her own passion to ebb gently around him, until, strength depleted, he collapsed on top of her.

  Naked flesh to naked flesh. Chest to chest, two hearts beating frantically together. He rolled to the side and gently moved a strand of damp hair from her eyes.

  The tenderness in his gaze took her breath away. When she thought of what she’d nearly lost, Isabel could not prevent the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She might not know what their future held, but he’d forgiven her. It was enough.

  He looked confused. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough with you?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “I’m just so happy.”

  He took her chin in his hand and dropped a light kiss on her nose. “You’re exhausted.” He tucked her under his arm and started issuing orders. “First food and a bath, then we sleep.”

  For once, Isabel was only too happy to follow his command.

  Chapter 27

  A chill at the back of Rory’s neck stirred him from the viselike arms of slumber, but the warning had come too late. Falling asleep with Isabel after nearly two weeks of sleepless nights had dulled his senses, severely limiting his instincts. He woke to the cold press of steel against his neck and the malevolent, glassy-eyed Mackenzie hovering over them.

  Rory stilled. The invigorating blood rush of battle swept all vestiges of sleep from his body. Every nerve ending flared, primed to attack.

  Seeing that Rory was awake, the Mackenzie chief jostled Isabel. “Get up, whore.”

  He wanted to reach out to protect her, but he dared not move. Not yet. Not with the blade so close. It took a moment for the haze of slumber to clear enough for Isabel to realize what was happening. Rory watched her eyes widen with fear.

  “Move slowly, love,” Rory soothed. “Stay calm.”

  The Mackenzie sneered, his expression teeming with the promise of vengeance. “I said get up, whore.”

  Rory swore. “Do as he says, love.”

  Isabel clutched a sheet to her nakedness and rose from the bed. The moon lit the sensuous curves of her figure to perfection.

  The Mackenzie did not move the sword from Rory’s neck, but his eyes devoured her near nakedness. His grayish tongue darted out to wet his lips. Lust transformed his features into a mask of depraved cruelty. Rory felt every muscle in his body clench. Rage surged through him. Killing the man who dared threaten his woman would be a pleasure. But first he needed to create a diversion.

  Unfortunately, Isabel seemed to have the same idea. Rory could see how terrified she was, but heedless of the risk, she drew the Mackenzie’s gaze to her, innocently allowing the sheet to fall low on her breasts. Damn. A hot burst of anger erupted inside him. She’d sworn not to endanger herself. He was going to throttle her when this was done. The only thing that kept him from doing it right now was that he knew she was trying to sacrifice herself for him, and her distraction was working. Too well.

  “How did you get here?” Rory asked, though he’d already figured it out.

  The Mackenzie’s eyes still gorged on Isabel’s body, but at least he did not move to touch her. “Why, I followed the gel, of course.”

  “That’s impossible!” Isabel exclaimed. “I made sure I was not followed.”

  “You were careful to make sure no one was behind you. But I had an advantage. I knew where you were headed—where you had disappeared last time. So I waited for you to come to me.”

  Isabel cursed softly and turned to Rory. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.”

  Instinctively, Rory moved to reassure her, only to stop at the pressure of the blade against his neck. He sat back. “You couldn’t have known, love.” He turned back to the Mackenzie.

  The castle was silent. It was a good sign. “Where are the others? Did you come alone?”

  The Mackenzie shrugged. “Patience, MacLeod. All things in good time.” He threw a lascivious glance at Isabel. “Some things can’t wait.”

  The Mackenzie was too eager to kill them. Rory’s mind worked quickly. It might work to their advantage if the Mackenzie had followed Isabel inside by himself or with only a few men. But Rory knew they must work fast. Sleat would not be far behind. He drew the Mackenzie’s attention back to him. “What do you want?”

  “Why, the Fairy Flag, of course. To start with.” The Mackenzie leered again at Isabel. Rory fought the urge to rip the lewd smile from his face.

  “Never,” Rory said evenly. Cool authority rang clear in his voice, despite the presence of the claymore pressed to his neck.

  “We shall see.” The Mackenzie turned to Isabel. “You, whore, bring me the flag. And no tricks, I know what it looks like.”

  “Never.” Isabel met Rory’s eyes, her voice imitating the calm authority she had heard in his.

  “You dare defy me? You, the strumpet that lured my son to his death? I will enjoy watching you beg. How much do you care for your former handfast husband?”

  The Mackenzie flicked his claymore, and the razor-sharp sword sliced a deep gash across the top of Rory’s bare shoulder. Rory didn’t flinch, but Isabel cried out with horror as blood gushed from the wound.

  “We’ll see how determined you are to defy me as I cut him apart limb by limb. How long do you think you’ll be able to stomach his pain? By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to cut his throat.”