Highlander Untamed Read online

  Isabel heard the note of pride in his voice. The Isles were the last bastion of the Gaelic culture that had flourished under the Lords of the Isles. Pipers and bards were deeply important to the preservation of that tradition.

  He started to turn back to the conversation with her father on his right. Not wanting the conversation to end so soon, Isabel asked, “Who is that charming child over there?”

  Rory turned in the direction she indicated, and a broad smile spread across his face. Her heart stopped. If she had thought him handsome in his severity…the transformation was dazzling. The small lines around his eyes deepened. Entrancing dimples appeared at each side of his mouth. Bessie would say the fairies had kissed him. Perhaps the stories of his fairy blood were not that far off. His attractiveness certainly had a magical quality.

  But it was the softness in his eyes when he looked at the little girl that struck her. He had a genuine fondness for the child. Isabel realized it was the first time she’d seen honest emotion behind that stoic reserve.

  Unaware of his effect on her, he continued. “Ah, wee Mary MacLeod is already something of a legend around these parts. She has a talent that is quite rare for one so young. You will enjoy her stories.”

  “The child is a bard?” Isabel asked with genuine surprise.

  “Mary is but five, but already she shows great promise. The clan is enchanted by her youth, and she often entertains us with her poems.”

  “I can see it is not only the clan who is enchanted,” Isabel teased, and was rewarded with a boyish grin that caused her heart to beat erratically. “You like children?”

  He seemed puzzled by her question. “Of course,” he replied, as if there could be no other answer.

  But Isabel knew there was. Not all men were comfortable around children, and few showed such obvious delight. She knew that only too well.

  He never looked up when she entered.

  “Father?”

  “Not now, child. I’m busy.”

  “Then when?”

  “Later.”

  But, of course, later never came. The memory dimmed and a very different thought struck her. She bit her lip, trying not to betray her sudden unease. “You will be wanting bairns, then?”

  The softness around his eyes hardened, and the charming grin was gone. “Not for some time.”

  Furious to have angered him, Isabel turned back to their original conversation. “I thought the Irish O’Muireaghsain were the seannachie of the MacLeods.”

  Rory raised one eyebrow. “You have learned something of our family. Yes, the hereditary bards are the O’Muireaghsain. But they have been so long from Erin, I doubt they consider themselves anything but true Islanders.”

  “My knowledge of your family is quite limited. Nonetheless, you can’t be a MacDonald and not learn something of the MacLeods.” She met his gaze and added boldly, “Our clans share quite a history.” No need to hide from the obvious.

  He kicked his legs back under the table and took a long drink of cuirm, peering at her from over his glass. “I know you’ve had naught to do with the feud between our clans. I harbor no ill feelings toward you for what your uncle did to Margaret two years ago. But others may not be as accepting, Isabel.”

  Isabel nodded. Overcoming the prejudice of being a MacDonald would not be easy, but it was to be expected. “Well, at least everyone seems to be enjoying themselves right now,” she said, indicating the mix of clansmen gathered for the feast. MacLeods, MacCrimmons, and MacAskills occupied one side of the hall, and her party of MacDonalds occupied the other. The former enemies kept to themselves, except for her three brothers. She shook her head with amusement as she watched them flirting shamelessly with the MacLeod serving girls. Those three never missed an opportunity to dally, even in the midst of a pack of wolves. She sighed.

  He was watching her. “You must be exhausted.”

  She smiled and admitted, “Perhaps a bit.”

  “You may retire to your room at any time.”

  Isabel tried to control the fierce pounding of her heart. The night loomed before her. “Will my things be moved to another room this night, my lord?” she asked softly.

  As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. His momentary good humor vanished. “I thought we might take some time to get to know each other. You will stay where you are for now.” He spoke the last with cool finality.

  Her eyes widened with shock, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His reticence to consummate the handfast was unexpected, and unusual. She had been counting on the private time spent in their chamber to help him fall in love with her. She had even been preparing herself mentally for the possible bedding tonight.

  She should be relieved. After that kiss, she’d been a mass of knots. If she reacted like that to a simple kiss, what would happen when he bedded her?

  Isabel had hoped that he might give her some time to get used to the idea. Now that he had, she didn’t know what to think. Either he was very thoughtful or he was not attracted to her. She hoped it was the former—for the sake of the plan, of course. Still, she felt unaccountably disappointed.

  A high-pitched tinkle of laughter mixed with Rory’s husky voice drew her immediate attention. When she spied a beautiful dark-haired woman next to her father, another explanation crept forward. Her heart twisted in her chest. Isabel hoped he was not finding his pleasure elsewhere.

  Rory hadn’t missed the twinge of hurt in her eyes when he informed her they wouldn’t be sharing a room. But he hadn’t been prepared for the heat that surged through his body when she mentioned removing to his chamber. Extending his legs under the dais, he took another swig of cuirm, trying to repress the lust betraying his body. He could only imagine what it would be like to bed her when a chaste kiss set him on fire. Never had a kiss affected him so, setting off primal urges that had only worsened over the long meal. The sensual curve of her mouth taunted him. He wanted to taste her again. To feel her soft lips moving under his. She’d tasted so sweet and desire had hit him full force. His body hardened just looking at her. Damn. He shifted in his seat with renewed discomfort.

  He was aware of the direction of her thoughts. He’d done his best to ignore her throughout the feast and had flirted shamelessly with the witless but beautiful Catriona MacCrimmon. He knew he was wrong to encourage Catriona, a past relationship that had outlived its initial excitement, but he had to find some way to distract himself.

  He’d had to fight the urge to stare at his new bride all day. He told himself it was only because he had a duty to observe those around him—especially those whose very presence demanded a certain level of suspicion. Still, he wasn’t nearly as indifferent as he pretended. He wished it was simply her beauty, but damned if he didn’t find her intriguing for other reasons.

  Rory found himself noticing little things, like the way she twisted her hair when she was nervous or bit her lip when she was thinking. But it wasn’t just little things that intrigued him. He’d also witnessed her kindness and consideration in her dealings with strangers, like inviting Deidre to the handfast.

  And after the ceremony, he’d noticed how she’d immediately sought approval from her father. There was such eagerness in her expression, it was almost hard to watch. But he had. So he hadn’t missed her acute disappointment when none was forthcoming. Her relationship with her father and brothers seemed very awkward, almost stiff. As if she were a fragile piece of porcelain, and they didn’t know quite what to do with her. Rory could commiserate.

  Still, he felt sorry for her; he was close with all of his brothers and sisters. He stopped himself and frowned. Except the youngest. Flora had left with her mother as a child after the death of their father and rarely returned. It was a situation he intended to rectify to ensure that the girl didn’t grow up without knowing her kin.

  Isabel was endearingly vulnerable, but not timid. The strength with which she bore his uncharacteristic display of temper had proven that. Initially, he’d been relieved when she’d