Highlander Untamed Read online

  Isabel stiffened from the blunt shock of his words. “What do you mean?”

  He finally turned from the sea to look at her. “This is a political match. Love is not part of the bargain.” He deliberately pulled his arm away from her touch and tried to ignore her quick intake of breath at the insult of his words and brusque movements.

  “But it need not be so,” she argued. “My father was deeply in love with my mother.”

  Her words took him aback. It was difficult to imagine the sober, battle-hardened MacDonald of Glengarry as a besotted husband. “When did she die?” he found himself asking.

  “My birth was a difficult one,” she answered softly. “She never recovered. I barely knew her, though my father says I am much like her.”

  Rory steeled himself against the sadness he heard in her voice. He didn’t know that she’d lost her mother so young. And with what he’d witnessed of her relationship with her father and brothers, he could imagine how difficult—and lonely—that must have been for her. It was also obvious that she blamed herself for her mother’s death. Did Glengarry as well? Was that what explained his reserve around his daughter? Rory didn’t think so. There was something in the older man’s gaze when he looked at his daughter, as if it pained him. Perhaps Isabel was right and Glengarry had loved his wife. If Isabel resembled her, it explained much. Damn, he thought with frustration. This was precisely the sort of information he didn’t want to know. This was what happened from spending time with her.

  “What of your parents?” She persisted. “Were they not in love?”

  “My parents got along well enough,” he answered. “But in love, no. They respected each other, but led relatively separate lives. Over time, I’m sure they developed a certain fondness.”

  “But don’t you want someone to love? To have someone love you? To have someone to trust with your innermost secrets, someone to confide in, someone completely and utterly loyal?”

  “I am chief. I have the love, trust, and loyalty of my clan and family. MacLeods are unfailingly loyal. I neither need nor desire anything more. And a chief doesn’t confide his secrets to anyone. A chief keeps his own counsel. What use does a warrior have for love? Does love win battles? Settle grievances? No, love is a fanciful ideal invented by the troubadours to tell pretty stories. Love has no place in marriage—even the troubadours would tell you that. Nobility marry for land and wealth, or as we have done, to settle a feud. We do our duty to the clan by handfasting, Isabel, nothing more, nothing less.”

  All this talk of love made him uncomfortable. Rory was a warrior, not a courtier. He had a duty to his clan that took precedent over anything else, personal desires included. No, love had no place in his life. He wanted Isabel only as he would desire any beautiful woman. The reason he seemed to be unable to focus on anything else was that this beautiful woman was not for him. A simple case of wanting what he couldn’t have, he reasoned.

  She appeared visibly distressed by his words, as if she had hoped for something more. He considered for the first time that he might have been wrong to suspect her. Of late, she’d done nothing to give him cause for concern. He’d watched her, noting her kindness and sweet attempts to befriend his clan. It had not escaped his notice that Fergus’s wife left the castle daily with extra food in her pack. Maybe Isabel was exactly what she seemed: an innocent, sweet young lass being forced into a situation not of her making.

  It suddenly occurred to him that his indifferent behavior and blunt honesty could be hurting her when all he’d sought to do was protect her from harm. He wouldn’t bed her, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t want to hurt her when he sent her home, as he must.

  “But surely we should try—”

  He stopped her. “This was not an alliance of my making.” He lowered his voice and said more kindly, “I only agreed to a handfast, Isabel. You understand the terms of a handfast. It is for one year.”

  “Of course.” But then it dawned on her, and the color slid from her face. “So you intend to repudiate me,” she whispered, incredulous.

  He didn’t need to answer. She understood.

  “But what about…,” she stammered, color flooding her cheeks.

  He knew what she was thinking. “In all other respects, we will live together as man and wife.”

  She looked down at her toes, clearly discomfited. “But what about passion—what about your needs?” she asked in an embarrassed whisper.

  If only she knew how badly he wanted her. Even now, just standing so near her, smelling her, he felt the heat of desire stir his blood. The memory of waking with her bundled in his arms, her soft bottom pressed hard against him, was still too fresh. One glance at her lush breasts was enough to recall the feel of all that tender flesh filling his hand. His time on the lists had not freed him from his torment. What he needed was to carry her up to his room, toss her on his bed, and take her in a storm of red-hot passion.

  Instead he said, “You need not concern yourself with that. I assure you, my needs are being met. Very well met,” he lied. He hadn’t had a woman since a week before she’d arrived. Each time he thought about sating his lust between a willing pair of thighs, something stopped him. He took the edge off in his hand, since he knew there was only one person who could ease his pain. The realization surprised him. Never before had he focused so intently on one woman.

  Venturing a quick glance, Rory just glimpsed her openmouthed stare of hurt disbelief. He felt a stab in his chest. Damn, he thought, I knew I should not look at her.

  “But I thought…” She hesitated. “I thought you might—” Her voice broke, and she didn’t finish.

  Their eyes met. Tension as mysterious and powerful as lightning crackled in the quiet morning air. Rory warred with every instinct in his body. He’d hurt her. And the realization of how much he hated doing so disconcerted him. He yearned to pull her into his arms and wipe away the sting of his lie even as he felt her slanted eyes locking on his, drawing him into the depths of her soul.

  The urge to wipe away the hurt was too powerful. As if in slow motion, he reached out to cup her face, stroking the curve of her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was unreal. Baby soft and so smooth to the touch. She leaned toward him, and the press of her breasts against his bare arm sent a shock of wanting so acute, it hurt physically not to take her in his arms. Every instinct clamored to hold her. He hesitated for an instant before he lowered his hand to his side.

  His duty was clear. He knew what he had to do. Isabel MacDonald would go back to her family at the end of the year, and Rory would form a more advantageous alliance with the Campbells and continue his plans to destroy Sleat. As much as he wanted her, she was not for him.

  He didn’t want to risk an emotional entanglement, so he’d best make sure there was no confusion about his intentions. “You are an exceptionally beautiful woman, Isabel. But that does not change anything. When the year is over, my duty is done.”

  Chapter 7

  If, as her uncle believed, beauty was the way to a man’s heart, then she would use everything at her disposal to entice Rory MacLeod.

  Even if the hypocrisy of it killed her.

  Isabel dressed with the utmost care for her appearance as she prepared for the evening meal. Since he declined to spend any other time with her, meals were her chance to change his mind about their relationship. He thought her beautiful, but not enough to tempt him from the bed of his leman. She hoped this dress would change his mind.

  Isabel still couldn’t believe what he’d told her. Or how much it hurt. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind or shake the sense of emptiness that had gripped her when he’d confessed to finding his pleasure elsewhere. She knew he must be referring to the dark-haired beauty she had seen him with earlier. To have her suspicions confirmed felt as though someone had clamped an icy claw around her heart and squeezed.

  Moreover, she’d practically offered herself to him, and he’d rejected her. He didn’t want her. The realization stu