Текст книги "My brave highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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Several gasped and a boisterous shout went up from some of the men before they all guzzled a hefty swallow.

Isobel snapped her mouth closed. Stunned, she let her gaze dart from Dirk to her brother and back again. How could they have arranged this without telling her? She wanted to marry Dirk, of course, but he didn't know that. No one had even asked her how she felt about the situation.

"Oh, Isobel." Jessie, sitting beside her, pulled her into a warm embrace. "How could you keep such a secret from me? I'm thrilled we'll be sisters."

Seona, sitting on her other side, smiled and hugged her next. "Congratulations."

"I thank you both," Isobel murmured, not knowing what else to say. She was vexed at the men who thought so little of her that they'd ignored her all day while arranging her life.

"I thank you, Chief MacKenzie," Dirk said. "And I thank you for the honor of wedding your lovely sister." Dirk sent her a wee smile, or was it a smug grin? Did he think she would like this surprise?

Rebbie slapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand. Other women from the MacKay clan gathered around Isobel to congratulate her and welcome her to the clan. She stepped down from the dais to accept their good wishes. Aiden came forward to welcome her as a sister.

The crowd around her and Jessie parted and before she knew it, Torrin MacLeod stood before her. Although he had been sitting at the same table, she'd somehow managed to avoid looking him in the eye or speaking to him during the meal. But now she couldn't avoid him.

He bowed. "Lady Isobel," he said with a friendly expression that surprised her.

She curtseyed. "Laird Torrin."

"I wish to congratulate you and Dirk on your upcoming marriage. I also want to apologize for what happened at Munrick. Had I known what kind of knave my brother was, I wouldn't have left him there to guard you."

Isobel frowned, trying to detect any deceitfulness in the pleasant expression on his handsome face.

"I thank you, and I don't blame you." That was all she could think to say. Still, he made her highly uncomfortable. She had intended to marry him after all, but now she didn't have to, thank the heavens.

"I'm glad. I wish you happy," he said, his green eyes seemed sincere, but his gaze didn't remain on her long. He was staring at Jessie who stood beside her. "We haven't been introduced."

"Oh. This is Lady Jessie MacKay. Dirk's sister," Isobel said, then motioned at Torrin. "And this is Laird Torrin MacLeod, chief of the MacLeod clan."

"'Tis my great pleasure to meet you, Lady Jessie." Torrin held out his hand, waiting for Jessie to place her hand in his. When she did, he bowed in a courtly manner and kissed the backs of her fingers.

Though she didn't smile, Jessie flushed pink, as she curtseyed. "'Tis an honor to meet you, m'laird." She quickly pulled away and clasped her hands in front of her.

"Dirk's sister, hmm?" Torrin said. "I would've never imagined he would have such a lovely sister."

Isobel bit her lip to keep from snickering, while Jessie merely blushed ever brighter.

"I thank you, m'laird."

Isobel switched her gaze back and forth between them, trying to figure out what was going on. Clearly Torrin found Jessie incredibly attractive with her coppery hair and sky-blue eyes. He was paying her far more attention than he'd ever paid Isobel when they'd been betrothed. But Jessie appeared extremely tense.

"Pray pardon," Jessie said with another curtsy. "I must see if Cook has the tarts baked yet."

With a frown, Torrin watched her flee the room, then looked to Isobel.

She shrugged.

"Don't be thinking you'll steal Isobel back from me," Dirk said, placing his arm protectively around her shoulders.

Isobel flushed all over as she glanced up at Dirk and relished the way his big warm hand caressed her shoulder. A slight smile quirked his lips.

"Och, nay," Torrin said. "I wish the two of you happy." He shook Dirk's hand and ambled away.

"Hmph. He took it well that I stole his bride," Dirk said.

Isobel gave him a tight smile for she was still annoyed and confused about why he hadn't told her about their marriage arrangements. Being the bride and one of the last to know was humiliating.

"Could I have a word?" Dirk murmured, his breath warming and tickling her ear.

"Aye." So now he was going to tell her, after everyone knew?

She followed Dirk's gesture to precede him toward the corridor leading to the library. It must have been his favorite room.

Once they were inside, he closed the door.

"Are you cross with me again?" Dirk asked. "I couldn't help but notice those glares you threw my way after Cyrus made the announcement."

"You could've told me, at least," she said.

"What?"

Could he truly be so daft? She blew out an exasperated breath. "'Tis humiliating to learn, along with the rest of your clan, about our upcoming nuptials. Neither you nor my brother would take a minute to tell me what you were arranging."

Dirk frowned. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be pleased."

"About what? That no one bothered to ask me who I wanted to marry?"

He gave her a long, dark look. "I'm not senseless, Isobel, and neither is Cyrus. We both ken you want to marry me instead of Torrin."

She bit her lip, refusing to look at him. So he was right. That wasn't the point. She supposed she should be grateful her brother wasn't marrying her off to a wizened old coot this time.

Dirk drew her close. "Isobel?" He tipped her chin up. "Look at me."

Trying to maintain her ire despite how good he felt, she stared at his stubbly chin, but then his sensual lips distracted her. She wanted them on her.

"Your brother was going to call you in here and find out your opinion on the matter," Dirk said. "But we had to go out and deal with the MacLeods."

She shrugged. "He has no concern about my opinion. Nor do you."

"'Tis not true. But you're right about one thing. Where marriage is concerned, I neglected to ask the most important person." He lowered himself to one knee. "Lady Isobel, will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?"

As she stared down into his intent and hopeful bright blue gaze, tears rushed to her eyes. "Are you certain you don't feel forced into it?" she asked, though her throat constricted.

"Are you mad?" He rose and stroked his thumb across her cheek, wiping her tears away. "I can think of little else."

"In that case… Aye, I would love to," she whispered. "I can think of little else either."

Switching his attention to her hand, he kissed her knuckles and slid a ring onto her finger.

She sucked in a sharp breath, staring down in shock at the dark blue stone of the sapphire ring. Happiness spun through her, bringing more tears to her eyes. "Oh, Dirk. Where did you get this?"

"'Twas my mother's." He smiled, wiggling the ring on her finger. "'Tis a bit big, but we'll have it modified to fit."

"'Tis lovely. I thank you."

"You're welcome." He kissed her forehead.

Though she loved the affectionate gesture, she hungered for a different sort of kiss from him to seal the betrothal.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked.

"Aye. If you promise not to keep me in the dark again."

He hesitated as if thinking that over. "I promise. If 'tis something that involves you, I'll be sure to tell you first."

She didn't like that pause before his answer. "Are you certain?"

"Of course. Do you not trust me?"

"I do. But you must remember not to treat me like a piece of furniture or a sheep the way my brother does."

Dirk chuckled.

"You think that's funny? How would you like it if women decided your future?"

"Pray pardon. I only found it funny because I could never in a thousand years treat you like furniture or a sheep." He snorted as if that was ridiculous. "Nay, you are… the most important person to me." His look grew sincere and almost passionate.

Warmth spread through her chest because she thought he was trying to tell her he cared about her. Maybe he was even trying to tell her he loved her, but she couldn't be sure. She wouldn't make him feel trapped into anything, not even in expressing his feelings.

"And you are the most important person to me," she said.

He continued watching her, his azure eyes communicating longing, need, desire, happiness and a dozen other things.

Stubborn man, why did he not kiss her?

Impatience winning out, she whispered, "May I kiss you?"

"Isobel," he groaned softly and clenched his teeth. "You ken what happens when we kiss."

"Aye, indeed." A bonfire of need and desire, and that was exactly what she craved at the moment. "I missed you during the past few days. I almost never saw you. I think you were avoiding me."

"I was trying to keep myself under control, and you ken I'll not want to stop with a kiss," he confessed.

"Nor will I."

He frowned, looking even more aroused and frustrated. "We must. There's a hall full of guests out there, part of them your family and clan."

She shrugged. "Cyrus approved our betrothal. What can he say? If he finds out we've shared a bed, he'll merely demand that we marry quicker. Besides, we can bar the door and no one will walk in."

Dirk stepped forward, leaned in and brushed his mouth across hers, sending delicious sensual shivers over her whole body. "Damnation. You crush my willpower," he whispered, then captured her lips in one of those devastating kisses he was so skilled with. His hands encircled her waist, drawing her closer. She slid her arms around his neck and held on. He kissed her thoroughly and deep, his mouth as intoxicating as the spiced, sweet wine he tasted of. After a moment of the carnal indulgence, he pulled back and released her as if trying to rein himself under control.

Finding the bar standing against the doorframe, she lifted it and slid it down into the brackets. No one could enter now.

"What are you doing?" Dirk asked.

"I think you ken." She sent him a mischievous smile. "Ravishing you."

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Ravishing me?" One side of Dirk's lips quirked up. "In the library? You are mad."

"Indeed." Isobel crept forward, enjoying the surprised and amused expression on Dirk's handsome face.

"We cannot," he protested, his eyes still dark blue and heavy-lidded from that scorching kiss.

"I think we can. No one is stopping us, and no one will know of it."

"Listen." He turned his head to stare at the door.

The loud music of the céilidh had started in the great hall and someone was singing a lively tune. Feet were stomping and hands were clapping.

She grinned. "'Twill cover any noise we make."

He blew out a harsh breath and sent her an accusatory look. "I thought I was strong, but I cannot resist you."

"There is no need to now that we are betrothed."

She unclasped the brooch at his shoulder that had been holding his plaid sash in place, then unfastened his doublet. After she deposited them on the table, he yanked the shirt over his head and flung it toward the heap of clothing. She feasted her eyes on the luscious bulging muscles of his torso and his rippled abdomen all the way down to his soft doeskin trews that left little to the imagination. His erection was clearly outlined beneath.

How delectable he looked.

Moving forward, she boldly took hold of the leather string and tugged, untying, then unlacing his trews to reveal the narrow line of hair on his lower abdomen that led downward to fascinating male parts.

"Isobel," he said in a warning tone.

"Aye?" Giving him a playful little grin, she trailed her fingers inside and along his hot, hard shaft.

He groaned and grasped her wrist to draw her hand away. "Wicked lass," he said in a teasing hiss and dragged her to him for a kiss. In one hand, he secured both her wrists behind her back.

"Mmm." Heavens! What was he doing? He had never restrained her like this before, but somehow she found it excited her more. As if he was taking control of her, possessing her.

Keeping her mouth occupied with a scrumptious, erotic kiss, he unclasped the brooch at her chest and then her belt, allowing her arisaid to drop at her feet. After moving aside her other clothing, he untied the string holding her smock in place and dragged it down to expose her breasts.

She gasped at the excitement that raced through her. The cool air in the room teased her skin. Bending her backwards he drew her peaked nipple into his hot mouth. The tonguing and sucking he unleashed on her was so arousing, she couldn't think.

"Oh, Dirk. Aye."

After he'd suckled her other breast and teased it for a few moments, he released her, moved to a chair by the hearth and dropped into it. "Come now, lass. Don't make me wait."

What game was he playing? Grabbing onto a chair at the table, she could scarce stand or find the words to form a coherent sentence while her mind returned to her.

She eyed him and his playful smirk. "Oh, I see. Now that we are betrothed, you think to order me about, do you?" She sashayed toward him.

"Aye."

She loved his faint playful grin.

"Sit on my lap," he said.

She perched sideways on his rock-hard thighs, leaned in and placed an innocent peck on his lips. Threading his fingers into her hair, he drew her closer still and, with his tongue flicking roguishly against hers, turned the kiss into a sinful, steamy delight. She could hardly think after a few seconds. She simply wanted to eat him up.

"Get up for a moment," he murmured against her lips, his hands on her waist. She did, then he slid her petticoats up to her knees and dragged her forward into a different position, straddling his lap. What a wanton and scandalous position. A shockingly enticing position. She scooted closer, feeling his hardened shaft through their clothing.

He dug beneath her smock and petticoats, then slid his hot, calloused hands over her knees and up the outside of her thighs all while his mouth ate at hers.

He moaned. "You are temptation itself."

She tugged again at the leather ties on his trews, loosening them. Gathering her courage and hoping he wouldn't stop her this time, she slipped her hand inside. When she touched his heated, hard flesh, his breath hissed between his teeth.

Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she squeezed. How silky yet hard as stone he felt.

He groaned. "Are you trying to make me lose control?"

"Aye."

"Not before you do." His fingers stole between her legs and he gently parted her sex lips. Sliding one finger between, he found her moisture and spread it, circling some incredibly sensitive and excited part of her.

"Oh, Dirk," she gasped. He knew the exact magical spot to caress and drive her mad with lust.

"Damn, you feel good," he growled.

She arched her back, trying to push herself closer to him. With his other arm around her low back he drew her closer and stroked her delicate flesh with his wet fingers. Oh heavens, he made her yearn. She wiggled her hips, while squeezing and tugging at his rigid shaft, trying to show him what she wanted.

"Saints, lass!" he muttered behind clenched teeth, then surprised her by lifting her and laying her back onto the hard, wooden floor.

"Aye, take me." She didn't care how or where, she simply wanted him now.

He shoved her skirts higher, spread her legs and moved down as if to examine her most secret place in the candlelight.

"What are you—?"

But then he touched her with his… tongue?

"Oh saints! Dirk? What—?" She tried to protest, but her words turned to moans. All she knew was that he was kissing and licking her in a most scandalous spot, sliding his hot, wet tongue along her nether lips and between. Her arousal flamed up, hot chills covering her, capturing her breath, making her twist and yearn for more.

She heard herself cry out and tried to stop, biting her finger. Her back arched and her hips rocked against him, as he held them in a fierce grip and devoured her.

Oh, what on earth was he doing, sliding his tongue into her? He moaned as if he might enjoy it as much as she did. She had never known a wicked act or a carnal pleasure like this existed. Oh heavens, his tongue flicked at that special spot, the pinpoint of sensation that was near too intense to bear. The many sharp tingles coalesced and spiraled faster, then an explosive pleasure crashed into her, consuming her for several long seconds.

When next she became aware, gasping for breath, her whole body buzzing as if it had been struck by lightning, she felt she was flying. But it was only that Dirk lifted her and set her on his lap again, her legs still spread. She held on around his neck and dropped her head to his shoulder, trying to breathe and make sense of these astonishing sensations. Certainly, he'd given her the climax before, le petite mort, but each time the intensity of it surprised her. Especially this time. Somehow he'd near driven her out of her mind with arousal and sexual pleasure.

"Mmm," he growled against her ear. "You taste sweet, Isobel."

"You are mad to… lick me in such a place."

He gave a little chuckle-moan. "Call me a madman then, but I believe I'll have you for dessert every night."

She trembled at the mere thought of such a sensual treat every night.

"Are you ready for me?" He drew her upward and positioned his erection just beneath her. The velvety tip teased her tender flesh, and she suddenly hungered to feel him deep inside.

"Aye. Now." Abruptly she pushed downward onto him and he jerked, thrusting into her an inch or two. She gasped, having forgotten how his size was excessive, but each second felt better than the last. He moved, sliding in and out shallowly, but gradually driving deeper each time. His jaw clenched hard and he gazed into her eyes with awe and dark passion. He was a fiery one. She wiggled her hips, squeezing him as she lowered herself onto him. Deeper and deeper he slid.

He growled as he reached her depths. He held himself still there, at that perfect spot and stared into her eyes while placing wee sweet kisses on her lips.

The muscles within her body fluttered, caressing his hard length.

He ground out a Gaelic curse, withdrew a bit and thrust. Abruptly he shoved himself from the chair and, with an arm beneath her derriere, carried her across the room.

"Damnation, Isobel, you steal my sanity," he grated.

She again felt she was flying for a moment, then the bookcase shelf dug into her back. He thrust, driving up into her, gently at first, but then with increased force and speed. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened, he looked like a fearsome warrior determined to take every inch of her and then some.

She cried out.

He halted. "Am I hurting you?"

"Nay. More… give me more," she whispered.

To feel the strength of his powerful, hard body as he held her aloft increased her arousal. His gaze fierce and steady with passion and determination, he continued to drive himself into her, quick and deep.

"Aye," she gasped. "This… I wanted…" She accepted the erotic kisses he fed her just as she accepted him inside her.

He slid his hand between their bodies and rubbed that most sensitive nub of flesh with his thumb, wet circles that made her ache and wiggle, reaching for that pinnacle of pleasure again.

The tingles intensified sharply, converging on her. She arched and stiffened in anticipation. Her breath deserted her and the pleasure smashed in on her like a gigantic wave crushing her, carrying her away. She tried to scream, but his mouth covered hers. She rode him, enthusiastically taking all he'd give her. His hard shaft was merciless. The pleasure spread out through her limbs into her fingers and toes and ricocheted, bouncing back and grasping hold of her again where she clenched around him, desperate to hold him just where he was forever. He was hers. That was the only thing she knew. He was hers and she wasn't letting go. Ever.

He plunged to her depths and held himself there before releasing a growl. His warmth filling her, he jerked against her twice more. He held her tight for a long moment, his harsh breath gusting against her ear.

Muttering a curse, he slowly withdrew and set her to her feet. But her knees were so weak she couldn't stand. Taking her into his arms, he lifted her, then slid down the wall to the floor.

"Damnation," he whispered, gasping for breath.

Sitting there, staring into each other's eyes at close range, they struggled to regain a normal breathing pattern.

His gaze dropped and she realized her petticoats were hiked up past her hips. No doubt he could see all her secret female places that should be hidden, but somehow she wasn't ashamed. He'd put his mouth there, so obviously he liked that part of her. He knew all her secrets and wanted her anyway.

After he surveyed her scandalously bare places, including her breasts, for several moments, his jaw clenched hard, the muscle in his cheek jumping in that sexy way she loved. His eyes met hers and darkened again. "You are…" He shook his head. "There are no words," he whispered.

"You don't need words." She knew how he felt just by looking into his expressive eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him in sweet and passionate abandon.

A knock sounded at the door. "You're wanted in the great hall." It was Rebbie's voice.

***

Around midday, Maighread had opened the shutters of her chamber to try to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside. She'd heard a few yells, but no sounds of battle. Through the glass, she'd seen a large number of men on horseback some distance from the castle. They had to be the MacLeods come to recapture Isobel, didn't they?

Maighread had waited… and waited. Still, there were no sounds of swords clashing and men dying. A few horses galloped away, their hooves striking the frozen ground. After this, at gloaming, the roar of conversation from the bailey and the great hall reached her.

What was happening? Why were the MacLeods not attacking Dirk and his men?

Surely sending Haldane all the way to Munrick couldn't have been for naught. And where was her son anyway?

She knocked at the inside of her own door. That bastard, Dirk, had made the men add a lock to the outside of the door.

"What do you want?" one of the guards asked from outside.

Disrespectful lout, she'd see he was forced out of MacKay Country when she was free.

"I must speak to my maid about a delicate female matter," she said in a submissive tone.

"You tell me and I'll tell her."

Damn the man. She was not accustomed to people refusing to do her bidding. It was all because of Dirk.

She paced back and forth before the fireplace. Somehow she had to find out what was going on.

An hour or so later, the door creaked, startling her. She whipped around. One of the guards set a tray of food inside on the floor. She hurried toward him, but he slammed the door and the lock clicked.

"Guard?" She knocked on the door. "Guard! I want to speak with my son, Aiden. Send him to me."

Her request was met with silence. Bastards! She had never been treated so horribly in all her days. Dirk would pay dearly for this!

"Do you hear me?" She yelled, beating on the door. "Send Aiden to me now!"

Loud music from the great hall vibrated the wooden floor of her chamber. Instead of a battle, the damnable clans were having a céilidh. She ground her teeth. How dare they celebrate while she was a prisoner in her own home? Well, not hers, but Aiden's home. Her home was at Tongue, and she missed the warm manor house terribly.

Despite the fire, she had to wear several layers of wool to stay warm in this chamber. Not only was she freezing, but she had to tend to the fire herself. That horse's arse Dirk hadn't even allowed her a maid to stoke it for her.

If only she could contact Clan Gordon, Dirk and his followers would be sorry indeed. Her nephew would rain down hell on these traitors.

Pounding her fist on the door again, she yelled, "Open the door!"

She could die here and no one would know it, not even her sons. Tears flooded her eyes.

Familiar music drifted from the great hall. That was Aiden playing! She couldn't believe her own son had turned his back on her. Could he not understand she did all of this for him? So he'd have an inheritance. Now he had naught except what Dirk decided to give him. Instead of being chief, Aiden would be little more than a servant. When she imagined her son's dismal future, her stomach ached.

And what about Haldane? Where was he? She prayed he wasn't in the dungeon. He was tougher than Aiden and she knew he could handle it, but Dirk had no right to imprison either of her sons. Haldane would be the new chief. He was the grandson of an earl. He deserved it. She had to get a message to him. Surely he could help her escape this prison.

She scribed a missive on a small piece of paper she found in her old desk. Thank goodness she'd had the tutor teach him to read, despite much opposition and laziness on his part. She didn't know when she would get the note to him, but she crammed it into the pouch at her waist.

Maighread fell asleep in the chair before the hearth. The room was dark when faint, quick tapping on the door woke her. She arose, her stiff joints aching, and ambled toward the door. All was quiet, no music from the great hall. It was obviously past midnight.

"Aye?" she asked at the door.

"M'lady." It was no more than a loud whisper.

"Is that you, Una?" Thank goodness she'd had the foresight to bring two maids with her from Tongue, for Anne had disappeared or abandoned her.

"Aye," the maid replied.

"Where are the guards?"

"There is only one here and he's asleep."

Elation rushed through Maighread. "Take the keys off him and unlock the door."

After a long moment Una said, "I don't see any keys. If I search him, he's sure to wake."

Maighread muttered a curse she'd heard her husband say a thousand times. "Where is Haldane? Have you seen him?"

"Nay, but the men were laughing about how he'd run away like a coward with some of the others they call outlaws."

Damn them all. Her son was no coward, nor was he an outlaw.

"What of the MacLeods?" Maighread asked. "Are they angry with Dirk for taking Lady Isobel hostage?"

"Nay. They all seemed the best of friends, laughing, dining and drinking together. During supper, Chief MacKenzie announced that Dirk and Lady Isobel would be getting married."

"Dear heavens! And the MacLeods were fine with this?"

"Aye."

Chief MacKenzie must have smoothed everything over and appeased the MacLeod somehow, destroying her plans.

"I need for you to slip a missive to Haldane. Can you do that for me?"

"Aye, m'lady, if I see him."

"You must go out and find him. Our very lives depend upon it. Yours too." Maighread slid the folded piece of paper underneath the door. "Here it is. Take this to Haldane. Do you know Levina, the kitchen servant?"

"Aye."

"I want you to give her a message for me. Tell her I said to take the measures we discussed several days ago."

"Very well. Is that all m'lady?"

"Aye."

She hadn't wanted the situation to lead to this, but she had no choice. Dirk had forced her hand.