Highlander Untamed (29 page)

He slipped out of the room and headed down the winding stairs, making his way outside and down the path to the old keep. His men would be waiting for him. He’d just entered the hall when his brother caught his eye.

“Sleep well?” Alex asked innocently.

Rory frowned. “It’s none of your damn business. Where are Douglas and Colin?”

“Waiting for you in the private dining room.”

He followed Rory into the small room behind the great hall. With Alex recovered, they’d gathered to discuss the threat of attack by the Mackenzies.

His guardsmen rose as he entered. Another of the king’s damn restrictions, Rory thought. Limiting the number of his household men. Colin stepped forward with a letter in his hand. “It arrived only this morning,” he explained. “I did not think you wished to be disturbed.”

Apparently, the entire castle was aware of what had transpired last night. If Colin had an opinion on the matter, he kept it well hidden. Like Rory’s other men, he would never question his chief.

Rory nodded, flipped over the parchment, and recognized Argyll’s seal.
Damn.
He opened the missive and read. It was the news he’d been waiting for. News that should make him happy. Instead, he felt the noose of duty closing around him. Argyll wrote that the next time the MacLeod presented himself at court, the king would agree to hear the matter of Trotternish. Isabel was slipping through his fingers. He related the contents to his men, and they all fell silent.

Finally, Alex asked the question they all were thinking. “You will still repudiate the handfast?”

Rory smothered the almost visceral response to deny. Instead he said, “Aye. It is necessary. Argyll has proved his sway with the king by getting him to agree to hear the matter at all—something James has previously refused to do. With the Mackenzie supporting Sleat’s claim, we need Argyll’s influence.”

“If only there was another way to make James see Sleat for the overreaching tyrant that he is,” Alex said.

Rory smiled at his brother who was so infuriated on his behalf. “Be assured, if there is another way, I will find it.”

He put aside the disturbing emotions evoked by the contents of Argyll’s letter, and returned to the discussion for which they’d gathered—defending against an attack by the Mackenzies. Rory didn’t want any more surprises. The Mackenzies’ boldness in attacking so close to the castle concerned him. Alex relayed the events of the attack as he’d done earlier, including the conversation between Isabel and Murdock Mackenzie. Something Alex said stopped Rory cold.

“You’re sure?” Rory asked.

Alex nodded. “I was in and out of consciousness, but Murdock knew that you had delayed your stay in Edinburgh with Argyll.”

Rory felt a flicker of unease. How the Mackenzies knew of his plans bothered him. He’d purposefully kept his stay with Argyll quiet.

Rory thought for a moment, his eye catching Argyll’s letter on the table. Suddenly, he recalled another letter, one received by his bride only yesterday. He’d realized just how much he’d grown to trust her when Sleat’s letter yesterday caused barely a flicker of unease.

Rory held his face impassive. “Did my bride send any letters while I was gone?”

The men looked distinctly uncomfortable. Douglas answered. “Only one. To her father, Glengarry.”

“I’m sure it was a coincidence,” Alex said, jumping to Isabel’s defense.

Rory didn’t believe in coincidences, but for her sake, he hoped it was.

“The lass is a MacDonald. Can we trust her?” Douglas asked the question Rory did not want to voice himself.

Rory thought for a moment. The memories of last night assailed him. He thought of the woman who’d given herself to him freely and without conditions. He thought of the contentment he’d known while holding her in his arms, the strange sense of peace that had settled over him. He thought of her kindness to Margaret, her radiant charm, her loneliness, and the happiness she’d found at Dunvegan. If not in his mind, Rory knew the answer in his heart.

“Aye, I trust her.”

But if he ever found out she’d deceived him, her loss of innocence would be the least of her problems.

Chapter 17

As the yule celebration gave way to Hogmanay, and winter faded into spring, Isabel kept her vow to squeeze every bit of happiness she could out of her time at Dunvegan with Rory. They made love every day except…Isabel sighed wistfully, recalling the day a couple of weeks after Christmas when she’d gotten her flux. Though she did not want a child without a husband, she felt strangely disappointed. And hurt by Rory’s visible relief—relief she understood, but which pained her nonetheless.

At times, Isabel felt her new plan was working and that Rory had begun to love her. Alone at night, cradled in his arms, she believed nothing could ever come between them. At meals, or over the long hours spent planning the festivities for the Highland games, he would laugh and tease her as if she were part of the family. And occasionally, she would catch him looking at her with something akin to tenderness in his eyes.

But other times, she was not so sure. He had not discussed a change of intent or broached the subject of their handfast at all. She wanted to believe he’d reconsidered, but any casual reference that she made to a future beyond July was ignored or met with an uncomfortable smile and a swift change of subject. And then there was that odd conversation about the letter she’d written to her father. He’d seemed to think she might have told her father something of import, but what? He’d started to question her, but her answers had seemed to satisfy him and he’d dropped the subject.

There were so many times Isabel wanted to declare her love. But the knowledge that her words would only cause him discomfort, and perhaps even guilt, held her back. She wanted honesty between them more than she wanted anything else, but until she secured an alternative to the alliance with Argyll, she dared not risk it. Nor could she risk upsetting the delicate balance they’d fought so hard to achieve.

Time slipped away too quickly. Especially the nights. Her cheeks reddened. And sometimes the days, she thought, recalling the fragrant, downy meadow of heather. A few weeks into March, Rory had finally relented and allowed her to spend a day outside the castle walls. Little did she know that behind his acquiescence lay an ulterior motive. Making love outside had been an entirely new experience for her. She smiled. Rory had kept his word to teach her much, and Isabel had proved an apt, and attentive, pupil. So much had changed since that wild, passion-filled night before Christmas. Gone was the nervous virgin, replaced by a confident, sensual woman. A confident, sexually adventuresome woman.

When she wasn’t occupied tumbling through meadows of heather, Isabel kept herself busy with the accounts and organizing the festivities for the Highland gathering and, much to her delight, a wedding. Since Margaret had pointed it out to her those many months ago, Isabel had noticed Robert’s blatant interest in Bessie. Nevertheless, she was surprised when Bessie came to her with the news of her proposal. She was overjoyed for her dear nurse, but Isabel would miss her terribly if Rory repudiated the handfast.

She was painfully aware that only three months remained in their handfast period. With the Highland gathering fast approaching, Isabel would be forced to see her family and report her progress. She hoped to broach the subject to her father about shifting alliances.

But today, Isabel’s mind was turned to other matters. After much anxious preparation, the day of Bessie’s wedding had finally arrived. Following the small ceremony, long tables and benches had been set up in the courtyard for the celebration to take advantage of the favorable weather. Isabel knew she wasn’t the only one tired of being cooped up in the castle.

Standing in the crowded courtyard, she leisurely swept her eyes over the scenic vistas surrounding her. She inhaled the fresh breath of spring that was in evidence all around. The lemon yellow sun hung all alone in its azure frame, its extreme brightness seeming to defy heavenly competition. The sea rolled and glistened, its turquoise waters unusually clear and vivid. Behind her, the landscape seemed to turn more colorful by the moment, the forests flourishing green, the horsetail standing proud on the heathered hillsides, the purple thrift and yellow iris blanketing the coastal cliffs. A lazy breeze tickled the rustling leaves and gently cleared away the vestiges of winter dankness.

Spring had certainly arrived.

Lost in thought, Isabel didn’t notice when Margaret moved to stand beside her. “’Tis a beautiful day for a wedding,” she said.

She grinned at Margaret. “It’s absolutely perfect.” Isabel couldn’t have asked for a more fitting stage for this special occasion. She and Margaret had worked tirelessly in preparation, with very little time. She shook her head with bemused chagrin, only two weeks to plan a wedding as important as this. Bessie had complained that she was far too old to wait any longer; she didn’t want to give Robert time to change his mind.

Isabel’s gaze fell on her beloved nurse. Her heart swelled with pride as she watched the beaming bride and groom greet their guests. “I’ll miss her.” Isabel didn’t realize she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

She felt Margaret’s sympathy as surely as if she’d put her arms around her. Margaret knew Isabel had not told Bessie of Rory’s plan to repudiate the handfast. Only those closest to Rory knew of his intentions: Alex, Margaret, and Rory’s guardsmen. Fortunately, Bessie’s curiosity had waned after Rory had made Isabel a bride in truth.

“Bessie will always belong to you. She loves you as if you were her own child.”

“For so many years, she was all I had.”

“I know.”

Margaret didn’t need to say more. Isabel knew she understood. Margaret was the best friend Isabel had ever had; she knew her almost as well as Isabel knew herself.

Almost. There was one thing they never spoke of directly: Rory’s plan to send her back and repudiate the handfast. It was a subject too painful for them both.

“Enough of these maudlin thoughts. This is a day for celebration. By the way, where is your Viking?” She expected that Margaret would also have some happy news soon. The Viking’s interest in her was as plain as the perpetual scowl on his face. And Isabel’s secret plan for Margaret was about to be divulged.

It was Margaret’s turn to blush. “He’s not
my
Viking,” she said primly.

Isabel raised an eyebrow. “He’s not?”

“Well, at least not in so many words.”

“I suspect that will change soon.”

Margaret was saved from replying by the arrival of her brother.

Rory made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Is everything as you wished, Isabel? I see even the weather has followed your directives.”

“Oh, Rory, it’s perfect. Thank you so much for making this such a special day for Bessie. It has meant so much to her, and to me.”

Rory grinned broadly. “I’m glad you are well pleased. Between planning a wedding and planning for the gathering, you have not had much time to rest.”

He was so irresistibly handsome and charming, the thought flashed through her mind for perhaps only the hundredth time. His hair glimmered more golden than brown in the bright sunlight. So tall and muscular, he looked like a bronzed god. That this man belonged to her was overwhelming. She loved him beyond measure.

Still, she frowned. “That reminds me, I’d almost forgotten something I meant to do today for the gathering. The clans will start to arrive in a few days, and I have not yet checked to make sure we have enough space to stable all the horses in the village.”

Rory interrupted her. “Not today, Isabel. Today you will enjoy this wedding that you and Margaret have worked so hard on. It’s almost time for the dancing to begin, and I’ll not let you go.” To demonstrate, he twirled her around in the air as if she weighed no more than a bairn.

“Put me down right now, Rory MacLeod!” She laughed, banging on his arms for release. “I have work to do. I will make you regret this high-handedness.”

Watching him now, so playful, Isabel was struck by just how much he’d changed in the past few months. He was lighter, happier. She wanted desperately to believe that she was the cause of the change.

“Promise?” He smiled wickedly.

“I promise,” she whispered breathlessly. Locked in the blue twinkling of his eyes, she felt her heart flutter at the sensuous promise lacing his words.

“Leave be, you two.” Margaret giggled. “Please try to refrain from discussing your private bedroom exploits before my innocent, burning ears.”

Rory dropped his head and pressed a light kiss on Isabel’s parted lips before releasing her. “Oh, very well, Margaret. I never knew you were such a tight-laced prude. I’ll have to warn Colin to temper any illicit advances he has planned.”

“I’m sure I don’t know to what you are referring, brother,” Margaret said primly, hands on her hips.

“Don’t you? Hmm. We’ll see.”

Isabel still loved to stand witness to their lighthearted sibling teasing.

“Do you know something, Rory? What are you not telling me?” Margaret narrowed her eye threateningly at her much larger brother, looking as though she might attack.