Amanda Scott (14 page)

“St. Clair?”

The name floated past her, stopping the breath in her throat until Michael said calmly, “I am still of the same mind, my lord.”

“You’ll need to take a firm hand with her,” Hector said. “But if you’re still willing, I’ll leave the rest of this to you. I’d recommend a strap or a stout switch.”

“Thank you, my lord. I can deal with her.”

“Then I’ll leave her to you and see what I can do to arrange a speedy wedding for you,” Hector said, straightening. “Come to me when you’ve finished, and we’ll talk further.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Look at me, lass.”

Isobel could not move. Indeed, she could scarcely breathe.

“Look at me, Isobel,” Michael repeated.

After a long moment, she turned slowly, her face ashen.

He opened his arms to her. When she hesitated, he thought for a moment that she would ignore their invitation. But then she glanced down at her wet cloak, stepped over it, and walked silently into his embrace.

The top of her head barely reached his chin, and she buried her face against his chest. He had given his own sodden cloak to a gillie upon entering the hall, but although he suspected that his doublet was damp, too, she did not seem to mind.

Holding her close, he could smell rain in her hair, could feel the supple warmth of her body; and a knot of uncertainty that he had not even known lay deep inside him relaxed into a sense of unfamiliar but nonetheless welcome contentment.

Moments later, she stirred, and her hands gingerly touched his waist.

“Put your arms around me, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair.

“Sweetheart?” She spoke against his chest.

“Aye,” he said.

“He expects you to punish me,” she said. “Are you going to?”

Instead of answering, he said, “Do you understand why he is angry?”

She nodded.

“Do you think he is wrong to be?”

She shook her head.

“Look up at me, Isobel.”

She obeyed, her expression wary.

“Did you agree to this marriage between us because you thought such an agreement would spare you from deserved punishment now?”

She hesitated again, sighed, and said, “You
do
mean to beat me.”

“Answer my question.”

“Why should I? You will say either that I am lying or that I’m just saying what I think you want to hear. After all, you offered to marry me only because you think you must assume responsibility for what happened between us.”

He felt a strong desire to tell her that she had attracted him from the moment she intervened with Waldron, to try to explain that her determination to kill the man in the cave if necessary had sealed that attraction, and that everything she had done since had simply reinforced it. But common sense stopped him before he uttered the words, because it occurred to him that to give so headstrong a lass such a weapon to use against him might not be wise.

The truth was that he did not care why she had agreed. He was just glad that she had. If part of him was also relieved to know he would not be leaving her behind to face alone the consequences of a scandal they had brewed together, he thought that was only natural. To have earned Hector Reaganach’s good opinion was also important, but he would not beat her simply to retain it.

He said gently, “Do you think I ought to punish you?”

“He expects you to, so I suppose you will say you have no choice.”

“I have managed to stay alive on several occasions that might well have proved fatal by
not
doing what others expect of me.”

“Faith, sir, Hector will not kill you if you do not meet this expectation.”

“So I’m hoping,” Michael said with a smile.

She wrinkled her brow and gazed searchingly at him. “I do not always know what to make of you,” she said at last. “Will you ever share your secrets with me?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “You do need to know more about them, to be sure.”

“Will you tell me about your quest?”

He stiffened, recognizing Hugo’s word on her lips.

Isobel felt his reaction, cursed her folly, and dampened suddenly dry lips.

In a voice that raised the hair on the back of her neck, Michael said, “You were listening on that stairway.”

She lifted her chin, saying with careful dignity, “I was taking that stairway to go back outside, and I chanced to overhear your cousin’s question. Surely, you do not count that as ‘listening on that stairway.’”

“Aye, sure, I do,” he said uncompromisingly. “An innocent person continues downstairs. She does not stop to listen or turn and creep silently back upstairs when she fears discovery. That you did both makes me wonder now if you hid in that storage locker in hopes of overhearing another such conversation. Indeed, I’d not be amazed to learn that you agreed to marry me now not only to avoid punishment but also because I said that had you agreed to it before, I’d have told you what I know.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but he put a finger on her lips and said, “Take care, lass, for you have made no secret of your curiosity. Indeed, I think it is what most frequently lands you in trouble. So I’ll tell you this, and you’d better heed my words. I’ll not tolerate a wife who lies to me or who listens at doors and on stairways.”

Hastily, barely giving him time to move his finger, she said, “I won’t then.”

“I want your solemn promise.”

“I promise,” she said. “And I did not board your galley hoping to hear more. Truly,” she added, suppressing memory of her disappointment when he and Hugo did not reveal more information about what Hugo had called Michael’s quest.

He was silent for a long moment, looking at her, increasing her tension.

Her skin had begun prickling the moment Hector had left her alone with him, Michael’s open arms had done little to ease that, and now it felt as if her skin were afire. Not only had she wondered more than once why his voice alone could stir such disturbing feelings in her body, but he could make her more uneasy with a look than Hector at his most ominous could.

Michael seemed to look straight into her soul. Tracing a line along her jaw with one finger, he said gently, “I am not entirely persuaded by your assurances, sweetheart. I sincerely hope, however, that you are persuaded by mine.”

Trying to ignore the shiver that shot up her spine, she nodded and leaned into him, sighing when his arms went around her again and he drew her close.

Marriage would soon link her forever to this man who stirred her fears and other less familiar sensations so easily and so inexplicably. But she had known the moment Hector asked if she would change her mind that she could not let Michael St. Clair sail out of her life again if anything she could do would stop him.

Michael had no idea if her sigh denoted relief that he would not punish her or something deeper, but he was content for those few moments to hold her and let her feel safe, if that was what she felt.

A drop of water trickled down his neck, reminding him that his hair was still wet. The lass’s, protected as it had been by her hood, was merely damp and curling as it dried. They both needed to change into dry clothing before supper, and he doubted that she would go willingly upstairs before she knew what he would say to Hector Reaganach, and Hector to him. He had never known a woman so filled with curiosity, but since it had brought her into his life, he would not condemn it. He would, however, do his best to control it, lest it lead her into more danger.

At the moment, curious about something himself, he asked the question he had wanted to ask since they had left the hall: “Just who is Mariota, lass?”

She tensed, then drew an audible breath and pulled a little away, looking up as she said, “She was my second eldest sister, sir. She died in a fall some years ago.”

Her eyes sparkled with tears, and he was unsure if they were new ones or remnants of her earlier distress. When she continued to watch him, he realized that she did not want to talk about Mariota. But he wanted to know more about her.

“What does Lady Euphemia mean when she says you are growing more and more like her? She has said that twice now,” he added when she hesitated.

She licked her lips, sending an unexpected jolt of desire through him. Then, with a tremulous smile, she said, “Mariota was extraordinarily beautiful, sir, but impulsive. No one has ever suggested that my looks are a match for hers, so I’d wager Aunt Euphemia means that I tend to be as impulsive as Mariota was.”

He waited, hoping she would say more, but she met his gaze solemnly and remained silent. The thought crossed his mind that she might be waiting for him to reassure her that no one could be as beautiful as she was, but he sensed wariness rather than yearning for compliments. Moreover, he was nearly certain that her earlier pallor had begun with the mention of Mariota. But he could not press her more now. Hector was waiting.

Michael pulled her close again, tipped her chin up with a finger, and kissed her gently.

When she moaned and pressed her lips hard against his, he tightened his embrace and kissed her more thoroughly, smiling when she allowed his tongue into her mouth to explore its soft interior. His body responded instantly, and he knew that if he did not control himself, he would take her right there in Hector’s chamber. As he eased himself away from her, he smiled again.

“You stir my passions too easily, lass. I think we’d best wait until we are safely married before continuing along this course.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, then gently disengaged herself and bent to pick up her cloak. The look in her eyes when she straightened again told him that a thought had occurred to her that she was reluctant to share.

“What is it?” he asked.

“My demon curiosity,” she said ruefully. “It stirs again.”

Michael chuckled. “This time, sweetheart, I believe it augurs well for us both. But come now. Hector awaits us.”

“What will you say when he asks if you punished me?”

“He won’t ask,” Michael said. “You are as good as mine now, lass, and no gentleman probes into private matters between another man and his woman.”

She looked doubtful, but she need not have worried. When they returned to the hall, they found a veritable hive of activity there.

Hector strode to meet them. “You took long enough, lad, but you should both change into dry clothes, and quickly. I’ve had word that ships are blocking the mouth of the Sound near Mingary. We depart for Duart directly after we sup.”

“Do we, my lord?” Michael said without bothering to conceal his amusement. “My men are going to be sleeping at their oars, I fear.”

“Nay, for I’ve told my captains to select a contingent of good, strong oarsmen for the
Raven
, so that your lads can rest. We’ll scatter them amongst mine in the other boats, and they need not lift a hand. I’ve already given the orders, and I’ve informed your cousin, as well, so you may refresh yourself without concern.”

“What about our discussion?” Michael asked.

“You’d only have to repeat the details to Lachlan at Duart,” Hector said. “We’ll put it off until we get there.”

Feeling Isobel stiffen beside him, Michael said, “Lady Isobel should hear the whole, my lord. If you will object to her presence when we talk at Duart, I’ll need enough time here before we leave to discuss it with her privately.”

Hector frowned, and to Michael’s surprise, Isobel made no attempt to persuade him. Indeed, he thought, she was unusually quiet.

Isobel was speechless.

Both Cristina and Lady Mairi were strong women with minds of their own. But although she knew Hector and Lachlan nearly always gave their wives general information about their comings and goings, if the women wanted to know more, they generally met first with strong resistance if not outright refusal. If they pressed harder, sometimes they succeeded in learning more, but they also risked censure, and often received stern rebuke instead of the information they sought.

That Michael would inform Hector that he meant to tell her as much as he would tell Hector and Lachlan was the last thing she had expected. But that was exactly what he had done, and she was not about to say anything that might change his mind or stir Hector to forbid it.

Although Michael had said that Hector would not demand to know if he had punished her, she knew that Hector made his own rules. If he wanted to know, he would ask, and if he did not ask Michael, he would ask her. And if he learned that Michael had not, he might still do so himself. She was not afraid of punishment. Indeed, she almost wished that Michael had obeyed Hector. The things he had said to her instead had made her feel dreadful, and they kept echoing through her head. Punishment, although physically more painful, was nearly always quickly over.

Hector was looking at her, but when she met his gaze, his eyes began to twinkle, and she relaxed. “Aye, lad,” he said, turning to Michael. “’Tis a good notion, that. She’s a sensible lass most of the time, and she should know the truth.”

Michael nodded but said, “Aye, however—and I do not mean any disrespect by this, my lord. But I do still think it would be wiser if the other women—”

“I agree,” Hector interjected. “Isobel is to be your wife, so she must know enough to keep her safe. The others have no reason to know your secrets, and may even be put at more risk if your enemies have reason to think they do.”

Michael relaxed visibly, giving Isobel to wonder how much more he knew, and if he truly intended to tell even Hector everything. But he said only, “Then we’ll go now and change, my lord.”

“Wait,” Isobel said as he turned to offer his arm. To Hector, she said, “What about the wedding, sir? You said it should be speedy. Are we to marry at Duart?”

“We have no chaplain here, lass, as you know, and since you will want a proper wedding, I mean to arrange it with his grace’s chaplain at Ardtornish.”

“Will not such haste create more comment?”

“Nay, for no one will wonder that you want to marry quickly, not with his grace in poor health and Sir Michael’s brother expecting him straightaway at Kirkwall. Even if he were willing to wait a few days and go with us when we had planned to go, local parsons would not have sufficient time to proclaim your banns. But that will not trouble his grace’s chaplain, and in any event, unless our arriving a few days early will trouble Sir Henry, I think we had all better go north together.”