Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends, Book 1.5) (5 page)

“I’ve never taken from a woman what she didn’t offer. I’ll not start now.” He dipped his head further and placed a kiss beneath her ear that set her skin on fire. “Anythin’ you want me to have, you’ll offer. If I have my way, you will
beg
me to take it.”

She couldn’t catch her breath. A throbbing pulse pounded between her thighs, and some wild part of her
wanted
to offer,
wanted
to beg. She had no idea what to beg for, but everything about the man holding her close—touching her more intimately than she’d ever imagined a man doing—made her
want.

An ingrained resolve shattered the bone-melting sensual haze. Her survival depended on her keeping a clear head. “I’ll do neither,” she scoffed.

His rich laughter boomed out, wrapping itself around her like a warm embrace. “Aye, lass. I think you’ll do both. Soon...and often. I’m verra fond of the fight in you though.”

Robert loosened his hold, as if making good on his promise. She relaxed on a slow sigh, but the panicked pressure in her head eased faster than the disconcerting throb in the most intimate of places.

The quiet minutes unnerved her as she stood within his embrace, his hold so slight she had to shift to feel his arms. His dark eyes remained steadfastly focused on the horizon beyond the trees, his gaze shifting back and forth as he scanned their surroundings.

A snowflake danced before her face. Another flew by. The wind kicked up as the snowfall increased, sending swirls of white spinning amid the dark greenery of the forest. She stuck her tongue out, catching a few on the tip.

Robert chuckled.

“What? You doona ever have fun?” she asked.

Robert pulled his arms away, and she turned around. He settled against the tree’s scarred bark once again, folding his hands behind his lower back and propping the heel of a boot flat on the trunk. His gaze drifted beyond her and out of focus. “Aye, I have a bit of fun when time allows.”

“What do you do for fun?” she asked.

Robert dropped a smoldering gaze to her. “Besides takin’ what pleasures women offer me?” An unreadable emotion flashed across his face after the scandalous intimation, but then instantly disappeared, his eyes narrowing.

Her cheeks flushed hot. “Aye, besides that.”

“Weel...I do love to hunt,” he said.

“You’re not huntin’ now. ’Tis because I’m here?” she asked.

He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Not all prey are four-legged.” He winked at her.

She laughed, shaking her head.

“Och, lass. You’re verra bonnie when you smile.”

Uncomfortable with his flattery, she lowered her gaze and unexpectedly caught the glint of an object. In the cuff of his boot was the hilt of a dagger.

Her dagger.

The smile fell from her face as her gaze drifted back up, assessing the striking man before her. Charming. Devast
ating.
Enemy.

“I’ll remember to keep my smile to myself then.”

A thunderous sound startled her, and she spun around to the loud cracks of snapping limbs, her heart racing. Thick scrub beneath the tree canopy shook, and a large stag broke into the clearing, stumbled, and fell, an arrow protruding behind its shoulder. Duncan and Seamus appeared through the brush, both men grinning and breathing heavily. Seamus stopped, squatted by the deer, and unsheathed a large blade from his thigh.

Robert brushed past her and met
Duncan halfway into their small clearing. “I recall our deer park being a good distance away.”

Duncan
’s grin widened. “Aye. Why not flush them your way, save us the long haul, and enjoy the sport of the kill?”

Robert chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “
Duncan, you shall make a great commander.”

While Seamus finished with the deer, the snowfall increased, tiny specks of white dusting down through openings in the canopy. Susanna occupied herself as best she could while waiting; sitting upon the stump of a tree, pacing the length of the clearing, and finally settling back against the alligatored bark of the pine beside Robert, where he’d calmly leaned the entire time.

With the passing minutes, she grew more restless. Not only did the looming danger of being apprehended weigh heavy on her thoughts, time spent around men in their natural element, without any purpose to occupy her hands or her mind, made her uneasy.

As Seamus strapped their bound kill to one of the horses,
Duncan gravitated to the edge of the forest, staring out in the direction from where they’d come. Seamus soon joined him. Both men tensed, their hands hovering over the hilts of their swords.

Robert moved close behind her, his amazing heat penetrating through her cloak and dress. “Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?” she asked.

“Close your eyes, lass. Somethin’ comes our way.” Robert took a step ahead of her, physically shielding her from whatever approached.

She closed her eyes, uncertain what he meant. Cold flakes of snow hit her cheeks, but a distinct heat weighed heavy in the pit of her stomach. An ember deep inside glowed hotter, and she clutched at her belly.

Susanna recognized the sensation, only she’d never felt it from a great distance before. The wind carried a message only those attuned to the vibration could hear
...and they all understood its meaning.

“My father,” she whispered.

Robert had been right about something coming, and yet, a force greater than any of the men realized was at work. More than a simple feeling reverberated through her belly and seeped into her bones. Susanna opened her eyes. On the horizon, from a thick mist that hovered low to the ground, dark figures emerged. But they faded from her awareness as an epiphany sharpened into focus.

She’d escaped a threatening past, seeking to seize a secure future, but among three warriors who’d vowed to protect her—even against her tenacious will—every part of her snapped to life. Her perception had twisted from total independence to
oneness...with others.

A surprising inner warrior emerged. She moved from behind Robert and stood tall beside him. Unarmed, yet unafraid for the first time since Robert had captured her, they now shared a common goal.

“All I feel is an enemy’s arrogance.” She kept her eyes trained on the growing shapes that galloped toward them. “However, I feel far less welcomin’ to their breach of your clan lands than you were to me.”

Robert glanced at her. “Ah, lass, you’ve no idea how pleased I am to hear those words.”

Power emanated outward from Duncan and Seamus, from Robert...and from her. A trio of warriors and a petite woman stood strong against an unpredictable and obsessed enemy.

Susa
nna had never felt more secure.

CHAPTER
FIVE

Brodie
Castle—Thirteenth Century

Isobel struggled with the heavy oak chair, puffing an unruly lock of hair out of her face. With the toe of her favorite Brooks Brothers calfskin boots, she literally shooed away the growling wolfhound that staked his territory. The ornery beast gave her another inch. She took two with a final shove, making him move. Breathless, she leaned over the back of the chair, pleased that she’d made headway with the hearth’s sitting area...and the dogs.

“Isa!” The growled shout of her name echoed through the great hall.

She smiled, looking up at her beloved Iain. Flames from the hearth glinted off strands of copper in his dark-brown hair, but it was his hazel eyes that sparked with fire.

“I strictly forbid you to move the furniture!”

She smiled at his stern expression and stood, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. His severe countenance softened under the assault of her lips, and she nipped at the corners of his mouth with playful butterfly kisses.

“You
strictly
forbid?” she teased. “You
know
I want to bring Christmas here. If you won’t help, I’ll do it myself,” she said.

“Not at the risk of my bairns, you won’t.” He moved his hands forward and cradled her swollen belly. “Doona test me further, Isa. I’ll chain you if you push me.”

Mischievous thoughts flickered through her mind. “Promise?”

Iain growled and smacked her ass. “Behave, woman.”

Isobel planted her hands on her hips and lifted her chin, arching her brows in stubbornness. Iain knew well from repeated experience, his woman did not take kindly to orders.
Or restrictions...

Iain stared at her for exactly fifteen seconds—she counted. On a labored sigh, he relented, the last of the angry furrows in his forehead relaxing. “Where would you like the chairs?”

She smiled triumphantly. That rumbling deep voice in his tantalizing brogue never failed to melt her heart.

She puffed the wavy lock from her lips again, but tucked it behind her ear when it failed to obey. “Over in a tighter arrangement to one side of the hearth.” She pointed to the area she had in mind. “Robert promised to bring me back a tree, and I want there to be plenty of room.”

Iain hoisted the mammoth carved oak chairs off the ground like they were nothing more than inflated beach balls. Powerful forearms flexed and released beneath the rolled cuffs of his linen shirt as she pointed and he placed, positioning them into an open but intimate sitting area for easy conversation.

“Robert’s bringin’ you a tree? Why not Uilleam? He’s our woodcutter.”

She hesitated, weighing Iain’s inevitable reaction to her disobedience. Evasion tactics always failed with him, and she refused to lie, so she took a slow, deep breath, hoping to soften the blow with reasoning before admitting her transgression. “Iain, you
know
the personal nature of a Christmas tree, and our clan has never had one before.
We’ve
never had one. It had to be just right. So...I scouted one out.” She sucked in another deep breath, desperate for oxygen in her baby-cramped lungs after blurting out her explanation all at once.

Iain froze in place, his back to her. He held the last of the two-ton chairs in midair, looking as if Michelangelo had carved an ad for a medieval furniture store.

Two seconds...three…four...

He lowered the final chair beside the other three, creating the conversation area she’d been envisioning. She didn’t need him to turn around for her to know how he felt; he broadcasted his anger in the tense movement of his body.

His voice lowered and purred out smooth as silk, easily heard above the soft hum of the fire. “You went out without an escort?”

She had no desire to rile his barely restrained beast further, so replied quietly, “Yes.”

“Please tell me you dinna mount
Solus
.”

She took a tentative step closer to him. There was more than anger in his voice; an undercurrent of pain laced his tone. Her selfish wishes had hurt her great warrior, and she regretted her foolish actions.

“I’m sorry, my love. I did. I forced the stable boy to help me onto her with a stool, and I only rode her at a slow walk. At the time it seemed...adventurous. You’d battle-trained
Solus
so well, I had confidence she’d keep me safe.”

Iain finally turned. The burgundy flecks in those hazel eyes flashed hot with passion: a mixture of fury, pain, and love. “Even our best horses—even
Dubhar
—can take a misstep. Do you think I demand anythin’ from you lightly?”

Isobel dropped her gaze to his chest, unable to bear the tortured look in his eyes. She shook her head slowly.

He folded her into his arms and pulled her as close as her protruding belly would allow. “The verra wild spirit that I love in you must be tamed. You’ve put more at risk than the woman who I live and breathe for every day. Those bairns are the future of our clan. Their safety is paramount to your needs or mine, and my role as laird requires me to protect them. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?”

She stared into the crackling fire, realizing what she’d inadvertently done. When she’d gone off on a gentle ride on a crisp blue-sky day of momentary freedom, she’d guaranteed it would be the last time for a while.

“Yes, Iain. The escort you told me to request whenever I left the keep will no longer be by request, will it?”

The solid chest that her cheek rested against shook, startling her. She lapsed into confusion by his low chuckle and looked up to see mirth in his eyes.

“Nay. You’ll no longer even move
about this keep
without an escort.”

Her jaw dropped with her brows. “What?” Shocked, she pushed against him hard. Iain released his hold, and she stumbled two steps backward for balance. He crossed his arms, all amusement vanishing from his face.

“No way.” She also crossed her arms...onto the shelf that had become her belly.

“Oh, aye.” He lowered his face, a determined stare locking onto her hers as he casually widened his stance.

They stood there for long moments, nostrils flaring, hearts thundering, each in defiance of the other’s position: two stubborn souls brought together from different worlds—her twenty-first century to his thirteenth. The battle lines had been drawn. She snorted. If she wouldn’t have to pee within the next thirty minutes, she’d have the stamina to stand there all day.

While she debated the odds of Iain granting any leeway if she begged for mercy, Brigid flew down the stairs and into the room in an epic huff. Her copper curls flew behind her as she stormed up and barged in between them, her own arms crossed over her chest. “I am
done
with that damned angel!”

Iain’s gaze snapped to Brigid so fast, Isobel was certain he’d caused himself whiplash.

“
What
did you say?” Iain’s growl trumped Brigid’s. He stepped closer, glaring at her.

Unafraid of her brother, Brigid shot a frosty glare his way. “Done.”

“The rest of it.” Iain’s voice had gone glacial as he towered over his sister.

Her voice lowered, but didn’t cool. Brigid had endured a lifetime of Iain’s intimidation tactics. “With. That.
Damned.
Angel.” Brigid arched a brow.

“I hadn’t been aware you’d been
with
that damned angel.” Iain raised his brows.

He waited.

She relented on a sigh. “Aye, Iain, you have. You know Skorpius had been bound to protect me. Weel, I’ve been gone a while, you’ve been busy with the clan, and ’tis a verra long story.” She arched a defiant brow at him. “I’ll share it when I’m ready.”

Unfortunately, Brigid’s keen observation skills had failed to take into account the hostility of the party she’d joined. A slow smile spread across Iain’s face as he backed up, his gaze sliding toward Isobel then back again to look at his sister. Finally, he spoke, addressing Isobel without taking his eyes off his sister. “
Brigid.
She will now go with you everywhere you go. Brigid,
you
are not to leave Isa’s side.”

Brigid opened her mouth in a sure attempt at protest, but her words were left unspoken as Iain growled low in warning.

“I doona care if you have to lift each other’s skirts in the garderobe. Each of you will be
everywhere
with the other. If you both leave this keep” —he paused and glared at Isobel— “and I mean
one step off this wooden floor out the door
, you will do so with the escort of one of my guard. Do I make myself clear?”

Isobel withheld comment. So did Brigid. Too late, Isobel realized their lack of response was a monumental mistake on both of their stubborn parts; they apparently liked to poke a riled bear.

Iain’s face turned crimson with anger until he looked ready to explode in volcanic eruption. Instead, he took a deep breath, the harsh color fading from his face. His voice dropped to a dead calm laced with venom. “Do I make myself clear, Isobel?”

He never used her formal name. She’d infuriated him before, but not to this level. Needing to soothe the riot she’d incited in her man, she restrained her inner feistiness. “Yes, Iain. I understand.”

Brigid shot a surprised look her way, but wisely mimicked Isobel’s statement. “Yes, Iain. I understand.”

“Good. I’m done with both of your flagrant acts of disobedience and your hidin’ them from me. When you deign to obey the rules I set for you and the clan for your own safety, you’ll get more lenience from me. Doona disappoint me again. Either of you.”

The two women watched in silence as Iain stormed from the great hall, the heavy oak front door slamming shut on its iron hinges. They both loved Iain dearly, and his overbearing protection did help balance their unchecked mischief.

Isobel put her hands on her hips and stared in sheer disbelief at her new everywhere companion. “That damned angel? You can’t mean
...
Cupcake
.”

Brigid half-rolled her eyes, stopping and staring at the ceiling. On a long sigh, her friend’s gaze dropped down to
meet hers. “’Tis a
verra verra
long story.”