Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero (2 page)

The Highland woman had served her mother for as long as Isobel could remember. She was sweet and gentle, but firm. Though she too had a liking for Marcus and his kin, she’d warned Isobel time and again that her father would never allow her to wed him and Mary feared it would break Isobel’s heart.

Isobel quickly rose from her bench and gave Mary a warm hug, loving her from the bottom of her heart. “Do not fret, Mary. My father loves me. He would not keep me from my heart’s desire. I will change his mind.”

Her father adored her. Probably because she reminded him of her beloved mother. She was certain that he’d come around, given time.

Mary shook her head. “Lady Ciarda encouraged your wildness since you are half Highland lass, and she would not deny you that part of your being which needed to be set free. Much like your own dear mother had been when she was your age and younger. Except your mother was a Highland lass through and through. But you will marry an English nobleman, and he will object most strongly to this kind of behavior.”

“I know you worry about me. You have naught to concern yourself with. I wish to ride as I always do before these affairs. Do you wish to come with me?”

Jane grinned and nodded though Isobel had directed the question at Mary.

Mary tsked. “If your da learns you are riding beyond the castle walls before the guests arrive, he willna be pleased.”

“He is too busy to pay any attention to what I am doing. And, as I have said, I always do this. Will you go with me?”

Giving up, Mary raised her hands in defeat. “Aye. We must return early enough so I may repair your hair.”

“I will have horses saddled and meet you in the inner bailey.” Isobel rushed off, cloaked in wool, racing through the keep, tearing outside to the stables, chiding the groom readying her horse and Mary’s for being so slow. Although he grinned the whole time, knowing whenever her father forced another dance on her, she had to leave for a while so she could handle the long night successfully.

Mary rushed down to join her, Jane following her, looking eager to go with her also. Isobel only wanted to be alone with Marcus, but she knew she couldn’t be.

“Ready a horse for Jane as well,” Isobel said.

Jane’s smile couldn’t have stretched any further.

“My lady,” a knight said, hurrying across the bailey to help her mount. Sir Travon didn’t look pleased that she was planning to ride. But he didn’t say anything.

The last time someone spoke to her father against her, the man was relieved of his position.

So those who served her father kept their counsel when they considered speaking to him about her behavior. She was above reproach. Except for her wicked thoughts about Marcus. No one would ever know about them though.

Once the ladies were mounted, five of her father’s knights hurried to join them. They would keep their distance, but offer protection if needed.

She and her escort rode out of the outer bailey through the gate and headed for the path she knew Marcus and his cousins would take, although his cousins would not accompany him into the keep because her father would not permit it. He only allowed Marcus to attend the parties as it was his mother’s dying wish. So Marcus’s cousins would stay at the tavern in a nearby village across the border until Marcus rejoined them.

A couple of miles away from the castle, she saw Marcus and two of his cousins, Rob and Finbar. Her heart soared.

Grinning too broadly when she knew it wasn’t ladylike in the least, especially not for an earl’s daughter, and riding like a hellion, which was also something her father would strongly disapprove of, she raced to meet Marcus.

He and his cousins were smiling, but not as broadly as she, more amused, she thought. She slowed her horse’s gait, worried that she was being too forward, when Marcus did not hurry to meet her. He had grown into a tall and powerfully-built Highlander, serious at times, irresistibly appealing and intriguing at all times.

But what about her? Did he think she was still nothing more than a wild girl?

He’d never once attempted a stolen kiss. Never once held her hand or scandalously took her out of sight of his kin or Mary to be alone with her. She knew he was a man of the world, not isolated like she had been. What did he really think of her? That she was still too young for him? Or not at all suitable? Just amused at a young girl’s interest in him?

She wasn’t a young girl any longer. Old, in fact, at the age of nine and ten.

She’d passed up suitors by the dozen. All because she’d lost her heart to one braw Highlander. If she had any say in it, she was not giving him up. Unless, he didn’t want her. That notion made her heart sink like a stone tossed into the loch.

Her skin burning with chagrin, she lost her smile, pulled her gaze from Marcus’s, and kicked her horse. At a gallop, she rode right past the three men and on toward the loch.

“Isobel!” Marcus snapped, sounding annoyed, in charge, and…
surprised
.

Good. He was not in charge of her, no matter what he might think. Mayhap doing the unexpected would draw him out of his complacency toward her.

She thought she heard him curse, and then the sound of hooves beat the road behind her as the men taking chase spurred her on.

She wasn’t running away from them. She was riding like she’d intended. To feel the cool wind on her face and tugging at her hair. Already tendrils were falling over her shoulders swept back like her horse’s mane and tail. She wished to be free of the stuffiness of the castle and all the people she’d have to socialize with in just a couple of hours and throughout the long night. To enjoy the woodland surroundings like she’d always done.

Most of the time she had taken rides like this, she’d had her maid and a knight escort, but she’d been alone with her thoughts and pretended no one accompanied her. So she could imagine the same with him. That he wasn’t here to see her any more than she was here to see him.

This was her time to soak up nature, fortify herself, and return to the keep for another social event that she didn’t care to attend.

She didn’t need him, she reminded herself as a couple of cursed tears rolled down her cheeks.

***

Marcus saw the abrupt change in Isobel’s expression from delighted at seeing him to upset with him, but he didn’t know what the matter was. He’d come to see her, hadn’t he?

He looked to his cousins for counsel. Both shook their heads and shrugged as they turned their horses and chased after the lass.

Pembroke’s knights kept their distance and so did Mary and Jane, to Marcus’s relief. He was certain, despite her da saying no to his marrying Isobel, he’d given the order to allow him to speak with her in private as much as it could be so.

Rob said, “She is a woman. What more can I say?”

Marcus let out a frustrated breath. With any other woman, he knew just how to handle the situation. Kiss her sweetly and make her forget her annoyance. With Isobel, he couldn’t dally with her in the same way. She had been raised as a Norman earl’s daughter, was a lady, inexperienced in the ways of men, and her da would have his head if Marcus laid a hand on her. Not to mention, he loved her.

He wasn’t afraid of the earl, but he wouldn’t ruin Isobel’s reputation no matter how much he wanted to kiss her, love her, and make her his wife.

God’s knees, he’d already asked for her hand in marriage. Four times this year already! But her da wouldn’t permit it.

Her mother’s invitations had come for years, soliciting his attendance at the social activities they had given for their daughter, and then when she’d died, Isobel’s da had continued to invite him at his wife’s dying request. Marcus had danced with Isobel, though it had killed him not to hold her like he’d wanted to, or dance with her more than once, or watch the Englishmen dancing with her when he had wanted to…exclusively.

He was glad when she’d slip away to be with him, even though Mary, her maid, had kept a watchful eye. He loved how Isobel had treated him like he was someone special, and greeted him first before the other guests arrived. Which was the reason he always came so early.

So he couldn’t fathom what the matter was this time.

Isobel reached the loch and slipped off her horse, tethered her to a birch, then hurried to the water’s edge. Marcus and his cousins joined her just as she crouched, dipped her hands into the water, and splashed her face, her back to them.

“Isobel,” he said, gently, handing his reins to Rob, then joining her at the loch’s shore. His cousins stood nearby watching. He wished he could be alone with her, and he could kiss her like he wanted.

She rose, her head tilted back a wee bit, which meant she’d raised her chin, and her back stiffened with his approach.

“What ails you, lass?” he asked.

“I came here to be alone,” she said curtly.

He glanced back at his cousins. They both raised their brows at him, Rob motioning for him to pursue the issue.

“Isobel…”

“Go. Go,” she said brightly, flicking her hand in his direction, her back still to him, refusing to look at him. “I wish to be alone,” she repeated.

He knew it wasn’t so. Not when he’d seen how eager she was to see him. Not when he knew she’d come out just to greet him.

He drew close, smelled the fragrance of lavender and the hint of woman, felt the heat of her skin. Craved taking her into his arms and kissing her.

“What is the matter?” he asked, quietly.

When she didn’t answer, he touched her shoulder, but she quickly pulled away.

He frowned. “Isobel.” He grasped her arm and pulled her around so he could speak to her face to face, to see her expression and learn what was troubling her. Tears glistened in her eyes. He felt as though a fist had struck him in the belly. He dragged her into his embrace, crushing her, holding her, not letting go, and even ignoring how her da’s knights would react.

Her arms went around his waist, and he knew then he’d upset her somehow. “What is wrong?”

She didn’t say, or couldn’t. Rob was right. Figuring out what a woman wanted was nigh to impossible. Still holding her tight against him, Marcus lifted her chin. “Tell me.”

Her eyes were so incredibly blue, her dark brown hair falling over her shoulders in a cascade of silken curls, her mouth full and moist and wanting.

He kissed her, like he’d vowed never to do.

This
was what she’d waited for all her life, Isobel thought as Marcus’s mouth pressed hers in a sweet, yet sizzling, caress. Her whole body melted against his as he held her close. She felt his muscles tightening with need. She didn’t wish the kiss to end, didn’t want him to pull away, needing him to know that she was a woman now, full grown.

“Isobel,” he groaned against her mouth, his voice ragged with desire.

She couldn’t say a word in response, her own breathing shallow and raspy as she wantonly kept him close, her body pressed indecently against his, her hands locked tight around his waist.

His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place so he could continue kissing her as if he had been starved for affection all his life.

His tongue licked her lips, encouraging her to open to him, the touch the most erotic sensation she’d ever experienced. She parted her lips. He plunged in, tasting her, exploring, making her feel exquisitely plundered. She quickly responded in kind. Loving the feel of his heat, his exuberance.

He groaned.

His muscles tensed, as if he was about to pull away, to end this wickedness, but she clung to him, wanting it to last forever.

“Isobel,” he rasped out, “I must get you safely home.”

He pulled away from her, and she let out a moan of protest.

“Will you not ask for my hand in marriage, Marcus?” She had wanted it to be his idea, the warrior that he was. But she could not wait any longer. Every dance her father had for her was meant to entice her to find another man to wed. And she couldn’t do it.

“Ah, lass,” Marcus said, leading her to her horse, then lifted her onto it.

She noticed only then that the knights were watching for trouble, not them, thankfully, but Mary and Jane were blushing furiously as they’d witnessed the kiss. She was grateful they had not said anything to attempt to put an end to it.

“‘Tis your da that is the trouble,” Marcus said.

Her eyes wide, Isobel stared down at Marcus. “Nay, you only have but to ask him.”

“I have, Isobel. Four times already, this year alone. He is determined to marry you off to an Englishman or Norman.” Marcus’s face was so tight with distress, his dark brows furrowed, that she knew he wanted to be with her forever with all his heart like she did him.

“He cannot,” she cried, not wishing to show him or his cousins her anguish, but she truly had not believed Marcus had offered for her already and her father had denied him—how many times? “You…you have asked since when?”

“Since you were six and ten, lass. I couldna have waited any longer, but still, the answer has always been nay.”

He
did
love her! Though he had not said so in so many words. “Take me away with you. Now. Take me to your home in the Highlands.” She would give up everything to be with him.

“Your da would send his men for you. How long before he asked for the king’s help in the matter? How long before his men and the king’s would starve us out? Even King David could side with him.”

She wiped away a tear, and then another. “I will change his mind.” She lifted her chin and kicked her horse, calling back over her shoulder, “I will wed no other, Highlander.” She galloped back to the keep, leaving Marcus and his cousins behind.

***

His heart heavy, Marcus watched Isobel galloping off, her hair flying behind her like a rich dark mane. The ladies rode after her, the knights following in hot pursuit.

Marcus knew kissing her was a mistake. He knew his touching her would kindle the fire between them that he had banked for so long.

He couldn’t even mount his horse until he could get his rampant need for her under control. His cousins were grinning their fool heads off, waiting for him to ride after her.