Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero (20 page)

“Are you ready for bed?” Marcus asked her, and she felt her cheeks flame anew. He smiled down at her, then took her hand.

She bid everyone good night as they bid her the same, and then he led her out of the solar.

“I only just closed my eyes,” she said.

He chuckled. “Aye, lass. I am sure of it.” But he knew differently. He’d had to reposition his body behind hers to ensure she did not fall over, she was sleeping so soundly. He loved her.

He was still beyond enraged concerning John’s tactics.

Although if he had been John, he might have felt the same need to possess everything his uncle had, including Isobel. The nephew, who had nothing, hadn’t earned any of it, but suddenly had it all.

Everything, except the most important thing in the world—at least to Marcus—Isobel.

Marcus knew Tibold would put the two men, who had accosted her under his own roof, in the dungeon. Marcus was glad his wife had been such a hellion and managed to disable the one man. By the looks of it from the way he’d been holding his groin, she’d kicked him there. And the other man was already sporting a punch to the eye before Marcus got hold of him. The villain had been about to hit her and knock her out when Marcus grabbed his arm and let him have it.

Marcus wanted to sleep with her now, but he also wanted to make love to her again. However, he would wait. He was afraid she would be too tender, and then she still had to ride horseback for hours on the morrow and he didn’t want her to be even sorer.

“You look so serious,” Isobel said as he shut and barred the door.

He smiled then, and began to help her out of her borrowed clothes. But he couldn’t help frowning again as he removed her brat. “You are certain you were no’ injured?”

She shook her head.

When he pulled her
léine
over her head, he noted bruises on her wrists and arms. He growled. “I will kill those whoresons for laying a hand on you.”

“Nay,” Isobel said, pulling at his tunic. “Let us retire to bed and think of naught but each other.”

He took her small hand and kissed her arms between the bruises.

“I love you, Highlander.”

Her declaration melted away some of his hostility. He would ensure Tibold knew that the men were so rough with her that they had bruised her. Before he could remove her thin, nearly transparent chemise that revealed her glorious breasts, the curve of her hips, and the dark curls between her shapely legs, she tugged again at his tunic.

He smiled and yanked it over his head, and then unfastened his belt and plaid. Sitting on the bed, he leaned down to remove his boots, but she knelt before him and removed them instead.

He ran his hand over her hair and again wished he could make love to her this eve, but he was just glad he could sleep with her in a bed and hold her in his arms the night through.

He rose then, and pulled her from where she was crouching before him. He helped her out of her chemise, and then sat her on the bed so he could remove her shoes. She took him in with her hot-blooded gaze, his body reacting accordingly. She smiled when she saw his staff growing.

“You do that to me.” He encouraged her to climb into bed. He blew out the candles and joined her on the mattress and pulled the furs over them. “Often, lass. When it isna always a good thing.”

“Nay?”

“Nay, no’ when I am about ready to ride a horse, walk, or any number of other things.”

She laughed and ran her hand over his chest as he slid his hand down her side. “Come, move against me. We must sleep.”

She sighed and nestled against him, and he thought he could not have been more pleased, except if he could have made love to her.

“We can, if you wish it,” she said softly against his chest, as if she knew his private thoughts.

“Nay, you must rest and we must ride for far too long on the morrow. When we are home, I will ravage you every chance I get.”

She smiled against his chest. “I will insist you keep your promise.”

He chuckled. “Of that, you can be assured.”

The next morn, they broke their fast and found their horses already saddled, provisions packed, and everyone ready to ride. Despite being half to fully aroused last night due to Isobel’s soft, naked body pressed against his, Marcus was glad they had waited to make love because of the long ride ahead of them, and he wanted Isobel to always cherish their lovemaking.

He’d privately remarked to Tibold about the bruises on her arms and how violent the men had been with her when they had tried to remove her from the chamber. Tibold assured him he’d mete out the punishment. As to the maid who had led John Pembroke’s men into the guest chamber, Tibold had not banished her from the clan, but had counseled her firmly, and she was given extra work to perform, to Isobel’s relief.

With well wishes from Edana, Tibold, and several others on the staff—while John and his men had been noticeably absent at the meal—Marcus and Isobel and their party were off with an additional half a dozen Chattan clansmen to protect them.

Angus moved up alongside Marcus. “Tibold confined them in the dungeon for the night because of the fights between his men and John’s last eve. Tibold figured a stay there would impress upon the earl to keep his men in line. They willna be released from there until later this morn, and not from the grounds until Tibold is certain we have time to arrive safely at Lochaven.”

“Good, because if I see him while we are on our way, I will likely kill him,” Marcus said. “And I would rather not if I can help it.”

The first day of their journey, they met with no difficulties as gray clouds filled the sky and a chilly, stiff breeze continued to blow as they made their way across streams and glens, through forests, and managed to cross one river. But the second day, the rains started again and visibility was obscured. They paused at the edge of a stream flowing over rocks from the mountains in the distance and gave their horses a rest.

“How are you holding up, lass?” Marcus asked, helping Isobel down from her horse. She was stiff and quiet, keeping her brat secured over her head to shelter her from the pouring rain.

She smiled brightly at him, albeit he could see she was tired and the way she moved and grimaced she was sore from the long ride, but he loved the way she could make him feel warm all the way to the marrow of his bones just with that one bright smile.

“I am going home with you,” she said, “and that makes me feel as good as when we made love last eve.”

He grinned and pulled her into a warm embrace. “We will be getting in verra late this eve if you can manage.”

“Aye. I can.”

Still, he worried about her. She was a lady, raised in an English household, and he was certain that traveling for days like this was not something she had oft experienced, if ever. He admired her for her drive to continue on. But he didn’t want her growing ill.

“We will see. If the journey takes us too long, we will stop and—”

Her brows rose as if she would challenge him if he mentioned her condition and he continued, “Rest the horses. We dinna want to push them too hard and overtire them. Especially with the weather such as it is.”

“Aye, true.” She looked like she stubbornly resisted the idea that
she
would be overly tired and hold them up.

Though Marcus truly wished to get her to his castle where she would be better protected.

By gloaming, they still had about two hours to ride and that was entirely too much time left for either the horses or Isobel to travel.

“We will stop,” Marcus said to Isobel and the men after putting in seven hours of traveling already.

“Aye,” Angus said. “My horse is tired. I fathom he would collapse if we tried to make the rest of the journey.”

“Mine as well,” Gunnolf said.

“We will rest a few hours and then head out again,” Marcus said.

Isobel shook her head as Marcus helped her down. She was certain that the men’s concern was not all about their horses.

The rains had stopped, but a dense fog had settled over the area. And she surveyed the boulders surrounding them, recognizing the crannog as a form of defensive enclosure on a peninsula surrounded on three sides by the loch. Both Marcus’s cousins, Rob and Finbar, had ridden well ahead of them, and then returned shaking their heads as they set up their bedding in the crannog, the southeast portion enclosed by an arc of boulders standing six feet tall, with irregularly spaced gaps to use arrows in defense. The space was forty square feet, the ground level and two feet above the surrounding area with the loch behind them.

It appeared that both ancient peoples and more modern ones after that, most likely Marcus and his clan, had worked to fortify it. It was a better defense than nothing, and it meant they were getting closer to his keep. She noted the saddle quern and the cylindrical hand stone used to grind grain and the hearth that had been used for cooking and heat. She realized some of Marcus’s clansmen must stay here for days at a time.

The Chattan brothers had been trailing way behind and had spread out. Now they all came into view, and again, they were shaking their heads, confirming they had not seen any trouble behind them.

She was glad to see the brothers rejoin them and fill out their defensive numbers again, but the fact that they were ensuring no one was following them, or ahead of them, made her believe Marcus had some concern.

“Do you suspect Tibold would have let John and his men go and they are following us?” Isobel asked Marcus.

“Nay, lass. My uncle is good at his word,” Marcus said.

“Aye,” Kayne said. “Da wouldna let the swine—beg your forgiveness for saying so, Lady Isobel—but he wouldna let the men leave until he was certain we arrived. Mayhap two days from now. He would give us more time than necessary in the event we ran into difficulties.”

She realized that John was not truly any relation to her. Not a cousin at all, since he was Lord Pembroke’s nephew and she was no longer Lord Pembroke’s daughter.

So who were they concerned about? The villain who had paid men to attack her escort? Would he send men this far northwest into the Highlands?

Then she wondered if the concern was about her real father. Though she hated to imagine him as such, just as he had not claimed her either.

“You are concerned that someone else could be following us or lying in wait ahead?” She wanted to know the truth.

“Aye.” Marcus offered her bread and porridge. “Laren MacLauchlan’s men. I doubt he would lead them. But he wouldn’t hesitate to send his men to bring you back, if that is the case. Instead of trying to locate us, he could verra well have come here instead, waiting for our return. Except we have more numbers than he would suspect if he believed we were still traveling with the same amount of men as when we stopped off at the Kerr’s hunting lodge.”

She was glad they had more numbers than before, but unsettled with the notion that Marcus and the others would have to fight any men, particularly when they had no claim to her.

After they ate, the Chattan brothers took first watch as everyone else settled down to sleep for a few hours.

“We will leave at the first hint of light in the sky.” Marcus wrapped Isobel in his arms, a spare plaid securely around them. “It willna be much longer after that.”

“Will your clansmen accept me?” Isobel asked quite sincerely. She still worried that they would either see her as being from the enemy clan, or they would see her as a Sassenach.

“They will adore you.” Marcus kissed her forehead and snuggled closer to her. “You know how my cousins are.”

“Aye, but they are used to me. They have known me since we were young. But…”

Marcus sighed. “Sometimes I have been a tyrant when I have returned from seeing you and knowing I was unable to have you for my wife. My people will be more than happy to learn ‘tis now so.”

She smiled a little at his saying so. “But I am…”

“My beloved wife, lass. That is all that anyone cares about. They will love you as much as I do. Have I told you that you worry overmuch?”

She smiled and snuggled closer to him, loving his warmth and strength. “Once,” she said, “mayhap.”

He chuckled for he had told her numerous times that she did.

“When we reach the keep—”

“I will have a bath prepared for the both of us, then we will meet in the kirk to be wed.”

She suddenly felt sad with the notion. She’d always wanted her father to take part, and she wanted Mary there to share the experience with her, and someday hold her bairns. She could not imagine Mary not being there.

When she didn’t say anything, Marcus said, “You wish Mary to witness the celebration.”

She loved how sensitive he could be where her feelings were concerned.

“Aye. ‘Tis not that I wish to delay a kirk wedding, but I only wish Mary to be there with me as she is like my second mother.”

“I understand. As long as you dinna mind that we continue to be with one another as a married couple until we can bring her here.”

She kissed his mouth. “Thank you, Marcus. I love you.”

“I would do anything for you, lass. You only have but to ask. Sleep now, and we will leave soon.”

“I am…ready for more,” she whispered.

He laughed. “‘Tis good to know. I have been ready forever.”

She smiled, loving that he felt that way. Someday, maybe, she would share how much she’d thought of him when she was alone in her bedchamber at night.

They slept for a short while and she thought they would sleep longer, or that the dawning daylight would wake her as she was not used to sleeping outside of a keep when she heard shouts off in the distance.

Marcus quickly pulled away from her, the spare plaid they used as a blanket instantly cast aside, and she was chilled at once. He jumped to his feet. In the dark, she heard him unsheathe his sword. Her heart pounding, she quickly sat up now, but was unsure as to what to do. She didn’t want to get in the way of the men, who did know what to do, but she remained quiet, as did everyone around her. The only sounds were that of the men quickly rising to their feet and unsheathing their swords.