The Renegade's Heart (31 page)

Isabella gave him new life. He enfolded her
in his embrace and rolled her to her back, surveying her when their
kiss broke. She trailed one hand down his cheek and her eyes shone
with a welcome that fed his desire yet more.

She was so vital that he had to defend her.
“You must not let any morsel pass your lips in this place,” Murdoch
advised her. “That, too, will see you captive.”

“Was that what you did?”

“I looked into her eyes. I saw promises there
that beguiled me.” Murdoch forced a smile. “They were all lies,
Isabella, for I was trapped against my will..” They were speaking
in whispers, as if they might be overheard, the sound of their
voices hidden by the crackle of the fire on the hearth. Indeed,
Murdoch was not certain of their solitude. He shuddered at the
recollection of his captivity, then met her gaze. “I would sooner
die than be compelled to return.”

Her green eyes glinted with the determination
he so admired. “I would sooner you survive,” she said with resolve,
then pulled him closer for another kiss. Her kiss seared him and
awakened him, making him feel powerful once again. He feared that
she could not heal him totally, but even if this was merely a
reprieve, it was welcome. He kissed her deeply, savoring her
responsiveness, glad to find the sense of doom slipping from his
thoughts. When he held Isabella and drank of her passion, he could
believe in victory over the Elphine Queen.

When he lifted his head, they both were
breathing quickly. The lady was flushed and Murdoch smiled at
her.

“Your color returns,” she said with
satisfaction. “And your eyes are not so filled with shadows as they
were.” She slid her hands around his neck, drawing him closer.
“Come and kiss me again. It seems the deed is good for what ails
you.”

But Murdoch braced his hands on either side
of her shoulders, resisting the temptation she offered. “Know, my
Isabella, that if we touch again, I will not be able to stop our
embrace. I fear you will no longer be a maiden when we part.”

His lady smiled. “Know, Murdoch, that it will
be assumed I surrendered my all to you this night. In fact, I think
Alexander already believes you have bedded me.” Murdoch might have
protested this injustice but Isabella touched a fingertip to his
lips. “If I am to be condemned, it will be for a deed I have done,
not one I have only yearned to do.”

Her resolve made everything within him
tighten. Still, he would ensure that she knew the price she might
pay. “I would not have you be condemned at all.”

“Then you must survive the new moon, and you
must wed me. That alone will ensure as much.” She spoke lightly,
but Murdoch’s desire for that end was sobering.

He might have pulled away then, fearing as he
did that it was impossible to fulfill that goal. “I will not pledge
what might not be mine to offer,” he said gruffly, reluctant even
so to leave the haven of her embrace.

But Isabella held fast. “Murdoch! I believe
that the deed we both yearn to do this night might well give you
that chance. It might turn the tide.”

“It might not.”

“I would take the risk, for the potential
reward is well worth it.” She smiled again. “I knew a man who
believed in the merit of a well-considered risk.”

Murdoch smiled back at her. “And you do not
even know what pleasure this deed might offer.”

“It does not matter.”

She spoke with such conviction that Murdoch
had to tease her. “So, you see this as an act of mercy? A treatment
offered by a healer?”

Isabella’s tone turned more fierce. “I love
you, Murdoch. I will never regret what we do this night, no matter
what happens on the morrow. This is my gift to you, and I only pray
that it
will
make the difference.”

Murdoch was awed and he was humbled. His lady
was all he might have hoped to gain in a wife and partner, and he
would not insult her by spurning the gift she offered.

For he loved Isabella with a fervor
unexpected. He would take the chance that this deed might give him
the chance to wed her with honor.

He bent and captured his lady’s lips with his
own, resolving to go slowly and make this a night to remember. The
least he could do was ensure her pleasure on this night of nights –
indeed, a sweet memory might be all Isabella possessed of him in
the end.

It was one offering Murdoch Seton knew he
could make to his lady fair.

* * *

Isabella knew the moment Murdoch was
persuaded. That mischievous glint lit his eyes again, though it was
but a glimmer of what it had been before. And she tasted his intent
in his kiss. He was more leisurely than he had been, yet she knew
he did not hold himself back. He tasted her and cajoled her,
savoring her kiss with a thoroughness that left her breathless.

When he raised his head and smiled down at
her, Isabella knew she would remember this night for the rest of
her life.

And this knight as well.

“Your gift is a generous one, my Isabella,”
Murdoch murmured, his voice sending shivers of anticipation through
her. “Do not imagine that I fail to realize its import.” He laid a
fingertip across her lips when she might have spoken. “It seems
only fair that I give some hint of the pleasure that is possible in
this deed.”

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, her
anticipation rising.

Murdoch smiled. “Nothing. You have only to
enjoy.” He leaned over her and kissed her again, one arm sliding
beneath her shoulders and the other hand loosing her braid. His
fingers combed through her hair as he freed it, his touch making
Isabella shiver with delight. She liked the sense of being
sheltered in his embrace, trapped between him and the pallet, his
strength and the hearth. She felt safe with Murdoch.

It was warm in the cottage, the fire
crackling on the hearth and its light turning the small space into
a cozy haven. Isabella could hear the roar of a furious wind
outside the cottage, but it was so faint that the walls might have
been thick stone. There was not a whistle through the cracks, not a
draft or a chill. Even the smoke hole in the ceiling seemed to be
buffered against that wind and not a drop of rain came through that
opening either.

There was just the steady crackle of the
fire, its radiant heat and Murdoch’s enchanting touch.

His kiss was potent, leisurely and seductive.
Isabella felt that newly familiar urgency building beneath her skin
– the one that Murdoch alone seemed to kindle – and that dampness
between her thighs. Her pulse skipped and she yearned for the same
pleasure he had given her in the salt fens.

And though he warned her to simply enjoy,
Isabella could do no such thing. She had to give to him as he did
to her. Isabella slid her hands into Murdoch’s dark hair and
mimicked what he did. Their kiss rapidly became more passionate,
the play between them sending heat surging through her veins.

She recognized that she had some power in
this when Murdoch caught his breath and broke their kiss. He
exhaled slowly, as if fighting for control.

“It is best taken slowly,” he whispered, his
eyes glinting. “As slowly as it can be managed.”

“Why?”

His smile flashed. “You will see.” He winked.
“Trust me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And do not tease me
overmuch.”

Isabella smiled. “I shall tease you as much
as you tease me.”

Murdoch laughed, the sound more reassuring to
her than any other could be. He coaxed her to her feet and turned
her before him as if she were a marvel. His fingertips trailed
across her cheek and her throat, as lightly as a feather, and he
studied her so avidly that Isabella blushed. He smiled crookedly,
then unfastened the lace at the neck of her chemise with
deliberation, slowly revealing her skin to his gaze. His eyes shone
with an anticipation that echoed Isabella’s own. In a way, she
wanted him to hurry, but in another, she already saw the effect of
his leisurely pace.

It built her anticipation. She thought of
potions she had made, how some herbs had to be simmered for hours
in order to release their full potency and reasoned that love play
was much the same. The release would be greater if they ensured
that passion rose slowly.

And doing as much would give Murdoch a
greater chance to heal. Isabella could already see how his state
improved. She did not understand it fully, but in giving herself to
him, in giving of herself to him, the Elphine Queen’s power over
him was diminished.

She studied him in the light of the fire,
noting the breadth of his shoulders and the muscled strength of his
body. She liked that he was taller than her, that he was clearly so
powerful yet he touched her with gentleness. She liked the humor
that glinted in his eyes and as ever she found his confidence
alluring. He moved with grace, at ease with his body. Isabella
sensed that it was like a weapon to him, a tool he could use more
effectively in understanding its strengths and limitations.

Murdoch was not truly reckless. He was
confident and he calculated the strategic merit of risk. She tried
not to give undue attention to the tracery of blue lines on his
skin, but they were a potent reminder of the peril he faced. His
calculations of risk had been correct, except when he had been
assaulted by the Fae queen.

The Elphine Queen was not to be
underestimated. She could steal all of this from Isabella.

But Isabella was not going to surrender
Murdoch without a fight. Even now, the blue marks seemed more pale.
His eyes were closer to the sapphire blue they had been when she
had first met him, and that unruly twinkle lurked within them
again.

Isabella was not without power in this
matter.

And she would use it to win the heart of the
knight she desired for her own.

As she realized this, Murdoch unfastened the
laces on either side of her kirtle, his hair falling over his brow
in an unruly tumble as he worked them free of the eyelets. Isabella
could not resist the urge to touch him, not when he stood so close
to her and her nostrils were filled with the scent of his
flesh.

She ran her hand over his arms and shoulders,
stretching to touch her lips to his as she felt his corded
strength. He smiled and held her gaze as he pulled each lace free
of the eyelets. When the laces were discarded, he slid his hands
beneath the damp wool, as he had once before, but this time, he
urged the weight of the garment over her head. He left Isabella
standing before the fire in her chemise and hung the kirtle on the
rafters to dry, spreading it with care.

When he turned his back to her, Isabella knew
she would surprise him. She tugged her white chemise over her head
and discarded it, spinning to find Murdoch staring at her with
wonder. She smiled at him, unashamed to face him in her stockings
alone.

“You are bold, my Isabella,” he
whispered.

“I would not have you forget our intent,” she
teased and he laughed again.

“There is no chance of that, my Isabella.”
Murdoch stepped closer, his smile fading when he stood before her.
He raised a hand to her cheek. “You look like a goddess wrought of
copper and gold,” he whispered.

Isabella shook her head. “I am merely a
maiden of flesh and blood.” She smiled. “One with desire in her
veins and no knowledge of what to do with it.”

Murdoch’s nostrils flared, then he knelt
before her. He lifted her foot, setting it upon his thigh, then ran
his fingertips over the length of her legs. His light touch both
tickled and aroused her, making her aware of her body in a new way.
When he bent to kiss the soft flesh behind her knee, Isabella
caught her breath in surprise. She felt the prickle of his whiskers
and an unruly tingle that seemed to awaken her body to his
touch.

Murdoch locked one hand around her ankle,
then bent to unfasten her garter with his teeth. The feel of his
breath upon her skin made Isabella shiver and he chuckled. Isabella
grasped his shoulders to ensure that she did not lose her balance.
He slid the stocking down with gentle fingertips, following its
course with a trail of kisses. He kissed every increment of her
skin as it was revealed, leaving her shivering with desire.

When he did the same to the other stocking,
Isabella leaned back her head and closed her eyes. She knew she dug
her fingers into his shoulders but Murdoch did not seem to mind. He
persisted in his relentless caress, until her entire body seemed to
hum. His tongue flicked against the side of her ankle, both
tickling and arousing her. His hands slid over her calves, his
kisses fluttered across her skin like a thousand butterflies. She
loved the feel of his hands sliding up her legs and over her thighs
and caught her breath when he gripped her buttocks in his
hands.

“Part your legs,” he commanded quietly.
Isabella looked down to find him kneeling before her, his
expression filled with mischief. His eyes shone, a sight so
entrancing that Isabella could not look away. “One step either way
will do it,” he continued softly. “Then lean your knees on my
shoulders.” Murdoch smiled. “Fear not, my lady. I will not let you
fall.”

Isabella did not understand, but she trusted
him. No sooner had she taken that step than Murdoch pressed a kiss
to the tangle of hair at the junction of her thighs. Isabella
inhaled sharply, but he tugged her closer. She was on the tips of
her toes, her knees braced against his shoulders and her legs
parted. As he had vowed, he held her captive in that pose, his
forearms against her thighs and her weight supported against his
shoulders. She had one glimpse of his satisfaction, then gasped
when his mouth closed over her wet heat.

Oh! Isabella had never anticipated such an
intimacy. She caught her breath, then shuddered to her very toes as
his tongue moved against her hidden pearl. He spread his hands,
gripping her buttocks securely, and slid his tongue along the
slickness of her. It was more gentle than his fingertips had been,
more seductive and alluring.