Chapter 29
Mercy, but she wanted him to kiss her.
Her senses reeled with his nearness, but Isolde stood as calmly as she could as the MacLean freed his ankle. “The key will release Sir Gavin’s manacle as well,” she said. “I will see that neither of you are chained again.”
His brow lifted. “You are releasing us?”
“Not yet. But you will be rid of your chains.”
“Ah, well. That is more than I’d hoped.” He pushed to his feet. “How can I thank you?”
“There are ways.” I have already laid them out to you.
“So you have said.”
Her breath caught at his tone. The twinkle in his eye that revealed he hadn’t forgotten her stipulations.
She hadn’t either, but before she’d leap into a seduction attempt, she turned to the window and stared out at the night-darkened sea. The mist was thin at this hour, so she had a good view of MacKinnons’ Isle on the horizon.
“Lady Isolde…” The MacLean made her name sound like an endearment. “Can it be you’ve accepted the truth?”
“I know the truth.” She kept her gaze on the distant isle. “I just wish our truths were the same.”
“Why?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I think you should.” He stepped closer.
She edged nearer to the window arch, needing air.
How can I when I am not even sure myself?
Indeed, she could hardly draw a breath, so intense was his presence behind her.
Had she ever been so aware of anyone? She didn’t think so.
As if to prove it, he placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch sending a shiver through her.
With surprising care, he turned her to face him.
Unfortunately, the last of her courage, all her carefully planned seduction schemes, clung to the window.
More than that, they threatened to leap away into the night, traitorously joining her strength and resolve.
Both of which had taken the same escape route earlier.
The truth was…
She was on her own.
So she did the first thing that felt right and wriggled from his grasp. Quickly, she crossed the room to the chest at the foot of her bed. She fumbled with the lock and then lifted the iron-banded lid. Thrusting her hand inside, she reached deep.
“Here!” She straightened, holding up his plaid brooch. “Your gold clasp. It was given to me for safekeeping.”
Perhaps the return of the jewel-studded treasure would distract him, take some of the heat from his gaze until she could summon back her nerve.
But when she offered him the brooch, he shook his head.
“Nae, you keep it, lady. It is of some value and shall repay you for the pleasure of your company.”
“That is not necessary.” Isolde set the brooch on the table.
The MacLean looked surprised. “Many women would accept it gladly.”
“Not this one. I have told you, I have no use for frippery. For sure, I have no wish for a Baldoon brooch.”
“It was in your coffer, was it not?”
“Aye, but only for safekeeping. My intention was, and remains, returning it to you when you leave.”
“Indeed…” He glanced at the brooch and then back to her. He said nothing for the longest moment, his gaze appraising, as if he were taking her measure. She found it hard to think beneath his perusal.
“What of my sword?” he finally spoke. “Will I receive it as well?”
She nodded. “Everything, aye. Your sword and its belt, your mail shirt, your horses.”
“You mean that, don’t you?” There was an astonished tone to his voice.
“I do not lie.”
One dark brow winged upward.
She lifted her chin. “Not about such things.”
He smiled. “You please me more than you know,” he said, the twinkle in his eye going straight to her heart.
How could a mere smile affect her so powerfully? Her pulse raced. All she wanted was to be held against his hard body, feel his strong arms around her as she again sank into the magic of his kiss.
Did he know? Could he tell?
Would he care?
The way his eyes warmed suggested he did.
“Come here,” he said then, the deepness of his voice making her skin tingle.
His brooch forgotten, she looked at him.
Fluttery anticipation washed over her. She wished she could gaze at him always.
Was there a more beautiful man anywhere?
Seeing him now, in her moonlit bedchamber, was almost too much.
Silvered light from the windows shimmered on his raven hair, while a warmer glow from the oil lamp danced over his face and his broad shoulders.
She didn’t dare look lower.
She also wouldn’t go to him. He was supposed to come to her.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his smile changed, turning almost devilish.
If only she’d found the blush of rose.
Rouged breasts would surely give her the advantage.
At the moment, he was winning. He stood as a conqueror, confident and proud, legs apart, hands braced on his hips, his dark eyes commanding.
“Come here,” he said again. “There is something I would ask you.”
When she didn’t move, he lifted his hands, showing her his palms. “Sweet lass, if I had gloves, I would present one to you on bended knee. A knightly tribute to your spirit and beauty.” His words seemed to roll along her body, as if he’d touched her intimately.
“Alas, I am bare-handed,” he finished. “I must use other means to win your favor.”
He held out his hand, beckoning her. “First a question.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But I prefer to answer from here.”
She fingered the end of one of her braids, hoping to draw his attention to her hair. Another infallible lure for seduction, Evelina had assured her.
“As you wish.” Folding his arms, he regarded her. “Why did you avoid looking at me when you came to speak with Gavin?”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you think I didn’t notice? I did and I would know why.”
She couldn’t tell him.
“Well?”
“You are Donall the Bold, Laird of Baldoon and the MacLeans,” she gave him a true enough answer. “My enemy.”
“I dinnae have to be.”
“But you are.”
He shook his head. “That isn’t why you didn’t look at me.”
She frowned, not about to reveal her reasons. He was a sought-after lover, his touch, his kiss, and a night in his bed, a prize chased by women throughout the Highlands.
Leastways, if the tales about him were true, and she had no reason to doubt them.
She was also eager to lie with him. She couldn’t deny her passion, and wouldn’t. Standing so close to him, even just breathing the same air, made her entire body prickle with sensation.
Even so, she had her pride.
He took a step toward her. “Answer me.”
She fought the urge to glance aside. “It is of no consequence.”
“I disagree. Now tell me.”
“It was your chest,” she admitted. “Your bonnie chest. It unnerved me.”
He grinned, damn him. “You find my chest bonnie?”
She nodded. “I do believe that is what I said. Your chest hair is most pleasing, if you must know.”
“And my muscles?”
“Them, too.”
His smile deepened. “Then you should have another look.” Not taking his gaze off her, he undid his fine leather belt and tossed it aside. Holding her gaze, he reached for the bottom of his tunic. “Aye, I believe you need to see my bonnie chest again,” he said, and pulled the shirt over his head.
“I would not mind,” she said, as always, falling under his spell.
“Then look your fill.”
And she did, taking in his splendor, from his broad well-muscled chest to his equally hard-muscled stomach.
Not rushing, she studied the T-shaped dusting of dark hair that, as she’d noted before, tapered into a line that disappeared beneath his hose.
She knew that same hair would spread at his loins, springing thicker to cushion his manly parts.
A thought that – dear gods – warmed her own womanly bits until she’d swear molten honey pooled between her thighs.
Equally distressing, of a sudden, her breasts felt heavier. In truth, the whole of her tingled and her pulse thrummed, as if she’d caught a fever.
Yes, that was it. She felt giddy, even lightheaded.
As he well knew.
The knowledge gleamed in his rich brown eyes. His strapping good looks and the intense way he watched her lit fires in all her dark and mysterious places.
“And now, sweeting…” He let the words hang in the air between them. A temptation, a lure…
She didn’t move but felt her body strain toward him. A pleasurable weightiness also spread through her womanhood.
She met his gaze. “What now?”
“Another lesson in enlightenment.” His answer stirred more excitement inside her. “You are ready.”
“For what?” she blurted, knowing fine what he meant.
She would melt into the floor rushes if they didn’t soon finish this push-and-pull of sensual heat firing up between them.
“Your stipulations.” His voice was huskier now, flowing over her like a slow, sweet tide. “They need tending.”
“So they do.” She nodded, unable to move.
He came closer, his each step sending a new stab of desire straight to where such exquisite pleasure pulsed in her belly, and lower.
He stopped before her and took her hands. “To begin, just keep looking at me. Take a few long, deep breaths to remain calm. Do so as long as you wish.” He gave her a smile that burned her to her toes. “Look anywhere you wish. I am no’ shy.”
“So you aren’t.” Her chin came up. “But you treat me as a wanton.”
“Nae, a beautiful woman unashamed of her passion.”
“And so you charm all women.”
“Lady, I see only you. And we are alone. Do and enjoy as you will.”
“I am,” she admitted, feeling most bold. Excited.
She reveled in his masculine beauty, and the secret place between her thighs began a delicious throbbing, an ever-stronger beat that matched the pounding of her heart.
She just didn’t understand why his appeal proved stronger than Devorgilla’s anti-attraction potion.
But she’d wonder about that later. Just now, she only wanted to feel.
So she turned her attention to his face. First admiring the hard, firm line of his dark-bearded jaw, the full, sensual curve of his mouth, then his sleek black hair, and finally his eyes. Of course, they were dark with desire and so compelling.
A soft sigh escaped her, and she glanced aside. She needed her wits if she hoped to seduce him.