Chapter 5
Since the afternoon of the MacDonalds’ departure three weeks ago, Rory had done his best to keep his distance from his new bride.
The more time he spent with her, the more he learned about her.
And the more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know.
It was a vicious circle that would lead him nowhere but to perdition.
Even on that day of her family’s leaving, he hadn’t intended to go to her.
But did the woman have no sense, standing on the slippery battlements in a torrential storm?
He would have left her to the mercy of the elements, but that damn vulnerability had eaten away at his reserve.
He’d spied her sad leavetaking from her family and tried not to be moved.
Yet there was a poignancy to the moment that could not be ignored.
Her father gave her an awkward pat on the head, and Isabel looked as though she wanted to throw her arms around him.
Each of her brothers did give her a quick hug, but Isabel held on just a tad too long.
She wanted to stretch out every minute, while the MacDonalds looked as if they couldn’t leave fast enough.
She fought tears watching them make their way down the sea-gate stairs, as they left with nary a backward glance.
Damn fools. Couldn’t they see how difficult this was for her?
She’d seemed so alone and desolate as the boats departed that he couldn’t stand back and watch her catch ill.
He knew she must be feeling abandoned and a bit scared at being left on her own with a group of strangers.
Strangers who only days ago were her enemies.
When she’d turned to face him, her luminous violet eyes blurry and red rimmed from crying, Rory could not remain unaffected. He’d felt sorry for the lass.
But sorrow quickly turned to something else when she’d talked of pleasuring him.
His mind had momentarily gone blank with erotic images.
Of her beneath him, on top of him, wrapped around him.
Images that were only too easy to imagine with her lush mouth a tantalizing few inches below his.
The force of his lust for this woman annoyed the hell out of him.
Only later did he wonder if her suggestive comment was meant to distract him from further inquiry into the strange conversation he’d witnessed with her uncle. Something about this handfast and Isabel didn’t sit right.
He didn’t trust her. And with her living in the old keep, and him in the newer Fairy Tower, it wasn’t as easy to keep an eye on her.
From Deidre, he learned that she’d been spending an inordinate amount of time in the kitchens.
The information had piqued his curiosity, as did her current crouched position peering under the shelves in the storeroom.
Rory waited until he was standing right behind her. “What are you looking for?”
Startled, Isabel jumped. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened into a wide O.
He crossed his arms and stared at her. Hard. “Well?”
“I … I … d-d-dropped something.”
She was lying. “What?”
Collecting herself, she pursed her lips, put her hands on her hips, and lifted a decidedly obstinate chin to his. “Why are you questioning me?”
“I find you on your hands and knees in the storeroom looking under shelves and you have to ask?”
She seemed to find humor in his description and grinned.
“Oh, very well.” She paused, making a great show of brushing the dust off her skirts.
“You found me out. Colum has promised to teach me how he makes his delicious marzipan cakes, and I’ve been sent to the stores to requisition the almonds and sugar. ”
Rory had learned from Deidre that Isabel had made a quick admirer of his taciturn and cantankerous old cook. “A good excuse for finding you in the storeroom, perhaps, but that does not explain what you were looking for under those shelves.”
“I was getting to that,” she said haughtily. “While I was collecting the ingredients, I heard something drop and roll under the shelves. I feared it must be a pearl from my earring.”
“Hmm,” Rory murmured. “Shall we see?” Slowly he reached out, slipping his hand through her hair to pull it away from her ear.
The soft, silken waves slid across his skin and sent a shock rippling through him.
Gently, he gripped the velvety skin of her neck with his fingers, breathing in the sweet bouquet of lavender as he bent to examine her earrings.
The temptation to loosen the ribbon that bound her hair and bury his hands in the silken warmth was almost overpowering.
His voice sounded unnaturally deep. “You don’t appear to be missing anything.”
“I know I heard something drop.” She sounded flustered, but whether it was from his touch or her lie he could not tell. “Perhaps it was from my brooch,” she offered quickly.
His eyes slid down to the piece of jewelry fastened between her breasts.
Eyes wide, she followed the movement of his hand as it trailed from her ear to her bodice.
When he brushed the heavy curve of her breast with the back of his finger, he heard her sharp intake of breath.
The erotic sound filled him with heat—as did the immediate tightening of her nipple.
Her gaze flew to his and awareness stretched taut between them.
He could hear the unevenness of her breath coming between her softly parted lips as he inspected the brooch with his fingers.
It would be so easy to slip his hand under the bodice of her gown, to feel the velvet of her skin, to massage his thumb across the hard tip.
To feel the shudder of passion sweep through her.
He leaned closer, inhaling the sweet perfume of her skin, feeling the heat of desire swirl over him. His cock thickened, and his loins grew heavy with need. Just one little stroke …
But he knew it would not be enough. He’d want more. Much more.
God’s wounds, no woman had ever affected him so effortlessly.
Taking a step back, he removed his hand and allowed his pulse to return to normal, waiting for the vise hold of lust to dissipate before he spoke. “Again, there appears to be nothing missing.”
“I know I heard something,” she insisted, a pink flush still staining her cheeks. But rather than offer another paltry excuse, she asked instead, “Why are you here?”
His gaze sharpened. A good tactic, he thought, but one that did not fool him.
He studied her, wishing he could see inside that beautiful head.
Why was she spending so much time in the underground kitchens, and what was she really looking for?
He didn’t think it was a missing pearl. Allowing her to stay in the old keep by herself was an unnecessary risk.
There was an easy solution, one that shouldn’t be difficult to make.
Rory knew what he had to do, unreasonable lust or not.
“I was looking for you,” he said.
“You were?”
He nodded. “It’s time.” It had been for a while. The servants, he knew, had begun to gossip. He might not intend to wed the lass, but he would not shame her. In all but one way, she would be his wife.
“Time for what?” she asked cautiously.
“It has been long enough. You shall move your things into my chamber in the Fairy Tower.” Where it would be easier to keep an eye on her. Keeping everything else off her was going to be the difficulty.
That was a close call. Isabel exhaled slowly, noting the rigid set of his broad shoulders as he disappeared up the kitchen stairs.
It shook her to realize just how close she’d come to discovery.
As she’d done every day since her family’s departure, Isabel had been exploring the old keep from top to bottom, paying particular attention to the catacomb of tunnels located near the kitchens and dungeon for a secret entry.
Rory, materializing out of nowhere, had startled and thoroughly discomposed her.
Isabel’s heart had about dropped to her toes when he started questioning her … and then for other reasons.
She hadn’t set out to entice him with her explanation, only distract him.
Instead it was she who had been distracted.
The attraction that sizzled between them still warmed her.
He radiated heat. Heat that drew her in.
When he’d put his hand on her neck and brushed his finger over her breast, she’d felt a strange pull from deep inside her.
Her skin prickled with awareness. Every movement, every touch, every hesitation, seemed emblazoned on her skin.
He left her wanting more. She’d wanted him to pull her into his arms and kiss her. To touch her. To ease the tension coiling inside her.
But she’d seen the flash of desire in his gaze and knew that he was not unaffected. And now he wanted her in his room. It could only mean one thing. He intended to make her his bride in truth.
For the rest of the day, Isabel was a bundle of nerves. All she could think about was what would happen that night. She might be innocent, but she was not without knowledge of what occurred between men and women. Traipsing after her profligate brothers had unintentionally taught her much.
Her virginity was a natural casualty of their plan.
But she’d always imagined it would be a sacrifice.
That she would have to grit her teeth and bear it.
Never did she imagine the knot of anticipation swirling in her belly.
Anticipation that had nothing to do with the plan and everything to do with the man who with only a touch made her tremble with newly awakened passion.
She could not deny that he affected her.
She would just have to make sure that she didn’t allow herself to get caught up in the unfamiliar sensations but stayed focused on her goal.