Chapter 13 #2
He groaned again. Bloody hell, wrong thing to say. Immediately her attention flew to his supposedly injured leg. He grabbed her wrist as her hand landed perilously close to the real “injury,” preventing her fingers from further investigation. “It’s fine. Only a small bump, do not concern yourself.”
“Are you sure? If you let me lift your plaid a bit, I can see whether there is any swelling. You might need some ointment, and I could rub it in for you.”
He nearly choked. Curse the woman! Her innocent innuendo was driving him mad with lust. His hand tightened on her wrist, and he moved her hand back into her own lap.
His voice sounded forced and ragged even to his own ears.
“It’s nothing.” He needed to change the subject.
She was getting that determined set to her face that he was beginning to recognize too well.
Her stubborn expression made him want to laugh.
Her tenacity reminded him of the mothers of his acquaintance with marriageable daughters.
“How about you, are you feeling better after a respite from my brother’s side? ”
His eyes trailed slowly down her face. The bath and rest he had forced on her appeared to have provided some measure of rejuvenation.
Overall, she looked much better. Her hair shone fiery copper, her mouth was soft and relaxed, the tiny worry lines etched around her eyes had disappeared, and the dark shadows lurking beneath her skin were nearly invisible—unless one looked closely, as he did.
He was not surprised to see subtle signs of torment hidden beneath the otherwise composed facade.
She had been through a lot these past few days; certainly strain and anxiety were to be expected.
He even felt a bit of pride when he looked at her calm demeanor.
Most women would still be bedridden after what she had been through.
He admired her fortitude. Nonetheless, any sign of distress, no matter how minor, gnawed at him.
The distraction provided by his question worked.
Her embarrassing concern for his leg turned to anger at the reminder of his brusquely imposed exile from Alex’s side.
Her gaze sharpened for a moment. She turned an angry frown toward him before apparently reconsidering, and her mouth curled into an adorably shy grin.
She tilted her head so that she looked up at him from under her long lashes.
“All right, I do feel better. That tub of warm water felt delightful. I fell asleep before I even realized I was lying down. I must have been more exhausted than I realized,” she admitted grudgingly, “and hungry. If the cleaned-off tray of food was any indication.”
He laughed, and before he realized what he was doing, he covered her hand with his.
The stubborn lass did not like to admit she was wrong.
“It may have seemed I acted harshly, but it was for your own good. You looked exhausted; I feared you could faint from weariness at any moment. I’d watched you working tirelessly at Alex’s side for five days and nights. You needed rest.”
“I think you just like giving orders.”
Rory chuckled. “I’ll not deny it. But it comes with the position.”
Isabel’s mouth quirked. “I think it came with birth.”
Isabel could watch Rory forever. The twinkle in his eyes and the deep dimples in his cheeks created by his easy grin were alluring.
If he was impossibly handsome when stern, when relaxed and smiling he was absolutely irresistible.
She looked at his large, battle-scarred hand covering hers, and her heart rose in her throat.
She felt the full force of his reputed charm directed at her.
And the feeling of helplessness that the attraction induced in her was terrifying.
“If you’re finished, we’ll retire to my solar, where we can converse in private.”
Isabel swallowed and allowed herself to be escorted from the dais.
She knew the time had come. She would bear her punishment for disobeying his instructions.
His gentle behavior in the forest and the peaceful lull that had existed the past few days were at an end.
It was time to pay the piper for her impulsiveness.
Isabel accepted the blame, but her frustration at being confined to the castle for so long was not without justification. He had left her alone, without communication, for months.
She accepted Rory’s hand, and he led her out of the hall. She wasn’t unaware of the speculative glances thrown their way; the clan had noticed the blossoming intimacy between their chief and his bride.
They made their way outside, along the passageway connecting the two towers. She shivered in the cold night air. Instinctively, he pulled her closer to his side. It seemed so natural, as though their bodies slipped into perfect alignment. But even with his warmth to shield her, it was freezing.
“I’ve often thought to connect the two towers with an indoor corridor. I hope to hire a mason to look at the project within the next few years.”
Isabel’s teeth rattled. “Sounds like a wonderful idea. Perhaps you might consider finding someone sooner?”
Rory chuckled. “I’ll consider it.”
They entered the inviting warmth of the Fairy Tower, and she was glad when he led her up the spiral staircase to the library and not their chamber.
Neutral ground. Whenever she stepped into the tower, Isabel experienced a sharp twinge of guilt.
While Rory was gone to the fair at Port Righ and on to Edinburgh, she’d hoped to have the opportunity to search this tower as she had the old keep, but an appropriate time never seemed to present itself.
Or perhaps, she admitted, she had not wanted to find the time.
Isabel moved across the room and headed directly for the large, inviting window looking out over the loch.
“It’s lovely.” She realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
“It is.” But Isabel realized he was not looking at the view. A shiver of awareness slid down her spine, as it always did when he stood so near. He cleared his throat. “On a clear day, you can see north to the Isles of Harris and North Uist. To the west is a beautiful view of the Tables.”
“The Tables?”
“MacLeod’s Tables. Two flat-topped hills so named after a trick played by my grandfather, who promised an arrogant English nobleman that there was not a more beautiful table or spectacular candelabrum than the one on Skye.
When the nobleman arrived to prove him wrong, my grandfather held a lavish feast on those hills, and the sky was illuminated with hundreds of sparkling stars, forcing the Englishman to agree with him. ”
Isabel clapped her hands and laughed. “Your grandfather sounds like a wily old fox.”
Rory chuckled. “He was at that.” He motioned toward the window and redirected her attention to the blackness below them. “But the view of the sea is my favorite.”
Isabel gazed straight down the side of the bluff below them to the swirling blackness of the sea, the sliver of the moon providing little light to pierce the darkness of the misty night.
She nodded in agreement. “I think that I must always live by the water. Although the gardens at court were beautiful, I missed Loch Carron. It was strange not looking out my window and finding water.” She sighed dreamily.
“There is nothing as magically soothing as the rhythmic crashing of waves against the rocks.”
Rory looked surprised by her heartfelt words. “I feel much the same. Living on an isle, I feel a part of the sea—it flows through my blood. Whenever I am away from Skye, it calls to me.”
Isabel realized that Rory had just shown her a little corner of his heart. He felt things more deeply than he wanted others to see. It warmed her, even as she wanted to laugh at the uncomfortable surprised expression on his face.
Clearly disconcerted, he pulled out a chair from under the table and changed the subject. “Please sit. I’d like to ask you a few questions about what went on in the forest the day Alex was injured and you were nearly—”
The blood slid from her face.
“When you were set upon by the Mackenzies,” he amended quickly.
She accepted the proffered chair and folded her hands demurely in her lap to stop their shaking. He sounded calm, but she was nervous all the same. She took a deep breath. “What is it that you would like to know? I’m sure Colin and Margaret have told you that I asked Alex to take us hunting.”
“Yes, Colin explained what you were doing in the forest, but not why you put yourself and the others in such danger by leaving the castle in the first place.”
She briefly recounted the events of that day.
When she had finished and he did not say anything but simply stared at her, she continued nervously, “Alex took proper precautions. I only thought to provide a brief respite from the monotony of weeks spent inside the castle walls. You see, we’d been working so hard getting the accounts in order for Michaelmas.
” She knew her explanation sounded ridiculous—which it was.
She was ashamed of her part in instigating their adventure.
“Were you unaware, then, of my orders that you and Margaret remain at Dunvegan while I was gone? Did Alex not explain this to you? Did he not warn you about the danger presented by the Mackenzies?”
“Of course Alex explained your wishes. It’s just that, well, I assumed you did not realize you would be gone so long …
and, uh, that you would not mind under the circumstances.
It was such a beautiful day, we were having such fun—and we did not stray too far from the castle.
I never dreamed the Mackenzies would be so bold and venture so close.
It seemed harmless enough.” She was a bairn again, standing before her father, twisting her hands in frustration while trying to explain yet another questionable decision that she could not rationalize even to herself.