Magick in the Mist #5
Oh, aye, she’d felt him watching her, caught the flare of desire in his heavy-lidded blue eyes before he quickly looked away, but it went no further than that.
He engaged her in polite conversation and was most considerate of her needs, but other than when they met at mealtimes, he seemed to go out his way to spend as little time in her company as possible.
This morn, after awakening alone once more, Isobel’s much-vaunted patience was nowhere to be found.
In its place was the temper her nana said Isobel had inherited from her father.
She scowled at Nana who sat at the far end of the table breaking her fast beside Roderick, tittering like a lovestruck girl of sixteen.
“Foolish old woman,” Isobel muttered under her breath.
“Is somethin’ amiss, Isobel?” Ewan asked, a frown creasing his brow.
“Nay,” she snapped and shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth.
Ewan blinked. Robbie and Connor, who sat on either side of their father, looked up.
“What’s the matter, mam?” Connor asked.
Upon seeing the concern on Connor’s sweet face, Isobel berated herself for allowing her impatience to show.
“Nothin’ is the matter, dear heart.” She forced a smile to her lips.
“I’m goin’ to work in the garden today, would you and Robbie like to help?
” she asked hopefully. She didn’t begrudge them the time they spent with their father, but over the last few weeks she’d hardly had any time with Robbie and Connor, and she missed them.
She hoped the idea of playing in the dirt would be the incentive she needed to keep them with her this day.
Connor cast a sidelong glance at this father, who studiously avoided his gaze. “Da’s goin’ to take us ridin’. Mayhap—”
“Aye, mam, da says I can ride a horsie all by myself,” Robbie broke in excitedly.
Isobel’s incredulous gaze shot to Ewan. “You canna seriously be thinkin’ to allow Robbie to ride on is own? He’s no’ yet four.”
Ewan raised a brow. “Aye, I am. ’Tis best to—”
She gave a disproving shake of her head. “Nay, I’ll no’ allow it.” From the end of the table, Roderick and her Nana looked at her in open-mouthed astonishment.
“You, willna’ allow it?” Ewan’s tone was cold, a muscle twitching in the hard set of his jaw.
“Mam, I want to go.” Robbie pouted, his bottom lip quivering.
“Nay, I won’t,” she said firmly to Ewan, then reached over to pat Robbie’s hand. “I’ll make you a honey cake and—”
Ewan’s chair scraped across the stone floor as he pushed back from the table.
“Isobel, I would speak to you alone. Now.” The tension bracketing his full mouth left no doubt he expected her to obey.
Since she wanted to tell him exactly how foolish she thought he was being, she followed him from the hall.
He strode to the study and held the door open for her. She flounced past him. Unimpressed with his dictatorial manner, she turned on him as soon as he closed the door behind them. “Three,” she said, holding up her fingers. “He’s three years old, Ewan. He’s a bairn and I’ll no’ let—”
His gaze hardened. Looming over her, his powerful warrior’s body crowded her and she took a step back, bumping into the edge of the desk.
“He’s my son and I’ll decide what he’ll do or no’ do,” he ground out.
She pressed her palms to his broad chest, refusing to be intimidated by his size and the icy glint in his eyes. “And I’m his mother. I willna let you put him in harm’s way.”
“You’re no’ his mother and I’ll no’ have—” He stopped at her sharp intake of breath.
She turned away so he wouldn’t see how much his words hurt her.
She’d come to think of Robbie and Connor as her own and now he took that away from her – just as his cold indifference had stolen her hope for a happy marriage.
She tried to push away from him but he brought his hands to her shoulders and held her firmly in place. “Let me go,” she whispered.
“Nay.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin and forced her look at him. His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, Isobel. I ken you love Robbie and Connor. I shouldna have said what I did.”
She bit her lip, trying to contain her tears, but one after another they slid down her cheeks.
“Nay, please, doona cry.” He pulled her into his arms. “Shh, now,” he said, rubbing her back.
The warmth of his embrace, his apology and soothing touch, eased some of the hurt, but not her concern for Robbie.
She sniffed into his chest and swiped at her tears.
Tipping her head to look up at him, she said, “Truly, Ewan, Robbie is much too young to ride on his own. I only wish to keep him safe.”
He eased back and framed her face with his big hands. “As do I. You coddle them, Isobel. You’re goin’ to turn my … our lads into lassies.” He smiled at her, a tender smile.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m doin nothin’ of the sort.”
He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, you are. I promise, I’ll keep them safe.
Isobel stared after him as he left the study. A warm glow of hopefulness unfurled inside her. Mayhap they had a chance after all. Her happy smile faded when she realized he’d completely disregarded her concerns.
Ewan sighed when, through the teeming rain, he saw Isobel framed in the entrance to the keep as they approached the stables.
Robbie shivered in his arms. The bairn had been doing fine until a bolt of lighting had frightened his horse.
Ewan managed to grab him before he fell from his mount, but the lad had hit his head on the pommel gaining him a knot the size of an egg.
Ewan shook his head as his wife, heedless of the rain, ran towards them.
“Mam looks plenty fashed, da,” Connor said as he slid from his horse.
“Aye, she does.” Fashed and verra bonny, he thought, with her long chestnut hair curling about her adorable face, the rain dampening her pink gown, moulding it to her voluptuous curves.
These past weeks, Isobel had tried Ewan’s restraint to the breaking point.
With each passing day it had become harder for him to ignore the lust she aroused in him.
After this morn, he knew he fought a losing battle.
Harder to admit was that it was not only the memory of what she’d looked like naked, or the silken feel of her skin beneath his hands, that made him desire her.
Isobel, unlike Lorna, adored Robbie and Connor.
She was everything he could’ve hoped for in a mother for his sons.
He’d not meant to hurt her earlier, but she’d roused his temper when she challenged him, and his growing attraction to her had already cast a pall over his good humour.
“What were you thinkin’ keepin’ them out in this weather?” Scowling at him, she reached for Robbie, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the bump on the lad’s forehead. “Oh, my poor bairn,” she cried, taking him into her arms.
His son, who’d been laughing only minutes earlier, thrust out his bottom lip and appeared ready to cry.
“Doona baby him, Isobel, he’s fine. I didna plan for the storm, it blew up of a sudden, catchin’ me unawares.
” He felt the need to add more after the condescending look she shot him.
Bloody hell, she had a way of makin’ him feel like an irresponsible lad.
“Hhmph,” she said and hurried off in the direction of the keep. Robbie, his legs wrapped around her waist, was smiling over her shoulder.
“What is the wee imp up to?”
“He likes the kisses and cuddles mam gives when she thinks you’re hurt.”
“Smart lad,” Ewan murmured. Watching the sway of her bonny arse, the thought of kissing and cuddling with his wife had him rethinking his plan to keep his distance.
“I like them, too,” Connor added and took off after his brother and Isobel.
Reaching them at the door to the keep, Connor held up his hand.
“Oh, my poor bairn. Mam will make it all better.” He heard her say.
From the look she sent Ewan over her shoulder, he doubted she’d be giving him a kiss or a cuddle anytime soon.
Ewan got the horses settled before heading to his chambers. His grandda waylaid him on his way up the stairs. “Yer wife is no verra happy with ye. She was goin’ to round up the men and send out a search party.”
“With her no doubt leadin’ the way,” Ewan said dryly.
His grandda grinned. “Aye, she’s a determined lass.” Roderick’s smile faded as he handed a missive to Ewan. “The McRaes are in need of yer sword arm against the Gunns. The bastards made off with three of the McRaes’ lassies.”
Ewan ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair. He’d all but made up his mind that this night he’d return to his wife’s bed. He’d been a fool keepin’ his distance from Isobel. The lass was nothin’ like Lorna and it was about time he let go of the past.
Once he’d changed into dry clothes and prepared for his journey, Ewan followed the sound of laughter to Robbie’s chambers.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe.
His sons, tucked beneath a mound of blankets, lay snuggled in Isobel’s embrace.
Their wee faces alight with happiness as her melodious voice wove a tale of a handsome warrior riding through the mist to claim his one true love.
He frowned, not sure filling the impressionable heads of his young sons with notions they would find a lass destined for them – and them alone – was a good idea.
He thought back to that moonlit night of long ago when he’d been tempted to believe just that, but he’d never found the lass.
And his marriage to Lorna had quickly vanquished any thoughts of a life filled with love and laughter.
Such notions were fine for lassies, but no for lads.