Graham looked hard at Isobel, who glared at him and then at her sister. She looked as if she could not quite decide who she disliked more. He’d say one thing about Isobel Campbell: she was loyal, even if her loyalty was misplaced.
“Nay. She is still the enemy.” Graham could not elaborate more because he didn’t know exactly what to say. Isobel’s selfless act had set his mind in turmoil. “But she is also the pilfered prize,” Graham replied bluntly.
“Ye thankless beast,” she cried out. “I risked my life to save ye, and ye intend to thank me by, what? Trying to marry me to steal my castle?”
“First of all,” he growled, “ye did nae save me. I had already freed myself.”
“Ye were swimming in circles!” Isobel countered.
He ignored that statement, as it could very well be true, but that didn’t mean he was going to admit it. He would have straightened himself out eventually. “Secondly, I would nae ever marry a Campbell. It dunnae matter how important yer castle, so dunnae fash yerself about that.”
“Ye’re despicable,” she seethed.
“Coming from a Campbell, I’ll take that as praise,” he snapped.
Suddenly, the shouts of the enemy and the sound of dogs barking filled the night around them. Graham tensed and took the sword his brother handed him. “Jamie and Findlay,” they said in unison.
The voices in the distance grew louder. “Let’s away,” Graham said and reached for Isobel, who scrambled backward. He could grab her with no trouble, but he had the overwhelming desire for her to come to him by choice. “I could leave ye,” he said slowly. “But Jamie and Findlay will overcome ye easily with the hounds to track ye. And my uncle will be well pleased to marry ye, though I doubt ye’ll be well pleased as his wife.”
Her mouth formed a perfectO. “Or,” he continued, taking time with his words as if he was in no rush, though they needed to fleenow, “ye can come with us, and perchance ye’ll get lucky and escape me on the way to Dunvegan.”
He almost smiled at the way the notion lit her eyes. “I’ll go with ye,” she said, giving him a narrow-eyed look. “But I warn ye…I will escape ye as soon as I ken how.”
He offered a mock bow. “I welcome the challenge,” he replied, realizing with a start that he honestly did.
Isobel had to double her pace to keep up with one of Graham’s strides, and shehadto keep pace. The man had his hand locked around her wrist and practically dragged her behind him as he ran so quickly that she was panting. She could not believe he was taking her captive after she had saved him. And she could not believe the stubborn man refused to admit that she had, indeed, saved him. In truth, there was quite a bit she was having a hard time believing. She had been betrayed twice by her family in a matter of hours.
Her heart squeezed as she resisted the urge to glance behind her to where Marsaili was running beside Cameron. Marsaili had said she would explain all, but how could she make excuses for such treachery?
Unshed tears burned in Isobel’s eyes. Would she learn her father was betraying her, too? No, no! She could not believe it. To believe that meant everything she had ever thought was a lie. He had always shown her how much he loved her.
She had to get to him, and she suddenly sensed that if she went with Graham MacLeod now, she would never see her father again. She looked wildly around her as she ran. Could she get away from Findlay and Jamie without Graham’s help? She didn’t know, but she knew she had to try. She could not go willingly with the enemy. Fear had clouded her judgment.
As they neared the water and Graham secured his sword, then started pulling her toward the gentle waves, she dug her heels into the dirt, glancing behind her where she saw Marsaili—the betrayer—with a smile on her face, coming fast behind her by Cameron’s side. By the time Marsaili, Cameron, and the other men that were with Graham had reached the water’s edge, a cold sweat blanketed Isobel as she twisted her wrist back and forth in Graham’s iron hold.
“Ye’re holding me too tightly,” she whimpered in a desperate attempt to gain release.
“Too tightly?” He looked at her wrist, and she could see doubt flicker across his face.
“Ye’ve the grip of Kratos,” she snapped.
“Who?” he demanded, pulling her into the icy water.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Kratos,” she repeated, her teeth clanking together immediately. “The Greek god of strength.”
He flashed a grin at her. “Thank ye for the praise.”
Good God! She did not want his amusement but his compliance. “Ye’ve the brains of Koalemos.”
“And he is?”
“The god of folly,” she said through clenched teeth.
The ground below her was mushy, so she curled her toes into the thick mud to slow their progress, but he dragged her along like a feather. With no other choice, she stopped swimming, thinking to make him let her go. Her head didn’t even dip all the way under the water before he had flipped her on her back, slipped his arm under her breasts, and crushed her to the full length of his body. His mouth came close to her ear as he kicked with powerful, amazingly quiet force, sending them rapidly away from the embankment and from her brother and his men. Each pump of his legs made every muscle he possessed ripple against her back and her bottom, and the man possessed a vast number of them apparently.
Her body tingled with the friction of his against hers, just as the thought to bite him came into her head. She started to dip her head to his forearm, when he said, “Think on this, Isobel. If ye bite me, I will lose my temper, and perchance I will then prove to ye just what a beast I can be.”
His menacing tone, along with the memories of the stories Colin had told her of atrocities committed by the MacLeod clan, made her clamp her mouth shut. She would have to escape when he was asleep or deathly injured. The latter held the greatest appeal, she decided.
