Isobel squeezed her eyes shut as if she could not endure hearing another word. She had grown up separated from her family, and despite the troubles he had experienced with his own family, they had always been there for him and gave him strength when he’d had none. Mayhap, despite how evil her father was, he had done that for her.
He heard her swallow hard, as if fighting back tears. That same desire to shield her from harm rose in him, but he refused to think too much upon it. He had taken her. He merely felt an obligation now because of his deed. It was unexpected but understandable. He would fulfill his vow to the king, he told himself, but somehow he had to also ensure Isobel Campbell was married to a man who would treat her well. Irritated suddenly to be burdened with such a problem but unable to dismiss it, he motioned toward the horses, putting the thought of food from his mind for the more pressing need to get them closer to Dunvegan where he could rid himself of Isobel and the strange feelings she stirred in him.
Chapter Five
Isobel sat stiffly in front of Graham on his destrier, and though she took great pains to make sure she did not touch him, she could still feel him behind her. Her enemy. Or so she had always believed of all MacLeods. Now uncertainty battered her body and mind so ruthlessly even her skin hurt, and she was freezing, which made it hard to think properly, and she needed to think. And plan.
It didn’t help matters that Graham’s heat enticed her to lean back into the strong, solid embrace in which she had awoken earlier. When she had first been stirring, she had a moment of feeling perfectly safe and cared for, and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. But then she had remembered that she was in the enemy’s arms, and that sense of safety vanished. She felt very alone, and the thing that had always held the loneliness at bay was knowing her brothers and father loved her. But had it all been a lie? Findlay could not possibly love her after how he had acted. And what of Colin?
She could have explained away Graham’s words about Colin to their clans simply being enemies, though it was hard to forget the man had risked his life to save Marsaili’s, which meant he did have good in him. But Marsaili’s continued insistence that Colin had been evil and that Father was working to overthrow the king was like a thorn in Isobel’s side that she could not pick out of her skin. Marsaili clearly hated Father and hated their brothers, so mayhap she simply wanted to turn Isobel against them, too. Isobel’s heart told her to believe this. It was better to be betrayed completely by the sister she had never known than the father she adored.
But her head… She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. Her head cautioned her to not trust anyone until one proved one could be trusted, including her father. But that would leave her utterly alone in the world. She could not even succumb to sadness over Colin’s loss because she may well be mourning a monster.
She clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw ached. She had been alone most of her life. She had seen her father once a year, and not even for an entire day. The rest of her days had been spent as an outcast at the nunnery. The nuns had never treated her with any kindness, but after Sister Beatrice had been cast out of the nunnery, they had treated her with a cold hostility and fearful wariness. No one had ever given her a physical punishment that would scar her again, and once, when she had been forced to kneel for a particularly long period by Sister Mary’s order, Isobel had overheard another nun caution Sister Mary to be careful, lest she fall to the same fate as Sister Beatrice.
The only friends she had ever had were theCeàrdannan. She sucked in a sharp breath as an idea struck. The leader of the Summer Walkers, Evan, had told her last summer when his group had come through Iona and she had saved his sick child from death that if she ever needed safe harbor, he would give it to her and protect her with his life.
It was January, and she knew theCeàrdannanspent the winters in a sea town called Oban. Somehow, she had to escape Graham and make her way there. No one even knew of her connection to the Summer Walkers so no one would search for her there. Then she could have Evan help her determine if she was being used by her father for ill purposes or if she had been told more lies. She slumped in relief at having a plan. Now all she needed to do was learn where Oban was and how to get there.
Isobel braced herself against the continuing hard jolts of the horse over the rocky terrain. As Dante raced across the countryside, the cold air was blowing in her face and over her body continuously, making her shiver. She wrapped one arm around her waist and rounded her shoulders forward against the wind as her thoughts and worries tumbled in her head. Every time the horse’s hooves connected with the ground, her body protested. She was weary, but she refused to give in to the need to shut her eyes. She feared waking up in Graham’s arms again. The memory of being secure between his strong thighs tightened her belly and stirred the same unwanted longing she had felt earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to recite a prayer of forgiveness that she’d often been made to repeat at the nunnery.
A long while later, her body felt heavy—her eyelids especially so—and a thick fog blanketed her thoughts. The chill from the air had set so deep into her bones she was sure she would freeze. She could not remember why she should not lean back, and even if she could have remembered, she did not think she had the will to resist. When she gave in, her body met with an oddly warm wall of steel.
She wanted that heat everywhere she was cold. She tried to turn into the fire, but something stopped her. A protest came to her numb lips, but it died when the heat encircled her and then seemed to consume her. She sighed contentedly as a balmy breeze blew on her cheek and slumber overtook her.
Graham sucked in a sharp breath as Isobel’s soft body leaned against him. Was she trying to seduce him?No.It was impossible. He glanced down at her face only to find her eyes closed. She was asleep. She had no idea that she had curled into his arms like a kitten seeking attention. Even so, it was all he could do not to pet her.
She wiggled her bottom between his thighs, and his groin throbbed in response. She was going to kill him, or rather the desire she elicited in his body would kill him since he could not act upon it. He couldn’t help but stare at the perfect slope of her cheekbones and then her full lips, the longing to claim those lips and see what she tasted like coursing through him. He’d not do it, of course. She was not a wench with whom to have a romp in the hay. She was a lady who would be a man’s wife, and she was the daughter of his family’s foes.
The concern of earlier needled him. Somehow he had to ensure King David chose a man who was neither cruel by nature nor held a grudge against Isobel because she was the Campbell’s daughter, as Cameron seemed to.
Hell, as he himself had. He had stolen her in part because he had convinced himself it would not matter if he used her because she had to be wicked like her family. Now he understood the falsehood for what it was.Shewas not responsible for her family’s misdeeds, but by taking her against her will he was forcing her to atone personally for each and every one of them. Yet, even if he was not obligated to bring her to the king, setting her free would not help her. She would simply become the victim of someone else who wished to use her, and she would not have him as her champion then. He froze at the thought. He was the protector of a Campbell? How strange life was.
As darkness claimed the sky and the moon came out to offer light to guide them, guilt gnawed at him. Despite the fact that he knew she would have a better life because he had taken her, he had also taken away her choice, and that bothered him. He could remember feeling as if he had no choices of his own when he was younger and his mother assigned him as Lena’s watcher, refusing to allow him to hunt with the men because she’d said he was not a good enough hunter yet. The anger that had sprung from that situation had nearly destroyed him and caused him to destroy others. He did not want Isobel to feel that way, daughter of his enemy or not.
She wiggled again, pressing her bottom firmly against his staff, and he abruptly whistled, pulled back on Dante’s reins, and called, “Halt! We rest here for the night.”
He had to get off his horse and put space between himself and Isobel before he forgot himself.
Isobel awoke to a black sky, hard ground, and murmured voices. She blinked up at the moon as she inhaled the smell of dirt and something distinctly male. Her heart lurched as she glanced to her right, fearing she had been sleeping beside Graham, but she could see him not too far away, sitting in a circle with his men, a small fire burning in the center. He was talking, his face glowing in the firelight, and his brows were drawn together as if in ire.
She started to sit up, but a hand clamped her shoulder. She would have screamed but Marsaili said, “’Tis me. I’m listening and if ye sit up, they’ll ken we’re awake and we’ll nae learn anything.”
Isobel smirked at Marsaili. “Have ye been lyingagain?” she muttered, unable to keep the resentment out of her tone. When Marsaili’s eyes narrowed, Isobel felt her own irritation spike. “Are ye trying to decide who to betray next?” she growled, knowing she sounded churlish but not caring.
Marsaili arched her eyebrows. “Nay. I was trying to learn what they intend to do with ye so I could decide whether I should help ye escape or nae, but now I’m wondering if I should nae leave ye to them.”
Hope began to spark in Isobel. “I thought delivering me to them was part of the bargain ye made.”
Marsaili shook her head. “I made no bargain, Isobel. I simply let them ken ye would be coming, as I ken verra well they would nae have come to rescue me for just me, even if I am their half sister,” Marsaili finished in a wounded, derisive tone.
Begrudgingly, Isobel recognized pity and understanding simmering within her. It was strange, but she sensed Marsaili felt exactly as she did—unwanted. Brigid was what everyone wanted, not Isobel herself. She was the bothersome woman that came with the castle. She did not feel she could tell Marsaili her plan, but mayhap she could get the information she needed from her half sister.
“Do you have any notion where Father is? He made mention of Oban last he visited,” she lied. “Could he be there?”
Marsaili shook her head. “Nay. I overheard Findlay say Father would be returning to Innis Chonnell within a sennight, and he said he would be coming from the west. Oban is south. We will pass it on the way to Dunvegan.”
Isobel’s insides clenched with more hope. “Oh,” she replied, trying to instill a dejected note in her voice.
