“Ye kinnae command someone care for ye,” she snapped.
“I can,” he grumbled. “Ye will care for me.”
She jerked away from him and glared at him defiantly. “I’ll nae. I wasted enough of my life caring for my father who never offered the same in return, and I’ll nae waste any more time caring for a man who will nae ever care for me!”
“I care for ye enough to wish to keep ye safe!” he roared. “I offered my name to the king because the thought of ye becoming another man’s wife was intolerable.” His head pounded with frustration. “So dunnae tell me I dunnae care for ye. I do, but dunnae ask more of me, Isobel. I kinnae. I will nae give more. What I offer now is all I will ever offer, so it will have to be enough.”
Graham’s loudly worded admission initially felt rather like a punch to Isobel’s gut. He would never offer her love, only a tepid kind of caring. Fierce anger started to stir, but then she thought upon his words. He said that he could not stand the thought of her with another man, and by marrying her, she knew he had made his family unhappy, even though they had gained Brigid. Neither of those actions spoke of a man who only had mild feelings for a woman. Hope blossomed once more. Mayhap if she could learn what made him unwilling to lower his guard and give his heart, she could help him overcome it. If he could ever do so, then she could lower her own guard and they could quite possibly find true love and happiness.
She stole a glimpse at him from under her lashes, unsure what more to say. She couldn’t very well tell him that what he offered would do for now, or could she? Mayhap that was exactly what she needed to say—the truth. “That will do for now,” she said before the boldness coursing through her deserted her.
His eyes narrowed to hard slits, and she feared she had pushed him too far. But then he let out a bark of laughter. “Isobel, I admire verra much the way ye speak the truth.”
Pleasure filled her heart. “I did live in a nunnery,” she teased.
The dark look that crossed his face surprised her. “Aye, I remember what ye told me of yer time there and yer loneliness.”
She started to wrap her arms around her waist, as she used to do when alone because it had made her feel better, but Graham caught her arms with his hands and pulled her hard against his chest. “Ye are part of this clan now, so ye are nae alone.”
“I am a part, but I am nae,” she replied. “Lachlan and Iain dunnae trust me, and Lena despises me.”
“They will come to accept that ye are nae as yer siblings and father.”
Isobel’s chest tightened. “And if they dunnae, Graham? Would ye choose them over me?”
His jaw clenched. “I have already made a choice, Isobel. I married ye, and in doing so, I risked alienating my sister and incurring my brothers’ ire.”
“See?” she whispered. “Already a wall forms between us because of yer guilt.”
“Then let us breach the wall in the time we are in each other’s arms,” he replied and crushed his mouth to hers.
Desire jolted through her as he parted her lips with his tongue and delved inside her mouth to fully claim her. Whatever hesitation she’d had yielded to the moment of feeling protected, cherished, and as his body hardened against hers,wanted.
She quivered at the savage sweetness of his kiss, and her legs trembled, making her grasp his arms to hold herself up. But there was no need. The moment her hands touched his body, he slid an arm under her legs and around her waist, and lifted her up against his chest.
In two steps, he was at the bed, lowering her as he kissed her lips, her neck, and then lower to her chest. He lay her down gently, the soft blanket fluffing around her. He stood and looked down at her with tenderness in his eyes. “Ye take my breath, Isobel.”
It was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to her. She moved to her knees, holding his burning gaze, and placed her hands on his chest. Underneath her fingertips, his heart beat rapidly. “Ye take mine, as well, Graham. I give to ye now my compliance,” she added, recalling his plea in the great hall.
He brought his hands to her hair and slowly, without speaking, unbound her braid, and slid his fingers into her tresses, starting at the base of her skull and then gently laying her hair over her shoulders. Her heartbeat soared with his touch, and when he set his hands to her waist and lifted her enough to tug her gown up and then deftly off, she shivered with anticipation and exposure. Though night had long since claimed the sky, moonlight bathed them both from the window and the fire lit the room, as well, making her aware he could see exactly how God had made her. For a long moment he stared at her, and it seemed to her, as he slowly roamed his gaze over her face and body, that he was memorizing the way she looked.
He traced his finger over one of her collarbones to the hollow space where her pulse beat and down between her breasts. Pleasure so intense pulsed through her and tightened her to the core. Then he trailed his finger slowly around one breast and then the other before cupping both reverently in his hands.
“Mo maise,”he said in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m nae beautiful,” she replied without hesitation, having learned to reject arrogance after many lashes to her knuckles from Sister Beatrice.
His eyes hardened. “Aye,” he rebutted, kissing the tip of one breast and then the other, making her moan. “Ye are my beauty,mo nighean dubh.”
She smiled shyly. “I accept that I am yer dark-haired lass, but yer beauty—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he claimed her mouth once more, slanting an urgent kiss over it. She tasted his need and hot hunger, and she longed to please him, though she was not quite certain what to do. He broke the kiss, panting, and cupped her face. “Ye aremo maiseandmo nighean dubh.”
“I want to please ye,” she blurted.
“A Dia, Isobel. Ye do so just standing here.”
“A Dia, Graham,” she replied, using his words ofmy Godback to him. “I want to…I want to touch ye, but I dunnae ken the way.”
