“It is nae as simple as ye make it sound,” Isobel muttered, dejected. “I ken he desires me, but he has put up a wall between us and vowed to control his desire. I dunnae see how I can make it impossible for him to resist me.”
“Ye can seduce him,” Bridgette suggested.
Marion stared daggers at her, then looked at Isobel. “She once gave that advice to me. She thinks it’s the answer to all problems concerning men.”
“I dunnae,” Bridgette protested. “But it does work.”
“But I dunnae need to seduce him,” Isobel said. “We have already—” She cleared her throat, embarrassed. “We have already joined.”
“There is joining,” Bridgette said, “and then there isseduction. Two verra different things. In seductionyeare in control.Yemake the fantasies he did nae even ken he had come true.”
“You are wicked!” Marion said with a chuckle. “But you make a good argument.”
“Thank ye!” Bridgette crowed and then tapped a finger against her chin. “Now we merely need a course of action.”
An idea suddenly came to Isobel. “I have nae given Graham a wedding gift yet, and I ken just what to give him and how!”
“What?” all three women exclaimed at once.
“I’ll give him a breastplate blessed for his protection.”
Bridgette frowned and shook her head. “Ye have a great deal to learn about the art of seducing a man.”
Isobel could not help but laugh. “I will give it to him while donningonlythe breastplate.”
“Oh!” Bridgette cried. “That is a grand notion.”
Marion fanned herself. “You two are sinners.”
Bridgette blew out an irritated breath. “I’ve long said I’d rather die a sinner than live a saint.”
“Will it nae take a long while to make a breastplate?” Marsaili inquired.
Isobel started to slump, not having thought of that.
Marion waved a dismissive hand. “Go see Cameron. He is a master blacksmith and very quick.”
“But ye still need to begin yer seduction tonight,” Bridgette said.
“Do ye have any suggestions?” Isobel asked. “The nuns hardly discussed this sort of thing.”
Bridgette grinned wickedly. “’Tis lucky for ye, I’m far from a nun. Listen closely now,” she said. “I will tell ye some things that will make ye blush, will make Marion cross herself, and may well burn Marsaili’s innocent ears, but these secrets give ye a great chance of bringing yer warrior to his knees.”
Isobel nodded. “I’m listening, but what if it dunnae work?”
“Then perchance ye will have to take Marion’s counsel and flee, but with the hope that if Graham fears he has lost ye, he will see that he kinnae live without ye and succumb to love.”
Isobel inhaled a long shaky breath. She prayed it did not come to that, and she prayed she would not have to truly flee from him. The mere thought of it caused pain to slice through her, but the idea of living with a man who would never love her was a bone-crushing hurt she could not bear.
After Isobel learned the art of seduction—according to Bridgette, who sounded very knowledgeable—she strode to the smithy with still-blushing cheeks. Cameron was hunched over a table working on something and did not even notice her when she entered the room. She walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, and he swung around in a flash, a gleaming dagger raised.
She scrambled backward, muttering, “Ye MacLeod men move with the speed of gods.”
Cameron grinned at her. “I thank ye. What brings ye here, Isobel?”
“I’d like ye to make me a breastplate.”
“Whyever do ye need a breastplate?” he asked, gaping at her.
