Isobel grabbed his arm and slung it over her petite shoulder. “Lean on me. I’ll nae let ye fall,” she promised.
To his surprise, he complied immediately. She staggered under his weight but did not complain. Instead, she moved them forward into the thick brush of woods and to a rock where she bent to help him sit down.
As she stood, he kept his stare steady on hers, curious to see her reaction when she looked at him. Her gaze swept over him, her mouth parting and eyes widening.
“Ye’re naked,” she whispered, her gaze going straight to his groin and then jerking up to his face. She tugged at her gown, pulling it off and leaving her in only a thin léine.
The outline of her perfect, high breasts straining against the gossamer material of her soaked léine heated him more than any fire ever could. She came toward him and draped her gown over his lap, then situated the material to hang down his legs.
She kneeled before him and set her hands on his thighs as she peered into his eyes. “Are ye injured badly?” she asked, her teeth chattering.
He studied this woman, his enemy who had just saved him, stripped her gown off to cover him, and now stared at him with a concerned expression. His chest tightened oddly.
“Ye kinnae tarry,” she rushed out, her tone tense. She looked around the area, her brow furrowing. “I dunnae ken which way ye should go.” Her voice was taut with panic now. “I left Marsaili here.” Her eyes darted around once more. “Marsaili,” she hissed several times, and when no answer came, she wrung her hands in obvious worry. “I dunnae ken where she could have gone. Ye must away. We all must! They’ll be coming for ye. And me.” She bit down on her lip, anxiousness painting her delicate features. “I’m sure if my father were here, he would halt all this. Be ye his enemy or nae, ye saved his daughter.”
Graham pressed his lips together on the desire to tell her the truth. He wanted to know exactly what was going through his soon-to-be captive’s head so he’d know best how to deal with her. “I dunnae ken what Findlay is doing. I kinnae tell ye how astounded I am. I—” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “My father is a good man. I ken he’s yer enemy, as ye are his, but he is good.” She frowned up at him when he didn’t speak, and she suddenly took one of his hands in hers and clutched it. “I ken ye must be afeared. I am fearful, as well.”
He could feel his eyes narrow at the insult, but she patted his hand in such a caring way that his anger slipped away and amusement replaced it.
“’Tis nothing to become angry about,” she added, looking away from him and to the thick woods, searching, he presumed, for Marsaili, who was well aware of the contingency plan and had likely gone to meet up with Cameron. “’Tis natural to be fearful when facing death,” Isobel said, drawing his attention back to her. The woman was daft if she truly believed he was afraid. “Ye’re fine now,” she said in a soothing voice that made him smile despite everything. “Ye’re fine now. All will be well if—”
At the sound of sticks breaking underfoot and to his right, he jerked upright—the clothing she’d covered him with falling to the ground. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her behind him to shield her. Her warm breath bathed his bare back with each sharp exhalation, and she wiggled—he supposed in protest at being held firmly against his naked body—but he didn’t loosen his grip.
He gave her a hard squeeze, a silent entreaty not to move or speak, and was pleased when she immediately stilled. He swept his gaze around him in search of a weapon when out of the darkness, Cameron appeared, a smirk coming to his face as he took in Graham’s appearance. Graham loosened his grip on Isobel but did not release her as he brought her to his side.
“It took ye long enough,” he growled at his brother.
Cameron nodded, then motioned behind him. Rory Mac, who was like a brother to Graham and his brothers by blood, stepped forward with a woman by his side.
Graham knew immediately by the defiant tilt of her chin, yet the guilt gleaming in her eyes as she glanced at Isobel, that the woman was his informant, Marsaili Campbell, Isobel’s half sister.
The woman looked at Graham from head to feet. Her eyes did not widen as Isobel’s had, and her cheeks did not redden. Either Marsaili Campbell was nae an innocent woman or she was an expert at hiding her reactions. A half smile tugged at her lips as she settled her attention on her sister. “Yer rescue was apparently much more entertaining that I kenned it would be.”
Isobel blushed furiously and gave Graham a shy smile that made him almost forget to be wary of her. To be sure she understood how he felt about her, he glared at her and almost laughed when her smile slipped away and she scowled in return.
At Cameron clearing his throat, Graham focused on his brother. “We found this thrown in the woods,” Cameron offered with a questioning look.
Graham took his plaid from his brother. “Jamie said none of us deserved to wear the MacLeod plaid.”
Cameron snorted at that. “I’d say he’s confused.”
“Aye,” Graham agreed as he released Isobel to put on his plaid. “What delayed ye in finding me?”
“In honesty, Brother, I’d nae have located ye at all if nae for Marsaili locating us. She led us here with the warning that we would either find ye drowned or rescued bythat one.” An overt look of hostility twisted Cameron’s features as he pointed his dagger toward Isobel, who immediately pressed close to Graham’s side. A strong feeling of protectiveness swept through Graham, stunning him. He glanced sharply at the wet, beautiful woman beside him, who glared defiantly back at his brother but huddled close to Graham while struggling into her gown. She was a contrast of bravery and timidity, and it piqued his interest, irritating him even as he battered his curiosity down. She was the enemy. Yet…she had risked her life to save his. And then she had given the clothing off her back to cover him.
He understood why Cameron would have an immediate dislike for her, but then, why did his brother not show the same disgust for Isobel’s sister, who had betrayed her own family, albeit to his benefit?
Graham shoved his brother’s dagger away from Isobel’s face. She was the enemy, still she was not exactly as he had assumed. A flash of surprise came to Cameron’s eyes, and then his jaw tensed.
Graham squared his shoulders. “If ye wish to point yer dagger at someone, point it at that one,” he said, motioning to Marsaili. “She betrayed her family to us—”
Beside him, Isobel stiffened. “What? What say ye?”
“Isobel—” Marsaili started, but Graham gave her a quelling look, while still glaring at his brother and ignoring Isobel’s questions. “This one attempted to save me,” he said, indicating Isobel.
“Attempted!” Isobel said, her tone clearly affronted.
“And?” Cameron demanded. “Are ye saying she is nae longer our enemy?”
