Page 27 of When a Highlander Loses His Heart
“We ride,” he said gruffly, gripping her by the arm before she could even think of running off.
She glanced down at his hand and then up into his face. Her lips twisted into a scornful smirk. “Ye believe I’ll run?”
“Will ye nae?”
“Nae yet,” she replied, surprising him with her honest reply. “I’m nae a fool. Ye are my best hope of getting out of these woods alive, but I assure ye, once that is done, I will escape ye again.”
Determination gleamed in her eyes, and he found he liked that about her very much. He wanted to ask what had happened with her father, but if she was fleeing him now, Graham was certain she now knew the man her father truly was.
“Ye may try,” he finally replied, motioning for his horse and allowing her a brief moment to embrace her sister. Once Marsaili and Isobel stepped apart, he helped Isobel onto his destrier and then settled himself behind her.
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her snugly between his thighs. He told himself it was simply to keep her safe, yet her nearness sent a rush of desire through his body that made him forget the pain in his shoulder for a moment. He knew then it was not just for her safety that he had pulled her close. His yearning for her had grown with her acts of courage, selflessness, and honesty. He wanted to know her, and that was more dangerous than mere desire. Lust could be controlled, and it did not make you weak. Women, though, ones to whom you gave more than your desire, made you vulnerable, and he refused to be that pathetic ever again.
He could recall well his mother telling him that he had a wicked weakness that dwelled in him. Strong men, she had often said, needed nothing but their swords and the ability to conquer their enemies. He had vowed never to be ruled by emotion again because emotions made him long for things that made him weak. Yet, here he was, not even a year after making the vow, affected by emotion once more.
“Why is yer family nae pursuing ye?” he asked, wishing to push the emotions away.
Her body tensed between his legs. “They believe me dutifully sitting in the tower, perchance sleeping, waiting like a foolish lamb,” she muttered. The pain in her tone stoked his curiosity further, but he kept those questions to himself.
Instead, he said, “’Tis a good thing they think you dutiful. It gives us a chance to get away. Now hold tight. We will ride fast and hard.”
As he set his destrier to a swift pace, Isobel clutched his thighs with her hands, and the intimate action sent a pulsing through his groin that matched that of his shoulder, except this pulse, though painful, was edged with the promise of pleasure. He concentrated on getting them out of the woods as quickly as possible, and once they exited the trees, Isobel stiffened when he thought she would have been relieved.
“What ails ye?” he asked, slowing Dante just a bit.
“I’ve a terrible pain in my head,” she answered, her voice shaky.
Concern immediately filled him as he recalled her injury. “How did ye get wounded?” he inquired, gritting his teeth against the pain of his own wound.
Her fingers dug into his thighs hard. “Please, I must stop. I feel ill.”
He flicked his gaze to his brother, who had moved his horse alongside Graham’s, likely to see why Graham had slowed when they should be beating a rapid path from this place. “We can stop for a moment,” Cameron offered, surprising Graham.
“We should nae,” Graham countered, a pang of guilt striking his chest. He wanted to stop for Isobel, too, but to do so would be foolish when they needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and their enemies.
“Please, Graham,” Isobel whimpered. He tensed at the tears in her voice. “I am going to be verra ill. I—”
She slumped sideways, and Graham had to lunge to catch her, almost unseating them both. When her head rolled forward, worry shot through him. He immediately stopped his horse and signaled for the rest of the men to do the same. He dismounted as gently as he could and helped Isobel, whose eyes were fluttering open, to stand. Her long hair fell in a gentle cascade over her forehead and obscured the right side of her face. Unable to resist, he reached toward her and brushed the locks back, savoring the silkiness of her tresses. She sucked in a quick breath, and for a moment, they stood in silence staring into each other’s eyes.
“Do ye wish me to lead ye to the water to take a drink and cool yerself?”
Staring into Graham’s hypnotic, warm, caring eyes, Isobel felt her lips form an answer of agreement to Graham’s question, but she caught herself right before uttering the words. She blinked and purposely looked away from the powerful warrior. She no longer considered him her enemy, but that did not change the fact that he was still delivering her to the king. She would have a choice in who she married, if she could. The only possible hope she saw to gain that choice, however, was escaping Graham now that he’d gotten her safely out of the woods and heading toward Oban.
“Isobel?” he asked, his voice like a gentle caress to her weary soul. “Do ye need me to carry ye?”
Dear heaven above! She wished he would stop behaving so nice and be mean and cruel. If he were dishonorable, she would not have this twinge of guilt going through her about being so deceptive and cunning. It would be so much easier to deceive him then!
When his arm slid around her waist as if to pick her up, a jolt went through her body. Quickly, she pushed a palm against his hard chest and shook her head. “Nay. If ye dunnae mind, I’d prefer a moment alone.”
Indecision flickered across his face, and she feared he would deny her request out of distrust of her. “I’ll take Marsaili to guard me,” Isobel offered, hating to drag her sister into her deception but having no choice.
Marsaili quickly came to Isobel’s side and linked her arm through hers. “I’ll watch her,” she promised.
Isobel held her breath as Graham and Cameron exchanged a long look. She saw Cameron give an almost imperceptible nod, and her guilt worsened. He’d likely hear an earful later about his misplaced faith once she escaped, and she knew he only gave her that faith since she’d saved him from Lord MacLeod.
Finally, Graham nodded and stepped aside while motioning to his right. She could see a river in the distance in the early-morning light. “Dunnae tarry or I’ll come for ye,” he warned.
She nodded and walked slowly to the embankment of the river with Marsaili, not daring to speak until they were a good distance away. “I’m sorry, Marsaili,” Isobel said when they were at the edge where she would need to climb down to get into the water, “but I’ve lied.”
