A Highlander’s Homecoming (19 page)

“Leave? Yer no leaving anywhere until I’ve had a look at what’s been done to you. Now sit yerself down
on that stool and remove yer shirt while I light some more of my grandfather’s expensive candles.”

“There’s no a need for me be taking off any of my . . .”

“I’m no hearing that,” she barked, giving him a little push in the direction of the stool. “You favored yer side the whole way coming up the stairs so dinna you even think to deny it. Take it off.”

Robert stifled the urge to laugh at Isa’s demanding orders. “Yer a right bossy bit for a woman in danger,” he teased as he took a seat.

“It looks to me as if it’s you danger’s found. Now, hush yerself and do as yer told.”

He pulled the long shirt from his plaid, biting back a groan as he lifted it over his head and off. His shoulder was sore from the blows he’d blocked, but hardly worth noting.

It was the old scar over his ribs that concerned him. Swollen and tender to the touch, it looked like a wound only weeks into the healing process.

He had no choice but to face the obvious—that this wasn’t any normal injury but the beginning of the danger that Cate and Mairi had feared.

Cate’s warning rang in his memory.

“You’re going back to a time when you’re not supposed to exist. If the Magic seeks to equalize what should be with what is, you could be in real trouble.”

The steadily worsening wound on his chest was trouble, all right. It seemed clear to him that this was the Faerie Magic working to set history to rights.

Which meant his time here, his time to get Isa to safety, would be coming to an end.

His muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the cold, wet cloth she stroked over the scratches on his face.

“I’m sorry it’s cold. I’ve nothing to heat the water in.”

He shook his head, but didn’t reply, fighting to ignore his physical response to her hands on his body. Though her touch was gentle, as if she feared she might hurt him, it was the fire she trailed across his skin that made him flinch. When her fingers stroked over the Mark of the Guardian on his upper arm, he felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.

By the time she reached his chest, he could stand no more and grabbed her hands, holding them within his own.

“I need you to listen to me and think hard on what I say. Tomorrow morning, when we leave this place, let me take you to MacQuarrie Keep.”

The shake of her head foretold what her words would be. “I canna do that, Robbie. I’ve animals depending on me. I have to return to my home. I’ve no desire to leave there.”

His frustration got the better of him.

“Goddammit, Isa! Yer animals are the least of yer worries. There’s MacDowylt to consider, and after yer grandfather’s big announcement tonight, there’s Lardiner. My time here is limited, and I’ve no stomach for leaving you at the mercy of men such as these.”

She stared into his eyes, her expression serious and thoughtful, until at last she smiled, a sad little uplifting of the corners of her mouth.

“Yer a good man, Robbie MacQuarrie. You’ve no tried to force me to do this against my will and that
means a great deal to me. If it will make you rest better, I’ll think on yer request this night.”

Force her? He could never do that, though he knew many a good man who would. Somehow, in this situation, it seemed wrong. Whether it was the knowledge of the Faerie edict against changing history or something else, something about Isa herself, he couldn’t bring himself to drag her away against her will.

That she even considered what he asked felt like a major step in the right direction.

“Then I’ll leave you to yer rest.” He started to rise, but found himself unable to stand, unwilling to do so, when she pressed down on his shoulders.

“I’d rather you stay here. There’s plenty of covers for me to make you a bed by the fire. And if whoever did this comes looking for you, it’s yer room they’ll search, no mine.”

The invitation was tempting. It was those men coming after her that worried him. In spite of how it looked, he could take care of himself. Here, in her room, he could see to her safety as well.

Still, it wasn’t right. Someone would see. Someone always did. Word would spread. “I’ll no compromise yer reputation by spending the night in yer room.”

“As if you suppose I care what anyone thinks?” she scoffed. Then, as if she could read the indecision in him, she stood and hurried to her bed, pulling covers off and bundling them in her arms.

“It’s settled, then. Yer staying here for the night.”

Chapter 16
 

The wind had picked up, moaning as it forced itself through the gaps in the wooden shutters high on the wall of the bedchamber.

Isa squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing herself to sleep. It felt as though she’d lain here for hours, waiting for slumber that just wouldn’t come.

She didn’t want to think anymore. Her thoughts were jumbled and confusing, and no matter where they started, they always ended in the same place.

Robbie was going to leave her. He’d told her so. Told her his time here with her was coming to an end.

She should be overjoyed. That had always been her goal, to be alone. From the moment she’d been old enough to consider the possibility, being alone had meant freedom and a peaceful existence to her. It was all she had ever wanted.

Until Robbie showed up.

Somewhere in the short time since she’d met him she’d started to want more. To dream new dreams. Dreams of a man to love her. Dreams of having children of her very own.

Impossible dreams.

Now the thought of being alone just felt . . . lonely.

She turned over to her side, jerking at the too-big night dress that tangled around her feet. How was she supposed to sleep in this enormous gown the maids had left on the bed for her use? The pillow felt as lumpy as if someone had stuffed parts of the bird in along with its feathers. And the bed. She didn’t even want to consider how long it might have been since someone had washed the bed coverings.

She was miserable and uncomfortable and lying in filth. And on top of all that, she was despairingly lonely, knowing those things she wanted most in life, those things that others took for granted as their right, she would never have.

No wonder she couldn’t force herself to sleep!

Outside, the moan of the wind turned to a whistling howl, ominously rattling the wooden shutters as if demons were trying to claw their way into the room.

There were demons out there beyond her walls, all right. Her emotional demons. The demons of her unfulfilled wants and desires.

Enough of this! She couldn’t allow herself to wallow in this pool of pity. It wouldn’t do her, or anyone else, the least bit of good.

So he’d said he was going to stay and now he wasn’t. It was all the same to her. His change of heart
simply meant she could continue to do whatever she pleased, whenever she wanted. That had been her plan, after all—to drive him away. Besides, what Robbie MacQuarrie did made not the least bit of difference in how she lived her life.

Or did it?

She sat up in bed and gazed over at the fireplace, at the bundle of covers where Robbie slept.

Had it been only days ago that she’d watched as he bathed in the mountain pool beyond her cottage?

Watched and wanted.

She’d denied herself any possibility of experiencing what went on between a man and a woman because she feared that once she’d been intimate with Robbie, she’d lose her freedom. He would never leave.

But that was when she’d thought he intended to stay. Now she knew that wasn’t the case. He would be going. Soon. He’d told her so.

Once. Just once. If she missed this chance, she would likely never have another opportunity. And he was so beautiful, inside and out.

She loosed the tie on her hair and worked at freeing her braid while she stared at his unmoving form, considering her options.

What was there to stop her?

He could refuse her. She knew nothing at all about the art of attracting a man. He could reject her when she offered herself. Though from the heated gazes he’d sent her way she found that result unlikely.

What if he didn’t reject her and she conceived a child?

Her breath did a little hitch, as if her heart had missed a beat.

She could imagine only one outcome more desirable than that. A man to love her and a child in her arms was her heart’s secret desire. To find even half of that fantasy would be heaven.

Tossing her covers aside, she swung her feet around and slid off the high bed. A shiver raced through her body as her toes met the cold stone floor.

“Robbie?” she called, barely more than a whisper.

From under the covers, a muffled grunt.

“Are you awake?”

“It’s no like a man can get any sleep between you thrashin’ about in yer bed and the wind making all that racket.”

She waited, chewing her bottom lip, working up her courage.

“Are you frightened by the storm, lass?”

As if she, of all people, would be frightened by the weather. And yet, if that was what he thought . . .

“Yes,” she whispered.

The roll of thunder joined in with the wind’s howl as she tiptoed closer to where he lay. When she reached him, she dropped to her knees and pulled the covers from his head, fighting the instant desire to run her fingers through his tousled hair.

“I am,” she lied. “And I canna sleep at all.” That much, at least, was the truth.

He stared at her, his eyes dark and unreadable with his back to the flicker of the fire.

“Would you feel safer here with me?”

She nodded her head vigorously, and he lifted his covers, inviting her to join him.

When she sat, he put his big arm around her, pulling
her in, tucking her back up against his chest. He wore no shirt, nothing but the plaid wrapped around his hips. The heat of his body enveloped her like a welcoming cocoon and she stretched out one leg, tentatively rubbing it against his shin.

“Holy Christ, woman! Yer feet are like chunks of ice.” He shivered and pulled her closer, draping his arm over her hip.

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, drowning in the feel of him so close he was practically wrapped around her. All the wants, all the desires she’d had that day at the pool slammed back into her. Hard. It felt as if all the heat trapped under those covers had gathered itself into one big ball and dropped right into the pit of her belly, burning, churning, demanding attention.

Robbie’s attention.

And her in this damned blanket of a nightdress, so huge it felt as if there were a whole mattress separating their bodies.

Robbie cleared his throat and scooted back from her just a little. “You let yer hair down,” he murmured, and his breath feathered over her ear.

“The braid was uncomfortable and I couldna sleep.” Again, truth enough that she couldn’t sleep. “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” he murmured, doing that sniffing thing he’d done the first day they’d ridden together on horseback.

The hateful shapeless nightdress gathered at her neck and tied with a ribbon. She couldn’t think of a way to casually drag the whole thing up and over her head, but if she loosed the neck tie, it would pull out wide
enough to allow her the freedom to slip it down over her shoulders.

Slowly she pulled at the tie holding her gown closed. With a couple of small tugs to the gathers, the neckline opening gave way, hanging loose.

Again he cleared his throat and scooted back a little more. “We’ll neither of us get any rest if you dinna stop wiggling about.”

“Sorry. I was only trying to get comfortable.” She slipped the opening over her shoulder and down, freeing one arm. “I’m no used to sleeping so close to someone.”

“Believe me, I understand.” He removed his arm from her hip and scooted farther away.

It was all the room she needed.

Turning from her left side to her back, she pulled her second arm from the nightdress, tugging the loosened neckline down to her breasts. She had no doubt the opening was large enough now to easily slide down over her hips.

Slowly, carefully, she tugged at the tail of her nightdress, pulling it up to her knees, freeing her legs as well as her arms.

The hateful gown dealt with for the moment, she rolled to her right side, facing Robbie. His eyes were clamped shut as if he fought to force sleep as vainly as she had earlier.

Sleep was not at all what Isa had in mind. Not for either of them.

With her big toe, she traced the back of his calf.

His eyes flew open, wild and dark in the shadowed light. “What do you think yer doing?”

“Warming my feet?”

“Warming yer feet,” he repeated, his tone making no disguise of his doubt.

“Aye.” She reached out, laying her hands on his chest, feeling the muscles jump under her fingers. “My hands are cold, too.”

“They dinna feel cold to me,” he rasped oddly, his body tensing as if all his muscles had frozen into place. “They’re more like hot coals.”

Her eyes locked with his and she scooted closer, allowing the nightdress to twist lower. Her hands edged up his chest to his shoulders as if it were beyond her control to stop them.