Page 39

Dreams, warm and heady, soothed Isobel, and she luxuriated in them.

Here, in the haven of her imaginings, she felt safe and whole.

'Twas a place she had oft visited, a place where she was loved and cherished, protected and revered.

A place that she dare not speak of aloud.

But she would enjoy it while she could. So she smiled in her sleep and hugged her pillow closer.

It was warm and firm and rippled with...

She opened her eyes with a start.

Gilmour MacGowan stared over his shoulder at her. "Shall I scream for help?" he asked.

She realized that her arm was hooked low around his hard waist, and one knee was pressed up between his thighs.

The door burst open. Isobel snatched herself to the far side of the bed, and Polly, smiling from ear to ear, popped into the room, brandishing a tray.

"Good morningtide. Don't the two of you look cozy.

Didn't even have time to remove your gown, aye?

Well, that's the way of it. Leastways, you got the rogue naked, aye?

" She chuckled and scurried forward. "That's it.

Sit up now. 'Tis time to break the fast. Although it looks as if the fast has been broke good and proper, huh?

" She giggled and plopped herself down on the bed beside Gilmour.

"Ummm," she said, and reaching out, stroked Gilmour's bare chest.

Isobel curled her lip and reached for Polly's hair, but in that instant lucidness visited her. Yanking her hand back, she sprang to her feet.

Polly started wildly. "Is something amiss, Isabella?"

"Nay. Nay," she said and spinning about on one heel, fled the room. The floor felt cool against her bare feet as she rushed on, hurrying down the hall until she reached Madelaine's door. Although it seemed against the house rules, she rapped twice.

"Enter."

Madelaine sat upright in her broad four poster, her green eyes still sleepy and her dark hair tousled.

"I have to leave." The words left Isobel's lips before she had a moment to calm them.

"Belva," Madelaine said. "Up so soon? I thought surely you would sleep late." She smiled and smoothed the blankets over her bent knees. "Or stay abed late at the least."

"Nay. I must away."

"Sit and..." Madelaine gave a small sigh then smiled. "Have a seat and let us talk about it."

"Nay, I..." Isobel began, but in that instant the blankets moved while Madelaine remained still. A moment later a booted foot appeared from beneath the blankets. It was extremely large. She took a deep breath. "I must go now." The blankets rustled. "Immediately."

Madelaine sighed and shifted her gaze to the blankets, which she lifted slightly. "Very nice," she said, "but I fear our Belva needs my attention more than you do just now."

O'Banyon's head emerged from beneath the covers, massive as a bullock. "She could join us if she's a mind."

"Aye," Madelaine agreed. "But I think the lass had more than enough in her bed last night. Go break the fast, lad," she said. "I'll join you shortly."

He rose from the bed, completely naked but for his boots, which rose nearly to his knees. Isobel kept her gaze resolutely on Madelaine, who patted the man's bulging behind. Nor did she miss what bulged on his opposite side.

The door opened and closed.

"What's this about leaving now?" Madelaine asked.

"I must," Isobel repeated.

"Was the rogue so frightening, then?"

"This has nothing to do with MacGowan."

“Truly?"

"Aye, 'tis simply..." The blankets stirred again. Isobel stared at the shifting blankets and Madelaine shrugged.

"I get lonely. Now, why must you leave?"

Isobel rushed her gaze to Madelaine's sleepy eyes. "I must return to Evermyst."

"Whyever for?"

"I feel I am needed there. I fear for Lady Anora's safety."

"Why?"

"I had... dreams."

Madelaine idly moved the blankets aside to stroke her hand down a broad, male shoulder.

Isobel cleared her throat. "Dreams of Lady Anora in trouble."

"Truly? 'Tis not the sort of dream I expected to visit you after last night."

"We became very close while I stayed at Evermyst."

"He is a bonny lad, and quite taken with you if—"

"I refer to Lady Anora and I."

"Oh."

"And I need to leave alone, me lady."

Madelaine's surprise was evident. "May I ask why?"

Because she could not be near the rogue another second without giving herself to the wild impulses that tore at her.

But that was not a worthy reason, and none she cared to share.

"In truth, me lady, I am not atall certain of the rogue's intent.

He..." She searched madly for some kind of reasoning that would make sense.

"When first he came to the Red Lion, he accompanied the Munro. "

"Aye, so you have said. Innes Munro, Laird of the Munros. How large is he, exactly?"

"He is a barbarian."

Madelaine raised her brows. "Even better."

"More than once he threatened me sis... me lady's peace. Why now would a MacGowan befriend him unless he plans some evil against his brother?"

"I know not," admitted Madelaine and lifted her gaze to a point behind Isobel's left shoulder. "Why might that be, Monsieur Rogue?"

Isobel jerked about just in time to see Gilmour shrug. “Truth to tell, the Munro is a most likable drinking companion."

"The Munro is a bastard!" Isobel spat the words, surprising herself as much as any by her vehemence.

MacGowan scowled. He was, she saw, dressed in a tunic and his ridiculously ineffective plaid. "What harm has he done you, lass?"

She shifted her eyes quickly away. Madelaine did not know of her kinship with Anora; she did not know that the Munros had accused Isobel's mother of witchcraft.

Did not know, in fact, that it was the Munros who had caused her death, and who might very well cause her own should they learn that twins had been born to the lady of Evermyst.

"Isobel," he said and took a quick step forward. "Did he force himself on you?"

"Nay!" She was desperate to keep him at bay, for she could not think when he was near. "Nay," she repeated and turned toward Madelaine. "Me lady, though you have done much for me already, I would ask a bit more. Might I beg a few supplies to make me journey the faster?"

"You hope to travel alone into the far north?"

"Aye—"

"Nay," Gilmour interrupted. "Not alone."

Isobel tried to argue, but within an hour's time they were mounted on matching gray steeds.

"Me thanks again, me lady," Isobel said.

Madelaine smiled. She was dressed to perfection in an ivory gown that showed her bosom to high advantage with her hair swept up and away from her face.

"I would ask one request," she said and stepping forward, spoke softly.

"When you return the steeds I will expect a full report on the rogue's performance. "

Isobel widened her eyes and shot a glance toward MacGowan, who was packing supplies in black leather bags behind the high cantle of his borrowed saddle. "I have no intention of—"

"Neither does the sun intend to rise each morning in the east," Madelaine said. "And yet it does."

"Me lady," Isobel began, but Madelaine interrupted with a lift of her hand.

"Be happy that I am not demanding that you share the bounty. I but ask for a report. And to know if I am right about his secret."

Isobel glanced toward Gilmour again. He was just mounting, swinging one leg over the steed's croup, and revealing sun darkened muscles halfway up his thigh. "What secret?" she asked, though her throat had gone dry.

"If I told you, 'twould not be a secret," Madelaine said, and smiling enigmatically, sent them on their way.

They rode in silence for a long while. Near noon, they rested their steeds for a spell and shared a bit of the fine white bread that Madelaine had sent with them.

"I would beg one question."

Isobel glanced up. They sat on the bank of a rustling burn, and while the silence between them had been wearing, she feared that any conversation would be more so. Indeed, being in the same universe with him was tiring.

"Do you truly think I plan some evil against me brother, or were you merely using that as an excuse to be rid of me?"

Isobel fiddled with her wooden mug and refused to look at him. "You've given me no explanation for keeping company with the Munro."

"On the contrary—"

"Other than the fact that he is a good drinking companion," she said.

He nodded once. "And so, the jump to believing I intend me own brother harm. And what harm, I wonder?" he added. "Abduction? Murder?"

She said nothing.

"Why, Isobel? Why would I do it?"

"I do not know."

"Then I would ask what you believe."

She shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Mayhap you are jealous."

"Jealous. Of what?"

"Of your elder brother."

"Ramsay?" he said and laughed. It sounded forced.

"I forget," she said. "The great rogue of the rogues has no one of whom he is jealous. For he has all he could want." Silence settled over the glen, broken only by the soft rush of water nearby. "Except his brother's inheritance, his brother's..." She smiled faintly, remembering. "Allure."

"Allure? Ramsay?"

"One can see his soul in his very eyes," she said. "Depth there is and kindness. Still, there was a time I thought Anora daft for loving him. Until..."

"Continue."

" 'Tis naught," she said and prepared to rise. "We had best press on."

He caught her wrist. "Until what?"

She caught his gaze. "Until he kissed me."

"He kissed you!"

Her heart lurched in her chest for the intensity of his tone, but she calmed herself. "Aye, he kissed me," she said. "Indeed, I offered more once upon a time."

"Nay!" The sound seemed to come from the depths of his soul, but 'twas surely only his vanity that was hurting.

"Aye, I did indeed," she said.

"Was he such a magnificent lover then?"

"I would not know," she said, "for he sent me away. It seems he wished for no one but me sister."

His grip on her arm relaxed somewhat. "So he did not have you?"

"He is an honorable man."

"Shall I be jealous of that too then?"

"Nay. Not you," she said, and though she tried to sound sardonic, she could not quite manage it while remembering the night just past.

"Only his inheritance?"

"And his bride, of course." She had not meant to say the words, but they slipped out unbidden.

"Anora?"

"You have admitted to being tempted."

His voice rose. "I am attracted to her, thus you think I would see Ramsay gone so that I could have her for meself?"

"We should go," she said again, but he held her firm.

"After all we have endured together, you still think such of me? That I would harm me brother to hold his wife?"

"Where Anora goes, so goes Evermyst," she said, holding desperately to her beliefs lest she fall like a feather beneath his charms. "Mayhap 'tis the lofty keep that you covet. You would not be the first. Indeed, the Munro thought to have it by taking me sister and—"

"You would compare me with Innes Munro?"

"There are likenesses."

"I did not know you lusted so for the man."

"I do not lust after—"

"But you do for me."

"Nay, I—"

"You admitted as much, lass. Do you disremember?"

"I..." She searched for an explanation, but his closeness was boggling, and he grinned, seeming to read her mind. "I was merely attempting to make you feel better," she said.

His grin widened. "Shall I prove you a liar?" He drew her closer.

"Nay!" she said, and pulled away. He released his grip and she calmed her voice. "Mayhap you care not for me sister's well being, but I do."

She mounted rapidly then turned her steed away. For a moment she hoped he might let the matter pass, but she was wrong.

"Who has mistreated you so that you would distrust me as you do, Isobel?"

"Why do you ask, MacGowan? Would you defend me honor?"

"Who has mistreated you?" he asked again.

Their gazes caught and held, but she toned away. "I am not me sister," she said. "Indeed, I spent much of me own youth in Madelaine's household, and there is none more likely to teach a lass to be unafraid of the pleasures of the flesh."

"So you enjoyed her lads, did you?"

She shifted her eyes away. "Who would not?"

"Then why did you not accept their offer last night?"

"Do I not still have the freedom to say no if it pleases me?"

"So you were merely not interested at that time."

"That is so."

"You lie, Bel. When you left me you were wet with longing."

She could not look at him. "You flatter yourself," she said and felt heat rise up her neck to her ears.

He leaned closer, nudging his gray to the side so that his knee brushed against hers. "Nay lass, you flatter me. Each time you tremble, each time you sigh—and yet I am made to beg for the merest touch. Why is that, lass, when you want my touch so?"

"I do not."

"Aye, you do, but you are frightened. So I ask again, who has wounded you?"

"I have not been wounded."

"Aye, you—" he began, then paused. She turned rapidly toward him, thinking there was some evil on the road ahead, but his eyes were for her alone.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Men have not mistreated you?" he asked.

"Nay. Not until you," she said, but he barely acknowledged the gibe.

" 'Tis the answer then," he said.

"The answer to what?"

"Why you turn me aside. 'Tis not pain that you fear, but pleasure."

Her breath stopped in her chest. "What foolishness do you spew now? Why would anyone be afraid of pleasure?" She turned to stare woodenly between her mount's ears. Even so she could feel his gaze, hot as sunlight on her face.

"I do not know, Isobel," he said. "But I wish to."

"This I tell you; I am not afraid of anything you—" she began, but when she met his eyes, she saw they were dark and earnest. No humor showed there, only interest and concern and the unwanted darkness of compassion.

"We waste time," she said, and setting her heels to her mount, pressed frantically toward Evermyst.