Sitting so close to her all afternoon and trying to ignore her had been a lesson in perseverance.
She looked enchantingly dainty next to him, and so damnably lovely. They were squeezed close together on the bench, and each time she moved she brushed against him, sending bolts of awareness shooting through him.
Isabel MacDonald was a woman who seduced by mere proximity. The subtle fragrance of lavender that wafted from her hair, the delicate way her fingers picked at the food on their trencher, the half-lidded expression of pleasure in her eyes as she savored a delicious morsel, the enticing way her tongue darted out to catch a stray grain of sugar on her lip. He couldn’t watch her without imagining the same look on her face as he pleasured her or her tongue flicking out to taste other things with equal relish. The blatant sensuality of her movements was made all the more powerful by the simmering passion he’d detected in her kiss.
Everything about her screamed soft, sweet femininity and hot, passionate sex just waiting to be released. And Rory, or at least his body, was listening.
He couldn’t look at her without getting hard. Her breasts were incredible, lush and round, displayed to mouth-watering perfection in her gown. He ached to feel them in his hands, in his mouth, and pressed against his naked chest. The temptation to take what was rightfully his proved more difficult than he’d imagined. He couldn’t wait for the meal to end.
His lustful thoughts were turned by a loud crash from across the room, shattering the peace of the celebration. He heard a table turning over and the unmistakable thump of fists and the sounds of a skirmish. A quick glance told him all he needed to know—two men, MacDonald versus MacLeod.
Rory stood up, rigid with fury.“Enough.”The boom of his voice snapped like a whip across the hall. The room fell to a deadly hush. The men stopped fighting as all eyes turned to him.
He heard Isabel gasp beside him. “Ian,” she cried softly.
Rory recognized Isabel’s youngest brother, still huffing from the exertion of the brawl, blood streaming down the side of his face from a cut at his temple. Opposite him stood Fergus MacLeod, one of his own men. A fierce warrior, but also a quick-tempered one. Rory took in the situation, noting the horrified serving girl standing just to the side. Fergus’s wife.
“Here.” Rory pointed to the foot of the dais. “Both of you.” When they stood before him, he ordered, “Explain.”
Both men started at once.
“One at a time.” When they’d finished, it was as Rory thought. Ian had flirted with the pretty serving girl a little too vehemently for the likes of her husband. Fergus had reacted by slamming his fist into Ian’s face, breaking the peace.
Rory clenched his jaw and stared at his man, not bothering to hide his displeasure.
“I hope you intend to do something about this, MacLeod,” Sleat said, obviously relishing the situation.
Rory ignored him. He did not need to be reminded of his duty.
The heat of the battle had worn off enough for Fergus to realize what he’d done.
“What have you to say for yourself?” Rory demanded. “You’ve broken the sacred obligation of Highland hospitality and disturbed the peace of this hall.” He gestured to Ian. “This man is our guest.”
Fergus bowed his head, knowing his actions had shamed the clan. “I acted without thought.”
Before he could hand down the punishment, Isabel put a tiny hand on his arm. “Please—”
Rory stiffened. He knew what she was going to say. He was also aware of the eyes still upon them. “Don’t interfere, Isabel.”
“Please,” she whispered in a soft voice. “It wasn’t all his fault.”
Gazing down at her hand on his arm, Rory felt something strange twist in his chest. He should be furious that she dared question his authority before his clan, but instead he admired her sense of justice. Even if it was misplaced. “Do I need to instruct you on the obligation of Highland hospitality?”
“No, it’s only that—”
“Enough,” he said, this time harsh enough for her to stop. He turned back to Fergus and made his ruling. “For your actions, you shall pay the fine of three spring calves. Two for the MacDonalds and one to me.”
A collective gasp followed his ruling, but the angry glares were directed at the MacDonalds and not at Rory. He heard the serving girl begin to sob. It was a harsh punishment, but a fair one. He sat down to resume his meal, though in truth he’d lost his appetite.
Rory sat quietly for a long time, furious at having his decision questioned but struck by her compassion all the same. Especially since the man involved was her brother.
“My decision displeased you,” he said. “You think it too harsh?”
She picked at the bits of food on their trencher before answering. “His family will suffer a substantial loss of income.”
“Aye. It will cost them severely, but they will not starve. Fergus broke a sacred obligation, disparaged the honor of the clan, and must be punished accordingly. That is my duty.” He cursed himself for explaining further. “What kind of chief would I be if I did not uphold our laws?”
“There is no shame in compassion.”
