Her heart had leapt for a moment, thinking from his words that he might be concerned. But when she met his blank gaze, she knew it was not so. The man had a face about as yielding as stone.
“I wanted to make sure my kinsmen departed safely. I hoped that they might reconsider and remain at Dunvegan until the storm passed.”
She winced, knowing that she sounded defensive.
“Well, you can see that they have gone. Return to the keep and dry yourself before you catch a chill.”
His brusque tone, coupled with the acute loneliness she was feeling at the moment, stung. She nodded, unable to keep the wounded expression from her face.
He must have noticed, for he let out an exasperated sigh and offered her some semblance of reassurance. “’Tis for the best, lass. Your uncle will never be welcome at Dunvegan. And after the trouble yesterday, tensions between the clans were running high. The MacLeods and MacDonalds will never be friends.”
Isabel thought she detected another warning in his voice. “Friends perhaps not. But no longer enemies. Our handfast has put an end to the feud.”
His mouth tightened. “For a year, at least,” he qualified. Isabel experienced a moment of panic, thinking that perhaps he’d overheard something. But then he continued, “It will take longer than a year to repair the damage of a lifetime of feuding.”
“But it is a good beginning,” she said. Something else was bothering her. “About what happened yesterday…it was wrong of me to try to interfere. Nor did I intend to question your decision.” It had been wrong of her. She was chastened to realize that despite the harsh punishment, there were no grumblings among the MacLeods. His decisions were respected.
Rory nodded, accepting her apology. “Why did you?”
“I didn’t want anything to mar the celebration. And when I saw my brother, I guessed what had happened. I know my brothers. They mean no harm, but I realized that your men do not know them as I do. Ian was very sorry for the trouble he caused.”
“He told me so himself.” Rory must have seen her look of surprise. “He apologized for disrupting the celebration and admitted he did not know the lass was wed. He is young yet, but I admire his integrity.”
Isabel smiled, pleased that the MacLeod acknowledged how difficult it must have been for Ian to apologize after the matter had already been decided in his favor.
“You are fond of your brothers?” he asked.
Isabel nodded. “Very much so.”
He stared at her intently. “And they of you?”
She hesitated. “Of course.”
Rory must have heard the uncertainty in her voice. “I am sure it was difficult for them to leave you as well. But it is for the best. With your family gone, your adjustment at Dunvegan will be easier. Unless you are having second thoughts?”
“No, of course not,” she said too quickly.
He lifted a brow that suggested he did not believe her. “I noticed your intense conversation with your uncle. I thought perhaps you might be reconsidering.”
Isabel felt her pulse quicken.
He stared at her hard, waiting for her to explain, which of course she could not. “If you were watching, then you must know I was simply bidding my uncle farewell.”
“It seemed rather more than a simple farewell. He appeared to be giving you some sort of instructions.”
Isabel sucked in her breath, her pulse now racing frantically. How could he have possibly guessed? Rory MacLeod was much too observant.
Think, Isabel.
Well,she thought,men loved obedient women, didn’t they?
She smiled demurely, fluttering her long lashes at him. “Very well, you are right, Rory.”
His brows lifted in surprise.
She forced what she hoped was a becoming blush. “My uncle was giving me instructions.” She paused. “Instructions on how to be a proper and obedient wife. Instructions on how to please you.”
He seemed to tense, as if her words had knocked the breath from him. His eyes met hers. This time, there was no mistaking the flash of heat. “I would like to hear those instructions.” His gaze slipped to her mouth and down the length of her body, lingering on her breasts. “On how exactly you intend to please me.”
