“I find you on your hands and knees in the storeroom looking under shelves and you have to ask?”
She seemed to find humor in his description and grinned. “Oh, very well.” She paused, making a great show of brushing the dust off her skirts. “You found me out. Colum has promised to teach me how he makes his delicious marzipan cakes, and I’ve been sent to the stores to requisition the almonds and sugar.”
Rory had learned from Deidre that Isabel had made a quick admirer of his taciturn and cantankerous old cook. “A good excuse for finding you in the storeroom, perhaps, but that does not explain what you were looking for under those shelves.”
“I was getting to that,” she said haughtily. “While I was collecting the ingredients, I heard something drop and roll under the shelves. I feared it must be a pearl from my earring.”
“Hmm,” Rory murmured. “Shall we see?” Slowly he reached out, slipping his hand through her hair to pull it away from her ear. The soft, silken waves slid across his skin and sent a shock rippling through him. Gently, he gripped the velvety skin of her neck with his fingers, breathing in the sweet bouquet of lavender as he bent to examine her earrings. The temptation to loosen the ribbon that bound her hair and bury his hands in the silken warmth was almost overpowering.
His voice sounded unnaturally deep. “You don’t appear to be missing anything.”
“I know I heard something drop.” She sounded flustered, but whether it was from his touch or her lie he could not tell. “Perhaps it was from my brooch,” she offered quickly.
His eyes slid down to the piece of jewelry fastened between her breasts. Eyes wide, she followed the movement of his hand as it trailed from her ear to her bodice. When he brushed the heavy curve of her breast with the back of his finger, he heard her sharp intake of breath. The erotic sound filled him with heat—as did the immediate tightening of her nipple. Her gaze flew to his and awareness stretched taut between them. He could hear the unevenness of her breath coming between her softly parted lips as he inspected the brooch with his fingers. It would be so easy to slip his hand under the bodice of her gown, to feel the velvet of her skin, to massage his thumb across the hard tip. To feel the shudder of passion sweep through her.
He leaned closer, inhaling the sweet perfume of her skin, feeling the heat of desire swirl over him. His cock thickened, and his loins grew heavy with need. Just one little stroke…
But he knew it would not be enough. He’d want more. Much more.
God’s wounds,no woman had ever affected him so effortlessly.
Taking a step back, he removed his hand and allowed his pulse to return to normal, waiting for the vise hold of lust to dissipate before he spoke. “Again, there appears to be nothing missing.”
“I know I heard something,” she insisted, a pink flush still staining her cheeks. But rather than offer another paltry excuse, she asked instead, “Why are you here?”
His gaze sharpened.A good tactic,he thought, but one that did not fool him. He studied her, wishing he could see inside that beautiful head. Why was she spending so much time in the underground kitchens, and what was she really looking for? He didn’t think it was a missing pearl. Allowing her to stay in the old keep by herself was an unnecessary risk. There was an easy solution, one that shouldn’t be difficult to make. Rory knew what he had to do, unreasonable lust or not.
“I was looking for you,” he said.
“You were?”
He nodded. “It’s time.” It had been for a while. The servants, he knew, had begun to gossip. He might not intend to wed the lass, but he would not shame her. In all but one way, she would be his wife.
“Time for what?” she asked cautiously.
“It has been long enough. You shall move your things into my chamber in the Fairy Tower.” Where it would be easier to keep an eye on her. Keeping everything else off her was going to be the difficulty.
That was a close call.Isabel exhaled slowly, noting the rigid set of his broad shoulders as he disappeared up the kitchen stairs. It shook her to realize just how close she’d come to discovery. As she’d done every day since her family’s departure, Isabel had been exploring the old keep from top to bottom, paying particular attention to the catacomb of tunnels located near the kitchens and dungeon for a secret entry. Rory, materializing out of nowhere, had startled and thoroughly discomposed her. Isabel’s heart had about dropped to her toes when he started questioning her…and then for other reasons.
She hadn’t set out to entice him with her explanation, only distract him. Instead it was she who had been distracted. The attraction that sizzled between them still warmed her. He radiated heat. Heat that drew her in. When he’d put his hand on her neck and brushed his finger over her breast, she’d felt a strange pull from deep inside her. Her skin prickled with awareness. Every movement, every touch, every hesitation, seemed emblazoned on her skin.
He left her wanting more. She’d wanted him to pull her into his arms and kiss her. To touch her. To ease the tension coiling inside her.
But she’d seen the flash of desire in his gaze and knew that he was not unaffected. And now he wanted her in his room. It could only mean one thing. He intended to make her his bride in truth.
For the rest of the day, Isabel was a bundle of nerves. All she could think about was what would happen that night. She might be innocent, but she was not without knowledge of what occurred between men and women. Traipsing after her profligate brothers had unintentionally taught her much.
Her virginity was a natural casualty of their plan. But she’d always imagined it would be a sacrifice. That she would have to grit her teeth and bear it. Never did she imagine the knot of anticipation swirling in her belly. Anticipation that had nothing to do with the plan and everything to do with the man who with only a touch made her tremble with newly awakened passion. She could not deny that he affected her. She would just have to make sure that she didn’t allow herself to get caught up in the unfamiliar sensations but stayed focused on her goal.
With Bessie’s and Deidre’s help, Isabel moved her belongings to his room. After instructing Deidre where to have her trunks placed, Isabel busied herself about the room placing her hairbrush and mirror on the large table beside the fireplace and the book of sonnets that she was currently reading on the table next to the bed. She was scattering her belongings among his just as if she were a young bride happily sharing a bower with her new husband.
Her new living space impressed her. Rory’s chamber, on the third floor of the modern Fairy Tower, was a beautiful, albeit definitely masculine, room sparsely furnished with heavy wooden furniture. Large windows provided a panoramic view of the loch. A small fireplace supplied heat. The wooden walls were painted a soft yellow but otherwise unadorned. Colorful jewel-toned carpets similar to those in the downstairs hall covered the floor.
But the enormous four-posted bed dominated the room. It was similar to the bed in her old chamber with its luxurious thick feather mattress and pillows, except that it did not have the colorful silk hangings surrounding it. There was a simple wool coverlet and cozy fur pelt for cold nights. A tall stack of books and haphazardly strewn parchments littered the top of the table that must serve as his desk. Another small table near the window held a basin for washing, and a large chest sufficed for storing his clothes.
Though stark, the room was warm and comfortable and a welcome departure from the rustic old keep. But all day long, her eyes kept drifting back to the bed. And her mouth went dry, as she wondered what the night would bring.
The little flutter in her chest started as soon as she took her seat next to him at the dais for the evening meal. He acknowledged her arrival with a curt nod of his head and immediately returned his attention to Alex. Isabel tried to hide her disappointment. Part of her had hoped today would be a turning point. That the virtually silent meals she’d endured for the past three weeks would be at an end.
