He did not bother to hide his fury. His voice was every bit as dark and dangerous as the strange emotions she evoked in him. “Do not test my patience, Isabel.”
From her silence, he knew she’d heeded his warning. He sensed her nervousness as he steered her outside toward the Fairy Tower, through the entry, and up the stairs. He pulled open the door to his solar, pushed her inside, and slammed the door behind them with a resounding thud.
She stood in the middle of the room, her hands fumbling in her skirt. Venturing a cautious peek from under her lashes, she asked, “What do you mean to do?”
“Not what I should do,” he snapped. His gaze burned down the length of her body. She shivered in its wake. “That gown is indecent. What could you be thinking wearing something so inappropriate?”
“It’s a bit revealing, perhaps—”
“A bit revealing?” he exploded. “I can see the damn edge of your nipples!”
Her cheeks blazed. “Don’t yell at me.”
Rory forced himself to calm. “I’m not yelling,” he said in a lower voice.I’m so aroused, I can barely think.
“I didn’t think you’d notice what I wear,” she said defiantly.
“Oh, I noticed all right. As did every man in the hall with a pulse. My wife, the lady of this keep, will not flaunt herself like a wanton before my men.”
He saw a spark of defiance flare in her eyes. “Temporary wife,” she corrected.
“Is that what this is about?” His gaze sharpened. “You’ll learn that I cannot be manipulated, Isabel. Not by you and certainly not by a scrap of fabric. No matter how revealing.”
“You’re wrong.” She stuck up that adorable chin. “I like this dress, that is all.”
He grabbed her by the arm and looked right in her eyes so there would be no mistaking his meaning. “You’ll never wear that dress again, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”
“What consequences?” she asked with a rebellious toss of her flaming hair.
The lass didn’t know how precariously close she was to finding out. Every nerve ending in his body was set on edge, primed for release. He wanted to rip the dress from her body and cover every inch of that velvety skin with his. He wanted her hot and aching, throbbing with need, just like him. Instead, he ignored her reckless challenge and moved to the adjoining chamber where their clothes were stored, threw open the door, and yanked out a gown. A sufficiently modest gown of green velvet.
“Change,” he ordered. “Now.”
“But Bessie—”
A slow smile curved his lips as he met her anxious gaze. “You won’t be needing a serving woman.”
Isabel withered under the heat of his predatory stare. She realized belatedly that she’d pushed him too far. The look of raw possession in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. The primal intensity she read there made her think he’d like to do nothing more than toss her on the bed and ravish her like a hell-bent marauding Viking. For the first time since she’d come to Dunvegan, Isabel sensed danger. This man she could not control.
She bit her lip and took a step back. Perhaps she’d miscalculated slightly. The wisdom of wearing this dress suddenly escaped her.
“Take it off,” he ordered.
“I c-c-can’t.”
She heard him curse as he grabbed her by the waist, turned her around, and began unlacing her gown with undeniable skill. Rory MacLeod had had plenty of practice unlacing ladies’ gowns. She felt a pang suspiciously like jealousy.
Still, there was something incredibly intimate about his fingers working the laces of her dress. He stood so close, she could smell the distinctive scent of his soap. She felt every touch, every gentle press of his fingers, as he slowly made a path down the length of her spine. His hands came to rest around her waist and she was deeply aware of how close his fingers were to her breasts. How easy it would be for him to stroke her. He moved closer and her breath caught. He, too, was not unaffected. His breath, suddenly uneven, warmed the bare skin of her neck and shoulders, making her skin prickle.
His touch was driving her mad with longing. She felt so strange, boneless, as if she had melted into a deep, warm puddle. Her body flooded with sensations that she didn’t understand.
His lips hovered achingly close to her neck as his fingers slid along her back. She sank against him, closing her eyes, silently begging for more. He slid the sleeves past her shoulders, his fingers singeing a path along her sensitive skin. She moaned when his lips finally touched her neck in a soft caress. The scrape of his chin sent a rush of heat through her veins. Her nipples hardened. And God, he knew. With one swipe of his thumb across the throbbing peak, she dissolved against him, taking refuge in the solid strength of his chest and arms.
She sensed his urgency as he kissed her harder, his hot mouth climbing the length of her neck, savaging the tender skin with the force of his desire. His hunger for her had broken free, unleashing a fierce passion that she never would have imagined. Perversely, this dangerous, unpredictable side of him excited her. Her body drenched with heat, savoring the press of his muscled body behind her. The thick column of his arousal against her bottom gave hard proof to his desire.
She felt his tongue, his lips, and every scratch of his stubbled jaw with a startling intensity. Her skin seemed so incredibly sensitive—so alive. He drew her earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently as his tongue circled her ear, his ragged breath making her tremble and shiver.
But it wasn’t enough.
