He frowned. “When is the last time you ate?”
A delicate flush rose to her pale cheeks. “I don’t know.”
“I will send for something.” He started to get up, but she caught his arm.
“Please, don’t,” she beseeched. “I don’t want anything, not yet. Not until I know that you can forgive me. I’m so sorry, Rory—” Her voice broke. “There were many things I did wrong, and I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I would never betray you.”
He gathered her against him, her damp cheek pressed against his chest as he savored the sensation of holding her in his arms again. “I know.”
She looked up at him with watery eyes. “You do?”
“Aye,” he whispered, a husky caress deepening his voice. He could forgive her. Deep in his bones he knew that Isabel had not been merely acting over the past few months. She loved him; he knew she would not betray him. He must have accepted that when he sent her away, for she knew far too many of their secrets. If he’d truly believed her a traitor, he would not have allowed her to leave. Was not the badge of the MacLeods “Hold Fast”?God’s blood,he would hold fast to Isabel. She belonged to him, and he would have her. He could do his duty and have the woman he loved.
Rory bent over her, cupping her chin in his hand and forcing her to meet his gaze. “I will forgive you for not telling me about your uncle’s plan, but you will promise me that you will not listen in on any other private conversations—unintentional or not.”
Isabel blushed to her roots. “I promise. No more peeking through cracks in doors.”
“Good.” He swept a lock of hair from her face, looking at her tenderly. “And more important, you will also swear that you will never endanger yourself like this again.”
She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks again. “I didn’t know what else to do—”
“Shush.” He stopped her with a press of his fingers against her softly parted lips. He’d waited long enough, he had to taste her. No longer able to hold back, he lowered his head, covering her mouth with his in a gentle, seductive kiss. His heart jumped at the achingly familiar taste. She was pure ambrosia; the honey of her mouth mingled with the bittersweet salt from her tears.
But Isabel did not want a gentle wooing. At the first touch of his mouth, she moaned, encircling her arms around his neck, bringing him down hard on top of her. She strained and pressed against him, kissing him harder, with an almost desperate plea.
Rory felt his own restraint snap, responding to the savage cry of her desire. The subtle seduction of moments before was replaced by a violent surge of demanding passion. His mouth moved over hers hungrily, possessively, branding her with his lips and tongue. She belonged to him; he would leave her no doubt. Her mouth opened, and he slid in his tongue, locking with hers in an intimate duel of thrust and parry. He delved deeper and deeper, tasting, exploring, as if devouring the very recesses of her soul.
It wasn’t enough. Not until he was thrust deep inside her and she was shaking around him with the spasms of her release. Not until they had burned away the memories of their parting with the fire of their passion.
Even then, Rory knew it would never be enough.
From the first touch of his mouth, Isabel’s entire body shivered with relief and desire. She was nearly undone by the familiar taste and distinctively masculine smell of him. That wonderful mixture of salt and heather. She moaned, pressing her body deeper into his familiar hold. Gentle curves against warm, hard muscle.
Her hands roamed his back and shoulders, exploring the familiar ridges of steel. He’d regained some of the weight he had lost from the fever, she realized. But there was still a hungry leanness to him that had not been there before the attack. His muscles bulged under her fingertips, and a spark of awareness surged through her. The heat between them flamed instantly, as if it had never been extinguished. As if it had merely lain dormant, smoldering, these last two weeks. There was an urgency to their movements that recalled the long separation.
Isabel felt the familiar anxious tingling low in her belly; she instinctively shifted her hip toward his. Rory clutched her sore bottom, holding her firmly against the solid proof of his claim. The pain of the saddle was forgotten in the hazy warmth flooding her senses.
Suddenly, his hands were everywhere, cupping her breasts, molding her hips, sliding down her thighs. His mouth pressed against her neck and shoulders, scraping the delicate skin with his rough beard. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh, she wanted him so badly.
She felt his fingers expertly work the laces of her gown. He pushed the filthy gown off her shoulders and pulled it over her hips to drop to the floor. Next went her stays and bolster. His fingers slid under the thin linen fabric of her sark, tauntingly tracing the curve of her breast. Isabel felt singed wherever he touched. When his mouth deliciously followed the path of his hands, she wriggled uncontrollably. She felt her hose slide off, felt her sark lifted over her head, until she lay completely naked. Awareness tinged her skin pink.
But she was beyond embarrassment.
And Rory had completely exhausted his reserves. Isabel was mesmerized by the power of the desire that flooded his eyes as they roamed her naked body.
His voice was rough with emotion. “You are so beautiful, my love.”
He unfastened the brooch that held his plaid and pulled his wrinkledleine croichover his head.
It was her turn to admire him. Boldly, her eyes raked the flat stomach lined with muscle, the broad chest, the muscular arms and legs. The sheer size of his stiffened arousal. He was spectacular.
“So are you,” she said huskily.
“It’s been too long.”
Her mouth felt too dry to speak. She nodded.
He slid down on top of her. At the touch of his skin to hers, Isabel melted. She felt sweetly damp and hot where their bodies joined. When his length pressed into her belly, she circled her hips against him encouragingly, sliding her damp opening against the head of his arousal.
