And then, all at once, he pulled back, leaving her gasping for air, hands gripping at the phantom memory of his head.
A devious grin tagged on his lips at her disoriented state.
“What is it, wife? Cat got yer tongue?” His tone suggested he was only too amused, but the effect of his kiss was too potent still to incite any reaction from her.
He stood there before her for a moment longer, and then in a second he straightened up, his eyes back stony, and dragged the back of his hand along his mouth, like he was trying to dispose of the memory of her kiss as best he could.
“Camron—”
But before she could get a word out, he had turned and stormed out of the stable, leaving her standing there in complete shock at what had just transpired. With shaking hands, she reached to touch her lips again, wondering if she had just imagined their encounter or if she could have come up with something as vivid and as passionate as that. She clamped her legs together, trying to contain the rush of passion within her. What was this? A punishment for her lust? She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to…
She knew she couldn’t. She knew he was the only one who could stir such things in her. And she knew, above all else, that she wanted more. She wanted to see where that kind of desire would take them if she gave it the chance.
Chapter Eight
Camron slumpedinto the chair in his study, his documents splayed on the desk beside him. He had tried to distract himself reviewing the reports from the nearby landed gentry, but he had found himself unable to focus. His mind was drifting again and again to the infernal woman he could not seem to shake from his mind.
Isla.
Even her name in his head felt like a curse, one that he had written with his own hand. He should have heeded Damien’s warning when he pointed out how wild she was and what trouble she would cause. He’d imagined her as some wild horse he would need to take in hand, but it seemed as though the chaos she had caused might have been beyond what even he could cope with.
She had taken the run of the place, which had surprised him. She had not seemed like the domestic sort, part of the reason he had chosen her. He had imagined that she would find little joy in trying to change things in the household, and, given how comfortably everything had run for years now, there would be no reason to. But, instead, she had ordered the maids around like it was her God-given right, and, as his wife, he supposed it was.
Sitting in his chair had been one thing, but seeing her with Archie, out on that horse, had been another entirely. He had already dragged his cousin away from her once, when he had tried to dance with her the night of the wedding. That could have been written off as nothing more than an attempt to make her more comfortable in her newfound home, but there was something to the glint in Archie’s eye that told him otherwise.
And now, this horse-riding affair. When he had looked up from the window of his study to see the two of them emerging from the stables together, a flash of fury so intense ran through his system, and he had found himself bounding down the stairs before he could think twice.
Archie had never exactly been his favorite of the MacLeods. He would never turn away someone of his own blood, not on his family turf—and he had no intention of going back on that soon—but Archie, and the way he carried himself, was starting to rather push his luck around his new bride. He had never put much trust in him, but then, he had never been called to. But he liked his father well enough, and when he had asked for Archie to stay with him for a while, he had agreed. Perhaps it would be good for him to see how a real Laird lived—even if he seemed rather more interested in how his wife did.
He had never been jealous over a woman before, at least, not like this. But, he reasoned, this was his wife. If he was to be jealous about anyone, it would be her. It was more than just Archie, though. Every time she so much as glanced at another man or even laughed at a joke they made, he found his nostrils flaring and his fists clenching.
“She’s a storm… and I’m the fool standing in the rain,” he muttered to himself, not knowing how to handle Isla and her attitude.
He could not lack such control in the very place people looked to him for direction. He knew that, but how could hestand by and allow her to entertain the attentions of others when he was the one she had married?
“Might I interrupt ye, m’Laird?”
A voice cut through his thoughts, and Camron glanced around to see none other than Archie standing in the doorway. He was no doubt ready to lord it over him about how harshly he had reacted to his riding lessons with Isla the day before. Of course, Archie had no idea of what had happened afterwards, when she had followed him to the stables and they had shared a kiss so passionate it had left a brand on his very body.
He knew that everyone had expected them to begin their physical relationship immediately, but he would not force her when she seemed so utterly averse to the idea of even being close to him. Yes, she responded to his touch, but their minds were still so at odds with each other, he could not imagine it possible for her to trust him enough to take her to bed. Though he desperately wanted to, with an obsession that seemed almost destructive.
His desire was clouding his better judgment, and, while a part of him wished for nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and carry her to bed, he knew better than to push her. She had shown him time and time again that she did not take well to being forced, and he had no doubt she would find some way to torture him and the rest of the household further if he dared suggest anything more.
“Care for some sparring practice?” Archie continued, resting his elbow on the doorframe and grinning. “I was about to go out mysel’, thought you could use a chance to… unburden yerself.”
The way he spoke, it was clear he was referencing Camron’s outburst the day before. Camron grimaced. He had no doubt that news of his harshness had spread through the Keep, just as gossip about his wife’s reordering of the place had reached his ears before he had so much as laid eyes on her.
Rising to his feet, he nodded, looking Archie in the eye as he accepted.
“Aye,” he replied. “I’m sure I could do wi’ keeping my hand in.”
“Especially with yer new wife,” Archie remarked, his voice light, as the two made their way out of the study and down the stairs. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of men who wish to… Well, I shan’t say it, out of respect for yer new bride.”
Camron strode out ahead of him, ignoring his pointed words, and went straight to the armory to pick up their practice gear. Damien was there and parted his lips as if intending to say something to him, but when he saw the look on his face, he thought better of it. Camron made his way out into the courtyard, which was bathed in sunshine, a far cry from his stormy mood.
Archie tested the weight of his practice blade in his hand, grinning as he rounded on Camron.
“Now, I promise no’ to go too easy on?—”
