Craigievar Castle, November 1598

One

Isobel Forbes waited patiently by the hearth in the sun-filled parlour of her family’s tower house in the Grampian Hills. Patience was not a virtue anyone of Isobel’s acquaintance would ascribe to her, but it was one she’d had no choice but to develop when it came to Ewan Mackenzie, the man her nana had predicted was Isobel’s true love. As she’d been waiting for this day for nine years, Isobel felt she’d developed more patience than was good for a body. It seemed unfair to her that her sisters – all five of them, who were much more suited to the virtue – had within a matter of months married the men their nana had predicted to be their true loves.

Her amused gaze followed her seven exuberant nieces who chased one another through the cluttered room while their harried mothers and handsome fathers tried to rescue the pitchers of flowers and side tables they knocked over in their enthusiasm, and a smile curved her lips. Her time had come. On this day, Isobel would wed Ewan Mackenzie, the man who’d rode through the mist on a moonlit night just as her nana had foreseen. Not once, but twice.

The corners of her mouth turned down ever so slightly as her mind returned to the day she’d learned that the handsome highlander, who set the hearts of women – both young and old – afluttering, was to be hers. Isobel, at fifteen, had barely been able to contain her excitement the night her nana sent her to their neighbours’ lands with the Forbes heart stone in hand – a heart-shaped piece of red sandstone that had come from the magickal Stone of Destiny – and a promise that the first man to ride through the mist on that moonlit night was destined to be Isobel’s true love.

Nothing could have prepared Isobel for the sight of Ewan Mackenzie that night. She’d been rendered speechless, a rare occurrence for her. The only thing she’d managed to mumble in response to his question – asked in a deep voice that had sent heated shivers through her body – was that she’d been waiting for him. But when the second anniversary of that day had passed without Ewan coming to claim her, Isobel complained to her sister Edeen about the long delay. It was then she’d learned what her sisters had been trying to keep from her. Ewan Mackenzie had been betrothed to another.

Certain her nana must have misinterpreted her vision, and Ewan was not her true love after all, Isobel had returned that very night to the Burnetts’ moors in hopes of finding the man who was. Her body had trembled with anticipation as the horses had thundered through the fog. Her jaw dropped as, once again, Ewan Mackenzie rode masterfully through the mist on his great black steed. His damp honey-gold hair was slicked back from a face she hadn’t thought could become more beautiful, but it had, breath-stealingly so. Her heart had fluttered in her chest when she’d lifted her gaze to his. Eyes reputed to be the colour of sapphires locked with hers and the night went silent. In that moment, there had been nothing but the two of them. A heated awareness had sizzled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. As though he’d felt the same, he’d jerked back. And then she’d remembered, he was promised to another.

Her dreams of a happily-ever-after destroyed with that one thought, she’d turned her mount and fled from the Burnett lands. Her father had come upon her crying in the stables and had berated her nana for filling Isobel’s head with fanciful nonsense. Nana had swiftly disabused him of the notion and Isobel of hers. Ewan’s betrothed – Jenny McRae – had married his cousin.

Determined to seek Ewan out at first light and introduce herself, Isobel went to the Burnett’s where the annual gathering was being held, only to be told Ewan was participating in the hunt. Undeterred, she’d dressed with care for the festivities planned that eve. While she wove her way through the heated crush in search of him, the guests raised their glasses to toast the announcement of Ewan Mackenzie’s betrothal to Lorna Sinclair. Isobel forced the memory from her head and a smile to her lips.

Three weeks ago a missive had arrived from Castle Leod with the offer for her hand. Her father, William, furious at the manner in which the offer had been made, had all but denied the match until her sisters and nana intervened. Privately, Isobel thought he’d conceded because he’d begun to despair she’d ever wed. Of late the offers for her hand had slowed to a trickle. Over the years there had been several she’d given serious consideration to, but all she had to do was look to her sisters’ happy marriages and think on what had become of her father and Anna when they’d not heeded her nana’s visions. It had become easier to refuse when last year she’d learned Ewan was a widower.

Isobel smiled at her sister Edeen, who’d come to stand beside her. Edeen gave a comforting squeeze to Isobel’s shoulder. “You had a pensive look aboot you, Izzie. You’re no havin’ second thoughts, are you?”

“The time for second thoughts is long past. Although da appears to be havin’ a few of his own,” she said wryly, watching her father pace from one end of the room to the other, a sure sign of his growing temper. William’s temper was as fiery as the curly red hair atop his head.

“Och, Willie, would ye sit doon. Ye’re makin’ me dizzy.” Their nana, with her pretty lightly-lined face and silver hair pulled back neatly at the nape of her neck, called from where she sat on the blue settee surrounded by her great granddaughters. She gave Isobel a reassuring wink.

Edeen smiled. “Well, the groom is a touch late.”

“Since you ken how long I’ve been waitin’, you’ll understand an hour doesna concern me overmuch.”

Her sister wrapped her arm around Isobel’s shoulder. “Aye, you have, but then you ken what happens when a Forbes doesna wed the one nana has foreseen.”

“Aye,” Isobel said quietly, thinking of their eldest sister Anna, who’d done just that and paid for it with her life.

“Sorry, love, ’tis no’ the time for sad thoughts, no’ with you lookin’ so bonny on your weddin’ day.”

Isobel fingered the low-cut décolletage of the yellow gown her sisters had insisted she wear. They said it showed off her long chestnut curls and hazel eyes to best advantage. She’d heeded their advice. She wanted to look her best for Ewan. Although Isobel had been told often enough that she was pretty, Lorna Mackenzie had been stunning, as breathtakingly beautiful as her husband.

A commotion in the entry hall drew her attention from her shortcomings when compared to Ewan’s first wife.

“Aboot bloody time,” her father muttered.

“Willie,” her nana admonished. Setting the bairns aside, Olivia Forbes came to stand by Isobel. “Yer mon has come, my bonny, just as I promised ye he would.”

“Be happy, love. We’ll miss you.” Edeen kissed her cheek then went to stand with their sisters who blew Isobel kisses. Mimicking their mothers, her nieces did the same. Isobel blinked back tears. Overjoyed her wedding day had finally come, she hadn’t thought of all she stood to lose. She adored her family and would miss them something fierce. Leod was several days ride from Craigievar and visits would be few and far between. She held on to the thought that one day soon she’d have bairns of her own to spoil as she did her nieces.

An elderly man entered the hall.

“Laird Roderick Mackenzie,” the manservant announced.

“Sweet Mother of God, ’tis the wrong one,” Isobel gasped.

Beneath a shock of white hair, the man’s bright blue eyes twinkled. “Nay, lass, I’m here on my grandson Ewan’s behest. I’m to wed ye to him by proxy.”

Astride his black steed, Ewan Mackenzie bid farewell to the men who’d fought under his command in France. Their purses now heavy with coin, they were anxious to return to their families – as anxious as Ewan was to return to his own. It had been a year since he’d seen his young sons. Too long for bairns to be without their da, but it couldn’t be helped. The Mackenzies were in dire need of coin, and a sword for hire had been the only way for Ewan to raise the much needed funds. He scowled, thinking of his grandda and the missive that had made its way to Ewan across the channel.

“He’s scowlin’ again, Randall. ’Tis certain he’s thinkin’ on grandda.” His dark-haired cousin Callum observed with a laugh. Both Callum and his twin brother Randall had fought alongside Ewan in France and now accompanied him to Leod.

“Aye, I’m thinkin’ if he wishes to see another day he’d best no’ have contacted the Forbes,” Ewan said irritably.

“Mayhap ’tis no’ a bad idea, Ewan. You said yourself you were tired of the fightin’ and missin’ your wee lads. William Forbes is reputed to be the richest man in Scotland. I’m sure the lass’s tocher would allow you to give up the sword,” Randall said.

Ewan’s fingers tightened on the leather reins. “Aye, I am, but I’ll no’ be tied to another wench of his choosing so I can do so. The old man canna see past the coin to the viper he saddles me with.”

Randall bristled. “Jenny is no’ a viper.”

“Nay, I was referring to Lorna. But if ye hadna kidnapped Jenny, I’d be wed to her and the three of us would be miserable.”

“I wouldna had to kidnap her if you’d stood up to grandda,” Randall grumbled.

“Aye, well, I was but a lad of twenty and wanted nothin’ more than to please the old man.” His grandda had taken the place of Ewan’s parents when they’d died of fever, and Ewan would’ve done anything for Roderick and the clan. It had been the same when he’d wed Lorna Sinclair. Although, he admitted, he’d been as enamoured with her beauty as all the men had been, it hadn’t taken long for him to discover she was a cold-hearted, treacherous bitch beneath her angelic facade. If she hadn’t died fleeing Scotland with one of her many lovers, Ewan would have found some way to divorce her, no matter the shame it brought his family.

Mayhap if she’d been any kind of mother to his sons, he would have been satisfied to lead separate lives, but she’d spared the bairns not a moment of her time or affection. He shoved aside the thought the lads may not be his. It didn’t matter. If they were not sons of his loins, they were sons of his heart.

“I understand how you feel after what you suffered at Lorna’s hands, but for all you ken Isobel Forbes is a grand lass and would make you a fine wife. Your lads need a mother, Ewan.”

“Callum’s right. I’ve never heard ’aught said against the Forbes lassies. They were always aboot when we attended the gatherin’s at the Burnetts’. Are you sure you doona ken them, Ewan?”

“Nay,” Ewan grunted. His cousins were wasting their breath. Ewan would not marry again, especially a woman of his grandda’s choosing. He’d done his duty – he’d provided heirs. But they were right about one thing – he was determined to remain at Leod with his sons. He just had to find a way to provide for the clan so he could.

“Ewan, you canna tell me you doona recall the gatherin’s at the Burnetts’. Doona you remember the lass you went chasin’ through the woods after, only to end up knockin’ yourself out instead?”

How could he forget? There’d been something about the lass that had called to him. A charged jolt of awareness when his eyes met hers, a feeling he’d never experienced before or since. It was as though his body recognized her and urged him to claim her, make her his own. Unbeknownst to his cousin, Ewan hadn’t taken part in the hunt that day. He’d scoured the countryside for her, only to return in time for the festivities to hear his grandda announce his betrothal to Lorna Sinclair.

Randall chuckled. “Must be somethin’ aboot the moonlight and the Burnetts’ moors that calls the lassies to our cousin here. Do you recall the lass we met up with the summer before grandda announced your betrothal to Jenny?”

He hadn’t, not until his cousin mentioned it. They’d come through the mist to find a bonny wee lass astride her horse. Ewan had asked what she was doing on her own. His lips twitched as he recalled her sweet, innocent smile and her answer. “I’m waitin’ for you.” He’d laughed and promised to come back for her. He started at the thought; the two lassies were one and the same. He shook off his bemusement. He had no time for whimsical fancy of bonny lassies waiting for him in the moonlight.

In the valley far below from where they sat astride their horses, Castle Leod shimmered in the midday sun. The sweet scent of heather filled the warm summer air and Ewan’s chest tightened. Aye, ’twas good to be home.

“Is that grandda?” Callum asked. Shielding his eyes with one hand while he waved the other, he called out to the old man who appeared to be chasing a woman through the heather.

“If ’tis, lets hope the woman has coin and grandda can wed her because he’ll no be gettin’ me to the altar again.”

Two

Isobel blew her flour-dusted hair from her eyes. The kitchens were sweltering. Her body was slick with sweat beneath the old gown she’d chosen for the task the bairns had set out for her. Robbie and Connor watched her closely, their eyes wide as she turned out the honey cakes they’d asked her to bake in honour of their father’s return. She tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her belly at the knowledge that the man who was now her husband would arrive on the morrow.

“Nay, Robbie.” Connor shook his head of auburn curls and grabbed his brother’s hand before he could stick his finger in the cake.

“Can we have a wee taste, mam? Please,” Robbie begged, lifting his startling blue eyes to hers.

Isobel’s chest tightened as it did every time she looked upon their sweet faces. Roderick hadn’t mentioned Ewan’s children until they’d arrived at the castle. For Isobel, it had been a welcome surprise. She’d been living at Castle Leod for well over six months now and, recently, Connor and Robbie had taken to calling her mam. The first time they did so she’d been moved to tears. She’d come to love them as if they were her own.

Isobel ruffled Robbie’s golden curls – a shade lighter than the colour she remembered his father’s to be – about to concede.

“Mam,” Connor said sternly. “They’re for da, remember?”

Isobel bit back a laugh at the reproachful look in Connor’s light blue eyes. Connor, who seemed much older than his six years, thought Isobel spoiled Robbie terribly as he was wont to tell her at least twice a day. Noting the quiver in Robbie’s bottom lip, she said, “There’s two. Surely your da wouldna mind if I give you both a wee piece?” With her thumb and forefinger, she indicated the size.

“Nay, da is a verra braw man. You canna have any, Robbie,” Connor said mulishly.

“I promise, I’ll make another one on the morrow, Connor.” Isobel prayed the kitchens would not be as hot then. It wouldn’t do to meet her husband in the sorry state she now found herself. She doubted Lorna Mackenzie had ever looked anything short of perfect.

Upon her arrival at Leod, Isobel had worried how the Mackenzie clan – and more importantly, Ewan’s children – would respond to her. Would they find her lacking? But not once had she’d been made to feel that way. She’d been happy and relieved to be so readily accepted, but couldn’t help wonder why not once in all this time had Lorna been mentioned. From what little she could pry from Roderick – who insisted Isobel call him grandda – she’d learned Robbie had been only one when his mother died. Isobel thought Connor, at least, would have some difficulty accepting her in the role of his mother. He hadn’t. Far from it.

Roderick had been no more forthcoming in regards to how her betrothal had come about than he’d been about Lorna. She’d mentioned it to her nana, who at her father’s insistence had accompanied Isobel to Leod, but Olivia had simply brushed her worries aside with the admonishment that her second sight had yet to fail her.

“Nay,” Connor said arms crossed. The sight of his three-year-old brother’s tears not bothering him in the least.

They bothered Isobel, and she was about to try and cajole Connor into relenting when the side door opened. Roderick, with his trews and tunic rumpled and his shock of white hair standing on end, rushed past her. He came to an abrupt halt and backtracked. Taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her cheek. “Ye’re a grand lass. Ken if I breathe my last this day, I’ve come to love ye most dearly, henny. Ye, too, my bairns. If anyone asks, I’ve been on my deathbed this past week,” he shouted the last over his shoulder as he rushed from the kitchens.

Barely had Isobel recovered from her surprise when her nana hurried through the door. Olivia’s hair hung loose about her shoulders, bits of heather clinging to her silver locks, her grey gown grass-stained. “Nana, you look like you’ve been rollin’ around in the …” Isobel’s eyes widened as a rosy flush tinted her nana’s face. That was exactly what she’d been doing and she’d been doing it with Roderick! Isobel shouldn’t be surprised, the two of them had been acting like a pair of lovesick fools of late.

“No time, my bonny, I must see to Roderick.”

“It appears that the way you’ve been seein’ to the man has just aboot killed …” Isobel rolled her eyes when her nana fled the room.

“Mam, Robbie stole the cakes!” Connor cried, racing from the kitchens.

Sweet Mary Mother of God, the heat must be drivin’ them all mad.

Isobel set off after Connor, certain he’d pummel his brother if he got ahold of him. “Connor, Robbie,” she called out. Rounding the corner, she came to a shocked standstill. Her husband stood in the entry hall, looking every inch the battle-hardened warrior Roderick proudly proclaimed him to be. His grandson’s exploits were the notable exception to Roderick’s reticence. Ewan Mackenzie, majestically tall with broad shoulders and rippling muscles, surveyed his home. Two dark-haired men stood at his back, but Isobel barely registered their presence.

Ewan’s sapphire gaze came to rest upon her, causing a heart-stopping tremor in her throat. A frisson of heat raced through her and Ewan jerked back, as though he felt the same. He frowned, his eyes roaming her face. She couldn’t drag her gaze from his, mesmerized by his beauty. Time had chiselled away the softness of youth. He looked hard, dangerous, with the dark stubble shadowing his strong jaw. Growing uncomfortable under the intensity of his stare, Isobel ran her tongue over her lips.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and a slow, sensual smile curved his. “You must be new to Leod. I doona recall seein’ you before and I’d remember if I did.” His voice was low, a seductive purr. The intention of his remark was not lost on Isobel. While a part of her acknowledged his attraction pleased her, the fact that as a married man he’d give his attention to another lass tempered her pleasure – even if that lass was herself.

“Doona be shy, angel, give me your name,” he cajoled, taking a step towards her.

“Mam!” Connor raced to her side. Tears streaming down his wee face, he wrapped his arms around her legs. “Robbie ate the cakes. There’s none left for my da,” he sobbed.

Ewan’s startled eyes jerked from Isobel to his son then back to her. “Who are you?” His blue eyes darkened to black.

“Isobel—”

He cut her off with a curse. “Where’s Roderick?” he grated out, ignoring her shocked gasp.

“His chambers, he’s—”

“I’m goin’ to kill the meddlin’ bastard,” he roared as he charged up the stairs. The two men who’d stood with him cursed and gave chase.

Ewan slammed into Roderick’s darkened chambers and crossed to where his grandda lay in the massive four-poster bed with his bedcovers drawn to his chin, his eyes squeezed shut. “Is that ye, laddie?” Roderick asked, raising a feeble hand in Ewan’s direction. “Tell me I’m no’ dreamin’ and my favourite grandson has returned home to me.”

“I thought I was your favourite,” Callum quipped with a grin.

Ewan shot his cousin a quelling look then returned his attention to his grandda “Open your damn eyes and you’ll see you’re no’ dreamin’. But when I get through with you, you’ll wish you were.”

Roderick opened his eyes slowly as if the effort cost him dearly. “Och, laddie, ye have come back to me before I die.”

Callum and Randall snorted their amusement from behind Ewan.

“You’re no’ dyin’. Callum saw you out rollin’ aboot in the heather.” Ewan reached over and plucked a sprig of the stuff from his grandda’s hair and held it up to him. “Now, tell me why Isobel Forbes is here?” And why the hell did his son call her mam? That was something else he wished to know. Christ, he’d been so furious he hadn’t even greeted Connor. Beneath the heat of his anger a remnant of his strange reaction to the lass simmered. His response to her had thrown him off balance. The lass had a sweet face, to be sure, and what looked to be an even sweeter body but, as Ewan had known his fair share of women more beautiful, it did not explain the effect she had wrought on him.

“I doona ken where that heather came from. I’ve been abed—”

Ewan threw back the covers to reveal his grandda lying abed with his boots and trews on beneath his nightshirt. “Explain yourself.”

Roderick scowled at him. “What would ye have me do? I thought I was soon to die and fer all I kent, ye had. I couldna leave the bairns without someone to see to them, so I found ye a wife.”

“I doona want a wife and, as you can see, I’m no’ dead so you’d best go down there and send the lass on her way.” Ewan pushed past his cousins, who attempted not to laugh. He had to leave before he throttled the three of them.

“I canna do that. The bairns love Isobel and ye’re already wed to the lass,” Roderick mumbled the last under his breath.

Nay, he couldna have heard him right. Hand on the latch, Ewan turned. “What did you say?”

His grandda scrambled from the bed and positioned himself behind Randall and Callum. “Ye’re wed to the lass. I wed her to ye by proxy more than six months ago.” Roderick squealed when Ewan lunged for him.

“Doona do it,” Randall said as he and Callum fought to hold Ewan back. He shook free of their hands. His blood boiled and his gut coiled in a painful knot. “You’ll no’ get away with this. I’ll seek an annulment. I’ll no’ let you tie me to another lass of your choosing.” He’d not allow grandda to force his hand. Ewan and his sons had barely survived the hell Lorna had put them through.

Olivia worried the heart stone in her hand, the ancient script worn smooth by generations of Forbes women. Her gift of second sight had never failed her, but nor had a lass waited as long as Isobel for her true love to claim her. Over the last year, no matter how hard her granddaughter had tried to hide it, Olivia had noticed the toll the wait had taken on Isobel’s resilient spirit and sunny nature. It was then Olivia had decided to give the Fates a nudge. She’d sent a missive to Roderick Mackenzie proposing the match between their grandchildren. She only hoped by doing so, she hadn’t destroyed Isobel’s chance for happiness.

Ewan Mackenzie’s love for his sons had been obvious, as obvious as his shock at the bond that had developed between the bairns and Isobel. If not for Robbie and Connor, Olivia felt certain she and her granddaughter would already be on their way to Craigievar.

During the evening meal, Ewan’s anger at his grandfather had not extended to them. He’d been coolly polite. Since Isobel, along with everyone else in the keep, had heard that Ewan intended to annul the union, Olivia had been proud of how her granddaughter had conducted herself. Beautiful and poised, no one would’ve known she was heartbroken.

A quiet knock drew Olivia’s gaze from her granddaughters sleeping form. For a brief moment she wondered if Ewan had come to his senses and decided to join his wife in their chambers. Considering he’d been well in his cups by the time she and Isobel had left the hall – thanks to his cousin’s attempts to get him there – she doubted it. But he was a verra braw lad so one could not be sure and Olivia hadn’t missed the furtive looks he’d cast in Isobel’s direction when he thought no one was looking. Each time the bairns made Isobel laugh, his gaze would seek her out. Aye, Olivia thought, all they needed was time.

She opened the door to see Roderick pacing the corridor, his shock of white hair dishevelled. “How’s our wee bonny, Livie?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

Olivia was torn between wanting to shake him for wedding Isobel to his grandson without the young man’s knowledge or consent, and wanting to kiss him for the love and concern he showed her granddaughter.

“Her husband wants no part of her, Roderick. How do ye think she is?” At his crushed expression, she sighed. “She’ll be fine. She’s sleepin’ now. I slipped a wee somethin’ into her mead.”

“Good, ’twill make it easier to carry out my plan. Leave it to me, Livie, I’ll make it right. The lad judges all women by Lorna’s actions. He just needs time to get to ken our Isobel. Randall, Callum, bring him along now,” he called down the torch-lit corridor.

His grandsons, carrying an unconscious Ewan between them, staggered down the corridor. “You ken, grandda, if no’ for the fact the lass would be shamed by our cousin’s actions, we’d have no part in this,” Randall growled at his grandfather as they entered the chambers.

Roderick waved a dismissive hand at his grandsons. “Now, Livie, do ye think ye can make it look as if they’ve had …” He flushed, tipping his chin towards the bed where the lads set their cousin beside Isobel.

Realizing what he intended, Olivia grinned. “Aye, ’tis a good plan, Roderick.”

Callum shook his head. “One is as bad as the other, Randall. I for one doona wish to be here when Ewan awakens. We’ll leave for home at first light.”

Three

Ewan inhaled the delicate floral scent, letting it fill his senses. It had been a long time since he’d smelt something so good, so clean and pure. A stark contrast to the smell of sweaty males, horseflesh and battle he’d grown accustomed to as a sword for hire. But it didn’t compare to the warm, silken skin his hands caressed – soft, lush, womanly curves.

Sweet Christ. His eyes shot open. It wasn’t a dream. He held a woman in his arms, his face buried in a mass of heather-scented chestnut curls. He groaned. It was Isobel. What the hell had possessed him to crawl into her bed? As he wanted the union annulled, it was the last place he should be. But the question had barely entered his mind and he knew the answer already. No matter how angry he’d been at finding himself wed to Isobel, last eve he’d been unable to keep his gaze from her delicate features, the maternal warmth in her gold-flecked eyes as she looked upon his sons – the feminine laugh that had made him smile despite himself. He’d been as enchanted by her as his sons appeared to be, but Ewan knew better than most how adept a woman could be at concealing her true nature.

He carefully eased her away from him. She mumbled a protest and snuggled back into place against his chest with a contented sigh. The door to his chambers creaked open and his grandda stepped inside with a self-satisfied smile. “Och, laddie, ’tis glad I am to see ye came to yer senses.”

Isobel stiffened in Ewan’s arms. She eased back, her eyes widening as they met his.

With a dismayed gasp, she sat up, the bedcovers pooling at her waist. The door slammed shut. “Doona worry, henny, I didna see a thing.”

A mortified cry escaped her parted lips and she grabbed hold of the bedclothes to conceal her full ripe breasts from view. Scrambling from the bed, she dragged the covers with her, exposing Ewan’s raging erection and the drops of blood that stained the sheet. He cursed roundly. Between the evidence on the bed and his grandda having witnessed them there, Ewan’s hopes for an annulment fled as quickly as Isobel had fled his bed. His curse drew her attention and she looked at him over the delicate slope of her creamy white shoulder. Her innocent stare rounded as she took in his naked body. His erection had been easing as the reality of his situation hit home, but at the sight of her luscious behind – that she didn’t realize she exposed to him – it once more shot to life.

“Oh,” she gasped, and in an effort to put more distance between them, promptly tripped on the covers to fall on her face.

Ewan leaned over and grabbed his plaid from the floor. “Are you all right, lass?” he asked as he went to her.

“Aye,” she muttered, trying to right herself while she held the covers to her chest with one hand, the other holding them to her behind.

“Let me help.” He scooped her up and set her on the edge of the bed. Cupping her chin, he tilted her face. Her bottom lip was puffed up and her small, freckle-sprinkled nose was scraped at the tip. He shook his head. “One look at you and they’ll all be sayin’ I beat my wife.”

“’Twill be your fault if they do. Last eve you looked as though you wished to murder me.”

He winced. “Mayhap my grandda, but no’ you,” he conceded, surprised she didn’t appear to be intimidated by him. Most women, as well as a fair number of men, were. With their naked bodies covered, she seemed to regain her composure. He sighed at the disbelieving look she gave him and sat beside her. It wasn’t her fault the Mackenzies needed coin and his grandda had used the lass as a means to an end. “I apologise for my behaviour last eve, Isobel. It had been a long journey home and I …” He didn’t know what to say without offending her.

“Didna expect to return home to find yourself wed. Aye, you made that perfectly clear. If you wish to talk aboot it, I’d prefer to do so dressed. Close your eyes, please.”

Ewan was beginning to think it would be best if they had their conversation with her still naked. Not only because he wanted another look at her body, which had been as close to perfection as he’d ever seen, but because it appeared he’d need whatever advantage he could find when dealing with the lass.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing, and gave her a look that had caused many a man to quiver in his boots.

She snorted her disdain. “You can save your fierce looks. You’re no’ on the battlefield now.”

Brow arched, she waited for him to cede to her wishes. If Ewan didn’t have the uneasy feeling he was in a battle, and one he might not win, he would’ve laughed at the sight of the adorable wee lass staring him down with her bonny green and gold-flecked eyes.

With a drawn-out sigh, he did as she asked. He heard the whoosh of the covers fall to the floor and his hands clenched on his thighs at the thought she stood within an arms reach of him – naked. The light splash of water in the basin cooled the erotic images that heated his blood as he realized she washed away the evidence of what had taken place between them. He cleared his throat. “Isobel, did I hurt you?” She was innocent of what took place between a man and a woman and last eve he’d been in no condition to be considerate of the fact.

The muscles in his belly clenched when she didn’t answer right away. “Isobel?”

“Nay, no’ that I remember. For truth, I doona recall anythin’ at all. My head is a touch fuzzy this morn. I had more wine than is my custom, mayhap ’tis the reason.”

While he was relieved he hadn’t caused her pain, he wasn’t happy that he’d made love to a lass who’d been in her cups. Nor was he pleased the experience had been so unmemorable she bloody well couldn’t remember it. Which went to prove she wasn’t the only one with a fuzzy head this morn. What he should be was furious he’d destroyed the one to chance to have their marriage annulled.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. There was nothing for it now. Whether he liked it or not, they were wed. He was honest enough to admit that the thought he would not have to take up his sword to raise coin was a welcome one. Surely he and Isobel could come to an arrangement that suited them both. His sons and grandda were fond of her and ’twas no’ as though she’d expect his love. He would keep her at a distance. He couldn’t afford to lower his defences, let his emotions become involved. Enamoured as he’d been with Lorna, he’d been blind to her manipulations and many had suffered as a result. He tamped down his annoyance that it meant keeping Isobel from his bed, but, as he’d learned from experience, women tended to equate making love with being in love.

Isobel shrugged into her nightshift while keeping an eye on Ewan to be certain he wasn’t keeping one on her. Taking advantage of the opportunity to look upon his masculine beauty, she perused his glorious sun-bronzed, battle-hardened body. The sight of his broad chest lightly dusted with golden hair, the sculpted ridges lining his taut belly, caused a heated clutch in the pit of her stomach. His big hands with their long blunt fingers rested on his thickly muscled thighs and her skin tingled at the memory of the gentle caress of his powerful, calloused palms skimming over her body. She’d thought she’d been dreaming until Roderick so rudely interrupted them.

She wished she remembered more. She didn’t think it fair she had no memory of their joining. Her sisters had assured her the few moments of pain she would experience was nothing compared to the pleasure she would receive. Although considering the size of her husband’s manhood, she thought perhaps it was a good thing she didn’t remember. She lingered on the thick bulge beneath his plaid and her cheeks heated.

“Have you looked your fill, lass?” he asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

Her gaze shot to his and she didn’t miss the glint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. It was a welcome change from the anger that had darkened the brilliant blue to black last eve, but since it was at her expense, she took no pleasure in it. She had yet to forgive him for his behaviour upon learning she was his wife. Although she could understand his surprise – his shock – she felt his anger was uncalled for. Since he’d come to her bed, he’d obviously recovered from his fit of pique and she made a mental note not to surprise him in the future.

She shouldn’t have let her disappointment get the best of her last eve. Although she’d hid it well at the evening meal, she’d been overwrought by the time she’d come to her bed. She should’ve trusted her nana’s gift despite Ewan’s reaction. Her sisters had warned her men could be frustratingly slow to acknowledge that special fated bond.

He sighed. “Isobel?”

She blinked. “Yes.”

He stood and adjusted his plaid. She tilted her head to look up at him. “As I am sure you are now aware, our marriage canna be annulled. We shall have to make the best of it. I promise I will do everythin’ in my power to ensure you are content with the union.”

Isobel frowned. Make the best of it? Content? She didn’t wish to be content. She didn’t wait all this time to simply be content. She wanted to be happy. She wished to be loved – like her sisters were loved. He angled his head as though awaiting her answer. “As will I.” Taken aback by his statement, she didn’t know how else to respond.

“As long as my sons are happy and well cared for, I will be content.”

Isobel began to think she disliked the word “content” even more than she disliked the word “patient”. Did he not wish his sons to be loved? Did he not wish to be loved? Recalling Edeen’s advice, her disquiet eased. Her sister had warned her that men had a difficult time expressing their love, their emotions – battle-hardened highlanders being the most reticent of all. Edeen had implied the best place to break through their defences was in the bedchamber. Isobel might be innocent, but she knew her husband desired her. She felt it in his touch – his swollen manhood pressed to her belly – saw it in the way he looked at her. It made perfect sense that her battle for Ewan’s affections would be fought in their bedchambers. She was certain – in a week at most – her victory would be declared.

Four

Three weeks later, sitting in the great hall breaking her fast, Isobel’s jaw hurt from gritting her teeth and from smiling when it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her husband was the most infuriatingly frustrating man she’d ever met. Her plan to win his heart had failed miserably – he had not visited their chambers once since that first night. If she hadn’t seen him with his sons, she’d think him the coldest, most distant man she’d ever known. But with Robbie and Connor, he was gentle and loving. What Isobel wouldn’t give to have him look at her the way he did his sons. The bairns followed him everywhere he went and not once had Isobel heard him utter an impatient word.

Oh, aye, she’d felt him watching her, caught the flare of desire in his heavy-lidded blue eyes before he quickly looked away, but it went no further than that. He engaged her in polite conversation and was most considerate of her needs, but other than when they met at mealtimes, he seemed to go out his way to spend as little time in her company as possible.

This morn, after awakening alone once more, Isobel’s much-vaunted patience was nowhere to be found. In its place was the temper her nana said Isobel had inherited from her father. She scowled at Nana who sat at the far end of the table breaking her fast beside Roderick, tittering like a lovestruck girl of sixteen. “Foolish old woman,” Isobel muttered under her breath.

“Is somethin’ amiss, Isobel?” Ewan asked, a frown creasing his brow.

“Nay,” she snapped and shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

Ewan blinked. Robbie and Connor, who sat on either side of their father, looked up.

“What’s the matter, mam?” Connor asked.

Upon seeing the concern on Connor’s sweet face, Isobel berated herself for allowing her impatience to show. “Nothin’ is the matter, dear heart.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m goin’ to work in the garden today, would you and Robbie like to help?” she asked hopefully. She didn’t begrudge them the time they spent with their father, but over the last few weeks she’d hardly had any time with Robbie and Connor, and she missed them. She hoped the idea of playing in the dirt would be the incentive she needed to keep them with her this day.

Connor cast a sidelong glance at this father, who studiously avoided his gaze. “Da’s goin’ to take us ridin’. Mayhap—”

“Aye, mam, da says I can ride a horsie all by myself,” Robbie broke in excitedly.

Isobel’s incredulous gaze shot to Ewan. “You canna seriously be thinkin’ to allow Robbie to ride on is own? He’s no’ yet four.”

Ewan raised a brow. “Aye, I am. ’Tis best to—”

She gave a disproving shake of her head. “Nay, I’ll no’ allow it.” From the end of the table, Roderick and her Nana looked at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

“You, willna’ allow it?” Ewan’s tone was cold, a muscle twitching in the hard set of his jaw.

“Mam, I want to go.” Robbie pouted, his bottom lip quivering.

“Nay, I won’t,” she said firmly to Ewan, then reached over to pat Robbie’s hand. “I’ll make you a honey cake and—”

Ewan’s chair scraped across the stone floor as he pushed back from the table. “Isobel, I would speak to you alone. Now.” The tension bracketing his full mouth left no doubt he expected her to obey. Since she wanted to tell him exactly how foolish she thought he was being, she followed him from the hall.

He strode to the study and held the door open for her. She flounced past him. Unimpressed with his dictatorial manner, she turned on him as soon as he closed the door behind them. “Three,” she said, holding up her fingers. “He’s three years old, Ewan. He’s a bairn and I’ll no’ let—”

His gaze hardened. Looming over her, his powerful warrior’s body crowded her and she took a step back, bumping into the edge of the desk.

“He’s my son and I’ll decide what he’ll do or no’ do,” he ground out.

She pressed her palms to his broad chest, refusing to be intimidated by his size and the icy glint in his eyes. “And I’m his mother. I willna let you put him in harm’s way.”

“You’re no’ his mother and I’ll no’ have—” He stopped at her sharp intake of breath.

She turned away so he wouldn’t see how much his words hurt her. She’d come to think of Robbie and Connor as her own and now he took that away from her – just as his cold indifference had stolen her hope for a happy marriage. She tried to push away from him but he brought his hands to her shoulders and held her firmly in place. “Let me go,” she whispered.

“Nay.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin and forced her look at him. His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, Isobel. I ken you love Robbie and Connor. I shouldna have said what I did.”

She bit her lip, trying to contain her tears, but one after another they slid down her cheeks.

“Nay, please, doona cry.” He pulled her into his arms. “Shh, now,” he said, rubbing her back.

The warmth of his embrace, his apology and soothing touch, eased some of the hurt, but not her concern for Robbie. She sniffed into his chest and swiped at her tears. Tipping her head to look up at him, she said, “Truly, Ewan, Robbie is much too young to ride on his own. I only wish to keep him safe.”

He eased back and framed her face with his big hands. “As do I. You coddle them, Isobel. You’re goin’ to turn my … our lads into lassies.” He smiled at her, a tender smile.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m doin nothin’ of the sort.”

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, you are. I promise, I’ll keep them safe.

Isobel stared after him as he left the study. A warm glow of hopefulness unfurled inside her. Mayhap they had a chance after all. Her happy smile faded when she realized he’d completely disregarded her concerns.

Ewan sighed when, through the teeming rain, he saw Isobel framed in the entrance to the keep as they approached the stables. Robbie shivered in his arms. The bairn had been doing fine until a bolt of lighting had frightened his horse. Ewan managed to grab him before he fell from his mount, but the lad had hit his head on the pommel gaining him a knot the size of an egg. Ewan shook his head as his wife, heedless of the rain, ran towards them.

“Mam looks plenty fashed, da,” Connor said as he slid from his horse.

“Aye, she does.” Fashed and verra bonny, he thought, with her long chestnut hair curling about her adorable face, the rain dampening her pink gown, moulding it to her voluptuous curves.

These past weeks, Isobel had tried Ewan’s restraint to the breaking point. With each passing day it had become harder for him to ignore the lust she aroused in him. After this morn, he knew he fought a losing battle. Harder to admit was that it was not only the memory of what she’d looked like naked, or the silken feel of her skin beneath his hands, that made him desire her. Isobel, unlike Lorna, adored Robbie and Connor. She was everything he could’ve hoped for in a mother for his sons. He’d not meant to hurt her earlier, but she’d roused his temper when she challenged him, and his growing attraction to her had already cast a pall over his good humour.

“What were you thinkin’ keepin’ them out in this weather?” Scowling at him, she reached for Robbie, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the bump on the lad’s forehead. “Oh, my poor bairn,” she cried, taking him into her arms.

His son, who’d been laughing only minutes earlier, thrust out his bottom lip and appeared ready to cry. “Doona baby him, Isobel, he’s fine. I didna plan for the storm, it blew up of a sudden, catchin’ me unawares.” He felt the need to add more after the condescending look she shot him. Bloody hell, she had a way of makin’ him feel like an irresponsible lad.

“Hhmph,” she said and hurried off in the direction of the keep. Robbie, his legs wrapped around her waist, was smiling over her shoulder.

“What is the wee imp up to?”

“He likes the kisses and cuddles mam gives when she thinks you’re hurt.”

“Smart lad,” Ewan murmured. Watching the sway of her bonny arse, the thought of kissing and cuddling with his wife had him rethinking his plan to keep his distance.

“I like them, too,” Connor added and took off after his brother and Isobel. Reaching them at the door to the keep, Connor held up his hand. “Oh, my poor bairn. Mam will make it all better.” He heard her say. From the look she sent Ewan over her shoulder, he doubted she’d be giving him a kiss or a cuddle anytime soon.

Ewan got the horses settled before heading to his chambers. His grandda waylaid him on his way up the stairs. “Yer wife is no verra happy with ye. She was goin’ to round up the men and send out a search party.”

“With her no doubt leadin’ the way,” Ewan said dryly.

His grandda grinned. “Aye, she’s a determined lass.” Roderick’s smile faded as he handed a missive to Ewan. “The McRaes are in need of yer sword arm against the Gunns. The bastards made off with three of the McRaes’ lassies.”

Ewan ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair. He’d all but made up his mind that this night he’d return to his wife’s bed. He’d been a fool keepin’ his distance from Isobel. The lass was nothin’ like Lorna and it was about time he let go of the past.

Once he’d changed into dry clothes and prepared for his journey, Ewan followed the sound of laughter to Robbie’s chambers. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe. His sons, tucked beneath a mound of blankets, lay snuggled in Isobel’s embrace. Their wee faces alight with happiness as her melodious voice wove a tale of a handsome warrior riding through the mist to claim his one true love.

He frowned, not sure filling the impressionable heads of his young sons with notions they would find a lass destined for them – and them alone – was a good idea. He thought back to that moonlit night of long ago when he’d been tempted to believe just that, but he’d never found the lass. And his marriage to Lorna had quickly vanquished any thoughts of a life filled with love and laughter. Such notions were fine for lassies, but no for lads.

His brow furrowed, wondering if Isobel believed in a love such as that. Since she was the one telling the tale, he thought mayhap she did. If that were so, she must be sorely disappointed to be wed to him. He didn’t like to think she was unhappy, but there was not much they could do about the situation. They’d just have to make the best of it.

“Da, come listen to mam’s story.” Connor waved him over.

Isobel’s startled gaze leapt to his and her cheeks pinked. He blinked, shaking off the thought that, in that one instant, she had the look of the lass he’d met all those years ago. “I wish I could, son, but I have to leave now for Eilean Donan.” At the concern in Connor’s gaze, he added, “I’ll no’ be gone long, a fortnight at most.”

“Nay, Robbie, doona cry,” Isobel said, “We’ll make honey cakes for your da’s return, and if the weather improves, I’ll take you to the loch and teach you to swim.” As she rattled off a long list of what she and the bairns would do while he was away, Ewan had the feeling she’d be glad to be rid of him so she could have Robbie and Connor to herself. He felt a moment of regret that he hadn’t included her over the last weeks. She’d obviously missed spending time with the lads. He’d be more considerate of her feelings on his return.

She searched his face, worrying her full bottom lip between her small white teeth. “You willna be in danger, will you?”

“Nay.” He grinned. She might as well have told him. “I want you gone, but not dead.” He leaned over and kissed his sons goodbye. “What aboot mam?” Robbie asked when Ewan straightened.

Isobel lowered her eyes, about to protest when Ewan bent down and kissed her. He’d only meant to brush her lips with his, but her mouth had tempted him for too long and he couldn’t resist deepening the kiss, if only for a moment. Feeling her soft pliant lips beneath his, he vowed that once he returned, his wife would no longer be sleeping alone.

“You lads be good for your mother and mind what she tells you.” At her grateful smile and the shimmer in her topaz eyes, Ewan cursed the Gunns.

Five

At the sight of Leod in the valley below, Ewan urged his steed to a gallop. He was as anxious to return home as he’d been a month ago, maybe more so. He’d missed Isobel as much as he’d missed his sons. Missed the sound of her warm laugh, the sight of her smile and the way she looked at him when she didn’t think he’d notice.

Covered in sweat and dust, he turned down the path to the loch. He grinned at his sons’ shouts of laughter above the raucous splashing and Isobel’s feminine shriek. He supposed he should have warned her that the bairns could swim like fish when she spoke of teaching them. With the loch so close at hand, for the bairns’ safety he’d ensured they’d learned at an early age.

Ewan tied off his horse and stripped to his braies. He came to a halt at the edge of the clearing, swallowing hard at the sight of Isobel standing knee deep in the water. Her heavy linen chemise clung damply to her luscious curves. Robbie and Connor were splashing her, her full breasts jiggling as she tried to get away from them. Ewan crept unseen around the rocks lining the loch. It wasn’t as though he could walk up and greet them, not in the aroused state he was in after seeing Isobel.

He picked a spot he was familiar with and dived beneath the cool azure waters. Robbie and Connor squealed when he came up behind them.

“Da!” They cried and flung their arms around his neck. “You’re home!”

“Aye.” He laughed as their slippery bodies attempted to climb up his. “Just in time to save your mother from bein’ drowned by the two of you.” He met Isobel’s gaze and smiled.

She pushed her wet curls from her face, her breasts straining beneath the chemise with the movement of her hands. He couldn’t draw his gaze from her delectable feminine form, so close all he had to do was reach out and pull her to him.

“Da, throw us in the deep part,” Connor pleaded.

“Yeah, da, throw us,” Robbie chimed in.

“Aye,” he rasped. Reluctantly dragging his gaze from his smiling wife, he tossed first Connor then Robbie into the water.

“Ewan, ’tis too deep. Where—” Her frightened cries faded when Connor and Robbie’s heads popped up from beneath the water, laughing as they swam back to him.

Ewan raised a brow in Isobel’s direction. She rolled her eyes and cupped her hand to shoot a spray of water at him. “You coulda told me they swim as well as the fishes.”

“Throw mam, da, throw her in.”

Isobel’s eyes widened and she held up her hands, shaking her head. “Nay, Ewan Mackenzie, doona even think aboot it.”

He prowled towards her and she took several quick steps back. “You did splash me, my wee wife, ’tis only fair.” The bairns cheered him on.

She gasped. Stumbling to get away from him, her feet slipped out from under her and she fell backwards. She pulled herself from beneath the water, sputtering as she did. Glaring up at him as he tried to contain his laughter, she grumbled, “’Tis no’ funny.”

He helped her to her feet. “Aye, ’twas.” He pushed the wet curls from her face and kissed her, swallowing her startled gasp. “I missed you, Isobel,” he murmured against her lips.

“I missed you, too,” she said shyly, looking up at him through the cover of her water-spiked lashes.

“Come.” He tugged on her hand. “I promise, I’ll no’ throw you in.”

“Nay, play with Robbie and Connor. I’ll set out the food I brought. Are you hungry?”

“Aye, verra hungry.” If he could go by the flush staining her cheeks, his wife knew he didn’t refer to food.

After an hour of cavorting with his sons, Ewan carried an exhausted Robbie under one arm and an equally tired Connor under the other. Depositing them on the blanket Isobel had spread out beneath the chestnut tree, he was disappointed to find her chemise had dried and no longer clung to her curves. Isobel watched in wide-eyed wonder as he and the lads polished off the food. While they ate, she filled Ewan in on what had taken place at Leod in his absence. He laughed at her disgruntled retelling of her nana and his grandda’s burgeoning romance. She smoothed Robbie’s hair from his face where he lay curled up beside her sound asleep. “It looks like we’ve bored the bairns with our chatter.” She smiled, tipping her chin at Connor who’d fallen asleep beside Ewan.

“More like I wore them out,” Ewan said, stroking Connor’s silky curls from his cheek.

“They’re happy to have you home safe. They were worried aboot you.”

“Were—” Ewan stopped, his attention drawn to the shaking leaves of the branches just down from where they sat. A woman giggled and Isobel leaned forward, her brow furrowed.

From behind the bush, his grandda ran naked for the loch – tugging Isobel’s equally naked nana along with him.

Ewan cursed and his grandda turned around.

“Sweet Mary Mother of God.” Isobel groaned and lay back on the blanket, covering her eyes.

“Bloody hell, grandda, get in the water. Both of you,” Ewan yelled. “That’s it, I’m havin’ the banns read and the two of you will be wed in a fortnight.”

The bairns sat up, rubbing their eyes. Connor looked out over the loch. “Can I go swimmin’ with grandda and nana?”

“Nay!” Ewan said at the same time as his wife.

Settling both lads on his steed, Ewan took the reins in one hand, his wife’s hand in the other. He leaned towards her. “You ken, Isobel, our grandparents spend more time alone than we do and they appear to be havin’ a grand time doin’ so. Mayhap ’tis time we did the same.”

Her cheeks pinked and she nodded. “I’d like that.”

Ewan brought her slender hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her soft palm. He winked at her. “Your da is tired, lads. I think we’ll have an early night,” he said, yawning.

“We had a nap, da. Mam says when we have a nap we can stay up late,” Connor told him earnestly.

“Did you say that?”

“Aye, I’m afraid I did,” she said, laughing at his frustrated groan.

Isobel sat on the edge of the bed then lay down to stare up at the canopy. Five minutes later, she sighed and rolled off the bed to pace the stone floor. She didn’t understand why Ewan had yet to come to their chambers; he’d seemed as anxious to be alone with her as she was to be with him. She smiled at the memory of his warm, teasing manner during the evening meal. It was a smile that hadn’t left her face since returning from the loch. For the first time since Ewan had returned from France, it appeared she would finally have a husband who would love her as much as she loved him. Her worries that her nana’s second sight had failed after being expended on Isobel’s sisters had been for naught.

At the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the corridor, she hurried to the bed and slid beneath the covers. She calmed the nervous excitement in her belly with the knowledge this was not the first time she and her husband had made love. The thought would have been somewhat more comforting if she could recall the event. The door opened and the candle on the table beside the bed flickered. At the sight of the sensual smile creasing her husband’s beautiful face as he strode into the room, her nervousness was replaced with heated anticipation.

“Grandda needed help wordin’ his missive to your father,” he said as he pulled his tunic over his head, the muscles in his arms flexing with the movement. “For certain he has a harder time arrangin’ his own marriage than he does mine.”

Isobel’s eyes looked from his sun-bronzed arms to his face, searching for some sign he retained any anger at the way their marriage had come about.

He raised a brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

His gaze softened and he sat beside her, the feather-stuffed mattress dipping under his weight. He took her hand in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Are you nervous?”

She shook her head. “Nay.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, kissing her hand before he released it. He bent over and removed his boots. When his hand went to his trews, Isobel quickly leaned over and blew out the candle.

Ewan’s deep laugh filled their chambers. “I thought you said you were no’ nervous?”

“Mayhap a wee bit,” she admitted, scooting over when he climbed in beside her.

“Next time doona blow the candle out, angel. I want to see your beautiful body,” he said as he drew her sheer nightgown over her head. His low growl of appreciation drew an aroused shiver from her and he folded her into his powerful embrace. She snuggled against him, his long, hard length jerking against her belly. He nudged her face from his chest with his chin. “I hope you were no’ plannin’ on goin’ to sleep just yet,” he said, his strong white teeth flashing in the darkened room.

“Nay,” she said a little breathlessly.

“Good,” he murmured against her lips before he claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing them closer still. He angled his head, slanting his lips over hers, deepening the kiss. His calloused palms smoothed over her back to her bottom and he pressed her tight against him, rocking his hips. Isobel moaned at the heated sensation building between her thighs. Ewan took advantage and swept his tongue past her parted lips to delve deep inside her mouth. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his and he groaned, kneading her bottom. His exploring tongue grew more insistent and his manhood swelled, growing harder and longer. Her eyes rounded, intimidated by his size.

As though he sensed her dismay, he broke the kiss and held her away from him to look down at her. His eyes glinted with amusement. “Doona worry, you’ll no’ have pain this time, only pleasure.”

“I suppose ’tis a good thing I canna remember the first time,” she said as she trailed her fingers through the crisp hairs on his chest, fascinated by his feel of his hard muscles flexing beneath her palm.

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Aye, mayhap ’tis. I wouldna wish to cause you pain, Isobel.” He gently nudged her to her back.

She frowned. “Are you sure it will … fit?”

He choked on a laugh. “Aye, verra sure, my bonny wife.” Watching her, he slid his palm over her belly to the damp curls covering her mound. “Your skin is soft, so smooth,” he murmured. His warm breath caressed her cheek as he skimmed his hand over her inner thighs, nudging her legs apart. She inhaled sharply as he touched her slick folds, spreading her wide.

“So hot, so wet,” he said as his thick finger probed her inner passage. She gasped, wreathing against his hand. His lips burned a heated path down her neck to her chest. His tongue rasped then laved her breasts before he drew her straining nipple into the heat of his mouth. The hard suction of his lips caused her belly to clench in response and she moaned, growing frantic with desire. She clutched the bedcovers, arching her back to press her breast to his demanding mouth. “Ewan, please,” she cried out, not sure what she wanted him to do but needing him to do something. It was as though she was caught in a whirlpool of sensation that only he could release.

“Christ, Isobel, I was a fool no’ to come to you sooner.”

“Aye, aye you were,” she groaned.

His laugh came out a harsh rasp. “I should make you suffer for that but I ken I canna last much longer.”

“I am sufferin’, Ewan. Please,’’ she begged, “do somethin’.”

He kissed her and she could feel him smile against her lips. His tongue delved inside her mouth as his powerful fingers probed inside her moist heat. She closed her lips over his tongue and sucked him deep. He groaned, thrusting his hot, hard erection against her thigh, mimicking the movement of his fingers inside her with his tongue.

He eased his fingers from her and, without breaking their kiss, pulled his body over her, holding his weight above her with his hands. She wrapped her fingers around the rippling muscles in his arms. The thick head of his manhood nudged her opening and she stiffened. He broke the kiss. “Easy, love,” he said and slid his hand between them. He stroked her tight nub with practiced fingers, driving her over the edge. She bucked against him and then he thrust inside her. Isobel cried out. Her nails dug into his arms and he froze above her, his shocked gaze jerking to hers. She bit her lip and blinked hard to keep the tears from flooding her eyes.

Ewan cursed and carefully eased from her body. His breathing ragged, he rolled to his back and placed his forearm over his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didna think it was supposed to hurt. You said …”

He lifted his arm from his face and got up from the bed, his movements awkward as he pulled on his trews. “You have nothin’ to apologise for, Isobel. It hurt because you were still innocent.”

She wiped her eyes. “I doona understand, I thought—”

“Aye, we both did because that’s what he wanted us to think. I’m goin’ to kill the meddlin’ old bastard.” Ewan flung open the door and slammed out of the room.

Isobel scrambled off the bed and grabbed her nightshift, afraid this time Ewan truly meant to kill Roderick. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry. As she tugged the chemise over her hips, she heard Ewan yelling at his grandda. “Admit it, you set it up to stop me from gainin’ the annulment I wanted. You knew …”

The last of Ewan’s condemning words faded as Isobel darted out of the room and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction. She didn’t know where she was going only that she had to get away from him. As soon as he discovered she was still innocent, he’d realized what his grandda had done and he’d been furious – furious at the deception that had stolen his chance to be rid of her. She’d been a fool to think he’d come to love her. He’d simply decided to make the best of a situation he couldn’t change.

Isobel entered her nana’s chambers, certain Roderick had not acted alone. She choked out a bitter laugh at finding the room empty. Mayhap her nana had seen the wrong Mackenzie with the wrong Forbes. Mayhap it was Roderick who was Olivia’s true love. A moonbeam cut across the room, the Forbes heart stone glowing in the bright swath of light. Isobel strode to the table and angrily closed her fingers around the rock, knowing instantly what she had to do. She would not let another Forbes lass suffer her fate. Waste years pining for a man she thought was her true love, only to discover he would never love her in return.

She stifled a broken sob with her hand and ran blindly from the room, down the staircase to the entryway. Opening the door to the keep, she stepped outside into the mist. She ran across the courtyard.

“Isobel, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doin’?” Ewan’s voice cut through the dense fog.

“Doona you come one step closer, Ewan Mackenzie.” She groaned when he stepped through the mist into the moonlit courtyard.

His gaze searched hers and he released a shocked breath. “’Tis you. ’Twas you all along.”

“Nay, I had nothin’ to do with it. ’Twas your grandda and my nana’s fault you—”

He shook his head, looking bemused. “’Twas no’ what I meant. You’re the lass from the Burnetts’ moors.”

“Aye, ’twas me,” she said with a brittle laugh. “The foolish lass waitin’ for her true love to ride through the mist, only it was you and you didna want me then and you doona want me now.”

He took a step towards her. “I did want you, Isobel. You were too young that first time. I told you I would come back for you.”

“But you never did.”

“The second time I tried. I went after you and managed to knock myself out on a branch.” He smiled a crooked boyish grin. “I searched for you all the next day and—”

“Your betrothal to Lorna Sinclair was announced that night. I was there.” She barely managed to get the words out, her throat painfully tight as she remembered her devastation upon hearing the announcement.

“Aye, it was,” he said quietly. “But I’ve found you now, Isobel, and you’re my wife.”

“You doona want me. I heard you yellin’ at Roderick. You would have had our marriage annulled if he hadna tricked you.”

“Aye, and in truth I should have thanked him for doin’ so, but I was angry I’d hurt you. I would have taken my time had I kent you were still innocent.” He brought his hand to her face. “So are you tellin’ me that you’ve been waitin’ for me all this time, that I’m your true love?”

She snorted her disgust. “Aye and I’m goin’ to throw this heart stone in the loch on the morrow so no other lass has to suffer.”

He frowned. “Why? We’re together now.”

“Aye, but you doona love me.”

His look softened and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I do, Isobel. I doona ken how much you’ve heard aboot my marriage to Lorna, but ’twas no’ a happy one. She made my life and that of my sons miserable, ’tis why it took me a little longer to trust you with my heart than it should have. But I do trust you, Isobel,” He said, smiling down at her as he swept her into his arms. “Now, why doona I take you inside and show you just how verra much I love you.”

Isobel’s breath caught in her throat. Ewan’s love for her was reflected in his eyes. She fought back tears of joy and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “I’ve waited a verra long time for you, Ewan Mackenzie. You have a lot of years to make up for.” Her voice was husky, overwhelmed with the emotion that clogged her throat.

Laughter rumbled in Ewan’s chest. “I’ll spend my life makin’ it up to you, my bonny wife.”

Isobel released a contented sigh, certain she’d never been happier than at this moment. “And you, my bonny highlander, were well worth waitin’ for. I love you, Ewan and I love Robbie and Connor, too.” A thought occurred to her and she frowned.

Ewan looked down at her. “What is it?”

“I’m thinkin’ mayhap things worked out as they were meant to. Even though it wasna easy to wait so long for you, if you hadna married Lorna, we wouldna have Robbie and Connor.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “Do you ken, Isobel, I doona think I could love you more than I do at this moment.”

She kissed him and he tightened his arms around her, deepening the kiss until he had her breathless with desire. “Mayhap we should go inside now,” she panted against his lips.

“Aye,” he said gruffly, pushing open the door to the keep. Her nana hurried towards them. “Isobel, do ye have the heart stone?”

Isobel’s brow furrowed. “Aye,” she said, opening her palm. Olivia plucked the stone from her hand and marched out the door. Roderick, wearing only his plaid, came to stand beside them, scratching his head. “Do ye ken why Livie wants me to go lookin’ for her in the mist, henny?”

“I suggest you get out there, grandda. If you doona, someone else may claim her before you do,” Ewan said with a grin.

“I’m comin’, Livie, my henny,” Roderick called out.

As Ewan walked up the stairs with Isobel in his arms, he said, “You ken they’ll be livin’ with us, doona you?”

“Aye, doona worry, I’ll no leave you because of it. Besides, we can always send them to visit my da.” Isobel laughed. Her patience was finally at an end.