The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) by Hildie McQueen (ereader for android .TXT) 📕

back, and leaned his shoulder against the mantel. He faced her and waited.

“I wish to speak to ye about a grave matter. This must stay between us. It has to do with why I cannot marry ye.”

He nodded for her to continue.

“If ye are half undressed and we are found out, the worst could happen,” Isobel started. In truth, his nakedness was most distracting. For whatever reason, it was hard to catch her breath, and her pulse raced.

“What is worse than having to marry?”

Isobel could have been insulted by the fact, he considered marriage to her horrible, if not for the fact she found it distasteful as well. Since she could not come up with an example of a worse fate, she gave up. “I will tell ye what I have to say and go.”

“Go on,” Darach prodded.

“Well, ye see.” It was harder than she thought to tell someone about her shameful past. “I was…I was… betrothed before. Handfasted actually.” The last two words seemed to burst from her and float in the air between them.

“I see.”

Isobel got to her feet. “Do ye really, Laird? It is not possible for me to be yer wife. I am not a maiden. Hopefully, yer clan has given up the entire dreadful bedding ceremony custom, but I doubt the bloodied sheet showing will not be demanded by yer… yer… whoever.”

The fact he remained still as a statue, his gaze taking her in made her want to scream, which under the circumstance would be most dreadful.

“What will ye do?” It was his turn to take some of the burden of how to handle the situation. In truth, she was growing weary. And also, very sleepy.

“I agreed to marry ye. Given my choices of daughters of neighboring chieftains, I find ye the most acceptable. It is quite doubtful I will grow bored. That is certain.”

Her mouth fell open with a retort, but Isobel stopped the first words that came to mind. It would not do to tell her mother that he was utterly mad. He acted as if her not being a maiden was nothing out of the ordinary. “Ye forget the main obstacle.”

“Ah yes, yer maidenhead. There is no reason to worry. The sheet will be bloodied.”

Her breath caught, and she looked to the region between his legs. “What exactly are ye going to do to me?”

Nearing, his movements like those of a predator, Darach stopped a hairs breath from her. He smelled masculine, outdoorsy, and strangely enticing.

“I am going to kiss ye, Isobel. It is only fair that we do since ye took so many chances coming here.”

“I-I did not come to be kissed. I came to ensure ye help me find a way out of this marriage.”

“No. I think ye came so that I would kiss ye,” he replied with a curve to his lips.

When his mouth came over hers, at first she could not tell what he did. It was as if he was taking his time to persuade her. Then he pursed his lips, the motion so erotic, she could not keep from doing the same in return.

Darach’s muscular arms encircled her body and she found herself once again against his chest. This time so very different. Not only because he was without a tunic, but because the warmth of his body permeated through her night rail.

The kiss intensified, his mouth moving against hers, their tongues dancing, their breaths intermingling.

A new world opened for Isobel as she clutched his shoulders, not wanting the sensations to stop. Like the flickering flames of a dying fire once fanned, Isobel’s body heated more and more with each passing moment.

Darach’s hands traveled down her back and she trembled with anticipation. At the same time, she wrapped her arms around his neck, their kiss becoming almost desperate. Something pressed into her stomach. It was his sex. He’d grown hard and from what she could tell, he would grow even larger still.

“No.”

Suddenly, she stood alone swaying in the darkness. Isobel blinked several times and stuck both arms out, unsure if she’d fall sideways.

“I should go,” she stuttered and grabbed the candlestick.

Darach had moved to beside the bed, his back turned to hers. “Aye, ye should. I apologize.”

“Ye should not,” Isobel said. “Please, consider what I said.”

When he turned to her, she waved the hand without the candle between them. “This never happened.”

With those words, she hurried from the room only then realizing the severity of her scandalous actions.

Of course, Darach Ross thought she’d come wishing to be invited into his bed. She was practically as naked as he was. With only a night rail, she’d not bothered to even wrap a robe around herself.

Once inside her own bedchamber, she hurried to her bed and climbed between the sheets. Thankfully, Beatrice slept soundly in the other bed. Only once she had doused the candle and was swept into utter darkness did Isobel allow herself to breathe.

Her body hummed, sensations she’d never known running up and down her arms, legs, and chest. Of all of them, the heat that pooled between her legs was the most unbearable. Most wonderfully intolerable.

Chapter Nine

Cairn stalked the parlor, too angry to do more than ball his fists, he could not utter a single word. The imbeciles had ruined everything.

Someone—he would find out who—had told about their meeting. The laird’s guards now patrolled the narrow road to the empty building. He’d had to pretend to stumble upon them and asked what they were doing there.

A guard had informed him that they were on the lookout for a possible insurgency plot.

“Now what?” he growled out loud. “Everything is ruined.”

There was a rap on the door, and he called out for whoever it was to enter. A meek woman, who he kept on as maid walked in. “Yer food gets cold, sir. Will ye be eatin’ soon?”

Her gaze lifted to his, her attraction to him obvious. If not for the fact he was in a sour mood, perhaps he’d give her what she