Highland Thief Page 10

  Like he had before.

  Turning around, she leaned on the merlons that topped the stone wall and tried to remember every reason why she didn’t want to be with Kerr. All the things he’d done or hadn’t done, said or hadn’t said that had turned her against him—and she had a list of them, starting when she was fifteen.

  And she vividly remembered each one.

  All the words they’d exchanged were etched into her memory. Every time he’d touched her was burned into her skin—especially after today.

  He stepped up beside her, not touching her, and they stared outward. The wind tugged at her hair and clothes, whistled in her ears, and she felt battered and buffeted both inside and out.

  She closed her eyes and tried to focus. Took a deep breath in…and exhaled.

  Doona get distracted, Isobel.

  When she opened her eyes again, she felt calmer. Back in control. Kerr had asked her to marry him. Why had that surprised her? They both knew what his expectations were for them.

  But there was no them. No us.

  And she didn’t have to say yes.

  Besides, she had another goal. Another plan she’d already put into motion. One that had formed in her mind as she’d ridden back to the castle from her failed trap site and crystallized when Kerr had treated her as if she were a cow and Branon Campbell was set on reaving her from his territory.

  Kerr intimidated any man who might look at her with appreciation in his eyes.

  Well, if he was willing to chase after real suitors, he could chase after imaginary ones too.

  She raised her chin and pulled back her shoulders, most likely looking haughty and queenly, exactly as Deirdre had said. “Do you want to know how I knew Branon Campbell was either addle-pated or up to no good?” she asked.

  That muscle jumped again in his cheek. “How?”

  “He tried to entice me. A subtle tease and seduction. No sane man would do that, knowing what you would do to him.”

  He frowned. “You make it sound like—”

  “Nay,” she interrupted. “I doona make it sound like anything. I am stating fact. You have made claims on me that I do not accept. You have threatened people who might want to get close to me. You have forced me to act in a stealthy manner, to hide my behavior and my true feelings from my friends and family…in case you hurt someone I care about.”

  He spun toward her. “I havenae hurt anyone!”

  “You haven’t had to. Yet.”

  “God’s blood, Isobel. Branon Campbell could be a spy, a thief, an assassin. I was protecting you, and I willna stop doing that. Ever. And what do you mean you hide your true feelings? What aren’t you telling me?”

  The wind tugged her plaid from her hair, and her long locks tangled angrily around her shoulders. “’Tis not your business, Kerr. We are not married, nor are we betrothed.” Her voice trembled a wee bit as she said it, and she took a quick breath before continuing.

  “For future reference, I want you to know that I have ne’er spoken to Branon Campbell before today, so doona make assumptions that aren’t true about him, or me, in the next few days. Doona make assumptions about any man in my acquaintance that aren’t true.”

  His brow pulled down over his eyes, and she felt like a mouse being observed by a hungry hawk. He seemed to grow bigger, harder, darker all at once. Yet he also stilled in a way that she found so disconcerting, so deadly. She understood that he changed when he sensed a threat, especially to those he loved—or in this case, an unknown threat to them—but it never made it any easier.

  “What kind of assumptions do you think I’ll make, Isobel?” His voice was low, the words clipped. “And why?”

  She’d set up her trap, more of a trick this time, and now she had to carry it through—without any buckets of ants, pits of manure, or bags of hedgehog quills to give her away.

  Still, she had a moment’s hesitation. How big is the price to fool Kerr like this?

  “You might assume that I have been with someone. A man. That I have feelings for him. And that I plan to leave with him.”

  “Who?” he ground out, those hawk-like eyes narrowed on her and his jaw clenched.

  “Perhaps no one,” she said. “Perhaps I havenae decided yet. Perhaps I ne’er will.”

  He moved closer, and her heartbeat accelerated—fear and excitement dancing in her blood.

  “Tell me, Isobel. Now.”

  “Or what?” she asked.

  He ran his hand up her arm and under her hood to cup the back of her neck. “Perhaps I havenae decided yet,” he said.

  The last time she’d experienced Kerr’s dark, deadly stillness, so different from his usual personality, was when Gavin had lied to them so he could separate Deirdre from Ewan—in order take her back to her former husband and break Ewan’s bond to her.

  Thankfully, her brother had changed his mind and returned home with Deirdre, a changed man.

  And Kerr had come back to himself.

  But not this time. Not yet.

  Anger rode hard on the heels of her fear, and she poked her finger into his chest to emphasize her words. “Your implied threats and possessiveness are not loving, or exciting, Kerr. They’re controlling and manipulative. And I willna stand for it. Ever. I am free to do as I like, to choose whomever I like.

  “And I doona choose you!” Isobel lifted her skirts and darted away from him to the door. He reached it at the same time she did and simply laid his palm against the wood to stop her from opening it.

  She wrenched on the handle several times before glaring up at him. The wind had torn back his hood, and strands of inky hair whipped around his face. The color of his eyes had intensified, turning them darker than she’d ever seen, and all that power that emanated from him was centered on her.

  She didn’t know whether to quake in her boots or glory in his undivided attention. It was like being showered with primal potency.

  “Let me go, Kerr.”

  “I will ne’er let you go, Isobel.”

  “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

  “I heard everything you said. I always do. And I know when you’re lying. You’ve been mixing lies with truth e’er since I came back this afternoon.”

  She stretched up as high as she could and tried to look down her nose at him, even though he towered over her. God’s blood, the man was a giant!

  “Then hear this truth. I’m going to open the door now, and you are going to let me pass. You canna hold me against my will. You are not a monster, even though you act like it sometimes.”

  “Are you sure about that, sweetling? I feel verra much a monster right now. You’ve banished me from your home, and you’ve implied there’s someone else you have feelings for—and that you may be going away soon. What am I to think, Isobel?”

  “You can think whate’er you like. You’re a free man and I’m a free woman.”

  “Nay, we are tied to each other. Mayhap not through words or ceremonies but through something deeper. You are meant for me, Isobel MacKinnon, as I am meant for you.”

  “Perhaps, but I still get to choose, Kerr. And I havenae chosen you.”

  “Yet. You haven’t chosen me yet.”

  He stepped back and removed his hand from the door. She yanked it open, her hood falling off and her hair catching in the wind. But when she tried to step inside, he wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her back against his body.

  He cocooned her—an oasis from the cool, blustery wind. When his lips touched her ear, she shivered. “Doona do something you’ll regret because you want to defy me, love. We aren’t enemies. You and I doona spark against one another to make ash, we create flame.”

  Nine

  Kerr watched Isobel disappear down the circular stairwell, her candle in her hand, the bright curls that had escaped her plaid hanging in disarray past her waist.


  His jaws were clamped so tightly together, he didn’t know if he could ever open them again. Surely his teeth had fused together. He held onto his control with the smallest thread—any more pressure would snap it in two.

  She’d been wrong when she’d said he wasn’t a monster. He’d come from a family of monsters, and their blood coursed through his veins. Right now he felt like tearing into living flesh and bone. In particular the man with whom she was, or perhaps wasn’t, running away with.

  He heard her footsteps fade, and then waited another minute, counting down from sixty in his head. When he finally reached zero, he stepped through the open door and into the darkened stairwell. He didn’t bother with a candle, even though darkness enclosed him. He liked the darkness. He chose it.

  His feet barely skimmed the stairs as he ran downward, his hand on the wall helping him balance, his mind counting once more with every step. When he reached the level where Gavin and Deirdre’s bedchamber was located, he stepped out into the lit passageway and strode to Gavin’s door, not caring one whit whether he was disturbing him and Deirdre or not.

  He pounded hard on the wood—three quick knocks, a pause, and then two slow, so Gavin knew it was him and to hurry.

  Still, it seemed to take forever.

  He was about to knock again, when he heard the bar slide back. The door yanked open and Gavin stood there in his thigh-length shirt and nothing else, his hair mussed and a glower on his face. He blocked Kerr’s view into the room and most likely had a sword in his hand on the other side of the door to be safe.

  No one had the luxury of being careless anymore—even in their own castle.

  “This had better be good,” Gavin gritted through his teeth.

  “’Tis about Isobel. Meet me in your solar.” Kerr turned on his heel and continued down the passageway. Behind him, the door hinges squeaked. He assumed Gavin had stepped into the hall.

  “God’s blood, I’m a little busy right now!” his foster brother yelled.

  “I doona care,” Kerr yelled back.

  He continued to march toward the end of the passageway while Gavin cursed behind him before the bedchamber door thudded shut. Kerr expected his brother was dressing and kissing his wife goodbye.

  He felt ornery enough to hope he’d caught Gavin at the worst possible moment.

  When he reached the laird’s solar, Kerr fished out his key, unlocked the door, and stepped into the room. The wooden shutters were already open, letting in the daylight. He crossed to the hearth, crouched in front of it, and layered the tinder with the kindling. After grabbing the fire striker and flint from the mantel, he set the wood aflame. He was adding more logs to it when Gavin stormed in.

  “I’m here. What is it?” his foster brother asked as he strode across the wool rug toward his desk.

  “Isobel has ordered me to leave Clan MacKinnon in two days. She said that she may be leaving as well…with another man.”

  Gavin spun toward him. “What?”

  Kerr rose, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She implied that she’s been hiding her true feelings from us for some time.”

  Gavin snorted. “That doesn’t sound like my sister. Who is this man?”

  “I doona know.”

  “Is he a MacKinnon? Where did she meet him and when?”

  “I doona know that either.”

  “Well, what do you know?”

  Kerr sucked in a deep, tense breath and tried to release his anger and fear, his worry that he’d lost Isobel for good, but it didn’t work. “Not much.” He let out a dark growl. “God’s blood, I am not prone to words right now. ’Tis my fists that want to do the talking, and according to Isobel, that’s part of the problem.”

  Gavin sat down heavily behind the desk, facing him. “She’s right, Kerr. You canna threaten every man who shows an interest in her.”

  “And when exactly have I done that? O’er the winter when I’m not here? O’er the spring and summer when I’ve been away fighting battles with my allies? Besides, if a suitor willna stand up to a threatening stance or glare from me, then they’re not good enough for my Isobel. Would you have let someone bigger than you or stronger than you keep you from Deirdre? Nay, you would have died to get to her.”

  Gavin shoved his fingers through his hair and released a pent-up breath. “It doesn’t matter what you think or what I think. It only matters what Isobel thinks, and if she wants to be with a man who willna lay down his life for her, then that is her mistake to make.”

  Kerr made a disparaging sound in the back of his throat. “You doona believe that any more than I do. You would step in.”

  Gavin grunted. “Probably. But Deirdre’s been impressing upon me that Isobel can make her own choices—as my mother wanted. How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

  “Pretty damned good.” But he knew that wasn’t true.

  How would I feel? Trapped. Controlled. Like my mother.

  A wave of doubt hit him, crushing him from the inside until he could barely breathe.

  His father had been a monster. His uncles and cousins had been monsters. They’d beaten down his entire clan for generations.

  And I’m one of them.

  Shame slithered through his belly, and he swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. With heavy strides, he crossed to the chair in front of the desk and slumped into it. “Maybe ’tis for the best. My blood is bad.”

  Gavin made an exasperated sound. “Christ Almighty, doona start that again. You are not your father, Kerr. You doona rape or torture or kill people for your own pleasure. You kill to protect people, which is why you killed your father. And you didn’t stab him from behind. Nay, you waited until he attacked you—still just a lad. A big one, aye, but not the brute you are today. And now look at the health and prosperity of your clan. You’re a good man, with good blood. Your mother’s blood.”

  Pain welled inside of Kerr at the mention of his mother—her soft, sweet voice and gentle hands, her kind words and loving heart—and he leaned his head heavily in his hands. “If only he’d left her alive long enough so I could protect her too.”

  He heard Gavin’s chair scrape back, and then his foster brother leaned across the desk and laid his hand gently upon Kerr’s head. “Aye, Brother,” he said softly. They stayed like that for a moment before Kerr lifted his head. Gavin pulled his hand away and sat back. “Now, tell me exactly what my sister said so we can figure out what to do. If we push her too hard, she’ll run to this other man to spite us—and that canna happen with our enemies in our midst.”

  Kerr scraped his nails through his beard as he thought back on their conversation. “She was vague at best. She said she had plans that didn’t include me and that she may, or may not, be leaving soon—with someone else. She insinuated she’s been seeing this man in secret, and that I forced her to hide their…courtship.”

  Gavin snorted. “And you believed her? Isobel could no more keep something like this quiet than Ewan could.”

  “She might if she thought I would kill the man.”

  “Would you?”

  Kerr sighed. “Not if she truly loved him and he loved her…but if I thought he was using her or had hurt her in some way—aye, in a heartbeat.”

  “As would I,” Gavin said. “Or at least banish him from my land on threat of death.”

  “We canna let her run off, it isna safe. We have to do something.”

  “Are you sure she isna tricking you? If it’s a secret, and if she’s worried you’ll hurt this man, then why would she tell you about him?”

  Kerr’s shoulders sagged. “Because I asked her to marry me.”

  Gavin’s head jerked up. “You did?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, what did she say?”

  Kerr sat back in his chair. “She said naught at first. I could see she was co
nflicted and confused. And defiant, of course. But ’twas good to put into words what’s between us. She needed to hear them, and I needed to say them.”

  “Aye, ’tis good to be direct. Hopefully, she’ll come around.”

  Kerr’s brow raised. “Did you not hear a word I said? She isna planning to come around, she’s planning to elope with someone we’ve ne’er met.”

  “I heard you, but…”

  “But what?” he asked, exasperated by Gavin’s hesitancy.

  “If she has truly chosen someone other than you, if she truly loves that person, then we have to accept it.”

  “Bah! She doesn’t love him—whoever he is.”

  “I agree. I suspect my sister is up to one of her tricks again. Doona give up on her, Kerr.”

  “I’m not going to, but she’s told me to vacate your home in two days. If I canna convince her to marry me by then, I’ll not see her again until spring. ’Tis too long, Gavin. We need time together, so I can court her and break through her walls. I doona want to be alone this winter, and I canna woo her from a distance.”

  “I’ll speak to her. You can stay here for as long as you like.”

  He shook his head regretfully. “Nay, you canna override her on this. It will not work in my favor.” Kerr squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I need more time.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t know.”

  Gavin shot him a hard look, and Kerr raised his hand to waylay any protests, then continued. “If she is planning to run off as a way to get back at me—at us—then I need to act quickly. I’ve lost too much time already. And there’s something wedged between us—not a man, something else. I need to unearth it and that willna be easy. Isobel will resist.” He raised his eyes to Gavin’s. “We need time alone.”

  Gavin’s face turned dark. “You will not take advantage of her, Kerr. You will be married, with her consent, before you bed her, or I will have your head.”

  “I wouldnae do that, and you know it. I will ne’er be with your sister in that way until she is my wife.” He shot Gavin his own dark look. “Not like you had planned to be with my cousin before you married her.”