Untamed Highlander

ELEVEN

Hayden told himself he didn’t care that Isla was in his chamber, that her body was covered by the same linens that had touched him.

But as soon as he had walked into his chamber, he had smelled her. The snow and wild pansy scent filled the room, reminding him of ice-blue eyes and midnight hair, of lush lips and creamy skin. Of an exquisite body and pert breasts.

The blood had rushed to his cock in less than a blink. He had tried to ignore it by searching his chest for another shirt, one that wasn’t stained with Isla’s blood.

Which brought him back to when he had thought her dead just an hour before. That fear had clawed at his insides just as it had when he’d found his family.

Worse, he didn’t want to feel for Isla. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t, but he knew the truth of it in his bones.

He had found her on that Godforsaken mountain and carried her back to the castle. He had seen in his mind her torture, had listened to her beg him for death. How could he not care?

How did he dare?

It seemed his feelings weren’t as dead as he imagined. And that could be a very bad thing.

He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard Isla until she had spoken from the doorway. He knew he couldn’t stay in the same chamber alone with her. She was too much of a temptation, an enticement he didn’t want, not when he didn’t understand his body’s reaction to her.

To get away, he had to pass her. And that had nearly done him in.

She wasn’t afraid of him. That in itself made her more appealing. Dangerously so.

The urge to touch her skin, to feel its warmth, had pushed him closer to her. The desire to taste her lips, to sample the essence that was hers alone had overwhelmed him. The need to feel her against him, to have her breasts pressed against his chest had pushed him to the point of breaking.

He had two choices: give in to his desires. Or leave.

He’d left, and even now as he strode to Logan’s chamber he regretted it. Hayden wondered what she would have done had he pulled her into his arms.

Would she have fought him? Given no reaction? Or would he have seen another side of Isla, a passionate side wild and eager to break free?

It was better that he never knew the answer to that question.

Hayden stood in Logan’s chamber for several heartbeats before he jerked off his saffron shirt and tossed it on the bed. There was work to do in the village. Exactly what he needed to forget about Isla and the allure she offered.

*

Isla was amazed at how the new gown fit her to perfection. The sapphire color of the gown was beautiful in its simplicity. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt pretty.

She wondered what Hayden would think of the gown, and then she wondered why she cared.

Isla walked from the chamber in search of the women. She wasn’t surprised to find Cara outside the kitchen tending to a garden. Cara was leaning over a plant, her hands hovering around it as she put her face close. The plants grew lush and bountiful from her pure magic.

And despite herself, Isla was jealous. She had once had that pure magic running through her. It might not be as powerful as black magic, but there was nothing like the feel of untainted magic running through a body.

“You found the gown,” Cara said as she glanced up. “How does it fit? I didn’t know your exact measurements, so I just guessed. Let me know if I need to alter anything.”

“It fits wonderfully. Thank you.”

Cara leaned back on her knees and dusted off her hands before rising. “I love the feel of the earth. Lucan says I spend more time with my plants than I do with him.”

Isla returned Cara’s smile, envy spiking through her once more. “The earth strengthens your magic. It’s no wonder you find it hard to resist.”

“That’s the same thing Sonya said.” Cara picked her way through the garden and walked to Isla. “Is something wrong?”

Isla was hesitant to ask. The MacLeods had sheltered her, helped to heal her, fed her, and clothed her. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “Is there somewhere else I can sleep?”

“Did Hayden say something to you?”

Isla shook her head. “Not at all. I just … I can sleep in one of the cottages.”

“Have you seen the cottages?” Cara asked with a sheepish smile. “The wyrran destroyed most of them. They aren’t fit to house anyone.”

“I can make do,” Isla insisted. “I don’t like the idea of putting anyone out of their chamber.”

Cara gave her a wry smile. “There’s no need to explain. I understand. There is one place you might like. In the north tower there is a chamber at the top. It isn’t large, and it’s empty.”

“That would be perfect.”

“Consider it done, then,” Cara said. “Lucan is finishing a bed today that was supposed to go in one of the cottages. I’ll have him bring it up to the tower.”

Isla licked her lips, unsure if a simple thank you would be enough. “I appreciate everything, Cara.”

Cara waved away her words. “No need to thank me. You are part of us now, one of the family.”

“There you are,” Marcail said as she strolled from the bailey. “I’ve been looking for you, Isla. I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”

Cara nodded and shooed Isla away. “Aye, go with Marcail and learn about the castle. I’m sure you have many questions.”

Isla soon found herself with Marcail at the top of the battlements staring down at the bailey where the men were gathered.

Hayden was easy to spot because of his height and golden locks. But there were many others she didn’t know.

“To think it all started with just the MacLeods,” Marcail said. “Now look at what has been created.”

“There are many I do not know.”

Marcail chuckled. “It was the same with me. I’m still getting to know them all. You know the MacLeods, obviously.”

“Aye. And Broc,” Isla said. “I’ve met Logan, Galen, and Ramsey as well.”

Marcail leaned up on tiptop for a moment. “Logan is the happy one, the one who keeps everyone laughing. Galen is the one with the endless stomach.”

“I learned that already.” Isla couldn’t help but grin as she recalled the way the others teased Galen.

Marcail smiled at her. “That’s right, you have. Now, Ramsey, he’s the quiet one. You never know what he’s thinking, but when he does speak, it’s usually in everyone’s best interest to listen.”

“I see.”

“You also know Arran, and the twins, Ian and Duncan, right?”

Isla nodded.

“Then there’s Camdyn and Malcolm. Have you met either of them?”

“Nay.”

Marcail pointed to a Warrior in a bold red, black, and blue kilt. He had long black hair and stood almost as imposingly as Hayden. “That’s Camdyn. He tends to keep to himself, though he is easy enough to get along with.”

“And Malcolm?”

Marcail grimaced and looked away from the Warriors. “He is Larena’s cousin.”

“He’s not a Warrior?”

“Nay.”

Isla remembered a man walking the cliffs the previous night. His face was scarred, though it didn’t distract from his good looks. “Is he the one with the scars on his face?”

“And a right arm he cannot use.”

“What happened to him?”

“Deirdre’s Warriors,” Marcail answered with a sigh. “Sonya has a gift for healing, but she wasn’t able to restore the use of his arm.”

Isla understood why Malcolm roamed the cliffs then.

“And then of course there’s Hayden,” Marcail said.

“Tell me about him.”

“You mean besides that he has a hatred for droughs that goes beyond anything I’ve ever seen?” Marcail shuddered. “Watch yourself around him.”

Isla shrugged and found her gaze on Hayden once more as he walked through the gates toward the village. “I’m not afraid of him.”

Marcail studied her a moment. “I don’t think you are. He was the one who found you on the mountain.”

“Was he?” Now that was something she hadn’t expected. “If he hates droughs so much, why didn’t he kill me as I asked him to do?”

“Only Hayden can answer that,” Marcail said. “We all expected him to do it.”

Interesting. Very interesting.

Isla was taken on a tour of the castle. She hadn’t seen it destroyed, but she remembered the gleeful rejoicing Deirdre had done when she’d made Isla watch as the MacLeods discovered what had happened.

It had made Isla physically sick to think of all the innocents that had been killed that day. Looking at the castle now, Isla was glad to see that something good was once more making a home among the old stones of MacLeod Castle.

After the tour Isla went with Marcail to the kitchen where Cara, Sonya, and Larena were already getting the noon meal ready.

“With these Warriors, we barely have enough food,” Sonya said.

Larena grinned. “At least with Galen gone for a few days we’ll have some left over.”

“Larena!” Cara cried and tossed flour at her.

Isla found herself smiling at their antics and the way the women interacted, as if they had been lifelong friends. They had come from different paths of life, but they had all found common ground with each other.

They made the best of their lives despite the war that raged around them. They kept laughter and love and light among them, a testament to the Druid magic that filled the castle.

“You have flour on your face, Larena,” Sonya said with a chuckle.

Marcail rolled her eyes. “It just gives Fallon a reason to kiss her.”

“As if you have any right to talk,” Larena said with a knowing grin. “You and Quinn run off every chance you get.”

Sonya grinned. “And they think no one notices.”

Marcail shrugged away their comments, but Isla saw the satisfied smile on her face. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Cara snorted. “More like the MacLeod brothers are insatiable.”

Larena, Cara, and Marcail all busted out laughing, nodding their heads in agreement.

Isla felt a pang of remorse as she recalled the times she and her sister had shared such laughter. These women might not be bound by blood, but they were bound by family, and sometimes that could be stronger.

Sonya rolled her eyes at them as she continued to knead the dough. “I think I’m the only one with a sane thought around here.”

Marcail and Cara exchanged a look. Larena just shook her head.

“So,” Marcail said and turned to Isla. “Can you cook? Or are you like me and hopeless when it comes to preparing food?”

Memories of baking sweets with her family filled Isla’s mind. “I used to be fairly good, but it has been a very long time.”

“What’s your specialty?” Larena asked.

Isla glanced at the expectant faces around her. “My father was a baker. I learned early on many of his recipes.”

Cara clapped her flour-covered hands. “Wonderful. Do you remember any of them? Another set of hands in the kitchen would be a tremendous help.”

Being needed as she was at that moment left Isla breathless. These women didn’t seem to care that she had spent the last five hundred years immersed with evil.

“I’ll see if I can recall any,” Isla said. “I cannot promise that anything I prepare will be edible, however.”

Sonya set aside the dough and leaned her hands on the work table. “I don’t think the men taste half of what they eat, they cram it down so fast.”

“Only so Galen doesn’t get it,” Cara joked.

Larena scratched her chin with the back of her hand. “Poor Galen. Everyone teases him so.”

The hours flew by as Isla stayed in the kitchen and listened to the conversation. Occasionally she would speak, but mostly she listened. There was much laughter, much teasing, and obvious love between all of them.

And to have been included brought a longing to Isla she didn’t want to feel.

The hope swelling within her, the inclusion in the MacLeod “family,” and her fascination with Hayden could only spell one thing: disaster.