Page 27 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

She nocked it and worked to balance the weight as he felt the warmth of her body merge with his, and with it a thrill of anticipation. “Does that feel more stable?”

“Aye.” Her breath caught as she touched the string to her lips.

His heart raced as he watched the bowstring caress the softness of her full, pink lips. Orrick shook his head and tried without success to pull his gaze away from her mouth. He was here to help her regain her strength, not find pleasure. And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if the woman’s intensity for battle would spill over into other areas of her life.

At the thought, arousal roared through him. He gave up trying to look away and continued his exploration. Her simple golden-brown dress accentuated her breasts and hips as the fabric skimmed across her shapely form. To some she might appear soft and feminine, but Orrick knew the strength and determination that her flowing gown concealed. She was a dangerous warrior whether dressed in fine lace or a cloak of pelts.

A quick intake of her breath brought him back to the moment as her fingers opened and the arrow flew straight into the hay. The sound of the impact told him the strike had been both true and strong. “Success,” he said, lifting his hand to capture one of the tendrils of her golden hair that had escaped her plait during their earlier battle. He twined it about his finger.

She half-turned, glancing back at him. It was all the invitation he needed. He leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. His breath quickened as he deepened the kiss. Her right hand edged around his nape, and her fingers sifted through his hair. When her tongue caressed his, he moaned with a longing he could not name, a longing that urged him to capitulate. He would surrender to her every day if these reckless sensations were a part of their battles.

“Nay,” she gasped, drawing back.

Orrick shifted her head down against the frantic hammering of his heart. “I did not mean to do that,” he breathed against the softness of her hair.

She stepped back out of his embrace. “That is probably enough practise for today.” She touched her lips with the back of her hand.

“How is your arm?”

She dropped her arm to her side. “I think it’s improving. A few more strengthening sessions and I should be able to hit a target without your assistance.” Confusion clouded her gaze. “Then again, perhaps I should train alone and then leave this place.”

“Why is it you want to leave so badly? What awaits you out there besides danger and pain?” He saw fear flit through her eyes.

“It’s what I must do,” she said before she turned and fled.

If she left, then he would return to the man he’d become over the last few years even though he longed to be something more. His memories of the West Indies kept holding him back. He’d at one time been the third-best warrior at Dunvegan when it came to swordsmanship, though he excelled above them both with a bow. Or did that even matter now that he couldn’t use either?

Alastair and Tormod had moved on with their lives since returning to Dunvegan. They’d fallen in love and had married women who were their equals. Yet Orrick was trapped by his memories.

Isolde might think she needed to leave, but Orrick desperately wanted her to stay. For she was the only one who made him feel hope for a different future.

Chapter Ten

Isolde raced towards the castle with her bow in hand. She didn’t really want to go back inside just yet. She needed time to herself to figure out what had happened. Orrick had kissed her. Yet it was her own response that left her unsettled.

Instead of heading to the gates, she followed the creek down to the shore until she stood before Loch Dunvegan. She drew in a breath of the cool winter air, then closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, trying to block out the memory of Orrick’s kiss.

When the action failed to bring calm to her heavy and confused soul, she opened her eyes and looked out at the peaceful waters that rippled at her feet. She drew another deep breath and studied the life that teemed on the salt loch. Seals poked their heads above the water, staring at her while seabirds chattered amongst themselves as they floated on the wind. She rolled her left shoulder back and forth. If only the burning ache would ease, she would leave this place and never look back.

Weariness invaded her limbs. Who was she kidding? Now that she had retasted all the luxuries of life she’d given up, it would be hard to go back to her cave. Here at Dunvegan she had warmth, food in greater variety, shelter, and clothing she didn’t have to make herself. She reached up and ran a hand through the loose tendrils of her hair as Orrick had done only moments ago. She knew she should not want or even allow herself to feel the desire that had consumed her as his lips met hers.

In that moment she’d felt the power of his desire and a startling stab of her own. She knew the best thing to do would be to stay away from him. She’d seen that kind of desire before in others and knew where it led. Such feelings would be harder to leave behind than anything else. But there was no other choice.

Or, was there? Perhaps she could stay at Dunvegan. Live her life behind its solid walls, safe from the English by never leaving again. A heartbeat later, the usual heaviness on her shoulders returned. Her presence at Dunvegan would cost the MacLeods an alliance with her brother’s clan. Isolde clenched her right hand in her skirt, feeling absurdly lost. She sighed, the sound as torn as it felt. In another time and another place perhaps there could have been something between them, but not now. Not ever. And even as she told herself she was doing the right thing, all she could think about was how much she wanted to kiss Orrick again.

*

Aria slipped past the guards as she followed Isolde inside the gates of Dunvegan. The guards were too busy watching a distressed Isolde run through the gates and into the castle to pay much notice to a dark shape that appeared more like a shadow than anything else. It wasn’t long before Aria found her way inside the mighty fortress. She was weary of observing from a distance. What better way to truly know when she should reveal herself to them and make her offer to return the lost child to the MacLeods.

Now that she was inside, she would need to find a place to hide and watch the MacLeods as they went about their daily lives. Once again, patience would be her friend. It might take a few days to determine how best to approach them. But what were a few more days when compared to the lifetime she’d already waited?

*

For the next three days Isolde managed to keep her distance. She stayed in her chamber, mostly. She took her meals there by herself because while the others’ attitudes had thawed towards her somewhat, there was still much tension in the castle that she no doubt had caused.

Lottie was the only person she allowed to enter her chamber. The healer came every day to clean and redress Isolde’s wound. Yesterday Lottie stopped applying the poultice since Isolde’s skin was no longer singed. Two dark pink scars stood out against her pale flesh, ribbons of colour that would forever remind her of the man she’d encountered in the wilderness. Despite the scars, her wounds were healing and she was healthy. It wouldn’t be long now before she was fully healed.

To make certain she was ready for that day, Isolde practised holding her bow and drawing the string back for hours in her chamber. She did not need to shoot an arrow to regain her strength. Once the bow felt less cumbersome in her hands, then she would add an arrow to make certain she had not lost her accuracy.