A Woman of Honour Page 3

  He gasped. A thousand icy needles pierced his body as a he wrapped his arms around her shivering form. God, she was cold. Her teeth chattered so hard he was scared her jaw might shatter. He tightened his grip and tensed as he placed her hands under his armpits.

  He lay in the dark holding her while she shivered. Feeling her long slender body aligned with his, wondering how long he could contain his desire. He needed to control himself for as long as it took to awaken her passion. That would be difficult. She seemed so set on becoming a nun.

  He sighed with relief when her shivering gave way to the rhythmic breathing of sleep. In the morning he would be lying with his woman in his arms. His naked woman. And he would awaken her desire.

  Chapter Four

  Isabel lay in a field of wheat. The warm sun touched her skin and gentle hands kneaded her back. The muscles along her spine relaxed. Fingers brushed the sides of her breasts and she groaned with pleasure.

  “Isabel,” a distant voice whispered. The hands continued to rub, hands that excited and relaxed at the same time.

  “Isabel, open your eyes.”

  “No,” she sighed.

  She did not want to wake because then those magical hands would be gone. This was an enchanted dream, and she didn’t want it to end. Lips brushed the hollow where her neck met her collarbone. She moaned.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Hmm,” she replied but still did not open her eyes. She enjoyed the sensations that raged through her body and the warmth of his hands on her, Duncan’s hands. She should be distressed that a man was touching her, but this was just a dream.

  Duncan. Pictures of him swirled through her mind. He was beautiful, but more than that, he had looked after her. No one outside of her immediate family had ever cared for her, or even noticed her, with him it was different. He noticed. He protected her, cared for her. He made her feel desirable.

  She turned her head toward his, and he rewarded her with a kiss that was more an onslaught than an embrace. His mouth pressed against hers and his tongue plunged between her lips filling her with his taste, his sweet flavour. It gave her the sensation of merging, of becoming part of him. He continued his sweet, sensual torment deepening their embrace even further. She moaned. His hand moved from her back to caress her breast, circling her nipple with his thumb.

  “Good morning,” he growled.

  She opened her eyes and was horrified to find his body entwined with hers, his hand on her breast. Stiffening her spine, she tried to retreat, but lost her balance, tumbled out of the haystack, and landed on her behind. Scrambling to her feet, she backed away, her face flushed with shame.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. Had she really let him touch her naked body? Oh God, yes she had, and she had enjoyed it.

  “I take it, you’re not happy with our night together?”

  She turned her head too ashamed to face him.

  “Look at me,” he said as he climbed out of the straw and came to stand in front of her.

  “You’re….You’re….” She was transfixed by the sight of him. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. He was magnificent. Muscles stretched the skin of his shoulders and chest, leading down to a flat stomach. Then her eyes fell on his erection. The sight of it held her spellbound. She had never seen a naked man before. Oh, she had heard the servants talking, but nothing had prepared her for sight of Duncan. Naked. Finally, she managed to look at his face. He grinned.

  “I like how you look first thing in the morning.” Mist rose from his mouth with every breath he took.

  “Y-Y-You need to put some clothes on.”

  “Aye, so do you.”

  She looked down and only then realized she was naked too. With a yelp, she ran to the clothes and grabbed her linen shirt.

  “I can’t believe I let you ruin me.” She struggled with the garment.

  “I didn’t ruin you. I saved you.” He walked over to her, took her shirt from her hands, and placed it over her head.

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to become a nun, you—”

  “You made me your whore?”

  “Nothing happened. I never touched you. Well, yes I touched you but not… I won’t force myself upon you. I’m not going to dishonour you. We have a handfast marriage.” He placed her tunic in her arms. She did not move.

  “A what?”

  “A handfast marriage, we have an agreement between us. When we reach my home, we will have a priest bless the union.”

  “Agreement? When did I agree to anything?”

  “At the riverbank. You promised to stay.”

  Could that be possible? How could she have agreed to marriage without her knowledge? She shook her head in denial.

  “That was just until we got to your home, not forever.”

  “I did not say forever, did I? I said until we reach my home.” He took the tunic from her hands and placed it over her head. She started to feel much more confident now she had the protection of clothing.

  “That is not going to happen. You will not touch me again. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You cannot deny the attraction between us. It is perfectly natural for us to want—”

  “I can’t believe I was so weak willed, so…so…” Tears burned her eyes.

  Duncan grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “I know a lot has happened to you, but you can trust me. I do not want to destroy your reputation. I understand why you are dressed so provocatively. All I ask is that you consider a life with me, as my wife. Don’t you want children?”

  She wanted all those things. She wanted him. She wanted him to touch her, to feel those wonderful hands on her skin and the sensation of his body against hers and know it was right and proper because she was his wife. But none of those things could happen because he did not support the king and she had to deliver a letter. She had given her word.

  “But I can’t, I have to go to Iona.” She sobbed. She didn’t know why she was crying. She never cried. Maybe she was still tired and hungry, or perhaps it was because she was so confused.

  He stood in front of her with his hands on his hips. “Did you really want to become a nun that badly?”

  “It’s not that. I have to go to Iona. I promised.”

  He stared at her for a moment then donned his shirt, plaid, and boots.

  “We will discuss this later when you are feeling better. Why don’t we finish dressing, and you can tell me how you came to be travelling alone.”

  She was grateful for the change in subject, and so wiping the back of her hand across her wet eyes she said, “My guardian is Bishop Lamberton of St. Andrews in Fife.”

  “Do you mean the same Bishop Lamberton who is advisor to the King?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one who is being held prisoner by the English?”

  “Yes, the same. Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

  “Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “A group of monks came to see me at St. Andrews. They had a message from the bishop that had been smuggled out of prison.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I was instructed to travel to the Island of Iona where for safety’s sake, I was to take the oath and become a nun.”

  “Safety’s sake?” He ground his teeth as he said the words but said nothing more as he grabbed the old plaid, and using his dagger, cut long strips from the cloth.

  “I told you my brother is one of the Bruce’s companions. The bishop did not want me falling into English hands like Robert’s family.”

  “Aye, I can see the sense behind that. For the Bruce to have all his women held hostage by the English makes him vulnerable. You don’t seem meek. Why did you agree to take the oath?”

  “I have very little choice. I’m not comely, and I don’t have a dowry. No man has asked for my hand in marriage. I cannot dishonour my family by refusing.”

  “And you would never cons
ider marrying beneath you? Sit down on the hay, I want to wrap your feet.”

  Isabel did as he instructed. “Oh, of course I would, but what man would have me? I can’t cook or work a loom. In fact I have no useful skills. I have lived off the bishop’s charity since my father died. I tried to make myself useful. I collected herbs for the healer, cared for the children while their mothers worked, but most of the time I did embroidery or read the Bible. So you can see it makes sense for me to become a nun.”

  “You’d make a terrible nun.”

  “What a mean thing to say. Why do you think that?”

  “You’re a good fighter.”

  “My family has been at war with the English since before I was born. They killed my father and took our home. My brother taught me how to throw a punch, kick, and use a dagger. He made sure I could defend myself. I fight because I have to not because I want to. Besides, I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “I noticed and I didn’t say there was anything wrong with a woman being able to protect herself. It’s just not something you expect from a nun. In my clan women who can fight are considered valuable.”

  She didn’t know what to say. No one had ever considered her useful in any way. For as long as she could remember, she had been a woman without a purpose. She had lived in a small room near St. Andrews and tried to be helpful to those around her. Her presence had been tolerated out of respect for her dead father. She had no gifts to offer and no abilities to prove her worth. Delivering the letter to the king was her chance to make a difference. She had to go to Iona.

  “Are there any other objections to my choice?”

  “Actually there are. I have not heard you pray once, not when we were in the dungeon, not when we were hunted, not even when we washed up on the riverbank. You didn’t even call God’s name when you cried out in pleasure.”

  Her cheeks burned at that last remark, and she glared at him for having the rudeness to remind her of her weakness.

  “But most of all, you will not become a nun because I will not allow it.”

  “It is not for you to say. I have known you for less than two days. You cannot come into my life and take over.”

  “We could be happy together. Why would you throw that away?”

  “I don’t understand why you insist on pursuing me. Once you reach your home and compare me to other women, you will see your error and change your mind.”

  He finished wrapping one foot and started on the other. First he inspected it, checking the sole thoroughly, and then he held her foot between his hands.

  “Why are you doing that?” she said, uncomfortable with the emotions his touch conjured.

  “I’m warming your foot before I cover it. I did the same with the first one, didn’t you notice?”

  She shook her head. She had been so busy arguing with him that she had not noticed how he cared for her. He said and did the most outrageous things, things that infuriated her. When she first met him, he had seemed so vulgar and now here he was caring for her with such tenderness. She wished things were different, wished she were beautiful, wished she possessed the skills to be a good wife. Most of all she wished he supported her cause.

  He finished with her feet, took what was left of the plaid, and placed it around her head and shoulders, forming the fabric into a hood.

  “This will help you stay warm” he said once he was done. While he turned his attention to retrieving his sword and dagger, Isabel felt her tunic for the letter and breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers touched its outline. Duncan walked to the door and peered out.

  “It’s time to go,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. It was just a small peck and yet she yearned for more. But he was serious now, his somber eyes combing their surroundings, and she fell in behind him.

  “We’re still in MacDougall territory, so stay close behind me and be quiet. And, for God’s sake, yell if you get into trouble.

  Before she had a chance to ask how she was supposed to be quiet and yell at the same time, he left the hut and started running.

  Chapter Five

  They had been running for less than an hour and already Isabel’s feet throbbed. Even the extra layer Duncan had wrapped around her toes could not prevent slush leeching to her skin. Her legs ached from the intense effort it took to wade through the deep snow. Her stomach made loud, growling noises. She put a hand to her belly in a useless attempt to silence it.

  Duncan glanced over his shoulder. “I’m hungry, too.”

  It irritated her that he seemed to know her so well. It was as if he sensed her feelings. Did he know she hungered for his touch? And that even though she had behaved shamefully, when she had lain with him, she wanted more? Yes, he knew. He was aware of her the way she was of him. His desire rolled off him in waves, a desire that matched her own. Was it so wrong to want him? It was not just his passion that touched her but his caring. He cared for her and made her feel cherished. It surprised her to realize she wanted to marry him. She could go with him and disappear, no one would miss her. Her brother probably thought she was already dead. No one would look for her. If only she didn’t have to deliver that damned letter.

  The sun had just cleared the horizon when they arrived back at the riverbank. Snow hung on the trees and lined the shore, a mist rose from the water giving the highlands a fairylike quality. Isabel wondered if she had entered an enchanted land.

  Duncan stopped, pulling her behind a tree. He pressed his body to hers, his warmth sinking into her, and then put a finger to his lips as a signal to be quiet while he watched the river. She obeyed, relishing his closeness. Finally, when he was satisfied, he took her by the hand and led her to a small leather-skinned boat.

  “Get in,” he commanded

  She obeyed, silently.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Panic gripped her and she grabbed his hand, “Where are you going?” she whispered.

  “To get food,”

  “I don’t need any.” Even though she was weak from lack of nourishment, she would rather be hungry than be apart from him. What if something happened to him?

  He smiled and touched her face. “You need to eat and so do I. It’ll be all right, don’t worry.”

  “I’m coming with you.” She started to climb out of the boat.

  “No.” He gently pushed her to a sitting position.

  “But—”

  “It’ll be all right. They won’t even know I’m there. I promise. I’m not going to fight anyone.”

  “I could watch out for you.”

  He smiled again, held her face and laid a gentle kiss on her bruised cheek.

  “You crash through the forest like a charging beast. If I’m to do this without being seen, you have to stay here.”

  Without another word he was gone leaving Isabel to stare after him. Had she just been caressed and insulted at the same time?

  “Charging beast, indeed.”

  Agitated, she twisted the hem of her tunic. She should have insisted on going with him. What if something terrible happened? Needing a distraction, she reached into her tunic and pulled out the leather purse. Working quickly, she unwrapped the binding, opened the pouch, and peered inside. Everything seemed all right. She pulled the letter out and turned it over in her hand. There was a little water damage along one edge, but the seal remained intact. Brother Mark had told her the letter contained information the king needed. She had to deliver it. How could she live with herself if she didn’t? Sighing, she placed it back in the purse and rewrapped the binding. Then, she tucked it back inside her tunic, pulled the plaid tight around her shoulders, and waited for Duncan to return.

  After what seemed like hours, a restless anxiety clawed at her. Where could he be? The mist that blanketed the river dissipated. What if he was in trouble? She climbed out of the boat to go in search of him. A movement in the trees caught her eye. She froze and watched as one of the trees seemed to move. A figure emerged and strode toward her. Duncan. She was so h
appy to see him she threw her arms around him, kissed his cheek, then jumped back into the boat. Without a word he passed her a cloth bundle, and followed her in, untying the rope as he went. He grabbed the oars and began rowing upstream, easily fighting the current with sure, strong strokes.

  “This is better than running,” Isabel said after a few minutes.

  He grinned. “Eat.”

  She opened the bundle to find a heaped pile of oatcakes. She inhaled the scrumptious aroma of ground oats mixed with lard. Plain food and yet to her it was a grand feast.

  “Would you like one?” Remembering her manners, she held the bundle out to him.

  “No, you eat, just save me some. I want to get us further downstream before I stop.”

  “I’ll wait for you.” She rewrapped the package.

  “No, you’re too hungry.”

  She was hungry, yes, but how did he know? She had not said anything. Her stomach had grumbled but that was all. He always seemed to know what she was thinking. Then, as if reading her mind again, he said,

  “You haven’t been able to take your eyes off the food since I climbed in the boat.”

  She nibbled on a small piece of oatcake and wondered why she wasn’t annoyed with him for reading her mind. He seemed to notice everything. She was used to being invisible. In fact, she was used to being ignored. His attention made her feel special and that was dangerous because it made him even more tempting.

  ****

  Isabel watched the muscles of Duncan’s arms contract and expand. They had been in the boat for about an hour, and in that time she had become mesmerized by his physique. Not just his arms but also his long, articulate fingers and his striking blue eyes, eyes that were always watchful and alert. Was he ever relaxed? The MacDougalls had considered him such a threat that killing was not enough. They had wanted him humiliated and broken. For the Campbells to lose a warrior of Duncan’s stature would be devastating. Were his clan looking for him?