Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends #1.5)(13)

Two seconds...three…four...

He lowered the final chair beside the other three, creating the conversation area she’d been envisioning. She didn’t need him to turn around for her to know how he felt; he broadcasted his anger in the tense movement of his body.

His voice lowered and purred out smooth as silk, easily heard above the soft hum of the fire. “You went out without an escort?”

She had no desire to rile his barely restrained beast further, so replied quietly, “Yes.”

“Please tell me you dinna mount Solus.”

She took a tentative step closer to him. There was more than anger in his voice; an undercurrent of pain laced his tone. Her selfish wishes had hurt her great warrior, and she regretted her foolish actions.

“I’m sorry, my love. I did. I forced the stable boy to help me onto her with a stool, and I only rode her at a slow walk. At the time it seemed...adventurous. You’d battle-trained Solus so well, I had confidence she’d keep me safe.”

Iain finally turned. The burgundy flecks in those hazel eyes flashed hot with passion: a mixture of fury, pain, and love. “Even our best horses—even Dubhar—can take a misstep. Do you think I demand anythin’ from you lightly?”

Isobel dropped her gaze to his chest, unable to bear the tortured look in his eyes. She shook her head slowly.

He folded her into his arms and pulled her as close as her protruding belly would allow. “The verra wild spirit that I love in you must be tamed. You’ve put more at risk than the woman who I live and breathe for every day. Those bairns are the future of our clan. Their safety is paramount to your needs or mine, and my role as laird requires me to protect them. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?”

She stared into the crackling fire, realizing what she’d inadvertently done. When she’d gone off on a gentle ride on a crisp blue-sky day of momentary freedom, she’d guaranteed it would be the last time for a while.

“Yes, Iain. The escort you told me to request whenever I left the keep will no longer be by request, will it?”

The solid chest that her cheek rested against shook, startling her. She lapsed into confusion by his low chuckle and looked up to see mirth in his eyes.

“Nay. You’ll no longer even move about this keep without an escort.”

Her jaw dropped with her brows. “What?” Shocked, she pushed against him hard. Iain released his hold, and she stumbled two steps backward for balance. He crossed his arms, all amusement vanishing from his face.

“No way.” She also crossed her arms...onto the shelf that had become her belly.

“Oh, aye.” He lowered his face, a determined stare locking onto her hers as he casually widened his stance.

They stood there for long moments, nostrils flaring, hearts thundering, each in defiance of the other’s position: two stubborn souls brought together from different worlds—her twenty-first century to his thirteenth. The battle lines had been drawn. She snorted. If she wouldn’t have to pee within the next thirty minutes, she’d have the stamina to stand there all day.

While she debated the odds of Iain granting any leeway if she begged for mercy, Brigid flew down the stairs and into the room in an epic huff. Her copper curls flew behind her as she stormed up and barged in between them, her own arms crossed over her chest. “I am done with that damned angel!”

Iain’s gaze snapped to Brigid so fast, Isobel was certain he’d caused himself whiplash.

“What did you say?” Iain’s growl trumped Brigid’s. He stepped closer, glaring at her.

Unafraid of her brother, Brigid shot a frosty glare his way. “Done.”

“The rest of it.” Iain’s voice had gone glacial as he towered over his sister.

Her voice lowered, but didn’t cool. Brigid had endured a lifetime of Iain’s intimidation tactics. “With. That. Damned. Angel.” Brigid arched a brow.

“I hadn’t been aware you’d been with that damned angel.” Iain raised his brows.

He waited.

She relented on a sigh. “Aye, Iain, you have. You know Skorpius had been bound to protect me. Weel, I’ve been gone a while, you’ve been busy with the clan, and ’tis a verra long story.” She arched a defiant brow at him. “I’ll share it when I’m ready.”

Unfortunately, Brigid’s keen observation skills had failed to take into account the hostility of the party she’d joined. A slow smile spread across Iain’s face as he backed up, his gaze sliding toward Isobel then back again to look at his sister. Finally, he spoke, addressing Isobel without taking his eyes off his sister. “Brigid. She will now go with you everywhere you go. Brigid, you are not to leave Isa’s side.”

Brigid opened her mouth in a sure attempt at protest, but her words were left unspoken as Iain growled low in warning.

“I doona care if you have to lift each other’s skirts in the garderobe. Each of you will be everywhere with the other. If you both leave this keep” —he paused and glared at Isobel— “and I mean one step off this wooden floor out the door, you will do so with the escort of one of my guard. Do I make myself clear?”

Isobel withheld comment. So did Brigid. Too late, Isobel realized their lack of response was a monumental mistake on both of their stubborn parts; they apparently liked to poke a riled bear.