Free Highlander Untamed by Monica Mccarty

crackled. Unconsciously, she leaned closer, caught in a warm magnetic pull that seemed to draw her in.
    He continued to stare at her, looking deep into her eyes. His mouth was achingly close. She could see the stubble along his jaw and remembered how it felt scraping over her skin when he’d kissed her. She remembered the softness of his lips. The spicy taste of him. Her lips parted, waiting.
    Did he see how much she wanted him to kiss her? How all she could think about was the taste of his mouth on hers? For a long moment, they stood like that, staring at each other in the rain. Isabel searched for something, anything, to suggest that he felt it, too. She was to be disappointed. He deliberately broke the connection, turning his gaze from hers.
    “Now we are both soaked,” he said sternly. “Return to the keep. I have work to do. And in the future, stay inside during dangerous storms. I don’t want to have to fetch you again.”
    He turned on his heel and left her feeling even more alone than before.
     
    The MacDonald of Sleat watched Dunvegan sink into the gray mists of the storm clouds, but not before he caught sight of the two people standing on the battlements. A sight that brought a satisfied smirk to his mouth. There was no mistaking the identity of the woman or the man. His plan was progressing smoothly. The MacLeod would fight his attraction, but in the end, Sleat had no doubt that Rory MacLeod would succumb.
    Sleat still could not believe the good fortune that had brought his niece to his attention. Isabel MacDonald was a rare beauty indeed. A redheaded Helen of Troy. Men would see her and want her. Wars could be fought over her. She embodied the perfect combination of innocence and sexuality. Aye, his niece would serve their needs well. Very well, he congratulated himself.
    Rory MacLeod had been a thorn in his side for too long. It would amuse him to see his enemy, the great “Rory Mor,” brought down by a mere lass. The MacLeod had put up quite a show pretending not to notice her, but Sleat knew better. His indifference had been his unmasking. The MacLeod wanted her. Badly. Who wouldn’t? What man could refuse such riches? Sleat chuckled, well pleased with himself.
    Aye, using a woman to get inside the MacLeod’s stronghold had been a stroke of genius.
    The MacDonald scratched his scraggly beard, absently flicking the crumbs from this morning’s bread into the churning sea. He frowned. There was one weakness in his plan. His little niece. The ultimate success of his plan depended on her. He abhorred relying on a woman for anything, useless creatures that they were, but in this it was necessary. There was no other way.
    Was the chit strong enough to do her part? She was very young and inexperienced. It was part of her charm. But it also made her a liability. He hadn’t missed her fascination with the MacLeod chief. Sleat would keep a close eye on her progress and make sure she understood the consequences for her clan if she failed.
    For this Helen would not start a war, but end one.
    And in the process deliver him a kingdom.

 
    Chapter 5

    Since the afternoon of the MacDonalds’ departure three weeks ago, Rory had done his best to keep his distance from his new bride. The more time he spent with her, the more he learned about her. And the more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. It was a vicious circle that would lead him nowhere but to perdition.
    Even on that day of her family’s leaving, he hadn’t intended to go to her. But did the woman have no sense, standing on the slippery battlements in a torrential storm? He would have left her to the mercy of the elements, but that damn vulnerability had eaten away at his reserve. He’d spied her sad leavetaking from her family and tried not to be moved. Yet there was a poignancy to the moment that could not be ignored. Her father gave her an awkward pat on the head, and Isabel looked as though she wanted to throw her arms around him. Each