Free The Highlander's Accidental Bride by Cathy MacRae Page B

color. He scowled and drew back, realizing he had been close to kissing her.
    Isobel flushed darkly. “‘Tis plain to see the little whore is on yer mind,” she snarled at him.
    “Mind who ye name ‘whore,’ Isobel,” Eaden said, an iron edge to his voice. “‘Tis past time ye should go back to yer husband.”
    Isobel tossed her head. “I’ve heard the gossip at the castle. The poor thing is too young for ye, my love. She most likely doesnae know the difference between a man and his expectations.”
    Eaden scowled. “What are ye talking about?”
    She reached unerringly for him under the water and he sucked in his breath at the tug of her hand as it found its goal. “The man .” She stressed the word with a devastating twist of her hand. “And his expectations.” She tapped the side of his head with her other hand. “What do ye expect from yer mousy wife?”
    Eaden tried hard to ignore the pressure of Isobel’s hand on him but found it impossible. He gritted his teeth, meeting her look of defiance with an even stare as he reached for her hand to stop her bold stroking. He swallowed a moan as she released him, avoiding his grasp, sliding her hand further between his legs.
    “Stop, Isobel,” he grumbled, his voice gruff with repressed emotion. “Enough.”
    Isobel drew back. “I hope yer wife can finish satisfying you,” she spat. Her eyes flared as anger twisted her lovely face. “Though I dinnae suppose ye will get too much from an inexperienced child such as her.” She took a deep breath and leaned forward, her breasts firm against his chest.
    “I would have loved ye forever,” she whispered achingly in his ear, her mood again changing with alarming abruptness.
    Without another word, she turned and swam away. Though grateful for the cold water, a long time passed before Eaden summoned enough control to follow her out of the water. The encounter left him edgy. He yanked on his clothes, snatching at the trailing reins of his horse’s bridle. Passing Ranald, who scrambled to collect his own steed, Eaden rode back to the castle at a gallop, his thoughts in turmoil, his body reminding him hungrily of Isobel’s offer.
    Mary lay awake far into the night, waiting for Eaden to come to bed, uneasy to think what would happen if he chose to continue their earlier conversation. Or worse, if he decided to act before talking. She wasn’t sure she would be able to withstand another devastating kiss in the privacy of their bedroom. She gulped. Or in our bed .
    What would she do if he came to her? His kisses ignited something inside her she did not want to contemplate, yet the memory stirred just beneath her skin.
    Heated tendrils curled inside her and Mary felt a stirring of panic. If he touched her again she was not sure she could fight the attraction between them. She grasped frantically for reassurance he would maintain his distance. Surely he would not come to her during the next few days, until her cycle was complete. Or would he?
    Sorcha lay on the floor at the threshold of the room, not her usual sleeping arrangement. For a long time Mary tossed and turned, the emptiness of the bed unfamiliar around her, until she finally gave into sleep and restless dreams of the man who confounded her days and haunted her nights.
    Eaden met her at the top of the stairs the next morning. He appeared fresh and clean. And handsome , her traitorous mind told her. He glanced at her in a distant fashion as he took in her appearance.
    “I will be leaving this morning. King Robert will be in Edinburgh tomorrow. I will tell him of yer desire to go back to Bellecourt.”
    “And will you also tell him of my desire for a divorce?” she countered. “I want to be free to marry whom I choose.”
    Laird Scott bowed low before her. “As milady wishes.” He turned away, descending the stairs two at a time, as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

CHAPTER 10
    Eaden’s furrowed brow was enough to cause King Robert to clear the