Page 20 of Much Ado About a Scot

Her head thrashed back and forth and she could hear the frantic cries erupting from her as the tension coiled tighter and tighter with each stroke of his body. Isobel climaxed, the tension exploding with a force that sent a fiery release through every muscle in her body. A heartbeat later she felt Xander surge within her as his body shuddered helplessly.

He collapsed on top of her, his hips still moving, as though yearning to go on even though he had reached satisfaction. A moment later he stilled and shifted beside her, lying still, breathing heavily, his hot flesh pressed against her own.

Isobel drew a ragged breath. “That was even more devastating than I imagined it would be.” She had never experienced anything like this intense encounter with Xander.

His breathing gradually steadied and slowed. “I was too rough. I lost control the moment I touched you.” His voice was uneven.

“We both were a little . . . savage,” she said on a half groan as she met his gaze.

“Sex can be that way sometimes, but when it is, that’s good.” His eyes shimmered with unquenched passion.

“Too good,” she said as a fresh hunger erupted inside her. “I want you again.”

At the words she felt his erection grow against her thigh, thick and hard and ready to take her once more.

“I am glad you finally relented and came to me. I can give you what you need, Isobel. You say you want me. I want you too, but it is sex we share, nothing more.”

“You are sweeping me off my feet with your sweet words,” she said, her tone sarcastic.

“You asked for honesty. I am being honest.”

She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “No ties, just mutual respect until either of us grows tired of the other in the two months we have together.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter Eight

Isobel woke sometime in the night to find herself nestled against Xander’s body, cradled back to chest. His arms curled around her, one hand still cupping her breast, the other lax against her stomach. She felt warm and protected in a way she hadn’t for years. Yet she was also alarmed by how reckless she had been. In her head she knew it was dangerous to start a physical relationship with someone she hardly knew, but her need for physical touch had been her undoing.

She had been swept away by passion and desire. She’d wanted him so badly she couldn’t think or breathe. He’d asked what she was willing to give for his cooperation—and she’d given it freely. It would be wise for her to put some distance between herself and Xander, but wisdom had nothing to do with what happened here last night. It was all lust.

And the next time he touched her similarly, she would want him all over again, however temporary their relationship. He’d made it abundantly clear he had no intention of staying. They would share these moments of pleasure, then they would both walk away from each other and their marriage.

Was that truly what she wanted? She released a heavy breath. It didn’t matter what her thoughts on the matter were. It was what she’d been given. And as usual, she would make the most of the desperate situations life always seemed to throw her way. The harvest would be secured and she would be able to keep her estate for her son. It was enough.

Nay, it was everything. When the time came, she would find a way to forget Xander and go on.

Trying not to disturb him, Isobel disentangled herself from his arms and moved off the bed. She padded across the floor on her bare feet and slipped her shift back over her head. The night was still dark as she made her way out of the chamber and through the kitchen. As she approached the kitchen, she noted that the fire had long since died in the hearth, but a swathe of moonlight danced across the floor.

Yet, something did not feel right. She held her breath and strained to see through the darkness. A dark shape shifted in the shadows. A floorboard creaked, followed by a rustling sound.

Her heart leapt to her throat. Someone was there, in the kitchen. She clutched her empty fingers at her sides. Her crossbow was in the front room, too far away. She looked beside her to find a candlestick on the side table. Silently she clutched it in her hand and eased closer.

Whoever was there had stopped by the kitchen table and rifled through the objects inside the box she’d left there. Her whole life was in that box—a letter from her parents before they’d died, the deed her grandfather had been given by Winchester Graham, a lock of Rory’s hair, a dried flower Jamie had given her, and so many more keepsakes.

And how would she stop this intruder with a candlestick? She had no idea, but she had to try. Raising the metal over her head, she pulled her arm back to throw it when a whisper of sound whizzed past her ear followed by a grunt of pain as the shadow staggered backward.

A hand touched her shoulder but she was not startled. She knew that touch. Xander slipped past her, charging toward the intruder. The back door flew open and the intruder raced out into the open. Xander gave chase, wearing only his breeches.

Taking the candlestick with her to the hearth, she found a candle, flint, and steel and quickly lit the wick, bathing the kitchen in a pale yellow light. It was enough to see all her precious treasures scattered across the table. With her heart pounding in her ears, she scanned the items: the lock of hair, the flower . . . the deed was missing.

Desperation took over as she ran out the door, following Xander. The moon above cast the world around her in a pale silver light. Her bare feet barely registered the cool earth beneath her feet as she hurried past the barn and toward the trees to see two dark figures in the distance. A metal blade glinted in the moonlight, arcing toward Xander, but he jumped aside and reached out to connect his fist with the intruder’s jaw with a sickening thud. As the man crumpled, the knife dropped uselessly to the ground.

Xander grasped the intruder by the front of his tunic. He lifted the groaning man partway off the ground and demanded, “Who are you? Who sent you to steal from Lady Isobel?”

The man’s eyes rounded. Before Xander could react to the sound of footsteps behind him, a fist struck him on the back, forcing him to drop the intruder.

“God’s blood!” Xander turned to address the new assailant with a hard fist to the chest. The man hunched forward, trying to catch his breath, but Xander gave him no time to recover as he struck him in the face. The man hit the ground hard, moaning for a moment before falling silent.