Page 26 of Much Ado About a Scot

“Aye.” The sound was part word, part exhalation of breath. “That was . . .” She could only wonder at the madness that had gripped her, emboldened her to take charge of their lovemaking.

One corner of Xander’s lips tugged upward a moment before he nudged her head back, tracing kisses along her jawline and down her neck. “Not as primal as yesterday?”

“We cannot say that. It was every bit as intense.” Hunger and raw need had gripped her in a way it never had before. “What is it about you that fires me so? We barely know each other, yet it is as if our physical bodies are attuned, knowing what the other desires before we even speak it. And no matter how sated I am, I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“Or me of you.”

She could feel his hunger rising again within her, growing thicker, harder, sending a wave of new sensations singing through her blood.

“I’ll keep you in my arms all night long if you’ll have me.” Xander shifted her in his arms, settling her on the bed, positioning himself at her so-sensitive entrance.

“I am yours and you are mine.” She echoed his sentiment from earlier.

With those words, he claimed her once more, taking her to new heights of splendor.

*

Xander came awake much later to see the early morning light trying to push its way into the darkness. He stirred and sighed, luxuriating in the warmth that surrounded him. Isobel’s back was pressed against his chest. He cradled her head with his arm and brought his other arm to drape over her, holding her to him possessively.

She was only temporarily his.

He felt his face harden and his lips thin. In those rare moments when Isobel let down her guard, when she thought no one was looking, he’d seen a vulnerability in her eyes that was impossible for him to deny. Feeling this way about her had not been a part of his plan. And despite the upheaval it caused in his work for the king, he didn’t regret any of it.

What was required was a restructuring of his plan. He would see that Isobel held on to her land, no matter what he had to do to make that happen, but he would also find Bothwell and turn him over so that his duty to the king would also be fulfilled.

He glanced down at her dark head, at her hair, spread out like gossamer silk against the bed linens and his shoulder. Careful not to disturb her slumber, he slipped his arm from beneath her head and carefully repositioned the pillow to take his place. Silently, he slipped from the bed and dressed. It used to be so easy to pretend attachment to a woman and then when they were done to simply go their separate ways.

With Isobel, he doubted their parting would be that easy. He forced the thought away. He needed to turn his attention to the other front on which he was engaged. Determined to do just that, he slipped from the chamber and headed down the stairs.

Freya met him in the hallway. “Good morrow. I hope you had a restful night,” she greeted with an arched brow and quick glance back up the stairs. “Will ye be wantin’ tae break yer fast soon?”

He stood ramrod straight, feeling like a schoolboy who’d been caught hiding the slates and chalk from the teacher. God’s teeth! He was a grown man, and he and Isobel were legally married after all. “Nay, Freya. I’ll help myself to an apple and let you go about your business. You have much to accomplish for tonight’s celebration.”

“Far less thanks tae yer generosity. I’ve never seen our larder so full. Brodie is settin’ the fire now tae cook the boar and venison.”

“Excellent.” Xander stepped around the cook, determined to make his exit as quickly as possible. “I am heading for the village to hire a few more cooks and servers. Is there anything else you need?”

“Nay. Ye’ve done so much already. And I thank ye fer thinkin’ about extra help. I’ve never served so many people before. The additional hands will be much appreciated.”

He gave her a nod, then left through the kitchen door and out to the barn. The hazy light of dawn gave way to a clear morning. At the front of the house, seeing no one milling about, he assumed the workers still slept in the tents Rhys had provided for their use.

Overhead, the golden eagle circled, seeking an early morning meal of the rabbits who had come out to graze on the dew-dampened straw left behind in the fields. Only the soft twittering of the birds could be heard above his footsteps as he made his way to where Rhys would be waiting for him.

Then, a scraping sound came from the back of the Graham estate. Xander hunched low as he moved to the treeline instead of the barn, and peered into the distance. A red-headed man whose face was concealed from view by the brim of his hat stood beside the well, yet he wasn’t retrieving water. Instead, he sat on the stone rim, shifted his legs over the edge, and vanished inside the well. There was no splashing of water or a cry for help—only the sound of stone scraping stone filled the morning air.

Xander could barely believe his eyes. Could Graham have created a secret entrance to his manor so that his liaisons with Bothwell and his followers could happen privately should someone be watching the front of the house?

Xander released a pent-up breath. He should have expected something of the sort. But at least now he knew their secret, and could use the entrance for his own sleuthing needs.

Returning to the barn, Xander slid the door open to find Rhys waiting for him there with both of their horses saddled and ready. He made his way to Arion and stroked his muzzle in greeting. “You’ll never believe what I just saw. Graham has a secret entrance to Dunbar Manor disguised as a well near the treeline between the two estates.”

Rhys frowned. “Between the estates?”

“Aye.” Xander matched his frown.

“And you are certain the passageway is to Dunbar Manor and not Gladmuir Hall?”

Xander froze. “I should have considered that.” He turned toward the door, then turned back to Rhys, torn between his obligations. “I have to follow whoever went into the tunnel.”