The Highlander's Lady Knight (Midsummer Knights #2) - Madeline Martin Page 0,37

Of course, she went of her own volition to see what she could uncover. “And ye found something?”

Isolde nodded. “Aye, they are planning to overthrow King Richard.”

Shite.

Cormac sighed. “I hadna wanted ye to know.”

Someone shouted in the distance followed by the raucous laughter of men. Cormac stepped closer to ensure their speech would not be overheard.

“That was not all Matilda discovered.” Isolde bit her lip, and her eyes went glossy with unshed tears.

Cormac reached for her and gently held her slender arms in his hands. “What is it?”

“’Tis not the Ross clan who is behind the coup.” Isolde sighed. “’Tis my brother.”

Cormac didn’t speak for one stunned moment. “How did ye learn of this? I sent Alan to gather information as well, and he heard none of this. Nor did either of my other two men.”

“Alan is not as beautiful as Matilda.” Isolde lifted a brow. “I cannot imagine your other men are either.”

He tipped his head in surrender. “People dinna trust the Scottish enough to divulge their secrets to Lachlan and Duncan. Alan has a better chance of that when it comes to the English.” The latter part held more truth than Cormac cared to admit. It was why he continued to employ Alan. “But beauty does have a means of moving the most stoic of men.”

Her distress cleared as she gazed into his eyes. “Does it?”

“Pip isna my dog,” Cormac confessed.

Isolde gave a quiet laugh. “I know.”

“Marry me, Isolde.” The suddenness of his request surprised even him. “Here. Tonight. Let me take ye from all of this. If ye’re wed to me, ye willna be free to marry Brodie. We’ll be bound together by God.”

Her smile faded into a frown of concentrated thought.

“Ye’ve been ignored by men who should have protected ye for too long.” He closed the scant distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “I canna stop thinking of ye. No’ since the first moment I saw ye, when I thought ye were the bonniest lass I’d ever laid eyes on.”

“Did you?” Her blush was evident even in the low light.

“Aye.” His fingertips brushed just beneath her lips. God’s Teeth, how he longed to kiss her. “But ye’re no’ just bonny. Ye’re brave, determined, strong.” He shook his head. “There’s no’ a lass like ye in the world. And I’d rather die than lose ye to a man like Brodie Ross who sorely does not deserve ye.”

She shuddered at his words and started to shake her head, no doubt to tell him she would not allow him to take her place in the challenge.

“Ye’ve always been poorly cared for.” Cormac drew his arms around her, securing her to him. “For the rest of our lives, let me protect ye. Let me love ye.”

The last bit had not been intended. But he did not regret it. For there in the empty moonlit field, with her in his embrace and gazing up at him as though he were the only man in the world, he had never wanted anything more than Isolde Maxwell as his wife.

Was he in love?

His finger traced over her full lower lip, and she drew in a soft breath.

Possibly.

“Will ye?” he asked when she did not answer. “Will ye marry me?”

12

For the first time in Isolde’s life, someone was truly seeing her. Not as a source of wealth or a means of advancing their status, but her as a woman. Not once had Cormac mentioned her dowry. Indeed, he had even asked her to marry him after she had confessed that her brother was a traitor.

And he wanted to protect her. Evidence of his intention was not only in the earnestness of his words but in the strong, warm circle of his arms. He made her feel safe.

In all of Isolde’s life, no one had ever sought to save her. Her father had focused all his attention on Gilbert, his prized son, who would carry on the name and title. Once Gilbert assumed the earldom, he had cared for her only in how her future union could give him a powerful alliance.

Earlier that evening, before the feast, the servant from her home that she had paid to inform her of Gilbert’s well-being had finally arrived. He informed her that her brother was well after several days of being terribly ill. And that he was furious.

However, he no longer considered her to be his problem, but Brodie Ross’s, and would leave her to him so long as she returned Gilbert’s clothing posthaste.