But she tempted him beyond all reason.
When he exited onto the castle's ramparts, the icy wind hit him in the face. Just what he needed to cool his ardor. He glanced around and saw that the roof was empty. The guard towers below at each corner of the walls were more than sufficient to keep a lookout for approaching armies. None of which had invaded for years.
Needing a few minutes alone, he'd asked Erskine to wait at the bottom of the steps below.
He paced, his gaze drawn toward the sun setting over the bay and mountains, golden orange and rose blended with the grayish clouds. Such a lovely sight. Home. The waves crashing below and rhythmically sliding over the sand helped the tension and lust drain from his body. He inhaled deeply of the frigid salt air. How he'd missed this place.
A movement at the door caught his attention. Isobel, with the cowl over her head, squeezed out and the wind shoved the door closed again.
What the devil was she doing following him?
His lust surged to the forefront again, even though he knew there was no chance of taking her now. His body didn't care. What he couldn't remember from last night, his imagination filled in with spellbinding erotic imagery and sensations.
She strode toward him. "Dirk? Why did you walk out in such a way?"
How could she not understand? She knew little about men; that was why. Well hell, he wasn't explaining it to her. The less they talked about swiving the better.
"Are you still angry with me?" she asked.
"Nay."
"But you don't trust me. That's clear."
"Aye. I do trust you. But I don't trust myself."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Clasping the icy stone before him, he shook his head. "Because—damnation, Isobel—I want you," he growled. "Can you not see that? I want… what we did last night… again."
Her eyes widening—in shock or interest—he couldn't be sure. She licked her lips and the action near drove him mad.
He squeezed his eyes closed against the luscious sight of her.
A second later, she touched his arm. His eyes sprang open and he glared at her. She was too close, her body practically against his.
"Isobel… go back inside." The chill wind snatched his words away, making them almost too low to hear.
She shook her head.
"Do as I say," he growled more sharply.
She bit her lip, looking unsure and vulnerable again.
"I'm not angry with you, lass," he said, trying to make his voice gentle. "I'm trying to protect you."
"I don't want to be protected from you."
Something fluttered and surged in his chest. Hell. He felt near senseless around her. As if his body and emotions were in control and his reasoning mind had abandoned him.
He breathed deeply of the cold air, but it would not dispel his hunger for her. She wanted him just as he wanted her. Her rosy lips lured him. He had to taste them one more time.
Letting go the bitter cold stone, he grabbed her to him. The flare of excitement in her eyes fueled his desires. Her lips were as cold as his, but the inside of her mouth was hot and sweet as he delved inside to taste her. His hands slid down her back to her waist to hold her close. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling, but he didn't care. He wanted naught but to devour every last inch of her.
Her delicate tongue flicked against his, spiking his lust, making him groan. He tugged her tighter against his body, against his hard shaft. Damn, how he wanted her, right here and now. The cold wouldn't matter, but he couldn't do it. No lady wanted to be taken roughly against an icy stone wall with her legs exposed to the wintry wind.
Simply imagining her naked thighs spread, himself lodged between, made his shaft jolt with powerful arousal. He moaned. Her mouth was better than any honeyed treat he'd ever tasted.
Something whizzed past the back of his head, the air off it wafting against his hair. Alarm shrieking through him, he rolled with Isobel to the stone floor of the battlement. She ended up on top but he quickly put her behind him.
What the devil was that?
An arrow bounced off the wall.
"Iosa is Muire Mhàthair." Some bastard was shooting at him? Damnation. Either of them could've been killed. "Stay down!"
Cautiously, he rose and scanned the roof. They were still alone. Had to be someone on the ground. How had they known he'd be up here? He peered over the edge of the rampart in the direction the arrow had been shot from—the west. He saw no one on the ground below. Where had the bastard gone?
His gaze drifted further along, to the wall enclosing the church. A figure disappeared behind a tall Celtic cross gravestone. Someone was trying to murder him from within the churchyard? What manner of evil lurked here? It couldn't be McMurdo. He was still in the dungeon—at least he had been an hour ago. Surely he hadn't escaped since then. No alarm had been sounded.
Narrowing his eyes, Dirk watched and waited. He saw no more evidence of the dark-clothed figure.
Isobel crawled across the roof toward him. "Do you see anyone?"
"Aye, but I couldn't see who it was." Gloaming was growing duskier by the second.
He was certain, whoever it was, Maighread had hired him. Who knew how many men she'd hired to dispatch him?
"Come. Let's go back inside."
Staying crouched, they moved toward the door. He opened it and helped her through. They descended to the castle's top floor.
"I'd like for you to stay in your bedchamber until I come get you," he said in a hushed tone. "I'm going to take some men and try to catch whoever shot at us. I'll post a guard at your door."
"Do you truly feel that's necessary?" she whispered.
"Aye. Now that Maighread knows we've… been intimate, she might use you to bring me down."
***
"Why are you wearing armor?" Rebbie asked Dirk quietly when he appeared in the great hall.
Dirk's gaze scanned those present. Though several eyed him with curiosity, none seemed hostile or suspicious. "Why do you think?" Dirk muttered aside, making sure no one was near enough to hear. "Someone is trying to kill me again."
Rebbie gave a dark frown. "What happened?"
"On the ramparts moments ago, an arrow flew past my head. A man was hiding in the graveyard. Some bastard Maighread hired, without doubt. Or maybe it was Haldane. I'm getting the men together to do a search. McMurdo should still be in the dungeon. If he is, the witch has hired someone else. If he's somehow escaped, I'm going after him. I won't be so lenient this time."
"I need my armor too, then." Rebbie's hand flexed on his sword hilt at his side.
"Aye. And we'll wear our helms too."
"There you are," someone said behind him.
Dirk turned to find Aiden looking worried and glancing over his shoulder.
"What is it?" Dirk asked.
"I've been searching all over for you," he whispered. "We have to talk in private."
"We'll go into the library. You go first and we'll be right in." That way if Maighread had a spy in the great hall, it wouldn't appear Aiden and Dirk were together. He didn't want Maighread to know Aiden was helping him. That might put him in danger. Not that he truly believed Maighread would harm her own son, but if she thought Aiden was betraying her, she might decide Haldane was the one she would put in as chief.