Highlander Enchanted

Chapter Seventeen

Lady Isabel had never been able to resist looking upon Cade. The moment he peeled his shirt from his body, her breath caught in her throat, and she could not avert her gaze.

Wide of shoulder, sculpted down to his stomach, he was solid, powerful, from the melon size of his biceps to the ripple of muscles beneath his skin when he moved. The pendant at his chest swayed with his movement, brushing back and forth across the great expanse of muscles. Every part of him was built for battle – and to be lusted over. Her fingers twitched as she imagined running them through the tight, sparse curls of his chest and down the warm skin covering his hard frame. His trews were snug enough to display the thick shape of his thighs and the rounded mounds of his buttocks. Even the covered parts of him rendered her weak.

She was fevered once more, enchanted by the sight of him half naked and preparing for battle in the middle of the Great Hall. The barbaric sight was not one she would witness in England, but it was befitting the savages of the Highlands.

As if feeling her watch him, Cade glanced up. His penetrating gaze seared through her thoughts, scattering them until she could form no single, rational idea. What was it about this man that wrested her control away and left her wishing she had not slept alone in his bed?

Breathless, hot, she leaned forward until her thighs and hands rested on the table to balance her.

Cade's gaze swept past her, and he turned away. Lifting his massive sword, he deftly swung it a few times. She admired the muscles of his back as they effortlessly supported the heavy weapon and then crossed herself, ashamed of her continued lust.

The servant beside her gave a sigh, and Isabel realized she was not the only woman affected by him. She reined in her senses, unwilling to let any of these heathens see her lose her composure, and looked past him to the knights with Richard.

The large one facing Cade wore his armor and a helmet while Cade appeared content in nothing more than his trews and boots.

"Should Laird Cade not wear armor?" she asked, frowning.

"Nay," sighed the servant.

Lady Isabel pursed her lips. "I do not wish to see this," she said and pushed away from the table. She turned and started through the crowd, not caring that she had been summoned to the Hall or that her handmaiden was too enamored with Cade to leave.

"Lady Isabel!" boomed her somewhat gracious host, Laird Duncan.

She paused near the door.

"Where do ye go, my lady? This is fer ye!"

She faced him. Those between her and the barbaric display melted from her path, and she strode forward, determined to represent her noble name well among the barbarians.

"I fear I do not understand, my lord," she replied coolly.

"They fight fer yer hand."

She opened her mouth, looked at Cade, and then closed it.

"They both claim t'be hand-fasted t'ye, lass," Duncan continued, entirely too happy about this for her comfort. "Ye enchanted them both, did ye? I didna ken seillie magic ran in English veins."

Laughter circulated around the Hall.

"Who do ye wish t'win?" he taunted.

"I claim neither, my lord," she replied.

More laughter rippled around the Hall. Duncan joined them with a deep belly laugh. Wiping his eyes, he stepped out of the center of the ring. "As always, yer spirit impresses me, lass. But, as I 'ave a wife, and no sons, I shall let them determine who wins yer hand."