Seduced by a Highlander Read Free

But Alex had accepted knowing the MacGregors of Skye were here! Oh, how could he? Had he forgotten the hatred between their clans? Or the trail of dead Fergusson Chieftains left by a devil bent on revenge a decade ago?
    “Dear God,” she beseeched, stopping at a large stone sundial in the center of the garden, “give me strength and my witless brother wisdom before he starts another war!”
    A movement to her right drew her attention to a row of tall bronze statues gleaming in the sun. When one of them moved, Isobel startled back and bumped her hip against the sundial.
    “Careful, lass.”
    He wasn’t a statue at all, but a man—though his face could have been crafted by the same artist who had created the masterpieces lining the garden. Isobel took in every inch of him as he stepped out from behind the golden likeness of an archangel, wings paused forever in flight as it landed on its pedestal. He wore the garb of an Englishman, but without all the finery… or the wig. His hair hung loose to his shoulders in shades of rich chestnut and sun-streaked gold, almost the same blend coloring his eyes. He wore a cream-colored linen shirt belted to flare over his lean hips. The ruffled collar hung open at his throat, giving him more a roguish appearance than a noble one. He was tall and lithe, with long, muscular legs encased in snug-fitting breeches and dull black boots. His steps were light but deliberate as he moved toward her.
    “I didna’ mean to startle ye.” The musical pitch of his voice branded him Scottish, mayhap even a Highlander.
    “I thought ye were my sister. I am infinitely grateful that I was mistaken.” His smile was utterly guileless, save for the flash of a playful dimple in one cheek, and as warm and inviting as the heavenly body perched behind him. But the way his eyes changed from brown to simmering gold, like a hawk’s that spotted its prey, hinted of something far more primitive beyond his rakish charm.
    For a moment that went completely out of her control, Isobel could not move as she took in the full measure of his striking countenance. Save for the slight bend at the bridge, his nose was classically cut, residing above a mouth fashioned to strip a woman of all her defenses, including reasonable thought.
    She took a step around the sundial, instinctively keeping her distance from a force that befuddled her logic and tightened her breath.
    Damnation, she had to say something before he thought her exactly what she was—exactly what any other woman with two working eyes in her head was when she saw him—a doddering fool. With a tilt of her chin that suggested she was a fool for no man, she flicked her deep auburn braid over her shoulder and said, “Yer sister thinks ye are an arrogant imbecile, also?”
    “Aye,” he answered with a grin that was all innocence and innately seductive at the same time. “That, and much worse.”
    As if to prove his statement true, a movement beyond the statue caught Isobel’s attention. She looked in time to spy a glimpse of sapphire blue skirts and flaxen curls rushing back toward the palace.
    “My guess,” Isobel muttered, peering around his back to watch the lady’s departure, “is that yer sister is likely correct.”
    “She most certainly is,” he agreed, not bothering to look behind him. The cadence of his voice deepened with his smile. “But I’m no’ completely irredeemable.”
    Rather than argue the point with such an obvious rogue when she should be thinking of a way to convince Alex to leave with her and Cameron, Isobel quirked a dubious brow at him and turned to leave. “As difficult as that is to believe, sir, I will have to take ye at yer word. Good day.”
    Her breath quickened an instant later when the stranger appeared at her side and leaned down toward her ear.
    “Or ye could spend the afternoon with me and find oot fer yerself.”
    His nearness permeated the air around her with heat and the familiar scent of heather. He was