"Sweet Mother of God, 'tis the wrong one," Isobel gasped.

Beneath a shock of white hair, the man's bright blue eyes twinkled. "Nay, lass, I'm here on my grandson Ewan's behest. I'm to wed ye to him by proxy."

Astride his black steed, Ewan Mackenzie bid farewell to the men who'd fought under his command in France. Their purses now heavy with coin, they were anxious to return to their families as anxious as Ewan was to return to his own. It had been a year since he'd seen his young sons. Too long for bairns to be without their da, but it couldn't be helped. The Mackenzies were in dire need of coin, and a sword for hire had been the only way for Ewan to raise the much needed funds. He scowled, thinking of his grandda and the missive that had made its way to Ewan across the channel.

"He's scowlin' again, Randall. 'Tis certain he's thinkin' on grandda." His dark-haired cousin Callum observed with a laugh. Both Callum and his twin brother Randall had fought alongside Ewan in France and now accompanied him to Leod.

"Aye, I'm thinkin' if he wishes to see another day he'd best no' have contacted the Forbes," Ewan said irritably.

"Mayhap 'tis no' a bad idea, Ewan. You said yourself you were tired of the fightin' and missin' your wee lads. William Forbes is reputed to be the richest man in Scotland. I'm sure the lass's tocher would allow you to give up the sword," Randall said.

Ewan's fingers tightened on the leather reins. "Aye, I am, but I'll no' be tied to another wench of his choosing so I can do so. The old man canna see past the coin to the viper he saddles me with."

Randall bristled. "Jenny is no' a viper."

"Nay, I was referring to Lorna. But if ye hadna kidnapped Jenny, I'd be wed to her and the three of us would be miserable."

"I wouldna had to kidnap her if you'd stood up to grandda," Randall grumbled.

"Aye, well, I was but a lad of twenty and wanted nothin' more than to please the old man." His grandda had taken the place of Ewan's parents when they'd died of fever, and Ewan would've done anything for Roderick and the clan. It had been the same when he'd wed Lorna Sinclair. Although, he admitted, he'd been as enamoured with her beauty as all the men had been, it hadn't taken long for him to discover she was a cold-hearted, treacherous bitch beneath her angelic facade. If she hadn't died fleeing Scotland with one of her many lovers, Ewan would have found some way to divorce her, no matter the shame it brought his family.

Mayhap if she'd been any kind of mother to his sons, he would have been satisfied to lead separate lives, but she'd spared the bairns not a moment of her time or affection. He shoved aside the thought the lads may not be his. It didn't matter. If they were not sons of his loins, they were sons of his heart.

"I understand how you feel after what you suffered at Lorna's hands, but for all you ken Isobel Forbes is a grand lass and would make you a fine wife. Your lads need a mother, Ewan."

"Callum's right. I've never heard 'aught said against the Forbes lassies. They were always aboot when we attended the gatherin's at the Burnetts'. Are you sure you doona ken them, Ewan?"

"Nay," Ewan grunted. His cousins were wasting their breath. Ewan would not marry again, especially a woman of his grandda's choosing. He'd done his duty he'd provided heirs. But they were right about one thing he was determined to remain at Leod with his sons. He just had to find a way to provide for the clan so he could.

"Ewan, you canna tell me you doona recall the gatherin's at the Burnetts'. Doona you remember the lass you went chasin' through the woods after, only to end up knockin' yourself out instead?"

How could he forget? There'd been something about the lass that had called to him. A charged jolt of awareness when his eyes met hers, a feeling he'd never experienced before or since. It was as though his body recognized her and urged him to claim her, make her his own. Unbeknownst to his cousin, Ewan hadn't taken part in the hunt that day. He'd scoured the countryside for her, only to return in time for the festivities to hear his grandda announce his betrothal to Lorna Sinclair.

Randall chuckled. "Must be somethin' aboot the moonlight and the Burnetts' moors that calls the lassies to our cousin here. Do you recall the lass we met up with the summer before grandda announced your betrothal to Jenny?"

He hadn't, not until his cousin mentioned it. They'd come through the mist to find a bonny wee lass astride her horse. Ewan had asked what she was doing on her own. His lips twitched as he recalled her sweet, innocent smile and her answer. "I'm waitin' for you." He'd laughed and promised to come back for her. He started at the thought; the two lassies were one and the same. He shook off his bemusement. He had no time for whimsical fancy of bonny lassies waiting for him in the moonlight.

In the valley far below from where they sat astride their horses, Castle Leod shimmered in the midday sun. The sweet scent of heather filled the warm summer air and Ewan's chest tightened. Aye, 'twas good to be home.

"Is that grandda?" Callum asked. Shielding his eyes with one hand while he waved the other, he called out to the old man who appeared to be chasing a woman through the heather.

"If 'tis, lets hope the woman has coin and grandda can wed her because he'll no be gettin' me to the altar again."

Two.

Isobel blew her flour-dusted hair from her eyes. The kitchens were sweltering. Her body was slick with sweat beneath the old gown she'd chosen for the task the bairns had set out for her. Robbie and Connor watched her closely, their eyes wide as she turned out the honey cakes they'd asked her to bake in honour of their father's return. She tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her belly at the knowledge that the man who was now her husband would arrive on the morrow.

"Nay, Robbie." Connor shook his head of auburn curls and grabbed his brother's hand before he could stick his finger in the cake.

"Can we have a wee taste, mam? Please," Robbie begged, lifting his startling blue eyes to hers.

Isobel's chest tightened as it did every time she looked upon their sweet faces. Roderick hadn't mentioned Ewan's children until they'd arrived at the castle. For Isobel, it had been a welcome surprise. She'd been living at Castle Leod for well over six months now and, recently, Connor and Robbie had taken to calling her mam. The first time they did so she'd been moved to tears. She'd come to love them as if they were her own.

Isobel ruffled Robbie's golden curls a shade lighter than the colour she remembered his father's to be about to concede.

"Mam," Connor said sternly. "They're for da, remember?"

Isobel bit back a laugh at the reproachful look in Connor's light blue eyes. Connor, who seemed much older than his six years, thought Isobel spoiled Robbie terribly as he was wont to tell her at least twice a day. Noting the quiver in Robbie's bottom lip, she said, "There's two. Surely your da wouldna mind if I give you both a wee piece?" With her thumb and forefinger, she indicated the size.

"Nay, da is a verra braw man. You canna have any, Robbie," Connor said mulishly.

"I promise, I'll make another one on the morrow, Connor." Isobel prayed the kitchens would not be as hot then. It wouldn't do to meet her husband in the sorry state she now found herself. She doubted Lorna Mackenzie had ever looked anything short of perfect.

Upon her arrival at Leod, Isobel had worried how the Mackenzie clan and more importantly, Ewan's children would respond to her. Would they find her lacking? But not once had she'd been made to feel that way. She'd been happy and relieved to be so readily accepted, but couldn't help wonder why not once in all this time had Lorna been mentioned. From what little she could pry from Roderick who insisted Isobel call him grandda she'd learned Robbie had been only one when his mother died. Isobel thought Connor, at least, would have some difficulty accepting her in the role of his mother. He hadn't. Far from it.

Roderick had been no more forthcoming in regards to how her betrothal had come about than he'd been about Lorna. She'd mentioned it to her nana, who at her father's insistence had accompanied Isobel to Leod, but Olivia had simply brushed her worries aside with the admonishment that her second sight had yet to fail her.

"Nay," Connor said arms crossed. The sight of his three-year-old brother's tears not bothering him in the least.

They bothered Isobel, and she was about to try and cajole Connor into relenting when the side door opened. Roderick, with his trews and tunic rumpled and his shock of white hair standing on end, rushed past her. He came to an abrupt halt and backtracked. Taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her cheek. "Ye're a grand lass. Ken if I breathe my last this day, I've come to love ye most dearly, henny. Ye, too, my bairns. If anyone asks, I've been on my deathbed this past week," he shouted the last over his shoulder as he rushed from the kitchens.

Barely had Isobel recovered from her surprise when her nana hurried through the door. Olivia's hair hung loose about her shoulders, bits of heather clinging to her silver locks, her grey gown grass-stained. "Nana, you look like you've been rollin' around in the ..." Isobel's eyes widened as a rosy flush tinted her nana's face. That was exactly what she'd been doing and she'd been doing it with Roderick! Isobel shouldn't be surprised, the two of them had been acting like a pair of lovesick fools of late.

"No time, my bonny, I must see to Roderick."

"It appears that the way you've been seein' to the man has just aboot killed ..." Isobel rolled her eyes when her nana fled the room.

"Mam, Robbie stole the cakes!" Connor cried, racing from the kitchens.

Sweet Mary Mother of God, the heat must be drivin' them all mad.

Isobel set off after Connor, certain he'd pummel his brother if he got ahold of him. "Connor, Robbie," she called out. Rounding the corner, she came to a shocked standstill. Her husband stood in the entry hall, looking every inch the battle-hardened warrior Roderick proudly proclaimed him to be. His grandson's exploits were the notable exception to Roderick's reticence. Ewan Mackenzie, majestically tall with broad shoulders and rippling muscles, surveyed his home. Two dark-haired men stood at his back, but Isobel barely registered their presence.

Ewan's sapphire gaze came to rest upon her, causing a heart-stopping tremor in her throat. A frisson of heat raced through her and Ewan jerked back, as though he felt the same. He frowned, his eyes roaming her face. She couldn't drag her gaze from his, mesmerized by his beauty. Time had chiselled away the softness of youth. He looked hard, dangerous, with the dark stubble shadowing his strong jaw. Growing uncomfortable under the intensity of his stare, Isobel ran her tongue over her lips.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and a slow, sensual smile curved his. "You must be new to Leod. I doona recall seein' you before and I'd remember if I did." His voice was low, a seductive purr. The intention of his remark was not lost on Isobel. While a part of her acknowledged his attraction pleased her, the fact that as a married man he'd give his attention to another lass tempered her pleasure even if that lass was herself.

"Doona be shy, angel, give me your name," he cajoled, taking a step towards her.

"Mam!" Connor raced to her side. Tears streaming down his wee face, he wrapped his arms around her legs. "Robbie ate the cakes. There's none left for my da," he sobbed.

Ewan's startled eyes jerked from Isobel to his son then back to her. "Who are you?" His blue eyes darkened to black.

"Isobel-"

He cut her off with a curse. "Where's Roderick?" he grated out, ignoring her shocked gasp.

"His chambers, he's-"

"I'm goin' to kill the meddlin' bastard," he roared as he charged up the stairs. The two men who'd stood with him cursed and gave chase.

Ewan slammed into Roderick's darkened chambers and crossed to where his grandda lay in the massive four-poster bed with his bedcovers drawn to his chin, his eyes squeezed shut. "Is that ye, laddie?" Roderick asked, raising a feeble hand in Ewan's direction. "Tell me I'm no' dreamin' and my favourite grandson has returned home to me."

"I thought I was your favourite," Callum quipped with a grin.

Ewan shot his cousin a quelling look then returned his attention to his grandda "Open your damn eyes and you'll see you're no' dreamin'. But when I get through with you, you'll wish you were."

Roderick opened his eyes slowly as if the effort cost him dearly. "Och, laddie, ye have come back to me before I die."

Callum and Randall snorted their amusement from behind Ewan.

"You're no' dyin'. Callum saw you out rollin' aboot in the heather." Ewan reached over and plucked a sprig of the stuff from his grandda's hair and held it up to him. "Now, tell me why Isobel Forbes is here?" And why the hell did his son call her mam? That was something else he wished to know. Christ, he'd been so furious he hadn't even greeted Connor. Beneath the heat of his anger a remnant of his strange reaction to the lass simmered. His response to her had thrown him off balance. The lass had a sweet face, to be sure, and what looked to be an even sweeter body but, as Ewan had known his fair share of women more beautiful, it did not explain the effect she had wrought on him.

"I doona ken where that heather came from. I've been abed-"

Ewan threw back the covers to reveal his grandda lying abed with his boots and trews on beneath his nightshirt. "Explain yourself."

Roderick scowled at him. "What would ye have me do? I thought I was soon to die and fer all I kent, ye had. I couldna leave the bairns without someone to see to them, so I found ye a wife."

"I doona want a wife and, as you can see, I'm no' dead so you'd best go down there and send the lass on her way." Ewan pushed past his cousins, who attempted not to laugh. He had to leave before he throttled the three of them.

"I canna do that. The bairns love Isobel and ye're already wed to the lass," Roderick mumbled the last under his breath.

Nay, he couldna have heard him right. Hand on the latch, Ewan turned. "What did you say?"

His grandda scrambled from the bed and positioned himself behind Randall and Callum. "Ye're wed to the lass. I wed her to ye by proxy more than six months ago." Roderick squealed when Ewan lunged for him.

"Doona do it," Randall said as he and Callum fought to hold Ewan back. He shook free of their hands. His blood boiled and his gut coiled in a painful knot. "You'll no' get away with this. I'll seek an annulment. I'll no' let you tie me to another lass of your choosing." He'd not allow grandda to force his hand. Ewan and his sons had barely survived the hell Lorna had put them through.

Olivia worried the heart stone in her hand, the ancient script worn smooth by generations of Forbes women. Her gift of second sight had never failed her, but nor had a lass waited as long as Isobel for her true love to claim her. Over the last year, no matter how hard her granddaughter had tried to hide it, Olivia had noticed the toll the wait had taken on Isobel's resilient spirit and sunny nature. It was then Olivia had decided to give the Fates a nudge. She'd sent a missive to Roderick Mackenzie proposing the match between their grandchildren. She only hoped by doing so, she hadn't destroyed Isobel's chance for happiness.

Ewan Mackenzie's love for his sons had been obvious, as obvious as his shock at the bond that had developed between the bairns and Isobel. If not for Robbie and Connor, Olivia felt certain she and her granddaughter would already be on their way to Craigievar.

During the evening meal, Ewan's anger at his grandfather had not extended to them. He'd been coolly polite. Since Isobel, along with everyone else in the keep, had heard that Ewan intended to annul the union, Olivia had been proud of how her granddaughter had conducted herself. Beautiful and poised, no one would've known she was heartbroken.

A quiet knock drew Olivia's gaze from her granddaughters sleeping form. For a brief moment she wondered if Ewan had come to his senses and decided to join his wife in their chambers. Considering he'd been well in his cups by the time she and Isobel had left the hall thanks to his cousin's attempts to get him there she doubted it. But he was a verra braw lad so one could not be sure and Olivia hadn't missed the furtive looks he'd cast in Isobel's direction when he thought no one was looking. Each time the bairns made Isobel laugh, his gaze would seek her out. Aye, Olivia thought, all they needed was time.

She opened the door to see Roderick pacing the corridor, his shock of white hair dishevelled. "How's our wee bonny, Livie?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.

Olivia was torn between wanting to shake him for wedding Isobel to his grandson without the young man's knowledge or consent, and wanting to kiss him for the love and concern he showed her granddaughter.

"Her husband wants no part of her, Roderick. How do ye think she is?" At his crushed expression, she sighed. "She'll be fine. She's sleepin' now. I slipped a wee somethin' into her mead."

"Good, 'twill make it easier to carry out my plan. Leave it to me, Livie, I'll make it right. The lad judges all women by Lorna's actions. He just needs time to get to ken our Isobel. Randall, Callum, bring him along now," he called down the torch-lit corridor.

His grandsons, carrying an unconscious Ewan between them, staggered down the corridor. "You ken, grandda, if no' for the fact the lass would be shamed by our cousin's actions, we'd have no part in this," Randall growled at his grandfather as they entered the chambers.

Roderick waved a dismissive hand at his grandsons. "Now, Livie, do ye think ye can make it look as if they've had ..." He flushed, tipping his chin towards the bed where the lads set their cousin beside Isobel.

Realizing what he intended, Olivia grinned. "Aye, 'tis a good plan, Roderick."

Callum shook his head. "One is as bad as the other, Randall. I for one doona wish to be here when Ewan awakens. We'll leave for home at first light."

Three.

Ewan inhaled the delicate floral scent, letting it fill his senses. It had been a long time since he'd smelt something so good, so clean and pure. A stark contrast to the smell of sweaty males, horseflesh and battle he'd grown accustomed to as a sword for hire. But it didn't compare to the warm, silken skin his hands caressed soft, lush, womanly curves.

Sweet Christ. His eyes shot open. It wasn't a dream. He held a woman in his arms, his face buried in a mass of heather-scented chestnut curls. He groaned. It was Isobel. What the hell had possessed him to crawl into her bed? As he wanted the union annulled, it was the last place he should be. But the question had barely entered his mind and he knew the answer already. No matter how angry he'd been at finding himself wed to Isobel, last eve he'd been unable to keep his gaze from her delicate features, the maternal warmth in her gold-flecked eyes as she looked upon his sons the feminine laugh that had made him smile despite himself. He'd been as enchanted by her as his sons appeared to be, but Ewan knew better than most how adept a woman could be at concealing her true nature.

He carefully eased her away from him. She mumbled a protest and snuggled back into place against his chest with a contented sigh. The door to his chambers creaked open and his grandda stepped inside with a self-satisfied smile. "Och, laddie, 'tis glad I am to see ye came to yer senses."

Isobel stiffened in Ewan's arms. She eased back, her eyes widening as they met his.

With a dismayed gasp, she sat up, the bedcovers pooling at her waist. The door slammed shut. "Doona worry, henny, I didna see a thing."

A mortified cry escaped her parted lips and she grabbed hold of the bedclothes to conceal her full ripe breasts from view. Scrambling from the bed, she dragged the covers with her, exposing Ewan's raging erection and the drops of blood that stained the sheet. He cursed roundly. Between the evidence on the bed and his grandda having witnessed them there, Ewan's hopes for an annulment fled as quickly as Isobel had fled his bed. His curse drew her attention and she looked at him over the delicate slope of her creamy white shoulder. Her innocent stare rounded as she took in his naked body. His erection had been easing as the reality of his situation hit home, but at the sight of her luscious behind that she didn't realize she exposed to him it once more shot to life.

"Oh," she gasped, and in an effort to put more distance between them, promptly tripped on the covers to fall on her face.

Ewan leaned over and grabbed his plaid from the floor. "Are you all right, lass?" he asked as he went to her.

"Aye," she muttered, trying to right herself while she held the covers to her chest with one hand, the other holding them to her behind.

"Let me help." He scooped her up and set her on the edge of the bed. Cupping her chin, he tilted her face. Her bottom lip was puffed up and her small, freckle-sprinkled nose was scraped at the tip. He shook his head. "One look at you and they'll all be sayin' I beat my wife."

"'Twill be your fault if they do. Last eve you looked as though you wished to murder me."

He winced. "Mayhap my grandda, but no' you," he conceded, surprised she didn't appear to be intimidated by him. Most women, as well as a fair number of men, were. With their naked bodies covered, she seemed to regain her composure. He sighed at the disbelieving look she gave him and sat beside her. It wasn't her fault the Mackenzies needed coin and his grandda had used the lass as a means to an end. "I apologise for my behaviour last eve, Isobel. It had been a long journey home and I ..." He didn't know what to say without offending her.

"Didna expect to return home to find yourself wed. Aye, you made that perfectly clear. If you wish to talk aboot it, I'd prefer to do so dressed. Close your eyes, please."

Ewan was beginning to think it would be best if they had their conversation with her still naked. Not only because he wanted another look at her body, which had been as close to perfection as he'd ever seen, but because it appeared he'd need whatever advantage he could find when dealing with the lass.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing, and gave her a look that had caused many a man to quiver in his boots.

She snorted her disdain. "You can save your fierce looks. You're no' on the battlefield now."