My Highland Warrior (Warriors of the Highlands Book 1)

by Miriam Minger

  Anger and hurt, love and hope—like opposite edges of a razor-sharp sword and he knew so desperately which side he wanted to win.

  She fought against his fierce embrace for long moments, and hard, but finally her thrashing stilled and she went limp in his arms.

  Not in another faint, but her breathing slow and steady as he realized she had fallen into an exhausted sleep; either that, or she had swallowed some of Clovis’s potion—aye, but that was a good thing.

  Her skin warm now and supple, her shivering ceased, her body so sweetly curved against him that Gabriel felt a tightening in his loins.

  How could he not with such a woman as Magdalene in his arms, her tawny hair like tousled silk upon the pillow?

  Her softly rounded bottom pressed against that part of him that grew and thickened as with a mind of its own—aye, not so good a thing for the frustrated pain it cost him.

  Would she ever welcome him with open arms?

  Her eyes gazing into his with desire?

  His knee spreading open her thighs as she shifted her hips upward to receive him…her soft moans growing louder, more breathless, as he thrust deeply inside her?

  “Ah, God…” Gabriel shook his head as if he could dispel the carnal thoughts—an impossible thing!

  Yet were they carnal when between husband and wife? More so a blessing of marriage, his thankfulness so great that Magdalene was of sound mind and no lunatic at all.

  He vowed at that moment to let her be the one to reveal to him why she had feigned madness, even though Clovis had already given him a sense of the reason. Yet he wanted to hear it from her lips…a revelation he knew would only come when she trusted him, aye, and mayhap even loved him.

  Could he hope for such a day?

  Gabriel groaned as she shifted ever so slightly against him, but still she slept on deeply while he, at last, allowed himself to fall asleep, too.

  Chapter 15

  Magdalene awoke with a start, her eyes blurred and her thoughts jumbled.

  Where was she?

  Dazedly, she stared upward at the window but saw only the faintest light. Was it dusk? Mayhap dawn? Her sense of time and place skewed, she closed her eyes again and lay still, trying to gather herself.

  She lay abed, that much she knew. She yawned, the sound strangely so loud in her ears.

  She heard the hiss of something…and then a low thud and more hissing that made her gasp softly…until she realized that a log must have fallen through the grate in the fireplace—

  The fireplace.

  Suddenly Magdalene knew exactly where she was and she froze—another sound near the shell of her ear making her heartbeat seem to stop.

  Breathing. Low and steady…and in so rhythmic a fashion that she knew Gabriel was fast asleep—aye, Gabriel!

  Now she couldn’t breathe, everything rushing back to her.

  The terrible shivering. Her overwhelming despair. Clovis trying to spoon some awful-tasting potion into her mouth though she had turned her face away.

  Gabriel pacing not far from the bed. His tortured gaze upon her as if begging her for some response though she had kept her eyes fixed upon the canopy overhead—and wished simply to die.

  Nothing making sense to her any longer. The stunning realization she’d come to while at the village like ashes in her mouth.

  Gabriel…one of the most honorable men she had ever encountered? Nothing could be further from the truth.

  She remembered feeling so stricken, so dizzy, his voice the last thing she heard before the world went dark.

  Until the iciness of water revived her…Gabriel’s angry eyes the last thing she glimpsed as she sank further into the depths.

  No chance to draw a breath to save herself even as what seemed an instant later, someone grabbed her by the hood of her cloak and hauled her back up into the light.

  Not Gabriel at all, but Finlay, the man so powerful a swimmer that she had found herself coughing and gasping on the bank while he dove back into the lough.

  Aye, that glistening span of water that might have been her grave if not for Gabriel’s strapping cousin, who next dragged Gabriel to the shore while desolation overcame her.

  He had thrown her into the water! Why? Why?

  Magdalene shook her head upon the pillow in fresh despair, tears smarting her eyes as she hazarded a glance behind her.

  Gabriel’s face was right there against her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear, his arm draped around her waist and one hand curled beneath her breast—ah, God, no, was she naked?

  Stiffening, yet not daring to move, Magdalene remembered all too vividly the ripping sound of fabric, which made her flush from her scalp to her toes.

  Toes held hostage by a larger foot resting upon hers…the length of her body resting snugly against his…her back, her bottom, her legs—

  “Och, no…please no,” Magdalene whispered, something pressing at the cleft of her bottom that seemed to come alive just at the slightest shift of her hips.

  A hard bulging there now as Gabriel groaned low in his throat, though the pace of his breathing hadn’t changed—saints help her, please may he remain asleep!

  She froze again, scarcely daring to draw a breath.

  What could she do but try to fall back asleep herself? He held her so tightly, she had no hope of attempting to wriggle out of his grasp. And, strangely enough, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest seemed to lull her, though she thought to fight against it.

  His breathing so stirring upon her ear, her nape, making her shiver in a manner wholly unlike the spasms that had wracked her the night before.

  Aye, for she knew now that it was nearing dawn, the soft lavender light at the window growing brighter.

  In the distance, she could hear a rooster crowing and sounds of life drifting up from the bailey. A horse whinnying. The youthful voices of the stable hands. Soon everyone in the castle would be roused and eager for breakfast, while here she lay abed with Gabriel. His masculine scent surrounding her and his skin so warm…

  “No, he’s a beast,” she whispered fiercely, though when he shifted against her, she chided herself for having uttered a word.

  Not awake…but dear God, not fully asleep now either, she sensed, Magdalene closing her eyes tightly and pretending to sleep.

  That bulge growing even harder, Gabriel’s groan not so low this time, but deep and resonant while his hips pressed closer as if with some primal instinct that made her face grow hot.

  And not just her cheeks aflame, but her entire body in a manner she’d never felt before, his lips grazing the curve of her neck.

  A kiss? She had never been kissed before so how would she know? His breath like flame against her flesh, he nuzzled her and pressed his lips there again—which made Magdalene gasp in spite of herself.

  Here she hadn’t wanted to make any noise at all, not a peep, but she knew then with a strange fluttering in her abdomen equally unknown to her until now, that he wasn’t sleeping any longer.

  Heaven help her, Gabriel wasn’t sleeping any longer!

  Any relaxation she had felt in him was gone, and replaced by a sudden tension in his muscles that made him stiffen against her.

  His breath not slow and steady anymore, but something different altogether—not held, but not fully inhaling and exhaling, either.

  The air in the room felt different, too, and seemed to crackle with something she had never experienced before…an expectancy that made her breathing uneven, too.

  What was going to happen? What was he going to do? As if in answer, Magdalene felt him release her just enough to roll her gently toward him.

  His arm lying across her breasts now in so intimate a fashion that she couldn’t breathe, but not for lack of air.

  The slightest movement of his flesh rubbing against hers making her nipples grow hard and taut, the strange flutter in her abdomen only quickening. Still she kept her eyes closed, for surely he would see that she was still sleeping, wouldn’t he?

 
; “My beautiful wife. Thank God you are well…thank God.”

  His voice no more than a fervent whisper, she felt a trembling in him of some deep emotion that made him simply stare at her…for she could sense his gaze upon her.

  And then she felt it, a warm drop of moisture upon the curve of her shoulder that he wiped away with the tip of his finger.

  A tear? How could this be possible? He was a tyrant, a monster to have thrown her into the lough! Powerful warriors like Gabriel MacLachlan didn’t shed tears…but she felt another drop as he sighed raggedly, his voice sunk so low she could barely hear him.

  “Mayhap one day you will forgive me, Maggie. Mayhap one day you will trust me enough tae show your true self tae me…”

  She could almost not say where his hoarse whisper ended and the gentle grazing of his lips upon hers began, but his kiss was over so quickly that Magdalene wondered if she had imagined it. She felt him suddenly roll to the opposite side of the bed and then the mattress released, bereft of his weight.

  She didn’t dare to open her eyes. Instead she lay there with the cool air in the room puckering her flesh even as she heard him throwing logs into the fireplace and the sharp prodding of a poker.

  It seemed within mere moments the crackling of flames could be heard, and then his footfalls upon the floor as he came around the bed and covered her with the blankets.

  If he thought her feigning sleep, he said not a word, only bent down to kiss her forehead and smooth a lock of her hair before leaving her again.

  Only then did she open her eyes to see him facing the fireplace as he grabbed his tunic from a chair.

  The muscles across the broad span of his back and shoulders rippling while he pulled the garment over his head, Magdalene feeling her breath catch at the sight of his taut buttocks and powerful thighs.

  Never in her life had she seen a man more magnificent, her cheeks flaring hot, but once again she shut her eyes when he turned around to look at her.

  She heard him pulling on his boots and fastening his sword belt around his waist, his footfalls heavier as he crossed the room and pulled open the door.

  Then he was gone, Magdalene clutching the covers to her breasts with trembling fingers as the portent of what he’d whispered settled over her.

  Mayhap one day you will trust me enough tae show your true self tae me…

  God help her, he knew. She didn’t know how or when, but somehow he had discovered that she wasn’t a madwoman at all.

  Was it something she had said? Something she’d done? Och, there had been more than a few times she had nearly given herself away—no, not nearly, for the thing was done!

  Yet why hadn’t he confronted her? Was it possible he had thought her asleep and that she hadn’t heard him say those words? Hadn’t felt him kiss her?

  Kiss her…

  Magdalene raised her fingers to her lips, their touch nothing like his mouth upon hers.

  Nothing like his warm breath melding with hers, but so briefly! What was she to do now?

  If Gabriel knew the truth, then what was the use of pretending she was mad any longer? She could laugh like a lunatic and douse herself with ale and that would bring her no closer to returning to the convent.

  He knew!

  Magdalene stared blindly at the purple canopy, her heart pounding.

  A strange tingling at her shoulder where Gabriel’s tears had fallen, though he had wiped them away.

  Whether the sensation was real or imagined, she couldn’t say, but one thing she did know for certain.

  She didn’t want to return to the convent, aye, she would be a liar through and through if she claimed anything different.

  Like a faded dream, her burning desire to leave Gabriel and MacLachlan Castle was gone…and replaced by a growing understanding that filled her with wonder.

  Men didn’t cry, no, not at all unless they deeply cared about something—or someone. Mayhap even loved…

  Magdalene gasped, her fingers flying again to her lips as a longing unlike anything she’d known made her wish desperately to feel Gabriel’s stirring kiss once more.

  If she had opened her eyes and met his gaze at that moment, would she have seen anger like at the lough? With such gentleness in his kiss, no, it wasn’t possible!

  She still felt confused by what had happened, but she sensed as surely as she breathed that his actions had been spurred by pain. Och, had he thought her fainting had been feigned? Why wouldn’t he believe as much after all she had done to frustrate him?

  Here his clansmen and their wives and children had surrounded her in the village, showing her such gratitude, and then she had collapsed in their midst…

  “He must have thought me so callous,” Magdalene murmured, for surely Gabriel knew by then that she was no lunatic, else he wouldn’t have reacted as he did. Hurt and anger had fueled him, aye, which meant she had wounded his heart…

  “Oh, Gabriel.”

  She’d breathed his name even as she realized that she had never said it before, Magdalene feeling her own heart aching with fresh remorse.

  Tenfold more cutting and deep than the emotion that had felled her in the village—dear God, he must believe she hated him.

  “No, no, no!” Magdalene flung aside the covers as her outcry echoed around the room, and she sprang naked from the bed.

  Her flesh puckering with goose bumps though the fire Gabriel had stoked still burned so brightly.

  Another sign of how much he cared for her to have once again seen to her comfort.

  Covering her with the blankets.

  Climbing into the bed with her last night to try and still her shivering with his body.

  Allowing her to continue with her ruse even when he knew the truth—but why?

  Magdalene felt breathless as she raced to the armoire and threw open the doors to find a gown—the perfect gown.

  She wanted to look lovely for him, she must! Mayhap that might tell him that she didn’t hate him at all—

  “Lady MacLachlan?”

  Euna’s shocked voice made Magdalene groan in front of the armoire, and she whirled to face the maidservant who came rushing toward her.

  “Och, dearie, shouldna you be abed? Laird MacLachlan sent me tae sit with you and make sure you had whatever you needed as soon as you awoke—”

  “I want tae find him, Euna! Please dinna try tae stop me!”

  Magdalene heard Euna’s startled gasp even as she realized here, too, she had never once uttered the woman’s name before—or a full sentence to Euna, for that matter.

  “No, no, I’ll not try tae stop you, Lady,” Euna murmured, still looking so stunned that Magdalene went back to digging through the armoire. “The laird told me you’re tae have free run of the castle…no more bolted doors, no more confining you tae your room—”

  “Then help me, please! Has he gone tae the bailey?”

  “The stables, Lady. A rider has come and it canna be good news from the commotion it started, the laird calling out for his men tae join him as he set off at a run—”

  “A run?” Her heart in her throat, Magdalene already knew she was too late. She took only an instant to pull a linen shift over her head before she ran to the window, wishing she could knock out the glass to shout to Gabriel.

  Already he had mounted his silvery gray stallion, the massive creature snorting and rearing on its hind legs as other men ran to the stables—Cameron and Conall, Alun and Finlay.

  His loyal captains, and why wouldn’t they be with a laird as commanding and honorable as Gabriel? How she had misjudged him!

  A servant ran forward with a breacan in hues of blue and brown. Gabriel caught it up and wound the garment around him as men joined him, the bailey soon filled with mounted warriors atop their prancing steeds.

  A formidable force, they rode out the castle gates with Gabriel at their lead, Magdalene pressing her splayed hand to the glass.

  Chapter 16

  “So you say Robert the Bruce and his men came through
this way?”

  “Aye, Laird,” the red-haired youth answered swiftly to Gabriel’s query, bobbing his head and pointing to the craggy path that wound northward through a mountain pass. “It was nearly dark last night and I’d just bedded down the sheep. I heard their voices before I saw them—two hundred at least, most running and a few on horseback. I’ve never seen King Robert, but one of his men addressed him as such. God help me, I pissed myself as I ran and hid behind the rocks.”

  “They would have known you were there,” Gabriel murmured more to himself than his young kinsman, whose freckled face had blanched white in the retelling. “Probably saw you long before you saw them and decided to spare you.”

  “Och, Laird, do you think so?” The youth gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, while Finlay gave him a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder with a massive hand.

  “You did well, lad, tae alert us as soon as it was light enough tae ride your pony down the mountain.”

  “Aye, but I wish it had been sooner! By the time they were gone, I couldna see my hand in front of my face, it had grown so dark, and I didna dare make a peep. A good thing, too. A short while later, hundreds more men came after, with some carrying torches tae light the way—”

  “So it’s finally begun, Gabriel,” Finlay cut him off, his expression somber. “Robert the Bruce and his forces amassing in Argyll—bold as can be and not caring in the least that their movement might be noticed.”

  “Aye, bold as can be.” Gabriel exhaled heavily, the news of his enemies passing through his lands not filling him with fury as it might have only months ago.

  The prospect of battle looming ahead not filling him with keen expectation, but something else entirely.

  A reluctance.

  A grim change of heart that had begun the day Seoras MacDougall had foisted his mad sister upon him in front of smug, grinning courtiers.

  A move meant to humble him. A move meant to control him, aye, Gabriel had known the marriage for what it was the moment Seoras had proposed it.

  The fat dowry dangled in front of him the only thing that would keep Gabriel’s clansmen and their families from starving…and now he was honor bound to fight for Seoras wherever his accursed ambition might take him.