Highlander Unchained

by Monica McCarty

  Finished with his men, Lachlan strode purposefully across the courtyard and up the stairs. The timber shook with the angry force of his step. She took a few steps back, not knowing what to expect. Would she be punished as well? She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat.

  “Get back to—” He stopped himself, then continued more gently. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  Flora lifted her brow at his attempt to curtail his natural proclivity toward issuing orders. “I’m feeling much better,” she assured him.

  He pretended not to hear her, took her elbow, and steered her right back into the keep. So much for the attempts at niceties, she thought. The new leaf hadn’t lasted long.

  She halted outside the great hall and tried to shrug off his hold. “Really. I’m fine.”

  His gaze narrowed. She yearned to wipe away the frown with a caress of her hand, wanting him to look at her the way he had that night. Softly, and with tenderness in his gaze.

  “You almost drowned and then nearly froze to death. You lost consciousness for hours. You need to rest.”

  He was concerned about her. The realization settled over her like a warm, fuzzy plaid. Perhaps she could forgive his heavy-handedness—this time. Putting her hand on his arm, she said softly, “I’m fine. Please, I’d like to speak with you.”

  He held her gaze, as if to assure himself that she spoke true. Finally, he nodded and led her through to the laird’s solar behind the great hall. The place where she’d nearly succumbed…

  She shook off the memories. “I couldn’t help overhearing some of what you said out there.” She bit her lip, uncertain of how to proceed. It was because of her that those men were being punished. She had to do something. “Is imprisonment really necessary for those men? They were only turned away for an instant, and they weren’t expecting anyone to leave.”

  He closed the door behind him and turned to her, his expression hard and impenetrable. “Too barbaric for you, Flora?”

  She heard the bitter undertone and knew he’d misread her intent. She’d accused him of such, but no longer. “No, of course not,” she said hastily. “I just—”

  “You think I like punishing my men? I’ve known most of them since they were lads. But no one may pass through the gate in either direction without being seen. No one. The men who allowed you to do so must be punished. Standing guard is one of the most important facets to the security of a keep. Need I explain to you the importance? Any lapse could leave us vulnerable to attack. Two days in the dungeon will be unpleasant, a hard lesson, but they will not be harmed. The alternative is flogging. Would you have me do that?”

  She shook her head miserably. “No, of course not.”

  He paused to study her face. “I think it’s not whether the punishment is justified that bothers you, but the reason for it.”

  He was right. She was feeling guilty for her part in the debacle. She understood that he did not have a choice, there had to be consequences for such a serious breach. And from the vehemence of his reply, it was clear he did not relish the prospect. But he was chief. He had to make the difficult decisions and enforce them—even if he didn’t like it. That was part of his strength, she realized.

  “Am I to be punished as well, then?”

  She saw the spark of surprise in his gaze. He cleared his throat and turned away from her, focused on the cold fireplace. “I think you have been punished enough.”

  There was something in his voice that gave her pause, a depth of emotion that hit her square in the chest. Her hand still rested on his arm. She took a step closer. “Thank you.”

  He glanced down at her uncertainly.

  “Thank you,” she repeated, “for what you did. Saving me from drowning.” Her cheeks warmed. “And what you did to warm me.”

  His wide mouth lifted at one side, a strangely boyish look that made her chest squeeze.

  “Believe me, it was no hardship. Although I wasn’t sure you would want to thank me.”

  She lowered her gaze. It was all too clear what he was thinking. The same thing she was: their naked bodies pressed intimately together.

  “I don’t remember what happened,” she lied. “But I’m not so prudish that I would rather die than preserve my modesty.”

  For a moment, his gaze heated and he looked as if he wanted to challenge her supposed lapse in memory. Her pulse raced nervously as his gaze lowered to her bodice; her nipples hardened, and she knew exactly what he was remembering. With one touch, she would fall apart. Desire simmered between them, so thick and heavy that it was impossible to ignore. He appeared to waver, but in the end, he decided not to press her.

  “Why did you run, Flora? Why were you so desperate to leave—” Me, he left unsaid.

  But she heard the unspoken question. “You wouldn’t let me go.”

  “I couldn’t let you go.”

  His gaze met hers, for once unshielded. The stark longing she read there set off a fierce fluttering in her chest.

  “Why?” she asked, not daring to hope.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, merely stared at her, the depth of his emotion for once unveiled. “Do you need to ask? I told you I want you.”

  “But not why.”

  The words did not come easily. “I care for you, lass.” He put his hand on her face, cradling her cheek tenderly with his big rough hand. “You must realize that,” he said, stroking her chin with his thumb in a gentle caress.

  She did. But hearing it made all the difference. She didn’t know what reason there was for the subterfuge or what had made him decide to marry her, but he did care for her. And the knowledge set off a shower of effervescent joy bursting inside her.

  “I couldn’t risk losing you,” he finished.

  She leaned closer to him, so that their bodies were almost touching. Inhaling the heady masculine scent of him. Drawing closer to the warmth that surrounded him like a seductive shield. “You won’t. But I could never come to you as your prisoner.”

  Lachlan finally understood. She hadn’t been rejecting him, she’d been reacting against her confinement. By abducting her, he’d taken away not just her freedom, but her sense of control.

  He had to set her free.

  He knew he was taking a risk. He just prayed it wasn’t a catastrophic one for all involved. He put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back, needing to think straight, something he could never do when she stood so close to him. With her soft, feminine scent coiling around him. When all he could think about was pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she could no longer refuse him anything.

  His hands flexed at his sides, every inch of his body taut with what he risked. With what he’d known he had to do since he realized how desperate she’d been to leave him—enough to risk drowning. He drew a deep breath and prayed he was not about to make a huge mistake. “Very well. You are free to leave.”

  She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Do you mean it?” He heard her incredulity. “I’m no longer a prisoner?”

  “I will convey the instructions to my men that you are not to be prevented from leaving.”

  It was his turn to be shocked when she threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her sweet, irresistible little body stretched against his. “Oh, thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  He smiled ruefully. “I think I can guess.”

  She tilted her head, looking at him with a question in her eyes. “Do you want me to go?”

  He resisted the sudden urge to close his eyes and beg for mercy. He would never understand the mind of a lass. Hadn’t he just been telling her how much he wanted her?

  His hand slid around her waist, and he held her tight against him, savoring the heady sensation of the feminine curves that had haunted him for so long. Remembering every detail of that lush naked body. The brush of her nipples. Her round bottom in his hands. He felt the sharp pull in his groin, the heaviness and throbbing tightness. “I want you to
stay,” he answered. “As my guest.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. He could see her hesitate. Why had he done it? It was a ridiculous suggestion to willingly stay with the man who’d abducted her. Of course she’d say no. But she surprised him.

  She smiled, a shy, adorable grin that cut him to the quick. The happiness in her eyes took his breath away. “I’d like that, too.”

  Relief converged with desire. He groaned, unable to resist the urge to taste her. Lowering his head, he covered her mouth with his. Drawing her hard against him in one long, languorous kiss. A kiss not to punish or possess, but to savor and honor. The scent of flowers was intoxicating. Her lips were incredibly soft and yielding, her skin like velvet under his hand as he urged her mouth open with his fingers.

  His tongue slid into her mouth as the hot flow of emotion welled deep inside him, threatening to erupt. The taste, the sensation, had become achingly familiar—and essential. He kissed her more deeply, circling his tongue in the warm recesses of her mouth. Long, languid strokes that stretched from the deepest part of him. His need for her was both poignant and crushing.

  She swayed in his arms, her knees buckling.

  He swore and wrenched away. Seeing the dizziness swim in her eyes that she fought to hide. “You aren’t well. You should be in bed.”

  Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms and started to carry her upstairs. Instead of arguing, she snuggled her head against his shoulder and sighed with contentment. It was a sound that stole into the deepest part of him.

  He settled her in her bed, wanting nothing more than to slide in beside her. The most difficult part was that he was almost certain she would not refuse him. When she recovered, she was his.

  He propped a pillow under her head and bent to give her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Rest. I will have Morag check on you later.”

  She nodded, a look of concern crossing her face. “Lachlan, are Gilly and Mary very angry with me?”

  He shook his head. “No. Though I do think they were disappointed that you did not say good-bye.”

  “I planned to send for them.”

  He would never have let them go, but the thought that she truly cared for his sisters warmed him.

  “Have you reconsidered the situation with Mary?”

  He frowned. “My decision hasn’t changed. Why would it?”

  Her cheeks heated. “You said you cared for me. I thought you might have understood—”

  “It doesn’t change anything.” For Mary or for him, he realized grimly. Duty came first. But Flora wouldn’t see it that way. Given the limited ties to her family, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Please. Won’t you at least reconsider? As a sign of goodwill, perhaps?”

  He tensed. “Don’t ask me to choose between you and my duty or doing what I think is right as chief.” It was a warning. Whether to himself or to her, he didn’t know.

  “I’m not. All I’m asking is that you reconsider. I don’t think revisiting the matter impinges on your duty.”

  He stroked his jaw. He could give her that. But she would give him something in return. “Very well, I will reconsider the matter.” He smiled. “On one condition.”

  Chapter 12

  A few days later, Flora was having second thoughts about accepting her erstwhile kidnapper’s offer to stay as his guest. If she’d refused, as she ought to have done, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  She almost regretted her decision…almost.

  She could blame her acceptance of his invitation on shock, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Admittedly, she’d been surprised by his request, but she had given the matter some deliberation.

  In truth, there was nowhere she would rather be than the dilapidated old keep that was now fading into the distance behind her. Even though Lachlan had brought her to his castle against her will, she’d grown fond of the place. More than fond. With Lachlan and his sisters, Drimnin was as close to a home as she’d felt in a long time. Maybe ever. She’d never lived with her sisters, and for the first time realized how much she’d missed. As her mother had always been chatelaine, she’d also never had the opportunity to make her own improvements on a place.

  She supposed she could have returned to her cousin’s lodgings in Edinburgh or gone to Hector or Rory, but for all she knew, they would force her into a marriage of their liking. She gazed at the handsome man riding beside her, ignoring the self-satisfied look on his face. Although Lachlan wanted to marry her, he gave every indication that he would not force her to do so—which was more than she could be assured of from her brothers. Marrying him was one way of getting a reprieve from her brothers’ agendas, she thought with a wry smile.

  But Flora knew the real reason she’d agreed to stay was that she couldn’t bear the thought of saying good-bye to him.

  But that was before he’d tricked her. The wretch. She looked at him again, this time taking in the expression on his face.

  On one condition. She should have known better.

  Lachlan glanced at Flora as she rode beside him, her blond hair shimmering like a diamond in the sunlight. The sky was a wide swath of endless blue stretching to the hills rising in the distance. He smiled, feeling lighter than he had in quite some time.

  It was a perfect day for a swim.

  His companion, however, did not share his enthusiasm. Her expression landed somewhere between peeved and furious.

  “Now, lass, don’t look so sour. You did promise. And wasn’t it you who told me that I would get more bees with honey?”

  The look she turned on him was scathing. “I don’t think you understand the concept. Honey is not the same thing as blackmail.”

  He shrugged unrepentently, trying to hide his smile. “You wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Besides, it won’t be so bad. The water is shallow, and I won’t let go of you. I used to swim at this loch all the time when I was a boy. Actually, it’s more of a small pool. It’s private and sheltered by a thick copse of trees. There will be no one there to see you.”

  “You’ll be there,” she said pointedly.

  Aye, and he couldn’t wait. Just the thought of her all wet in a thin linen sark made his blood heat. Teaching her to swim would definitely have his rewards. “But I’m harmless,” he said with mocking innocence.

  She didn’t even dignify that with a response, simply snorting her disavowal.

  They rode a few minutes longer, and he broached the subject that had been bothering him. “Why did you never learn to swim?”

  She eyed him carefully, drew a deep breath, and recounted the episode at Inveraray when she was a child. The story made his blood run cold. Twice she’d nearly drowned.

  The chilling episode also explained more than her inability to swim. He could almost see the lonely girl—much younger than her siblings—so eager to belong that she was willing to do anything. And he also saw what it had cost her, leaving her firmly entrenched on the outside looking in.

  “And you’ve avoided the water ever since?”

  She nodded. “Not an easy prospect in the Highlands, as I’m sure you can appreciate.”

  That was an understatement. Especially in the Isles, where both her brothers resided. He wondered if that perhaps explained some of her reluctance to travel to Dunvegan Castle on Skye, or to Duart Castle on Mull, for that matter.

  He frowned, remembering something. “You did not seem unusually nervous on the boat ride to Drimnin.” And as he recalled, the sound had been particularly choppy that day.

  His observation appeared to fluster her. He thought a touch of pink heightened her color, but it could have been the effects of the warm day and the vigorous ride.

  “I think I was more concerned about the immediate threat of having just been abducted.”

  He held her gaze. “You were never in any danger, lass.”

  “I wasn’t so sure of that then.” A soft smile turned her lips. “Or now, for that matter.”

  It was clear that the prospect o
f learning how to swim truly frightened her. Perhaps if he’d been aware of the circumstances, he would not have been so forceful in his method of persuasion. But then again, she wouldn’t have agreed. And in this case, the end justified the means.

  The lass had every right to her fear, but she could not let it control her. “Trust me, Flora. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  He saw a slight shiver run across her shoulders and wished she were closer so that he could gather her in his arms and soothe away her fears.

  “You don’t understand. I’ve tried. Truly, I have. But something comes over me in the water. My pulse races so hard that my heart feels weak. My mind goes blank. My entire body goes rigid and my blood runs cold. My hands start to sweat and I feel queasy and light-headed.”

  He’d seen men with similar symptoms in battle. It was a type of extreme panic. “Your reaction is certainly understandable under the circumstances. But holding on to your fear has only made you more vulnerable to the very thing that frightens you. And I know you are no coward, Flora.” He held her gaze, telling her with his eyes that he meant what he said. “I won’t lie to you, lass. Teaching you to swim will not make you invincible. I’ve lost too many men to the sea to make such a claim. But it will give you a fighting chance. And believe it or not, there is also great pleasure in it.”

  She nodded, but he could tell that she wasn’t convinced.

  The copse of trees appeared beyond the hill like an oasis. He hadn’t been to this place in a long time, and unexpected memories of his father came back to him, recalling a more carefree time in his childhood. His father had brought him here one summer when repairs were being done on Breacachadh and the family had moved to Morvern. Only a few years before the death of his mother and then his father only a year later. When there had been time to ride across the moors and to fritter away a long summer day swimming in a loch. It seemed a fitting place for teaching Flora, as this was where he himself had learned to swim. Of course, his father had unceremoniously tossed him in and told him to figure it out—Lachlan had a slightly more civilized method planned for Flora.