HIS HIGHLAND LOVE: His Highland Heart Series Book 2

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HIS HIGHLAND LOVE: His Highland Heart Series Book 2 Page 16

by Blair, Willa


  It seemed they were doomed to travel with Cam. There would be no more privacy for them until they reached Rose and declared their union. She had only the unaccustomed soreness between her legs and the memory of melting into Kenneth’s embrace to sustain her. She had no idea how to go forward; how to prepare for the battles she knew would come. The gallowglasses might be the least of their problems. Her father could still deny them. She would not let that stop them. She loved Kenneth. Had always and only loved Kenneth. Without him, she felt like a specter, a fraction of herself. Only Kenneth could keep her solid. Only by touching her, holding her, and joining his body with hers would she remain whole.

  She wanted to reach for him. Instead, she clutched the blanket to her middle and answered his hungry gaze with one of her own.

  As quickly as she’d feared, Cam returned, leading his horse. She should be grateful he’d walked back instead of riding and given her more time to ready herself.

  Kenneth helped her mount, his hand lingering on her waist longer than necessary to steady her seat. “Are ye well?”

  She appreciated his concern, since he was responsible for the strange soreness between her legs. But the discomfort was nothing she couldn’t bear. “I’m well.”

  Almost before she could catch her breath, they were on their way.

  They reached the coastline as the sun’s disk began to clear the tops of the trees behind them. The Moray firth spread out before them, down a bluff and much wider than it appeared at Rose.

  “Do ye recognize the coastline?” Cam asked, his gaze on the water instead of one of them.

  Catherine shook her head. “I’ve never been this far east.”

  “I have,” Kenneth responded. “We’ve another long day of riding. Barring…interruptions…we could reach Brodie after sunset, then go on to Rose the following day. ’Tis nearer to cut inland a small distance and go across country than to follow the coastline.”

  Catherine’s heart leapt at that news. If they went to Brodie, Annie would help her. She and Kenneth could handfast or even wed there if they had a priest in residence, and she could send word to her father to say she was well…and wed…without having to face his wrath. Could Annie send for Mary so both her sisters could be with her without their father finding out and putting a stop to her plans?

  She ignored the discussion Kenneth and Cam were having, preferring to lose herself in her dream of making Kenneth unassailably hers…forever. Aye, going to Brodie would solve several problems.

  * * *

  Hours later, they left the concealment they’d found when they spotted a group of riders between them and the sea, and Kenneth identified them as more gallowglass men.

  “How many of those bastards did Domnhall bring with him?” Cam groused. “It seems like all of Ireland is wandering about the Highlands.”

  “Iain might ken, but we didna think to ask him. In any event, we willna make Brodie this day.” Kenneth hated to see the disappointed expression on Cat’s lovely face, but he would not risk her. They would continue to go slowly and carefully until he could get her behind Rose’s walls.

  Kenneth sent Sutherland to scout ahead while he stayed with Cat. They rode side-by-side, in careful silence. She had been overjoyed at the news they would go to Brodie first. He’d had to remind her about the danger posed by the remnants of Domnhall’s army in the area. Since then, she’d opened her mouth to speak several times, thought better of it, and closed it again, slanting an annoyed glance in his direction. Surely she didn’t blame him for the chaos the Lord of the Isles caused?

  She must be eager to see her sister, Annie, probably to enlist her aid with their father.

  While Kenneth expected the man to be relieved Cat was alive, he would surely still be furious she’d run to St. Andrews. And once there, failed to let anyone know where she was. Despite his rancor over James Rose’s refusal to let him wed Cat two years ago, he felt some sympathy for the man. If she’d done the same to him, he would have been furious, but also terrified she’d come to harm. Kenneth winced again. She had. With him. She was safe, but no longer untouched.

  He glanced aside and caught her smiling at him. He couldn’t help himself—he smiled back. Then he turned his gaze back to their surroundings. No question about it—his Cat was scheming.

  Since Kenneth had saved and protected her, Cat believed this time her father would agree. Her purity—or lack of it—need not become part of the discussion.

  Kenneth couldn’t muster the same sense of certainty. The honorable thing to do would be to seek her father’s approval and marry her right away. If the Rose refused yet again, Kenneth would have to tell him Cat was at risk of carrying his child. The rush of feeling that thought caused nearly bent him double in his saddle. Joy. Warmth. Pride. His heartbeat raced until the consequences occurred to him, then his blood turned to ice in his veins. Those consequences could be dire for Cat. If she survived bringing his babe into the world. If the babe survived. Carrying his bastard, unless they wed, would prevent her from marrying anyone else. Would leave her a virtual prisoner in her father’s house, dependent on James Rose and whomever followed him as the Rose laird.

  Rose had tried to give her away elsewhere—several times. After Harlaw, clan and crown disagreements were sure to worsen. The number of alliances a clan could claim would be even more important. Cat dismissed its significance, but one fact remained crystal clear to Kenneth. Annie Rose had married Iain Brodie. The Rose sisters might not agree, but to him it was plain—the Rose did not need another daughter to marry into clan Brodie.

  Chapter 13

  When Kenneth finally called a halt, they made camp in a small clearing surrounded by low trees and bracken. Once again, they dared not risk a fire. Catherine resigned herself to another night sleeping on the cold, hard ground and set about laying out blankets and their dwindling provisions while Kenneth took care of the horses. She spread hers and Kenneth’s together, as was their habit, and left it to Cam to choose where he preferred to sleep when he returned from scouting ahead. Often, he went away from them. Giving them privacy, she supposed, or simply not wishing to overhear a repeat of what had led to him finding them naked together.

  In any case, his absence at night suited her. It also suited Kenneth, though he professed not for quite the same reason. Aye, well, that reason, too, but having a scout away from camp meant someone might hear trouble coming before they did, or be able to come in behind an attacker. Or at worst, though Kenneth never said this and would not admit it, could carry news of their fate to their clans.

  Kenneth returned and settled next to her on the blankets. “Sutherland has wandered off again,” he reported just before he bit into the oatcake she’d handed him. He chewed thoughtfully, then studied the food she’d set between them. “We’ll make Brodie tomorrow, so dinna fash,” he added, with a nod at the meager fare on the blanket. “We willna starve before then.”

  Catherine nodded. “’Twill be good to have a hot meal—and to sleep indoors.” She’d hesitated to bring up the subject of sleeping arrangements—and all it implied—but they needed to have this conversation before they reached Brodie and her sister.

  Kenneth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “About that—”

  “Aye?” Catherine’s heart raced. If he was going to deny her, he’d tell her now, before Cam returned, and before he had to justify himself to Iain or Annie.

  “Iain has seen us together, but Annie will be taken unawares.”

  “I dinna wish to be kept from ye…”

  “Yer sister will do what she thinks yer da would want for ye.”

  “Annie? Ye have met my sister, aye?”

  Kenneth’s serious expression slipped, and he chuckled for a moment.

  “That I have.”

  “She will be on my…on our side.” His sigh made her heart plummet to her belly.

  “If ye are with child, I will care for ye and the bairn, ye ken I will, aye?”

  Catherine didn’t like the sound of this at all
. “And if I am no’?”

  He looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “Ye can do better than to wed me, Cat. After what I did in France…”

  “None of that matters to me,” Catherine interrupted him, grabbing his arm and pulling his gaze back to her. “Ye should be certain of me by now.”

  “Ye’ll make an enemy of yer father. After all I’ve done, I am no’ good enough for ye.”

  “Do ye love me?” Ice filled her veins and her belly as she waited for him to speak. She thought she knew the answer, but he could destroy her dreams with one word.

  “I…ye ken I do.”

  Tears formed behind Catherine’s eyes and she took a deep breath, trying to force them back. Before she could speak, Kenneth continued.

  “I care about ye. I want to see ye safe. I want ye…even more now that we…”

  “Just no’ enough to wed me? What are ye trying to say?”

  “Cat…”

  “After all we’ve been through. All we’ve—done…we said forever.”

  “Ye said that. And I’m sorry—for everything.”

  “Sorry!” Catherine dropped her head into her hands, unwilling to believe any of this.

  “I’ll see ye home safe. Once ye are there, ye will see I’m right.”

  She shook her head as she turned away from him. “Never.” She wanted to reach for him, wanted his arms around her, his lips on hers. But she couldn’t bear to let him see her tears. “Once I am home, my da will lock me away until he can marry me off. I’ll…I’ll never see ye again. Is that what ye want?”

  He remained silent for so long, Catherine turned her head so she could see his face. His expression surprised her. He appeared to be in pain, features drawn down, arms crossed over his belly, and the hand she could see clenched into a fist. She spun to face him and rose up on her knees, too fast for him to hide what he was feeling. “Ye do want me. Ye do care. Ye canna convince me otherwise.”

  Something in him gave way, and he reached for her. She fell into his arms, blissfully aware of every touch, every hungry kiss as he claimed her. Arguing with Kenneth made her blood heat and added fire to their joining. He might use words to tell a tale, but his body could not lie. He needed her, and even more, he wanted her.

  She arched into him as they tumbled onto their sides, hands searching for ways inside clothing. His kiss burned a path down her throat. His hands fumbled at her waist and her borrowed breeks suddenly slid down her hips. His mouth followed, nibbling, licking and kissing a scorching path down her belly and between her thighs. In moments, she was flying, free as a bird from the constraints of her earthly body, drenched in pleasure so fierce she forgot to breathe.

  Then he pulled away and turned from her, shoulders heaving as if he fought for control.

  Catherine kicked aside the corner of the blanket twisted over her lower legs and reached around him to grasp his fists. When he refused to turn to her, she swiveled around his body and straddled his legs. Before he could react, she pushed him onto his back. She left a hand on his chest in mute command to stay there as she worked loose the ties of his breeks and spread the fabric, freeing his shaft to stand tall and proud before her. Kenneth groaned and turned his head aside. “Dinna do it, lass. Ye’ll make a babe for certain.”

  She had no intention of mounting him. Not yet. Instead, she leaned down and sucked his tip into her mouth, then curled her tongue around it.

  Kenneth arched up and cried out, whether in pain or pleasure, Catherine didn’t know and cared even less. She meant to explore him and to do to him what he’d done to her—use her mouth to bring him pleasure. His hands pushed at her shoulders, but she kept him in her mouth, using her tongue to lick along his length and raking him gently with her teeth. When he grew even longer and thicker, she knew she was pleasuring him. When his fists dropped to his side, she raised her head. “Is this what the mademoiselles did for ye?” she asked.

  “God, aye. How can ye ken that?”

  “Because ye like it so,” she responded and took him in her mouth again, sucking until he bucked and pulled her off.

  He rolled away from her, thrusting into his hand, then gave a long groan and froze, his body arched and stiff for moments.

  Catherine watched, fascinated, until he relaxed and started breathing again, then gripped his shoulder and pulled him back to her. His staff, still in his hand, had shrunk and softened, but as she studied it, it firmed and lengthened again. “Do ye want more?”

  In response, Kenneth pulled his breeks closed over it and shook his head. “Go to sleep, Cat.”

  * * *

  They were so good together, Kenneth couldn’t imagine losing her. He wanted her too much. But he had to control himself or risk a babe neither one of them was ready for.

  “I’m no’ done.” Cat reached for his breeks, but he pushed her hand away.

  “Nay, lass. I’ll no’ take ye again.” He’d already put her at risk.

  Cat draped herself over him and laid her head on his chest. “Nay? Very well. Perhaps ye need to rest.”

  “That is no’ the reason, and well ye ken it.” He kept his arms at his sides. She expected him to hold her. He knew where touching her again would lead. Having her draped across his torso was sweet torture. He wanted her so badly, he was already rising again. He had to keep her attention away from his lower half. “And throwing yerself at a man is no’ seemly.”

  She bolted upright on a gasp.

  That did it. He rolled away from her and retied his clothing as he muttered, “Now go to sleep.” He dared not comfort her.

  Thank the saints they would reach Brodie on the morrow. The sooner he got Cat to safety and away from him, the better. Her sister could take charge of her, behind Brodie’s walls, until Iain returned.

  Yet, he’d promised to take her home. Brodie was his home, not hers. Hers lay most of another day’s ride to the west, bordering Brodie’s territory closer to Inverness. Did he really want to return her to her father, only to have him give her to some other man?

  She thought her sister would side with her if he would only offer for her. He cared for her. He even loved her. But she couldn’t assume he wanted to wed her. He’d warned her he was not worthy of her, and he meant those words with all his heart. Though he’d done nothing in France that every other able-bodied man he knew hadn’t also done, his actions now shamed him. And what Cat had just done for him—God’s bones! From whom had she gotten such an intimate idea? From her cousin in St. Andrews or her sister, Annie? And how had she made the connection to mademoiselles he had encountered? Cat was too clever, too perceptive. Or too much in love with him.

  Of course, he knew the difference between the actions of a French doxy and his Cat’s desperate attempt to pleasure him in order to bind him to her. Yet, if she did the same as his wife, would he feel the same guilt—the same sense of responsibility for corrupting her? Or would he be grateful for having such an adventurous woman to love?

  He needed to talk to Iain. Before his friend met and married Cat’s sister, Annie Rose, Iain had bedded more than his share of lasses.

  Only how could Kenneth explain to Iain what so disturbed him now? About Annie's sister? Nay. He could not. The only solution he could see was to handfast. If her father respected it, that bond would protect her from him and give them a year and a day to be certain they wanted to wed in the kirk. Sutherland could witness when he got back from hunting, once the sun came up.

  Her father could still try to wed her elsewhere, but Kenneth thought he’d give them the year and a day rather than try to make a different match for a daughter who had run away rather than wed another, and who was no longer untouched.

  Decided, he listened to hear if Cat had gone to sleep or was still upset and, perhaps, crying. But instead of her soft breathing, he heard men approaching.

  * * *

  Cat thought she’d just dozed off when Kenneth touched her shoulder, then whispered near her ear, “Be silent. I hear something.” Heart pounding, she nodded as
his hand left her shoulder and he rolled carefully to his knees. Low pitched voices reached her ears, sending a cold shiver down her spine. In the predawn glow she could see Kenneth turn his head, first one way, then the other, trying to locate where the men’s voices came from.

  Were these the gallowglass men they’d thought would stick to the coast? Or were these different soldiers from Domnhall’s army? Kenneth was armed and alert to the danger. But where was Cam? Was he alive or had someone found and killed him?

  Kenneth suddenly stilled. “Dinna move from here, lass,” he whispered. “Unless they’re friends of ours, I dinna want them any closer to ye. I’ll draw them away.” Then he crept off into the darkness. A few moments later, she heard horses moving away, then running hard, followed by the sound of something crashing through the brush. He’d left her! Had he ridden away or whipped the horses into running and made more noise to confuse the invaders? She didn’t know!

  She rolled slowly to her knees and waited, listening hard for any hint of sound telling her there were others around, or that Kenneth—or even Cam—had returned for her.

  Nothing.

  She sat back on her heels and tucked her hair up into the bonnet Kenneth gave her with the rest of her disguise. Should she stay? Or go? If she followed the coastline she would come to the Brodie keep eventually. Kenneth would find her, either on the way or once she reached it. Cam too. Even on foot, she might get there late today. Or meet a Brodie patrol.

  But nay, Kenneth had made a lot of noise to draw away the men he’d heard. If she moved, she might draw them back. And with the sun coming up, any move she made might be seen. She eased down slowly to a more comfortable position and settled in to wait. Cam would make his way here eventually, even if Kenneth kept going to lead trouble away from her.

  Then she heard Kenneth’s voice—and others. He’d led them away, but not far. And he was outnumbered. She stood.

 

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