The Highland Guardian

by Jarecki, Amy

  The dark look that flashed across Dunn’s face made the whisky in Reid’s gut churn all the more. But he dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. In fact, he wanted everyone out. “Go on, the lot of you. The best thing for me now is a good night’s sleep.”

  Ignoring him, Audrey fished inside her satchel. “I’ll be but a moment. The rest of you are free to leave us, and thank you.”

  “I reckon you’d best not tarry, miss.” Dunn grasped Audrey’s elbow.

  She snatched her arm away. “Not until I’ve seen to His Lordship’s wounds.”

  He looked to Reid, then back to Audrey. “You’d best not grow too fond of your guardian.”

  “As I’ve said a number of times, I’ve already lost my father, and I do not intend to lose the earl. Not today, not ever.”

  Dunn pursed his lips and eyed Reid. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Go find your pallet,” Reid said. “You’re grousing for naught.”

  Throwing up his hands and mumbling something akin to clan duty, Dunn took his leave.

  Letting out a sigh, Audrey dunked a cloth into the bowl of water left by Mrs. Drummond and lathered it with a bit of rosemary-scented soap. “I do believe the MacRae chieftain doesn’t care much for me.”

  “He’s just a curmudgeon. Pay no mind to him.”

  “He does care very much about you, however.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “I suppose he is, even through his rough exterior.”

  The effects of the whisky swam in Reid’s head and he leaned into the warm cloth as Audrey smoothed it over his face. “Mm,” he rumbled.

  “I must clean away the grime and stench from the prison.”

  “Forgive me,” he slurred. “I am not fit to be in a lady’s company.”

  “Not to worry. I’ve been in your presence for two days. And now we’re in a city, it would be abominable for an earl to be seen in such a disheveled state.” She stepped around and examined his back. “Sssss. It looks inflamed.”

  “It feels bloody inflamed.”

  “I think it would be best to let it air overnight.”

  Reid took another drink. “I agree.”

  Careful not to cause further pain, she used quick flicks to cleanse him. “I’ll need to apply more salve.” He raised the flagon, but she stopped his hand, taking the whisky and replacing it with the cup of damned tea.

  He made a sour face. “Willow bark is always bitter.”

  “Not any worse than whisky, I’d wager.”

  He reached for the flagon, and she shuffled away, just beyond his grasp. “Drink the tea down and I’ll give it back.”

  “You bloody sound like my mother.”

  “She must have been a good woman.”

  Reid eyed the saucy lass. Must she have a comeback to his every jibe? “She was.”

  He took a sip of the bitter brew while Audrey scooped two fingers full of salve. “I’ll make quick work of this, and then you’d best head for bed.”

  Reid winced and grunted as soon as her fingers touched his tender flesh.

  “Forgive me,” she apologized as she continued with the torture.

  God, he hated weakness. He prided himself on staying fit and avoiding illness, and there he sat like an invalid, suffering the ministrations of a wee lass. A woman. His ward. But she was right about one thing: He needed to look like the Earl of Seaforth again. “Will you give me a shave, lass?” Since he was already seated in the chair, he might as well stay there while the whisky lasted.

  Her hands stilled. “Now?”

  “You’ve seen fit to give me a sponge bath,” he said, his voice growing deeper. “And a bath wouldn’t be complete without a shave. The kit’s atop the bureau.”

  “Very well.”

  When she went to retrieve it, Reid leaned forward and snatched the flagon from the table.

  Turning, her gaze traveled to his hands and she frowned. “You’ll end up with a sore head if you keep swilling that.”

  “I already have a sore head.” He took one more drink, but this time refrained from guzzling.

  She made a lather in the soap bowl and used the brush to spread it over his whiskers. He sobered a bit when she flicked open the razor. “Have you used one of those before?” he asked.

  “Yes. Papa taught me how.”

  He raised his chin. “Then do not forget the neck.”

  The scent of lavender filled his nostrils as she neared. Reid reached for a lock of hair that had slipped from her braid. He twirled it around his finger as she worked. Her hair was fine and soft, just like her body. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his thumb up and down the ringlet he’d made. Audrey stretched the skin on his cheek and shaved him with languid strokes, her hand firm but practiced. Just like everything she applied herself to, she proved skilled—except perhaps dancing, and Audrey wasn’t near as bad on her toes as she’d let on.

  With a sigh, he released the lock and moved his hand to her waist. “You’re a fine woman.”

  She placed her finger on the tip of his nose and gently pushed it up, shaving above his lip. “Thank you.”

  “W-why have you not been spoken for?” His words were beginning to slur.

  She smiled and doused the cloth in the bowl. Good Lord, she was bonny. “I suppose Papa had more important things to take care of before he started looking for a suitor. Just as you’ve told me a number of times.”

  When she faced him and wiped the soap from his face, Reid sunk his fingers into the arc of her waist. “I have?” He shook his head. “I mean, I do. But were you not home with your da during the summers? What about seasonal balls? Did he not escort you to London?”

  She heaved a sigh and met his gaze with those hypnotic midnight-blue eyes. “I’m a dancing failure, if you do not recall.”

  He recalled very well. She’d enticed him so, he’d backed her against the wall to show her how a man and a woman…

  Reid swayed in his chair. “You seem to have danced quite well in my arms.”

  She giggled. “I recollect that during our lesson in the assembly hall you swept me off my feet. And…” A sudden blush filled her cheeks as she looked away and set the cloth on the table.

  He brushed his knuckle across her silken, rosy skin, leaned over, and looked her in the eye. “And what?” Though he didn’t need to ask what she was thinking, he enjoyed teasing her, enjoyed watching her bashfulness, especially because he knew when she shed her inhibitions, Audrey might just prove to be a wildcat in the bedchamber. While Reid’s head might be swimming, his loins were stirring.

  She shook her head.

  “Tell me.” He tugged her arm and pulled her onto his lap, ignoring the needling pain in his back.

  “You kissed me,” she whispered into his neck.

  “I did.” He leaned away so she’d have to face him. “And do you recall you kissed me back?”

  “I…”

  “Let me help you remember.” Blast his aching back and blast his duty as guardian. The lass had a chance to retire, and chose to stay. The entire time he’d been locked up in the bowels of Durham Gaol, he’d thought of no one else but Audrey Kennet. The memory of twirling her across an empty ballroom, the memories of riding with her, listening to her music, breaking his fasts with her kept him sane during a fortnight of hell.

  No, he didn’t care about suitors or abeyances. He didn’t care about the coal mine or villainous bastards like Wagner Tupps. Right now, he cared about the lass in his arms, he cared about kissing her. Jesus Christ, even through his pain, he couldn’t ignore how her breeches caressed those tight buttocks, displayed those slender legs. And now, the cleft between her pillow-soft arse molded to his cock. Within a blink of an eye, he was harder than the candlestick on the hearth.

  A moan rolled from her throat as he sealed his lips over hers and tasted sweet woman. Desire consumed him, body and soul.

  Closing his eyes, Reid slid his fingers up to her breast, but too much cloth separated them.

  “What?” he as
ked breathlessly.

  “I bound them.”

  He shoved the red coat from her shoulders, untied her cravat, and tugged the shirt over her head.

  Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, covering the linen that had been wrapped around and around. “We should stop.”

  He fingered the top of the cloth and grinned. “Aye? But I don’t want to stop at the moment.”

  “I’d be mortified if you saw me bare.”

  He looked to his own chest. “I’m bare.”

  “That’s different.”

  “I disagree.” He untied the knot that secured her bindings. Nuzzling into her neck, he ran kisses down her skin as he pulled away the linen. “A wee peek is all I ask.”

  She shivered with her next exhale.

  “I ken you like me, lass.” His head swam but still he couldn’t stop himself.

  “I…I…I—”

  He silenced her with a kiss while his palm filled with soft, warm, intoxicating breast. The wee pebble went instantly hard against his hand, and he swept his mouth downward to claim it. Dear God, her nipples were raspberry ripe, showing him exactly how much she craved his touch. He moaned as he took the right into his mouth and plied it with his tongue. Audrey gasped and arched her back while Reid’s fingers trailed downward.

  Her heavy breathing made him harder as he rocked his hips into her and found the front tie to her breeches. With a flick of his fingers, he opened them and slid his hand inside.

  With her next gasping arch, her legs parted ever so slightly and Reid used the motion as an invitation to touch her most sacred treasure.

  She gasped and tried to pull back, but he held her fast. “Let me inside,” he growled.

  “But—”

  “Och, I’ll not take your innocence. My role is to protect you.” To adore you. He slid his finger into the moist folds. Holy hellfire, she was so wet, he could slip inside with ease. His cock pulsed. God, how he wanted to be inside her.

  “Mm,” she moaned, her eyes rolling back.

  “That’s it. Allow yourself to feel the passion that lies deep within your soul.”

  Her breathing sped. “I-I…”

  He captured her mouth with a raw, unapologetic kiss, plundering her mouth as his finger slid inside her womanhood and swirled.

  The tiny noises coming from Audrey’s throat practically sent Reid over the edge. While he continued the kiss, his finger was relentless, probing her slick core and teasing the pearl just outside. Her breathing grew more impassioned, her hips moving in concert with his tenacious exploration.

  And suddenly it happened.

  A cry of elation caught in Audrey’s throat as she pulsated around his finger.

  Forcing himself to refrain from plunging inside her, Reid squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in her neck. “We need to sleep, mo ghràidh.” He wasn’t so inebriated to speak the endearment for my love in English. Regardless of his aching loins, a man on the run couldn’t declare affection for anyone or anything.

  * * *

  Audrey’s eyelids were heavy, yet she wanted this moment to last forever. How could she sleep? “You’ve been knocking on death’s door for days. You must rest.”

  He brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “You cannot go without sleep, either.”

  She glanced away. “I will not leave you.” Standing, she took his hand. “Come.”

  He grinned, following her to the bed. To think, a man in as much pain as Reid MacKenzie could grin at a time like this? He’d put his hands on her. He’d kissed her. He’d whispered Gaelic in her ear. She turned down the bedclothes for him. “Now rest.”

  “And you?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll bring the chair over.”

  “Nay.” He sat on the bed and ran his hands down her arms. “Go lock the door. No one will ken if you’re in my arms or sitting in a chair.”

  A wicked grin played on her lips. “You are a devilish earl, are you not?”

  “Och, practical comes to mind.”

  She moved across the floor, feeling like she was floating. “Whatever your ruse, I like it.”

  He crawled onto the bed and lay on his side, opening his arm for her.

  After locking the door, Audrey curled beside him, their bodies molding together like a matched set. “I feel safe with you. Content.”

  “And I would have you nowhere else,” he whispered. “Now sleep.”

  Content in Reid’s arms, she closed her eyes. How on earth had he made her body feel so miraculously light and airy? Is that what the girls at Talcotts had meant when they said they had shattered? Did they even know what shattering was? Gracious, Audrey hadn’t a clue, but there was no doubt that she’d shattered this night. Shattered and soared on the clouds.

  She regarded the earl’s handsome face over her shoulder. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he’d fallen asleep. The amber glow from the hearth cast shadows over his chiseled features, making him look like a statue.

  What did this all mean? What did mo ghràidh mean? He’d uttered the endearment with such affection, yet he hadn’t mentioned a word about the future. Though with all the trouble with the Government, it may have not been the right time to talk about what might come.

  Regardless, Audrey knew he liked her, too. Every time she was alone with him, he flirted shamelessly. She hadn’t been alone with many men, but she was certain the earl was more than a little enraptured. If only he would realize it himself.

  Once he cleared his name, would Seaforth continue on his quest to marry her to the highest bidder?

  No. I cannot believe he will.

  Audrey closed her eyes and snuggled into his warmth. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the future. Not when so much uncharted territory lay on the horizon. They were running from government troops, for heaven’s sake. Who knew what the morrow would bring? And why couldn’t she just let things happen? All her life she’d worried about the morrow, about doing everything perfectly, and if she wasn’t polished at something, she’d not do it at all, like dancing. Come to think of it, every time she ended up in Reid’s arms it wasn’t perfect, but it was amazing. How could being so imperfect be incredibly sublime?

  No, she would not allow herself to think about the future this night. She would close her eyes and sleep cradled in the brawny arms that protected her. Even when knocking on death’s door, the Earl of Seaforth could make her feel secure. And through his rugged exterior, he cared deeply for her on some raw level, on a level Audrey didn’t yet understand. And tonight, he’d proved it beyond doubt.

  With her next sigh, she drifted into blissful sleep.

  But it only seemed like moments had passed when urgent pounding sounded at the door. “Seaforth. You must wake!” Dunn boomed from the corridor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Audrey jumped off the bed like someone jabbed her with a poker. Mortified, she dashed to the hearth and pulled her shirt over her head. “Reid? Are you awake?” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

  A garble came from the bed while the pounding grew louder. “Dammit, man, the redcoats are here!” Dunn shouted through the timbers.

  Quickly, Audrey pulled on her breeches and dashed to the door.

  With a snarl, the chieftain shoved inside, holding a torch and glaring at Audrey as if she had committed a ghastly crime. “What the bloody hell took you so long?”

  “I…” Mortified and unable to think up a decent response, she dipped her chin, whipped around, and raced to don her boots and coat.

  “And why are you not in your chamber? Did you sit up with His Lordship all bloody night?”

  What was she supposed to say? And why did Dunn’s voice sound so accusing? “Ah…I did.” Regardless of the chieftain’s query, what she did or didn’t do last eve was none of his concern.

  Reid sat up and swiped a hand down his face, the bedclothes dropping to his waist. “Ballocks.”

  The MacRae chieftain strode across the floor. “Jesu, you look like you’ve been ma
uled by a lion and left for dead.”

  “Feel like it, as well.” Reid grunted as he swung his legs over the bed’s edge. “Not to worry, I’m coming good.” He shoved the heels of his hands against his temples.

  Audrey hastened to button her doublet. “I knew drinking an entire flagon of whisky was not a good idea.”

  “Do not don that red coat!” shouted Dunn. “Drape a plaid over your shoulders for Christ’s sake.”

  Groaning, Audrey discarded the doublet and grabbed a tartan from the foot of the bed. Then she hastily shoved her tricorn hat over her slept-on braid.

  The earl pushed himself to his feet and hobbled toward the washstand. “I’ll be fit as soon as I splash my face with a bit o’ water.” He reached out for the ewer, but it crashed to the floorboards and shattered as Reid stumbled backward.

  Audrey dashed to help, but the earl gained his balance and batted her hands away.

  “We haven’t time for this. I cannot have an injured man and a woman slowing us down. We’ll be captured for certain,” Dunn continued with his tirade. “M’lord, ’tis best if you and the lass spirit out the escape tunnel, whilst I create a diversion with the men.”

  Audrey handed Reid his shirt. “You have an escape tunnel?”

  “I’m not running.” The earl swayed on his feet as he pulled the garment over his head. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Aye? Tell that to the lackwit who made a draughtboard out of your back.” Dunn beckoned with his fingers. “Now haste.”

  “Damnation, this is my fight, not yours, and most definitely not Miss Kennet’s.”

  Holding the torch aloft, Dunn marched straight up to the earl and grabbed the collar of his shirt in his fist. “I love you like a brother, Seaforth, but it would be suicide to meet the redcoats in your condition. Now take the lass out the tunnel and be gone with ye afore the bastards bust down the door.” Dunn hesitated for a moment while he tightened his grip. “Just remember your father’s promise to Cromartie.”

  Audrey glanced up and met MacRae’s steely-eyed gaze. Sometimes that man could speak in riddles, but this was no time to set him off by asking for clarification.