Ravished by a Highlander

by Paula Quinn

  Rob’s eyes softened on her, as did his heart each time he beheld her. And the closer they came to Camlochlin, the more of her he saw. ’Twas like watching a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon and slowly unfolding its wings to fly. Hell, he wanted her to fly. He wanted to fly with her. He hadn’t pressed her about what she wanted to tell him the morning Connor left. He could not force her to trust him with such a secret. He could only hope that with time she would.

  When she turned and waved at him, her cheeks pink and her smile wide, his knees nearly gave out. Of course, it could have been from the ten-foot swell crashing against the hull. She laughed, mindless of the fathoms below. She might have spent many of her years afraid of an unseen enemy, but being tossed about on heaving waves gave her pleasure.

  “Is that Skye?” she called out, pointing to a small isle to his left.

  “Nae, ’tis Eig,” he shouted back, then clutched the mast above his head when the ship dipped to the left. Her laughter was snatched up by the churning wind as she bid him come to her. He shook his head, not really caring if she thought him foolish or afraid for staying so close to the foremast. He wasn’t about to go overboard for any lass—unless he absolutely had to.

  She appeared as insubstantial as a feather when she let go of the railing and moved toward him. At that instant, the stem of the ship pitched upward, lifting the bowsprit toward the heavens. Instinctively, Rob reached for her with his free arm and pulled her against his chest. She landed with a thud that stole her breath—and his—for a different reason entirely. He stared down into her eyes, lost in their silvery blue depths, slain by a carefree smile as radiant as the sun peeking over the Cuillin hills.

  “Careful, lass,” he said softly, deeply while her long hair coiled around him. “I dinna’ want to lose ye.”

  “Nor I you,” she told him just as meaningfully and then drew her bottom lip between her teeth as if she’d said too much.

  Damn his will to resist her. He’d given up that fight when she’d flung her arms around his neck the morning Connor and Asher found them together. He smiled, dipping his mouth to hers and his hand down her back. At the alluring indent just above her buttocks, he spread his palm wide and pushed her deeper against the crook of his thighs. He held her close while he took her mouth and the seas bucked and rocked beneath them. Softly at first, his tongue stole around her mouth, tasting, stroking her until she quivered in his arms. No man had kissed her before him, and none would ever kiss her after him. Each day that he held her in his arms was another test of his will not to caress her, claim her, and kill anyone who tried to harm her. But he was lost and would fight it no longer.

  The sweet wantonness of her response made every inch of him grow tight and as he moved his lips over hers, devouring her now with need, he brushed his stiffness against the warmth of her niche.

  She pulled back, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Rob ground his jaw, for the apology he would have offered her felt trite and insincere. He was not sorry. Even now, he wanted more of her.

  “My lady?”

  Rob and Davina turned together to Asher standing just a few feet away, his hands rolling into fists at his sides.

  “Are you all right?”

  Glaring at him, Rob pulled Davina closer in a possessive gesture, and to help conceal her effect on him. He had been patient and as understanding as any man could be about Asher’s feelings toward Davina, but he was tired of her captain constantly wedging himself between them, and he refused to be insulted by an Englishman.

  “She has no’, nor will she come to any harm in my care, Captain.”

  The rigid pitch of Rob’s tone alerted Will that someone’s head was about to roll. Asher slanted his gaze in his direction when Will began to move forward. “You’ve no idea,” he said, turning back to Rob, “the force that will come against you.”

  A force most likely led by ye, Rob thought, pushing off the mast and moving toward him. How easily he could toss Asher over the side of the ship and be done with him once and for all. Davina would hate him for it if he did. Rob knew Asher was jealous, but something about him had changed when he’d come upon them with Connor, locked in each other’s arms. Before, there had been caution and constant worry in the captain’s eyes, but since that morn, there was only black anger, and for the first time, Rob saw him as a threat. Would he alert the king to Davina’s whereabouts to keep her from him? “Let them come,” Rob told him, his jaw taut, and his gaze hard as granite, “and let them fear me.”

  Asher offered him a pitying smile. “You may be skilled with a sword, MacGregor, but a few dozen Highlanders against an army is no match.”

  Rob returned his smile with one riddled in arrogance. “Nae army will ever reach us alive.”

  “Sentries?” the captain asked.

  Rob shook his head and flashed him a cool grin. “Cannons.”

  Finn’s shout from the fore top pierced the stunned silence that had descended on deck. “Land! ’Tis bonnie Skye ahead!”

  Asher and Davina turned to look north at the Sleat peninsula rising from the waves. But Rob’s gaze cut longingly westward, beyond Loch Slapin, toward the misty peaks of Sgurr Na Stri and the Cuillin mountains. Home. The place of his heart. The thing he loved above all else—His eyes drifted to Davina rushing back to the railing—save for her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  They docked in Tarskavaig Bay on the western shore of the peninsula and traveled north along the rugged coastline. Tarskavaig, Finn was happy to relate to Davina (riding at her flank, of course), was one of the largest crafting settlements on Skye and had a long history steeped in Norse origins.

  But instead of relishing the quaint beauty of the dozens of small houses scattered across the shallow valley before her, Davina’s thoughts clung to the man sitting behind her on his horse. She’d dreamed of seeing the world outside St. Christopher’s gates, had wasted away her days lost in other places where mothers and fathers didn’t have to give up their babes. But now, when one such place lay spread out around her, none of it mattered. Edward had been right when he said Rob had no idea what would come against him, but she knew, and it gnawed at her until she felt ill. If the MacGregors shot their cannons at the King’s army, there would be war. She couldn’t let it come to that. She’d had plenty of time to think on the ship and she knew that Edward had been wrong about one thing. Rob would not abandon her even if he knew it was the king’s army he might be facing. Her heart was certain of it now, for she’d tasted it in his kiss, felt it in the strength of his embrace, and the tantalizing proof of how he wanted to possess her.

  The memory of his readied manhood between her thighs heated her insides and made her acutely aware of every hard curve pressed against her back now. She might have been raised in a convent, but she wasn’t completely ignorant of what took place between men and women. The Abbess at St. Christopher’s had told her, preparing her for the day of her marriage, if it ever came. Besides that, she’d seen enough sheep and cattle, and even horses to know what the mating ritual was about. As basely primitive as it might be, the thought of her and Rob locked in nature’s ancient dance made her tingle to the soles of her feet. She wondered what it would be like to lie with him, to hold all that strong male body in her arms, to hear him whisper words of love while he made her his. Never, Davina, she forced herself to think logically. It will never be. You were not born for this life. Someone would find her, either the Duke’s men, or God forbid it, her father’s.

  She should never have let Rob bring her to Skye. It wasn’t too late. She had to tell him the truth and gather her strength to request that he bring her back to the ship before Connor’s men left Sleat. They could still take her to Ireland. It had to be this way. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone dying because of her.

  Edward looked as miserable as she felt while they trotted over carpeted bluebells, past hillocks lined with grazing sheep that took no notice of them whatsoever. Davina pushed her friend from her thoughts. She knew why he was angry. He’d b
een honorable to her and to his king, putting his love for her aside only to see her surrender hers to a Highlander. She would speak to him about it later. But for now, Edward would have to wait.

  Determined to her purpose, she turned in Rob’s lap and looked up at him. The moment she did, she felt her fortitude wilt. A smile lurked at the edges of his mouth, and, as if he knew her concerns before she spoke them, that unconquerable confidence he possessed shone like embers in the smoky blue of his eyes, wilting her anxious heart, as well.

  God and all His saints help her, she loved this man. And because she did, she had to tell him the truth. “Rob?”

  “Aye, lass?”

  “There is something I must tell you.”

  “What is it?” he asked rather nonchalantly and lifted his gaze to the hills above her head.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be angry with me for keeping it from you, even lying to you.”

  He dipped his eyes briefly to hers. “I willna’ be angry, but I will expect ye to be truthful from now on.”

  “I will. I’m going to,” she promised, girding up her loins to finally tell him. He wouldn’t leave her, so she had to leave him. “Rob?” She tugged on his sleeve for his full attention. When she had it, she forged on straight ahead before her nerve left her. “I’m King James’s daughter.” There, she said it. It wasn’t really so difficult. She’d never spoken those words aloud to anyone before and it was quite freeing, finally sharing this weight with someone other than Edward. She realized with her next breath that Rob hadn’t said a word. Oddly enough, he was back to smiling.

  “Perhaps you did not understand me,” she tried again. “I am the King’s…” The remainder of her declaration came to an abrupt halt when he slowed his mount and slid out of his saddle.

  “Off yer mounts, men,” he called over his shoulder to Will and Finn without taking his eyes from hers. “And pay yer princess the homage she is due.”

  Davina watched, stupefied, as the three Highlanders dropped to one knee. They weren’t angry, nor did even a crease of concern mar any of their brows. They must think her jesting, or mad. Yes, she thought she saw Finn’s bright grin beneath his bent head. She had no idea what to say to them, or how to react. She’d worried over many possible different reactions, but disbelief was not one of them.

  Slipping from the saddle, she turned to them—to Rob. “You don’t believe me again but I am being truthful with you. Edward will attest to my claim. Won’t you, Edward?” She didn’t wait for his support, but continued on, twisting her skirts in her fingers. “I’m James Stuart’s firstborn—which most unfortunately—makes me next in line for the throne. I don’t think you—”

  “I know what it makes ye, Davina,” Rob said, still on one knee and looking up at her with lapis eyes. The sound of her name on his lips almost made her smile. She shook her head to clear it.

  “But I… Oh please, do get up—all of you.” The three men obeyed, and upon straightening, Finn winked at her.

  Davina’s eyes opened wide as it dawned on her why none of them were surprised. She blinked back to Rob. “You already knew?”

  “It doesna’ matter.”

  “It certainly does!” She pulled away from his touch when he reached for her. “Are you mad? You knew who I was and you still brought me to Skye?”

  “Aye.” That, and his deepening smile were all the reply he gave her.

  “I cannot let you! I will not! You saw what Gilles’s men did at St. Christopher’s.”

  “The Admiral is nae longer yer concern, Davina, nor is Monmouth or Argyll.”

  She wasn’t certain if it was Rob’s stubborn conviction or her own foolish hope that tempted her to believe him. Oh, if it were only true. “And my father? If he comes for me, and you—”

  “Yer faither thinks ye dead and will continue with that belief fer as long as I can help it.”

  It was true. The Abbey and all the inhabitants of St. Christopher’s were naught but ash. Gilles might believe her alive but he would never go to the king with his suspicions. Was she really free? Could she truly walk away from everything she’d prepared for her entire life? “Do you think you can keep me hidden from the world, then?”

  His eyes swept over the vast landscape, toward the jagged cliffs and high frosty mountain peaks well beyond the bay, and he nodded. “Aye,” he said, returning his gaze to hers. “I do. What will it take fer ye to trust what I say, lass?”

  Before she could stop it, hope sprang up in Davina’s heart like a wellspring. Hope offered to her by no one else in her life but by this one man. She did trust Rob, more even than Edward. Could she finally enjoy a life where she was simply Davina and not heir to the throne—even for a little while? Oh, God, please. Just for a little while. She smiled as she allowed that hope to spill forth. “Then let us be away.”

  As if he’d been standing on the edge of the earth waiting for her and this moment when she surrendered all her fears to him, he closed the gap between them in two strides and gathered her into his arms. “Before nightfall, we will be lost, Davina. Ferget yer past and dinna’ look back.”

  She clung to him while his lilting burr against her ear sent sparks down her spine. Lost. Lost in his arms, his kiss, his sometimes brooding, always breathtaking eyes. But what of her duty to England and to her Catholic faith? It might someday be up to her to uphold everything her father believed. Here it was again, the question she had pondered so many times alone in St. Christopher’s bell tower. Which life would she choose if the choice were hers to make? “I won’t look back,” she whispered as their lips met.

  “As enticing as your chivalry is, MacGregor—” Breaking the spell between them, Edward cantered his horse forward and cast Rob an apologetic look. “You must know that the king will never cease searching for her the moment he knows she’s alive.”

  “Who is there to tell him, Asher?” Rob put to him curiously, menacingly. “No’ Captain Grant, fer he gave me his word no’ to speak of her.”

  Edward’s horse bucked and neighed beneath him. “If the men who sailed us to Sleat are questioned—”

  “They dinna’ know who she is,” Rob reminded him and lifted Davina back into his saddle. “And even if they did, they dinna’ know where we’re goin’.”

  “They brought us here!” Edward laughed.

  “But we are no’ stayin’ here,” Rob informed him, leaping into the saddle next. “Many know that the MacGregors live on Skye, but most dinna’ know where. We prefer to keep it that way.”

  “Well,” Edward asked, a bit impatiently. “How do we get there?”

  Passing them, Will’s devilishly handsome smirk belied the tremor of anxiety marking his voice. “A short ferry ride across Loch Eishort and a careful trek through the chasm o’ hell, and there we will be.”

  Riding up behind Will, Finn laughed and shook his head with bewilderment. “How is it that ye can face a horde of MacPhersons bent on killing ye, but ye’re afraid of heights?”

  Will’s only reply was a quick smack to the back of Finn’s head as the lad passed him.

  Davina wasn’t worried about Will’s “chasm of hell.” She’d been there before when Gilles’s men attacked her home, and she lived through it, thanks to the man behind her who feared nothing—save of course, for a few waves churning beneath his boots. Smiling at the memory of her brave champion fastened to the ship’s mast, Davina nestled closer against him.

  “Is Camlochlin as beautiful as this?” she asked softly, finally taking in the splendor of the waterfall-laden shore coming into view as they traveled northward.

  “No’ yet,” Rob answered close to the ear. “But soon ’twill be.”

  Chapter Twenty

  After crossing Loch Eishort, Will became increasingly agitated, even snapping at Finn when the lad chatted on endlessly to Davina about the Vikings who perished there long ago while trying to cross the cliffs of Elgol. Davina found it rather amusing to watch the self-confident warrior come undone by the landscape. He didn’t bother
to conceal his fear, but assured Davina, while mopping his sweaty brow with his sleeve, that soon she would be clinging to Rob the way a terrified child clings to its mother.

  When they rounded the end of Loch Slapin, following its edge south, Davina understood the cause of Will MacGregor’s anxiety, for the cliffs, dotted with caves and moss, rose up as high as the heavens and vanished into a hovering mantle of pure white mist.

  “You don’t expect us to cross that on horseback, do you?” Edward groaned, teetering in his saddle as he craned his neck at the view. “There must be another way.”

  “There is; through the hills,” Rob told him with a gentle snap of his reins. “But ’tis the longer way ’round and trust me, this way is safer if ye dinna’ want an arrow in yer chest. Keep yer horse under yer control. Stay behind me and ye’ll be fine.”

  Angling her head around Rob’s shoulder, Davina offered Edward a soothing smile as he reluctantly trotted forward with a pale-faced Will behind him and Finn at the rear.

  “Ye’re no’ afraid, then?”

  Aiming her generous smile at Rob, Davina shook her head and then turned to glory in the view. She hadn’t been entirely truthful with him, for her heart beat madly in her chest. Who wouldn’t be afraid perched at the edge of the world? No dream, nor idle fancy could ever have prepared her for this place. Breath held, she spread her gaze over the chiseled behemoth of the Cuillins looming from the clouds across the loch. But she had no more time for fear and with Rob at her side, no more cause for it.

  “How high are we going?”

  “To the top.”

  The urge to clutch his hands to her chest passed as they climbed the narrow precipice above Loch Scavaig, its whitecaps crashing into the rock face below. She looked down, bending far enough over Rob’s horse to make Will swear at her.

  Tossing him a hasty apology, she settled into Rob’s chest and slanted her curious smile at him. “Are you not afraid of falling into the water?”