Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Victoria Vane

  Nodding, Connor’s gaze flitted away to the pelts covering her lap. “Bundle up. We must make haste.”

  Doing as she was bid, she wrapped herself in the thick furs and slung a leg over the saddle to ride astride in front of him. Without another word, he spurred his mount onward, deeper into the dark forest he’d materialized from.

  All the while, a foreboding unease perched in the pit of Mairi’s stomach. Had she made the right decision, or the single, worst mistake of her life?

  Chapter Two

  “ARE YOU CERTAIN?” Calum gritted out between clenched teeth.

  Arabella held her breath, awaiting her husband’s volatile response. Despite her mounting alarm, she grasped his strong hand between both of hers, hoping to tether some semblance of reason within him.

  “Aye, Laird. I saw it with my own eyes.” Faolan, one of the clan’s elders residing within the village, insisted. “My Bess heard a scream and we unbarred the door to see what was amiss. That’s when I saw them…a lone rider near the loch. He’d grabbed Lady Mairi and vanished into the forest.”

  “You say you caught a glimpse of tartan?” Patrick queried with a terse snap.

  “I cannot be sure, but I’m almost certain ’twas green and blue.” Faolan nodded as if to assert his claim.

  Liam exchanged a quick, pointed glance with Calum. At once, Arabella divined the direction of the men’s thoughts. As soon as Faolan hastened into the hall with word of Mairi, her mind had sprung to the very same conclusion.

  How could it not?

  She winced as a noticeable tremor shook through her husband’s arm. She tightened her grip, clinging to his hand. ’Twas of little use. Calum bolted from his chair, disentangling her grasp on him.

  “I vow I will kill the arse with my bare hands!” Her husband’s bellow of outrage boomed through the great hall, gaining a flinch from each person seated around the high table, Arabella included.

  “Assemble a party. We ride this instant.”

  Startled by his rash decision, she jumped to her feet, snatching his sleeve. “Calum, wait. How can you be sure ’tis MacRae? What if another clan has taken her?”

  Liam cast her a droll stare. “I know of no other clan donning those colors who would dare commit such an offense against the MacGregors. Come, Arabella, did you truly believe he would’ve forgotten her?”

  If she were completely honest, nay. Not even with a year gone since they’d last seen the MacRae brothers did she think for one faltering moment that Aaron had forgotten Mairi. Nor had Mairi forgotten him. In truth, ’twas not a matter of if MacRae would reenter their lives, but merely when.

  Despite the direction of her own thoughts and evidence she could not refute, Arabella appealed to reason. “But ’tis been more than a year. After all this time, why now?”

  “I’ve no notion, nor do I give a damn. I simply care that MacRae has my sister. Again.” Calum yanked his sleeve free from her fisted hand.

  “Nay, wait.” She snagged his arm once more. “What of the storm? You cannot think to ride in this weather.”

  He whirled to face her in a flash, his scarred features a mask of fury. Anyone else might’ve cowered beneath his imposing, icy blue stare, but never her. Lifting a hand to palm her cheek, he dipped his head to place a lingering kiss on her lips.

  “Do not fret, Wife. I’ll return with Mairi by the morrow.” He whispered in her ear, “Look after our son.”

  ’Twas no point arguing with her stubborn, determined husband. She’d learned early on ’twas a fruitless effort. Instead, she offered a wan smile and nodded as he signaled for Liam, Patrick and Symon to join him in the stables.

  “Calum,” she called after him.

  He paused to peer over his shoulder.

  “Be careful,” she urged.

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Aye, Wife.”

  Once Liam soundly kissed Nora on the lips and released her from his firm embrace, the other woman met Arabella’s gaze. The same worry weighing in her belly reflected in Nora’s eyes.

  Not a single person in the hall, besides Arabella, attempted to question the men’s assumption as to the rider’s identity. After a sordid past with Aaron MacRae, ’twas an obvious conclusion every single member of the clan drew of their own volition.

  Arabella’s gaze locked on Patrick, who rushed across the hall to join Calum and the others. She could not help but feel a wee bit vexed whenever the thoughtless man dined in the MacGregor hall. ’Twas not that long ago she’d badgered the truth from Mairi. Her friend admitted she’d no true desire to wed Patrick and had simply agreed to the match for Calum’s sake. In truth, after Mairi revealed her true feelings, Arabella thought of naught but the insensitive manner in which Patrick asked for her friend’s hand each time she peered at the MacEwan laird.

  As the two’s wedding day drew near, Arabella urged Mairi to speak to Calum and refute the match, but the other woman refused to displease her brother. Despite her unwavering feelings for Aaron, Mairi never spoke outright of him. But ’twas not hard for Arabella to surmise where her friend’s heart truly laid. She’d witnessed the undeniable spark between the pair the prior year. Anyone present along the shore that day with a pair of eyes in their head could not deny the connection between them. ’Twas glaringly visible for all to witness.

  If Aaron MacRae did, in fact, have Mairi, there was no doubt in Arabella’s mind that her friend would come to no harm in his hands. The coming snowstorm was another matter entirely. Not only was Mairi out in the frigid mess, but now her husband was heading out in it as well. Cuddling her son closer, she placed a kiss along his forehead while he yawned, and sent up a quick prayer to protect her loved ones.

  Though, one notion continued to circle round and round in her mind, one she’d not spoken of to her caring, overprotective husband. Alas, what Calum failed to consider was his sister might not be as unwilling a captive as he imagined.

  *

  THE DAY SWEPT by in an almost unbearable, shivering blur of frosty white. Snow continued to fall at a steady pace. Too soon, small flakes turned to flurries, slowing progress and casting a veil over visibility, especially once the somber day bled into a gloomy eve. Storm clouds concealed the moon from view, casting her and Connor in near darkness. The further north they traveled, the more the stinging wind grew painfully frigid.

  Despite the layer of thick furs bundled around her, Mairi gritted her teeth against the harsh cold. Too many disconcerting notions tumbled through her mind. Two prevalent thoughts pounded, over and over, in her head—how the devil was she to reason with Calum when she returned? And more troubling, what of Aaron?

  What if she and Connor were too late?

  The faint roar of the sea blended with the wind’s howl, signaling they neared the MacRae holding perched atop the climbing cliffs overlooking the sea. Apprehensive of what was to come, Mairi hunched deeper in the furs and attempted to dismiss the nagging unease slung like a burgeoning weight around her shoulders. Once Connor’s shaggy-coated horse began the ascent up the steep, snow-covered pass, her rigid body stiffened in fear. The higher the animal climbed, the more the icy path narrowed until she could peer over the edge of the darkened bluff.

  “Connor,” she yelled through the wool tartan covering the lower half of her face.

  His arms tightened around her middle as he reined the thick-boned animal along the steep face of the cliff. “We’ll make it. Just close your eyes.”

  Close her eyes? Close her damned eyes?

  If her fingers had not been fused to the pommel of the saddle in terror, she might’ve hit him for the ridiculous suggestion. Saints, one misstep and the pair of them and the blasted horse would slide over the edge of the crag and plummet to their deaths in the darkened rock valley below.

  Close her eyes. What a mad, foolish statement. Of course, she was fretting. Sweet Mother, she was utterly petrified with fright.

  With each yard they gained, her heart drummed a swifter beat until she imagined the organ might rip th
rough her chest. Halfway up the cliff, one of the horse’s hooves slipped on the icy rock and the beast lurched toward the edge. A squeal of terror tore from her throat and echoed through the pitch black of night. She squeezed her eyes shut against the inevitable, anticipated fall. The howling wind bore in her ringing ears.

  “Ho there,” Connor shouted as the beast righted its footing.

  While the animal continued the treacherous climb toward the MacRae Keep, Mairi strung together a litany of prayers to every saint her frayed mind could recall.

  “Duthac,” Connor shouted near her ear.

  Momentarily confused, she yelled, “What?”

  “Do not forget Duthac.”

  ’Twas then she realized she prayed aloud. Not that she cared a lick. For good measure, she prayed to Duthac, patron saint of Tain.

  “Any others?” she asked.

  “Nay.” His arms squeezed her middle. “We’re nearly there.”

  She peeled her eyes open and almost rejoiced at the sight. The narrow, ice-covered rock passage along the cliff wall widened. Around a bend, the horse clomped onto an expansive slope of open land to her ever-loving gratitude. At least if she tumbled from the saddle, she’d survive the few feet to the hard, frozen ground, rather than a sheer drop from the side of a bluff. Boneless with relief, she slumped against Connor and expelled a measure of worry in one long, jagged breath.

  Once they passed through the crumbling walls of the front gate, Mairi observed a handful of torches illuminating the MacRae Keep in the flurry of snowfall. She scanned the sparse settlement and dwellings scattered throughout the outer courtyard, searching for signs of life. Aside from smoke trails rising from the rock and daub chimneys, not a soul stirred out of doors. Not even a patrol. ’Twas not surprising, given the bitter, winter wind.

  Connor reined his mount to a halt near the front steps of the keep and lowered Mairi to the ground. On numb legs, she wavered on her freezing feet, her teeth chattering from the cold. Within moments, Connor joined her, gripping her arm to prevent a slip. He released a shrill whistle that carried on the wailing wind. Left a jittering mess after their dangerous ascent of the bluff, she almost jumped out of her skin.

  Before she could curse the young man for his rudeness, the front doors banged open and a great giant of a man, covered from head to feet in hide and pelts, stomped down the snow-covered steps. Frowning, the large male narrowed his gray eyes on her as if her appearance somehow displeased him. Truth be known, she was not pleased to see him either. Whoever the man was.

  Nodding in greeting, Connor handed over the reins and patted his horse’s flank. “Please, will you see that Mac is warmed, brushed down, and fed well, Niall? He deserves a great deal of coddling after the past few days.”

  Without a word, the stern-faced Niall took the bridle from Connor and led the heavy-boned gelding through the courtyard to the stables in the rear.

  Shivering, Mairi managed to grate out, “You named your horse son?”

  Connor shrugged. “’Tis as good a name as any.”

  Sliding an arm behind her shoulders, he guided her up the stairs and through the opened entryway into the darkened warmth of the keep. Once they stepped inside the dim entryway, the front doors slammed with a jarring boom. Yelping in surprise, she might’ve tripped over her own boots had Connor’s steadying hand not grabbed her. Thoroughly out of sorts, she tossed a nasty scowl at the two guards inside the front entrance who’d sealed the doors.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Mairi could’ve sworn she caught the pair smirking. Waving away Connor’s prodding hand for her to move, she whirled to face the guards. Struck by the oddness of their reactions, she narrowed her gaze at the stone-faced soldiers, but neither budged a muscle.

  Despite the day’s vexing journey and exposure to the frigid cold, her judgment remained as sound as when she’d awoken that morn. With Aaron on his deathbed, what would the pair of guards have to smile about?

  Unease spread down the length of her spine, pushing her closer to the edge. Intuition screamed something was amiss with the situation, but she could not place her finger on precisely what troubled her most.

  “Come, Lady Mairi. We must go to Aaron now,” Connor prompted, nudging her toward the main staircase.

  Her suspicion grew when he would not quite meet her gaze. Before she spat out a query, he tucked her arm beneath his and towed her up the steps. She snatched a glance inside the dim great hall as they passed, catching a glimpse of the prone bodies of clan members inside who’d bedded down for the eve.

  “Wait—”

  “We’ve tarried long enough,” Connor insisted.

  Without wasting another moment, he tugged her up the stairs to the second level and onto a barely-lit landing. At the top of the next set of stairs, they veered left which she remembered led to Aaron’s chamber. She could not say why but, with each step toward the chamber door at the end of the corridor, nervousness unfurled in her belly. The soft thud of their boots echoed through the silent, darkened hallway, blending in time with the pounding cadence in her chest. She swallowed her apprehension when they paused outside Aaron’s door. Connor unlatched the metal catch, and the wooden door opened with an eerie creak.

  Warmth poured from inside the chamber, the heat permeating her chilled skin through her thick clothing. Heart thundering in her ears, she remained outside the door and peeked inside the dusky room. The fire burning in the hearth across the chamber threw shadows against the opposite wall and the dark, fur-covered form lying still on the bed.

  Aaron.

  Her labored breaths drowned out the hiss and crackle of burning firewood. With a hand at her back, Connor nudged her forward and she took a step inside. A strong hand settled on her shoulder and pressed.

  Connor ducked his head close to her ear. “Go to him, Mairi. He needs you.”

  Christ, she could not help but hesitate. Though she’d yearned to see him for the past year, she never expected to encounter Aaron again. But now, faced with the certainty of setting eyes on the man she’d dreamed of for so long, near death, absolutely terrified her. Mayhap, even more so than the treacherous climb up the side of the cliff.

  Digging deep for a store of courage, she sucked in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. With soft, wary steps, she padded closer to the large, oaken bed. The click of the latch rang out in the near silent chamber and she spun toward the door, surprised to see that Connor had slipped outside, leaving her alone with Aaron.

  With a shaky sigh, she turned and settled her gaze on the outline of a figure beneath the furs on the bed. Saints, she could scarcely make out her hand in front of her face. Shifting closer, she spotted an unlit, half-burned candle on the small side table alongside the bed. She grabbed the iron holder and tiptoed toward the low-burning flames in the hearth and lowered the candle, lighting the wick. Straightening her stiff back, she cupped a hand around the candle’s flickering flame and shuffled closer to the bed once more.

  The candle’s soft glow shone over the pile of furs covering Aaron. A jittering mess, she placed the holder on the bedside table before her shaky hands dropped the candle and set the entire room ablaze. Swiping her sweating palms over her mantle, she gave herself a mental shake. Holy Mother, what was wrong with her? Her blasted stomach twisted in knots and shudders racked her frame which had naught to do with the cold.

  After another deep, fortifying breath, she eased down on the edge of the bed and reached a cautious hand for the coverlet concealing Aaron from view. As soon as her fingers touched the soft fur, she paused and bit her lip, wary of what she may find beneath the pelts. In truth, the entire situation since she’d left home that morn left her uneasy.

  Saints, why was she dawdling? ’Twas not in her nature.

  Squaring her shoulders, she gripped the pelt and peeled the coverlet away to reveal a head full of dark, sable hair. She slid the furs further down, exposing an expanse of bare flesh—flesh she expected to burn with fever. Frowning, she spied no signs of perspirat
ion or flushed skin usual with the malady.

  Her gaze traveled from his broad shoulders to the thick muscles of his arms, passing over the dark dusting of hair sprinkled over his chest. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. Along his side, a series of pale scars marred his otherwise smooth skin. She nearly brushed a finger over one of the old wounds but managed to restrain herself. Her gaze climbed from his belly, lingering longer than necessary on the breadth of his wide chest, to his corded neck.

  When she lifted a hand to place on his forehead, she met Aaron’s clear, sleepy-eyed stare. Her lungs ceased to work. With one hand paused in the air and the other clutching the fur, her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  A lazy smile lifted his full lips. “My angel.”

  Stunned by the soft-spoken words, Mairi gaped like a fool at the man who had featured in her dreams for over a year. Before she could force her mouth to work, Aaron grabbed her arms and tossed her flat on her back on the bed. The next instant, the powerful form of a wholly nude male covered her from chest to toe. A squeal of alarm left her throat before his mouth crashed over hers, silencing her protest.

  Chapter Three

  SWEPT UP IN the dream, Aaron savored the feel of his beautiful Mairi in his arms. Unlike other eves when she visited him in his slumber, the image seemed all too real, as if he could truly feel her writhing beneath him. Her soft curves cushioned his body as he lost himself in the delicious heat of her mouth.

  Christ, help him.

  His fiery lass was as tempting and sweet as he remembered. The heady scent of soft skin drifted up his nostrils and swam in his head, spurring his arousal. Desperate to feel her bare flesh against his, he gripped a handful of skirts and dragged the wool fabric up a pair of long legs he craved to feel wrapped around his waist.

  Heat scalded his palm as his hand slid along her smooth skin. Once his exploring fingertips neared the warm apex between her thighs, excruciating pain burst through his body, the source centered in his groin. Bellowing in agony, he fell onto his side and clutched his aching bollocks. Jolted from his dream, he cracked his eyes open, ignoring the welling tears, and forced his gaze to focus on the very real and extremely irate form of Lady Mairi MacGregor looming over him.