Tamed by a Highlander

by Paula Quinn

  He grinned with such casual delight; she was tempted to leap back into his arms. “I was commanded to watch yer every move, if ye recall.”

  She quirked her lips at him, giving him the point. “That is about to end when I go to the queen and tell her what she wants to know.”

  He shrugged, “Until then…”

  She bit her tongue and whirled on her heel, away from him. “Verra well, Captain. But I never took ye fer one whose pleasure relied on forcing a woman to do his bidding.”

  He laughed and the sound seeped through her like a song that haunted the moors. “How did I manage to escape that assumption during all these years of betraying ye?”

  She reached her trunk and pulled out a fresh plaid woven in shades of sapphire blue and crimson and a blue sleeved vest to match. “Nae doubt, ye have become quite adept at keeping yer darkest traits hidden.” It was difficult to keep her tone casual with the memory of his sensual, demanding mouth and wicked touch so fresh in her mind. Och, he was dark, aright. Before she could stop herself, she wondered if the other women he took to his bed enjoyed the dominating force of his passion. He had been gentle with her the first time she’d lain with him, but they had been young, inexperienced. He had taken her again before he left Scotland, making certain she would not forget him while he was away. She had ached for him for weeks… and she had not forgotten.

  He remained leaning against the door, his bold gaze dipping to her calf while she lifted her nightdress. He truly was going to watch her undress! She slid the soft fabric upward and glared at him when his smile faded into something harder. How would he take her now if she let him? She was not about to find out, though, damn her, a part of her wanted to lie with him again. To feel his rough hands on her, to hear that deep, languid voice tell her that she was his while he buried himself inside her and made it so. Her hand shook as she reached for the dagger tied to her thigh.

  Thankfully, his reflexes were as quick as she remembered them when her blade flew and landed in the door inches from his head.

  He cast a worrisome glance at the hilt above his shoulder, then at her. “Yer aim has improved.”

  “Turn around or the next will not miss.”

  Hell, he looked like he was about to spring at her. The rest of her knives were hidden in her trunk. She would never get them out in time. She did not want to. Fortunately, he turned to face the door without another word.

  She undressed quickly, watching his back the entire time. Her fingers shook while she slipped her arms into her sleeves and worked the small stone buttons at her chest. Her long earasaid was a bit harder to manage but she clipped the brooch to her shoulder without drawing blood and hastily fastened the belt to her waist.

  “I am done,” she called out a bit breathlessly, and sat on the edge of the bed to put on her boots while he yanked her knife from the door.

  “Yer modesty pleases me, Mairi,” he told her, handing her weapon back to her. “I hope ye’re as zealous with Oxford if he tries to have his way with ye.”

  She picked up the closest thing to her and threw it at him. He caught the nightdress and held it up to his nose.

  “Now this,” he said, inhaling the fabric and then setting his smoldering gaze on her once more, “is a deadly weapon, indeed.”

  Chapter Ten

  I had hoped that forcing Captain Grant’s attention on you would hasten your confession. But less than an hour?” The queen watched Mairi curtsey before her and then looked over her guest’s bent head at Connor standing behind her. “She does not like you overmuch.”

  They stood in Mary of Modena’s Privy Chamber, alone at Mairi’s request. Connor’s bonnie spitfire had requested that he, too, remain outside the door, but he had refused. He worried over the queen’s reaction to discovering where Mairi’s brother had taken the king. He was there to stop any MacGregor heads from rolling, especially Mairi’s.

  “Nae, not overmuch, Yer Majesty,” he agreed.

  “I wonder why?” the queen puzzled, more to herself than to either one of them. She didn’t expect an answer as she took her seat opposite theirs and waited while they did the same. “My husband,” she said an instant later, turning her full attention to Mairi. “What do you have to tell me about him?”

  Mairi didn’t flinch under the Queen of England’s scrutiny. Connor wanted to smile at her. “More than ye may want to hear, I’m afraid.”

  The queen blinked, but whatever fears Mairi’s warning had birthed within her remained in check. “And how do I know that what you tell me is the truth?”

  “Ye will have Captain Grant’s confirmation to every word I speak, or I shall not speak it.”

  Connor met the queen’s arched glance, but before he could nod his head, she returned to Mairi.

  “I don’t know if that is enough, as I hardly know him. You do, however, and your low opinion of him causes me to doubt that one of you is trustworthy.”

  Aye, Connor didn’t like Mairi’s low opinion of him either, but now was not the time to concern himself with such matters. Or with the titillating memory of her leg coiled around his waist and the sweet taste of her mouth, as hungry for his as his had been for her.

  “Why did you try to keep this information from me when I first came to you?” The queen’s question to Mairi pulled his thoughts back to the present.

  “Because we were not alone, and what I tell ye must remain secret. Only a verra few among us can be trusted.”

  “Speak then, Miss MacGregor.”

  “Verra well. Yer husband is on his way to Camlochlin.”

  “Camlochlin?”

  “My home,” Mairi clarified.

  “Why is the new king on his way to the Highlands of Scotland?”

  Finally, Mairi shifted in her seat. “That is where it gets a wee bit more… delicate. Ye see, yer husband travels to the Highlands to meet his daughter.”

  “His daughters are here in Whitehall, Miss MacGregor. Captain”—the queen turned to him—“you brought her to me for games?”

  “Nae, My Queen,” he said gently. “Miss MacGregor speaks of the king’s true firstborn. She’s been kept in seclusion in an abbey her entire life, raised in secret as a Catholic.”

  Something dawned on her while she stared at him. Her eyes widened and her complexion paled a bit. “The massacre at the abbey. James has been so terribly somber since word came to him of it.”

  “He believed his daughter to be among the dead.” Mairi continued. “But she was not. My eldest brother saved her from Admiral Gilles who was sent to kill her. My brother’s party met up with Captain Grant who was on his way here. Together, they concluded who the novice was.”

  “You saw her then?” the queen asked Connor. “Is it true? Is she the king’s daughter?”

  “I believe she is, though she did not confirm it to me.”

  “Yer husband confirmed it to my brother.”

  Hearing this for the first time, Connor turned to Mairi. Hell, Colin hadn’t told him. Why?

  “Why did he not tell me?” Mary of Modena’s voice grew soft, almost silent.

  “No one knows of her.”

  “Then how did her enemies find her?”

  Mairi looked at Connor for the first time since they had arrived in the chamber. “One of her guardsmen must have betrayed her.”

  “I see,” the queen murmured, sinking farther into her chair. “You were correct not to speak of this earlier. But how do you know for certain that the king hasn’t been abducted? Your brother may have tried to stop it and been taken with him.”

  “If my brother meant to stop something, he would stop it,” Mairi assured her. “Nae, I know they left of their own accord because no one knows they are gone. My brother is verra stealthy. My only cause fer doubt is that they left alone. Colin knows the dangers of the road, as does the king—”

  “They did not go alone,” the queen interrupted. “Thirty of my husband’s men are with them.”

  “Then, fer certain Camlochlin is where they went.”
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  “Will the king be safe there?”

  “There is nae place on earth that is safer, Yer Majesty,” Mairi said with a measure of pride in her voice that drew a smile to her lips.

  “That is good to hear,” the queen said with a sigh of relief. “If all that you have told me is true, my husband is going to need friends who are loyal to the throne.”

  “He has them in the MacGregors,” Mairi promised.

  “And in the Grants, as well,” Connor followed, cutting a glance to Mairi and finding her looking back at him. He winked. She turned away. Damn him to Hades, but he couldn’t rid her from his thoughts. He shouldn’t have kissed her, touched her. Not when he knew she could resist him. She sure as hell had proven her steely resolve over the years. But to be discarded for Lord Oxford? Satan’s balls, the moment she heard the man’s voice she’d grown as cold as a wife discovered with her lover.

  “I have another question to put to you, Miss MacGregor,” the queen said, capturing Mairi’s attention, and then Connor’s. “To both of you in truth. If no one here can be trusted, how do you know that you can trust me with this, when the king himself did not?”

  “Because ye love him,” Mairi told her simply. “I saw it in yer gestures toward one another, in the way ye looked at him at supper last eve.”

  The queen smiled for the first time. “You know of love then?”

  Mairi cleared her throat and shared a sidelong glance with Connor. “My sire and my mother share the same look.”

  “I see.” The queen’s smile remained while she turned to have another look at Connor. “We understand that you were raised in the Highlands, Captain.”

  “That is true,” he admitted. “My family resides at Camlochlin.”

  “With the MacGregors.”

  Connor wasn’t sure where her questions were leading, but judging by her piqued interest in him and the shrewd smile she aimed at him, he suspected they were heading in Mairi’s direction. He hoped he was wrong.

  “So then it is safe to assume that the both of you grew up together.”

  “Aye,” he admitted, rather reluctantly. He didn’t like this turn in the conversation. While she posed her earlier questions to her guests, Connor had been pleasantly surprised to find her as clever as Mairi, for a king with many enemies needed a bold, intelligent wife. But when it came to him and Mairi, he didn’t want to be scrutinized.

  “I think ’tis best fer now,” he said, trying to steer her away from the current topic and back to the previous one, “if Yer Majesty told her subjects that the king left fer Edinburgh to meet with the new Royalist Parliament.”

  “Yes.” She smiled brightly. “It is a few weeks early, but no one will question it. You have my gratitude in this, Captain. And you, as well”—she turned to Mairi—“for telling me that the king is safe when you could have remained silent. I just have one more query to put to you both before Captain Grant tells me about the king’s daughter.”

  Mairi nodded and waited for her to continue.

  “Why was your captain here excluded from going to Camlochlin with the king, or even told that they were leaving?”

  Mairi smiled darkly. “That would likely be Colin’s doing.” She clarified further when the queen arched a curious brow. “My brother doesna’ like him overmuch either.”

  “Hmm.” The queen’s astute gaze settled over Connor. “Interesting.”

  They left the chamber together a quarter of an hour later. Mairi strode toward the queen’s backstairs while Connor closed the door behind them. Neither spoke a word. He picked up his steps behind her and took his pleasure in the view. So far, the day wasn’t going so badly. They had just spent more time together than they had in seven years, and she hadn’t killed him. Aye, she’d flung a dagger at him, but she hadn’t been trying to end his life. There was a difference. Mayhap, his foolish heart told him, being together each day would not be so difficult.

  “Ye nae longer have to follow my every move, Captain Grant,” she called out to him without turning around.

  Or not.

  “Do ye know another route to the Banqueting Hall then, Miss MacGregor?”

  “Through the dungeons, mayhap? Why dinna’ ye go look?”

  He smiled behind her and folded his hands behind his back while he walked. “There are no dungeons here. They put people in prisons now. Remember? We spoke of it last night. Which reminds me, what—”

  “Well then, ye dinna’ need to speak to me on the way,” she cut him off.

  “I’m not. Ye’re speaking to me.”

  She stopped and swung around to stare at him. Many a time in his life had he watched those eyes peer into a man’s soul and send him shrinking away at his own inadequacies. She was a strong-willed, pigheaded lass, as loyal to Scotland as his heart was to her. From her clever mouth and succulent tongue, to the small arsenal she kept hidden beneath her skirts, everything about her enchanted him beyond his resistance. It always had. She’d claimed his heart long ago and never let go.

  He walked toward her, unclasping his hands as he reached her. Her jaw tightened on his slanted grin. He moistened his lips and adjusted the full weight at his groin. Hell, the spark in her eyes drove him to want to conquer her. No matter how he tried to fight it, it returned every time she fought him.

  “What happened between us in my room was an err I will regret until I am an old woman.”

  He didn’t realize he’d snaked his arm around her until her saucy mouth dangled just inches from his. He had to take it. When she pulled against his embrace, he yanked her back and slipped his hand around her nape to hold her still. His tongue dashed between her teeth and plunged with undeniable possession into the sweet warmth within. It amazed him that such poisonous lips could taste so fine. He wanted more, and stroked his tongue across hers like a hungry flame.

  The sound of many footsteps approaching at his rear jarred his attention. With regret, he broke away from their kiss and turned to see the queen and four guards, three of whom he knew well, round the curve of the hall. He let Mairi go as Mary of Modena’s large dark eyes settled on him. He was vaguely aware of Mairi’s hands on his shoulders until she turned him to face her again. And then she bent her knee and drove it hard between his legs.

  He thought he heard one of the men laugh as he crumbled to the floor. Nick Sedley, most likely.

  “Come, Captain, on your feet.” The queen paused over him. “I am making an announcement over breakfast and I want you there. Miss MacGregor”—she moved on mercilessly to Mairi before he could obey—“it appears you need an escort to protect you from your escort.”

  Protect her? Wasn’t he the one squirming on his knees?

  “You will have to tell us more about your ‘old friend’ later, Grant.”

  Connor looked up at Sedley’s rather lecherous wink. Like hell he would. He refused when his lieutenant offered him a hand to help him up.

  “Who is she?” Richard asked while Connor groaned to his feet.

  “She’s the MacGregor chief’s daughter,” Edward answered for him. “Don’t you remember her sitting at their table a few nights ago? Tell him, Captain Sedley”—he poked the captain—“you remarked on the color of her eyes.”

  Straightening to his full height, Connor aimed his darkest glare on Sedley. “Her eyes are no concern of yers.”

  “Oh?” Sedley challenged as Connor stepped around him. “Is she yours then?”

  “Aye,” Connor growled. “She is mine.” It wasn’t true, not anymore, but if it would keep Sedley away from her, then to hell with being truthful.

  Chapter Eleven

  By God and all His saints, the day simply could not get any hotter. Mairi squinted up at the sun and was glad for Lord Oxford’s arm supporting her when the glare made her light-headed. She nodded at something he said, then looked longingly toward the shade. How the hell did anyone live here year-round? She missed the cool breezes that swept through the braes, and her heavy woolen blankets that kept her warm on frigid nights. When she h
ad first arrived in England, she thought the silken fans the ladies fluttered against their faces a silly deception at being coy. But now, she waved her own before her. It did not help matters any that she had spent the entire day in battle with her own thoughts. She was exhausted—and she had Connor Grant to thank for it. How dare he kiss her, not once, but twice, and as if he owned her? She should have fought him harder the first time it happened in her room. But how in damnation could she fight when the hungry gleam in his eyes consumed her in their fire? God have mercy on her, but kissing him was like… like waking up in Camlochlin on the first day of spring when colors burst forth on the misty moors and the fragrance of wild heather filled the cool, crisp air. It awakened her senses in a way that felt like she’d been asleep until the moment his lips touched hers. Och, how she had adored him, following him about from the day she had taken her first steps. She thought she would never be happy again after he left, but she’d found her strength in her blade, renewed her passion, not for a man this time, but for a cause.

  And now he was back, stirring to life her old dreams, her forgotten desires. It terrified her how quickly she had succumbed to him, ready and willing to give herself up to him again. She had succeeded in keeping herself composed while in audience with the queen. A feat worthy of praise since he was in the room, his presence charging her nerve endings.

  She would never admit it to him, but she was glad he had been there with her. Not because she had been anxious over sitting with the queen, but because she worried about speaking on her kin’s behalf. He’d supported her words, much like he had done so many times when they were children and she had to stand before her father for some trouble she had caused with him and Tristan.

  He may have betrayed Scotland, but he would not betray her kin. She was a fool to think otherwise. Besides, he already knew the king’s daughter had been taken to Camlochlin. He was the one who brought the news to her father. Still, she would have preferred it if he had remained outside while she’d spoken to the queen.