Defended by a Highland Renegade (Highland Adventure Book 10)

by Vonda Sinclair

  "What's wrong?" The deep, dark murmur seemed a part of the night surrounding her.

  Wiping the salty tears from her eyes, she opened them to see Darack observing her. Though he was blurry, his eyes glinted in the firelight. "Naught," she said.

  "'Twill do you no good to pretend you're not crying."

  "You wouldn't understand."

  He grunted. "So, I'm daft, then?"

  Annoyance flashed through her. "Why must you take offense at everything I say?" she snapped.

  He remained silent and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling.

  "'Tis because you're a man," she said. "That's why you wouldn't understand."

  He turned his head toward her.

  "I have no future," she said, her throat tightening.

  He frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "I'll not be getting married. No one will have me."

  "Why wouldn't they? Surely you can find a far more worthy man than Alec Lindsay."

  She shook her head. "Dugald will never allow me to choose again. He'll make me marry whomever he chooses. And if I refuse, I'll be stuck there with him and his future wife and their passel of children. I'll be the maiden aunt who makes herself useful by changing nappies."

  "Good God," Darack muttered. "I never took you for a lass who would ever feel sorry for herself."

  "Blackguard," she muttered, fury driving her to her feet. She strode from the kitchen, through the door and into the common room. Anywhere to get away from him. She wanted to scream and cry and throw things. Men could understand nothing. Why did she even bother talking to Darack?

  "Where the devil do you think you're going?" Darack grumbled low and clamped a hand onto her shoulder, stopping her.

  "Leave me be." She jerked away from his grasp.

  He lifted her and carried her back into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

  "Put me down!"

  He did but held her shoulders. "Keep your voice down. Some of Felix's kinsmen are sleeping in the common room," he whispered.

  She did not wish to wake anyone, but she did want away from Darack in the worst way. He had irritated her beyond bearing. She tried to twist from his grasp but he tightened his hold.

  "You're naught but a wee brat throwing a tantrum," he said.

  Anger flashing through her, she swung her open palm at his face. He caught her wrist and squeezed. Not hard enough to hurt, but she could not draw her hand back.

  "Turn loose," she hissed.

  "When will you learn I don't take orders from you?"

  "Bastard."

  That derogatory term twisted through Darack like a huge rusty corkscrew. People had been saying he was a bastard since he could remember, and he had been for the first ten years of his life. They claimed his father hadn't married his mother before his death, but he had. He remembered their wedding ceremony at the wee kirk in the wood. 'Twas to protect his mother and him in the event his father never came back from the battle with Clan Colquhoun. Darack would be his heir as long as his parents were married, no matter how late. But not many people knew of the secret wedding. There were documents proving it, but many said they were falsified after his father's execution in Edinburgh so that the clan would one day have a chief.

  "What is wrong with you?" Mairiana demanded, yanking at her hand.

  He released her and turned away, then paced to the hearth. He knelt down and stirred the glowing coals with the poker. "I'm not a bastard," he said more calmly than he felt. "My mother and father were married."

  "'Tis not what I meant," she said, sounding more reasonable now, contrite even. "I only wanted to insult you so you would turn me loose. I don't know anything about your parents."

  "Aye, well, they married when I was ten years old. Late, but not too late. 'Twas just before his final battle and his execution. Not many people know he has a direct, living heir. Lot of good it does me now though; there is no longer a clan. And the king granted the castle to another clan."

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, sitting down on her pallet.

  Annoyance grated at him. "I don't want your pity."

  "'Tis not pity. I simply wish things could be much better for you and your clan."

  He nodded, appreciating the sincerity of her tone. "The MacGregors' battle skills were too good. They defeated the Colquhoun clan so thoroughly the king felt a need to wipe us from the face of the earth."

  "I have always wondered about the lads," she said.

  He turned to her. "Which lads?"

  "The schoolboys who stopped and watched the battle? 'Tis said the MacGregors murdered them outright."

  "Some said 'twas Da's half-mad, foster brother who did it, acting alone. Others said the few remaining members of the enemy clan killed them to make the MacGregors look even worse. Either way, the students' murders were not a part of the charges brought against my da and my uncles."

  He couldn't sense whether she believed him or not, but he knew his father wouldn't have killed the unarmed youths. When she didn't respond, he went on. "My father was a fierce warrior, but he was also kind. Even before he married my mother, he visited me often and gave me things. He had me come to the castle for sword practice."

  "What was the cause of the battle?" she asked.

  "Two MacGregors had been traveling for a long while and were passing through Colquhoun territory in winter. They were, no doubt, near starving, but the Colquhouns refused them basic hospitality and food. The two MacGregor men killed a sheep to eat; 'twas either that or starve to death. Once the Colquhoun chief learned of it, he had the MacGregors arrested and executed. When my da heard what happened to his two kinsmen, he was furious. 'Twas murder, pure and simple. If the Colquhouns had followed the Highland code of hospitality, none of it would've happened. 'Twas a matter of honor and justice that Da and his garrison marched against them. 'Tis said the Colquhouns and their allies outnumbered the MacGregors and their allies two to one in Glen Fruin. But Da was intelligent, cunning in battle. Too smart in dividing his forces, one to meet the attack head on, and the other to circle around and attack from the flank. Though carrying out the king's orders to suppress us, the Colquhouns were ill prepared, and they underestimated Da. But the MacGregors should've seen their fate coming, as well. Though they survived the battle, most of them were executed by the king's order."

  "I'm so sorry. Were you there… during the battle?" Mairiana asked quietly.

  "Nay, I was only ten, and small for my age besides. My mother kept me well hidden and once we heard the news that my father had been arrested, she secreted me away to her clan in a different part of the Highlands. She told me we were to never speak of her marriage to my father. We were no longer MacGregors. We were Grants and we didn't know who my father was. To pretend such lies… I felt she'd abandoned and betrayed him. But when he was executed…" Darack shook his head as the grief and devastation once again stabbed through him. "Ma cried for days… weeks. That was when I knew she'd loved Da. She had not betrayed him; she'd been protecting me. She wanted no one to ken I was the heir to the MacGregor chief, for if they did, I would've been killed, too. King James was so bent on wiping out every speck of MacGregor blood, he might have had me executed, or at least imprisoned. Even to this day. Who knows? He certainly wouldn't want a new MacGregor chief rising up to cause trouble."

  "Would you… cause trouble? Would you want revenge for the wrongs done your clan?"

  He placed the fire poker aside. "Nay. The clan is flung to the far corners, some transported to the colonies. To gather the ones left in Scotland together in one force would be suicidal. King James still rules and if a MacGregor clan suddenly appeared on the scene, he'd send every last soldier he has to hunt us down. 'Twould be a blood bath." Darack shook his head, fully realizing—as he did near every day—that even though reuniting his clan would be his dream come true, it was impossible if they wished to live. "One day, mayhap we will be pardoned and allowed to claim our name and our heritage again, but for now we must pretend to be a part of oth
er clans and try to survive as best we can."

  "Do you see your clansmen… the ones who don't live with Clan Grant, I mean?" she asked in the quietness.

  "Aye. I travel through to check on them sometimes, and they give me a place to sleep for a night. If they need something, I try to help them get it."

  "You are their chief," she whispered with calm certainty.

  He stared down at the shadowed ashes beneath the coals, feeling unworthy of the title… though he wished he could be. 'Twas his birthright but he could never claim it. Not if he wanted his remaining clansmen and women to live.

  "Do they call you chief?" Mairiana asked.

  He swallowed hard. "Some of the old ones do, aye. In whispered tones."

  "I knew it."

  "What of it? I lead no one. I'm an outlaw, nothing more," he said in a hard tone, shoving away the sentiment.

  "Wrong."

  He eyed her, taking in her slight smile, wondering what she meant.

  "Can you not see? You are your father's heir. You give them hope."

  "They are only fooling themselves. If the people of my clan are children of the mist, I'm naught but a ghost."

  She shrugged. "Whatever gives hope."

  He needed to remove the focus from himself. He could not think about the destruction of his clan overlong. The disappointment, the overwhelming defeat could consume him. Nay, he wanted Mairiana to take his mind off it. He'd never felt more alive than when he was verbally sparring with her. What could he say to vex her?

  "What about you?" he asked. "Only moments ago you were hopeless, already an old spinster with one foot in the grave."

  She bristled. "Do not mock me. Alec broke my heart."

  "Good lord," Darack scoffed, knowing she hated it when he made light of her feelings for Alec. She had to realize her former betrothed was lower than an adder in the grass.

  "What?" Mairiana demanded. "Do you think me overdramatic?"

  Glad to see her fury roar to life, he smiled internally. He loved getting her riled. And he liked her anger far better than her tears. "Aye. 'Tis typical of spoiled ladies."

  When she picked up the fire poker, he drew back a wee bit. Could the lady have a streak of violence?

  "I have half a mind to hurtle this at your head, to knock some sense into it," she said. But he could easily tell she would never do that.

  A brief, genuine laugh escaped him before he could prevent it. He had not laughed in so long, it brought him up short. "You're a piece of work, I have to say."

  She gave an unladylike snort, surprising him and making him want to laugh all the more. "You ken well how to flatter and charm a lady," she muttered.

  "Most would agree with you."

  "Spare me. 'Tis obvious you're a libertine, although I can't fathom how, given your utter pigheadedness."

  He chuckled again. What the devil was wrong with him? Why did he find her insults so amusing? He'd had no idea she could be so blunt and have such a dry wit.

  "What? You're smiling at me now?" she asked.

  He forced his smile away. "Only because you're being so ridiculous. Silly lass."

  "I am no silly lass!"

  He clenched his jaw, lest another laugh slip out. Damnation, but she was entertaining. "What are you then? An experienced, jaded woman?"

  Her eyes narrowed in that way which reminded him of green cat eyes, so cunning. Would she pounce on him? Bite him? Lick him as if he were cream in a bowl? The very thought made him instantly hard.

  Saints!

  Indeed, he'd found her beautiful since the first moment he'd seen her, but he had never thought to feel this ruthless punch of arousal, nor the wild desire which clawed its way through him. Of course, when she'd been sitting on his lap, lust had slowly curled its way through him, but 'twas not as intense as what he felt now. He'd always seen her as far above his station. A fancy lady, coddled and pampered, sister of a wealthy chief, part of a clan who didn't have to hide out and skulk about like wolves, being hunted to extinction.

  Nay, she was a lady of privilege, while he possessed little more than the clothing on his back and his weapons—no property or titles. Although, back home, he had a horse and Ewan paid him a good wage for his assignments and duties. Still, the small cadet branch of the Grant clan, of which he considered himself a member, had to struggle to keep the cattle they possessed, because the neighboring clan kept stealing them. He and his clansmen were labeled cattle thieves, even though it was their own cattle they were reclaiming. 'Twas enough to drive good men to violence.

  "'Tis none of your business," Mairiana blurted.

  Darack gave her a blank look. Could the man not pay attention? Where had he been off to, woolgathering? He'd asked her if she was a jaded woman, which to her sounded the same as jezebel.

  "I'm a virtuous lady," she said firmly. "And you'd best be remembering that, rogue."

  He snorted, giving her a half smile and a dark look. "If you're so virtuous, what do you know of rogues?"

  "That they seduce innocent, virtuous females."

  "Oh, do we now?" he asked with speculation, his gaze turning to pure mischief. "And how can that possibly happen with a female who is completely virtuous? Such a lady should be immune to that sort of impiety and temptation."

  She felt flustered of a sudden, for she suspected she might not be immune to the temptation of him. "I know not. But I hear rumors."

  "I'm certain you eat up the gossip about rogues and their scandalous seductions."

  "I do no such thing. You are wicked, sir."

  The grin he sent her way was devastating in its sensuality. It halted her breath. What was wrong with her? Alec had never made her feel this way, as if her lungs were constricted, as if heat and chills rushed over her. Was she coming down with a sudden fever from the dip in the harbor?

  Dropping her gaze from him and drawing in a deep breath, she felt a mite more under control.

  "I won't deny it," Darack said. "I am wicked. But I'm an outlaw; what do you expect? I prefer plain speaking. So… are you saying Alec didn't seduce you?"

  "Of course he didn't!" Heat flamed over her face.

  Amusement lit Darak's dark gaze. "Did he kiss you?"

  "How is that your business?" she demanded.

  Darack smirked. "He did, I see."

  "It does not matter! I'm done with him. In fact, I'm done with all men."

  "Och. 'Tis a shame. You are a beautiful woman."

  She was unsure how to respond to his unexpected compliment. Was he being sincere? Or trying to seduce her? Her face burned.

  "A woman that any man would want to kiss," he continued.

  She blew out a doubtful breath. He'd already made it clear he could hardly tolerate her company. He mocked her without mercy and called her spoiled. "Any man? Even you?" she challenged.

  "Aye, of course, first and foremost. Are you offering me a kiss?"

  Chapter 7

  Mairiana could not believe Darack was asking if she wished to kiss him. "Nay! You are the last man on earth I would allow to kiss me."

  His brows shot upward. "And why is that? Am I hideously ugly?"

  "Now who is being silly?"

  He watched her for a long moment, his brows quirked innocently. "You think me handsome?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Do not fish for compliments. 'Tis not an attractive quality."

  His expression changed, becoming speculative. "'Haps you would like me to kiss you so you can forget all about Alec Lindsay."

  Her heartrate sped up as panic grabbed hold of her. She leapt to her feet and paced away. Not because she feared Darack, but because she was so captivated by him… and she should not be. She had to get away from him.

  Standing now, he gradually moved closer. "'Haps you could get some revenge."

  "Stay back," she warned.

  He paused and shrugged. "Why let Alec control your life?"

  "He is not."

  "What would make him angrier than you kissing another man?"

  She
twisted her mouth and glanced aside. "He would never know of it."

  "Nay, but you could imagine. 'Twould be like saying… to hell with you, Alec. A lot more men besides you find me irresistible."

  "What… you—?" she broke off. Had he just said he found her irresistible?

  "Aye." He smiled, moving closer. "As I said already, you are beautiful, even if a bit maddening at times."

  Her heart pounding with excitement, she narrowed her eyes. "No more maddening than you, sir."

  Darack placed one hand at her waist, and with the other, he cupped her nape. He yanked her against his chest. His lips came down on hers, forceful and commanding. Good heavens! Darack's scrumptious mouth was hard and soft at the same time. Gentle one moment and forceful the next. His wicked tongue flicked at the part between her lips, but 'twas not the way Alec had done it. She suddenly found Darack's demands impossible to resist. When she opened her mouth, he darted his tongue inside, again with a forceful gentleness that completely disarmed her and made her dig her fingernails against his hard shoulders.

  She'd had no idea a kiss could feel like this. 'Twas how a rogue's kiss was different from a normal man's. It shot flames and chills through her, dragged the strength from her knees, compelled her to sink to the floor beneath him. How could she respond this way? She was not a loose, immoral woman. She had only just escaped her barbaric fiancé. How could she be here, devouring every kiss this outlaw gave her? When she came to herself, she realized he was holding her up, pressed against the stone wall. What the devil was wrong with her?

  Grasping at self-preservation, she turned her face away, breaking the kiss—though everything in her railed against it—trying to regain her senses and her strength. But Darack dropped his lips to her neck and placed dreamy kisses across her skin, suckling at her tender flesh, trailing his tongue downward. Saints… the delicious tingles of pleasure which showered over her. She should shove him away or tell him to stop. But her arms were wrapped around his shoulders. And she was not herself.