Highland Honor

by Dana D'Angelo

  But she didn’t need to comprehend him, the inner voice told her sternly. Griogair would leave Ellison territory soon, and when he did, he would forget about her. As the cold reality of it hit her, a strange, unsettling sensation spread into her heart. The rational side of her knew that these feelings she experienced were one-sided. Most likely he had a lass waiting for him in the Highlands. Yet a tiny part of her hoped that he had no attachments to any woman. It wanted her to believe that he cared for her, and that the reason he stayed at Sundholm Tower was because of her...

  Griogair slowed the fierce steed, and bent his head to speak to the mount, the cadence of his voice reaching her ears. It looked as if it was only him and the beast, and no one else existed. When he was finished speaking to the animal, he started to make his way toward the fence. But then he saw her.

  “Sileas,” he said. “I’m surprised tae see ye here.”

  “Androu came tae tell me that ye broke the nag. Of course I had tae see if ‘twas true.”

  He jumped over the fence and landed softly on his feet.

  “He’s still a wee skittish,” he said. “But he’ll be ready for riding soon.”

  “How soon?” she asked.

  Her brothers returned to the tower while she walked with Griogair to the stable.

  “Likely ‘twould be a few more weeks until he’s safe tae ride.”

  “’Twould have been nice tae show Da that he was wrong,” she said, disappointment reflecting in her voice. “We received word that he and his men will arrive home tomorrow afternoon.”

  As they walked into the stable, Griogair went to check on his horse. Finding a container of oats, he offered the grains to the mount. The rest and constant supply of food was a boon to the steed since he no longer appeared ill. As she studied the animal’s master, she noted that Griogair’s black mood was gone. Probably the exertion of taming the wild nag contributed to his lifted spirits. Gathering her courage, she broached the topic that had plagued her for the last while.

  “I apologize for asking ye tae escort us tae the forest,” she said, tilting her head to the side and staring up at him. “I realize now ‘twas a lot tae ask from a visitor.”

  “’Twas nothing,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “But it means a great deal tae us. With the frequent disturbances that occurred, having ye with us makes us feel secure.”

  He grimaced at her words, but he quickly covered it up with a tight smile. “I dinnae like tae see innocent people suffer,” he said.

  “Ye are kind, Griogair.” She closed a hand over his forearm. “How can we ever repay ye?”

  “There’s nay need tae repay me.”

  Her heart swelled. She had never met someone who was so generous in giving his time and service to strangers. On impulse, she rose on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank ye,” she said, suddenly feeling shy at seeing the shock on his face.

  “Och, lass.” He reached over and trailed his knuckles along her jaw. “I wish I met ye under different circumstances.”

  A strange fluttering occurred in her belly, and her mind flashed to the staggering kiss in the woods. Her skin prickled with heightened awareness. While there was the usual activity in the stable, she didn’t notice any of it. She was held captive by him, and was drawn to his magnetic power. Part of his visage was in shadow, but the dim light only highlighted his strong bone structure. She had always believed that the stable was a substantial building, but for some inexplicable reason the space now seemed small and unbearably hot. She started to take a step away from him, but he stopped her with his hand.

  “I want tae kiss ye,” he said softly.

  “Ye do?” She bit down on her bottom lip in consideration. He didn’t want payment for his good deeds, and as far as she knew, one small kiss wasn’t much to ask. “All right,” she said, offering her cheek.

  Letting out a chuckle, he turned her face so that he looked into her eyes. “I prefer tae kiss ye on the lips.”

  She regarded him with uncertainty. “Ye did that yesterday...”

  His eyes hooded. “Aye, that was yesterday.” He slid his large hands down her back, and even through the fabric of her gown, she felt its fiery path. When they reached her bottom, he scooped her up and placed her on a wooden railing. Now that she was level with him, he settled between her thighs, fitting himself firmly against her.

  “Dinnae look sae scared, lass,” he said, a corner of his lip quirking up.

  “I’m nae scared,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. It was the truth. She wasn’t scared; she was terrified. This emotion wasn’t characteristic of her, and it made her feel uneasy and confused. She couldn’t explain the erratic thrumming of her heart, nor could she understand why the glint in his eyes provoked a languid heat to pool at her woman’s center.

  With his one hand secured at the small of her back, she could feel his heat burning through to her flesh. He brought his other hand to gently cup her chin.

  Her mouth felt as dry as peat, and she lifted her gaze to his. All at once she was struck by the tenderness in his green depths. Without being conscious of her actions, she swayed closer to him, as if she was a flower stretching up to reach the sun. His regard dropped as he watched his callused thumb slide gently back and forth across her cheek. His movement was achingly slow, as if he wanted to take his time exploring the soft contours of her skin.

  Then when she thought he would resume his torturous caresses, he bent his head and grazed his lips to the sensitive spot below her ear. The contact caused a shattered explosion in her brain, and she let out an involuntary cry. She arched her neck, instinctively allowing him more access. Taking what she offered, he pushed out his greedy tongue, dragging it along the column of her neck. Another sharp sound escaped from her just as tiny shivers of excitement raced down her spine. When he flattened his hot tongue against her flesh, a soft moan echoed from deep within her center. Passion clouded her mind, and zipped down to curl the toes inside her boots.

  Griogair pulled her closer into his solid strength. His free hand reached up, threading his fingers through her luxuriant hair. Cradling the back of her head, he leaned forward, his mouth descending onto hers.

  The kiss was tentative at first, as if he tested her reaction. But she wasn’t conscious of her responses. She floated in the electric sensation, barely noticing the quick rise and fall of her breath. When she didn’t pull away from him, he became bolder, more demanding as he alternated between darting and languid motions.

  Her panting then became heavier, faster. The sounds of her breathing and the blood rushing through her veins roared in her ears. She was tumbling into an abyss of pure pleasure, yet there was a part of her that feared to know what was happening to her. Clutching at his shirt, she was afraid of falling too deep into the chasm.

  Griogair broke away from her and stared deeply into her eyes. “Ye taste like nectar,” he said, his deep lilt spreading over her like a warm blanket. “And ye smell like heaven.”

  As soon as she heard his deep, smoky voice, any reservation she had vanished. She raised the flat of her hand to his cheek, feeling the stubble underneath her palm. At the same time she felt a tremor go through her. Somehow she had lost her ability to speak. All she could do was stare back into his enthralling depths, and long for something that she couldn’t put to words. His gaze dropped to her plush lips and unconsciously, she parted them, offering him silent invitation. He dipped his head once more, sweeping his sensual tongue along the inside of her bottom lip. The sheer pleasure of it caused her to whimper, just as a violent surge of want and desire came to the fore.

  But even if she didn’t comprehend what she wanted, Griogair understood. He pushed the tip of his tongue past her lips. Using light, darting strokes, he skillfully broke down any remaining resistance while the bones in her body turned to mush. And with her world twirling out of kilter, she dug her fingers into his muscular shoulders to keep herself steady. But his merciless passion was on
ly starting to unleash. The strokes of his tongue became deeper, more insistent. Soon any coherent thought flew from her mind. And all that she was left with was a twisting storm of hunger and need.

  Vaguely she noted that he pulled her off the railing and slid her body down his rigid frame. His hand reached under her skirt, pulling up the fabric of her gown until she felt a whisper of air brush against her exposed skin. Then that same callused hand ran lightly across her flesh, leaving a trail of passionate heat.

  “Griogair,” she said, drawing a shuddering breath. Then as if he could read her mind, he dragged her to him, squeezing out all air that existed between them. In the next instant she became aware of his unmistakable hardness pressing at her center.

  “Can ye feel how much I want ye?” he growled softly in her ear.

  Sileas closed her eyes and moaned in answer. She had never felt or experienced this kind of passion. And at this moment she wanted, needed to understand it more fully. Pulling his head toward her, she met his lips, giving back to him all that he offered to her.

  But then everything went still. Frowning, she opened her eyes.

  “I hear something.” Griogair removed his hand, and allowed the hem of her gown to drop.

  The warm, thrilling energy between them vanished. Her disappointment changed to confusion when she saw that he gazed intently at the stable entrance, his head cocked to the side.

  As the haze around her brain slowly lifted, she became aware of an alarm sounding in the distance. She then heard the distinct, panicked shouts and screams of people in distress.

  “Aiya, we’re under attack!” she said, jerking away from him. Then rushing to the nag in the stall closest to her, she mounted the pony and raced out of the stable.

  Chapter 17

  “Sileas!” Griogair shouted.

  She was already at the barmkin gate when he caught up to her. He saw the haunted look on her pretty face just as he halted his steed.

  “I need ye tae stop in the village, and see tae the inhabitants,” he said. “I’ll go after the assailants.” Not waiting for her response, he nudged his horse and raced through the gate.

  As he charged through the village, he heard the screams of displaced animals that mixed with the frantic cries of the people. On the side of the road he saw Johne on the ground, his head bleeding while two women bent over him. Unfortunately Griogair couldn’t determine whether the old man was dead or alive. Everything in his path was filled with terror and devastation. And there was only one person responsible for this.

  He halted his horse. “Which direction did the attackers go?” he asked one of the women.

  The matron stared up at him and pointed to the right, her tear streaked eyes filled with fear and anger. “They went toward the hills.”

  Shielding his eyes from the sun, he surveyed the area in which she pointed. Off in the distance, he could see something racing toward the slopes. He clenched his jaw, and maneuvered the horse in that direction. Gripping the sides of his mount with his knees, he bent low, prompting his ride into a full gallop. Soon enough his foster brother’s familiar frame came into view.

  “Niall!” he called out.

  The leading man spun his horse around. When he saw Griogair, he called for his six followers to stop. They circled around and formed a menacing line before him.

  At a cursory glance, Niall could easily be mistaken for his older brother, although the lad was much younger. His dark wavy hair grew almost to his shoulders, framing features that had yet to reach maturity. Thick eyebrows slashed over stormy eyes. The beginnings of a beard dusted over his lip and grew along his jawline. There was no smile to greet Griogair. In fact he was as cold as stone. It was at that moment when Griogair realized that his task of taking the lad back to his father was more difficult than he perceived. It struck him that he either had to drag Niall home, or convince him to forget whatever he had planned for the Ellison clan.

  “Griogair,” Niall said, pinning him with a stare. “Why are ye here?”

  Griogair’s stallion pulled back, the other horses making him skittish. “Your father sent me.”

  “Is that sae?”

  “Aye.” The steed tossed his head, clearly wanting to continue across the grassy plains. But Griogair held tightly to the reins. “I promised Alasdar that I would bring ye home alive,” he said slowly. “As ye are aware, when he dies ye will become the next chieftain. However if you heedlessly charge into skirmishes without considering your legacy, ye put the clan’s future at risk.”

  “I ken my position well enough.” A flicker of displeasure crossed over Niall’s visage. “I’m nay longer a lad tae be instructed on what I need or nae need tae do. When my kin is murdered, ‘tis my duty tae avenge him. I ken that the Ellisons are hiding the killer among them. And if they dinnae hand him over, I’ll make them all pay.”

  Annoyance started to rise to Griogair’s chest, although his irritation wasn’t caused by the man’s stubbornness. Doubtless, if a man possessed determination and courage, he would still die if he lacked sufficient fighting skills. And Griogair realized with utmost certainty that his foster brother wouldn’t be able to stand against the wily and deft border reivers.

  “Think about your people, Niall,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “When two clans clash, there are often dire consequences. I promised your da —”

  “What will ye have me do, Griogair?” he interrupted sharply. “Will ye knock me out, and take me by force? I cannae be the future chieftain if I allow my da tae resolve everything. All I want now is the killer, and I’ll do tae him what he did tae Robart.”

  There was nothing that Griogair could say in response to Niall’s confession. Vengeance was inevitable. In the name of honor, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he annihilated the murderer, or the entire Ellison clan. That conclusion made his blood run cold. He knew that the reivers had a reputation for exceptional fighting. Indeed, they proved themselves in the multiple wars they fought on behalf of the monarch. And with his foster brother’s lack of fighting finesse, it was easy to determine who would perish during the combat.

  But he had to help Niall avenge his brother. It was the only thing to do. It was the right thing to do since this involved family. But at the same time it felt wrong. They would be pitted against Sileas’ kin. Indeed if Niall didn’t get what he wanted, then Griogair was obligated to fight the Ellisons as well. No doubt blood would shed and losses would occur during this conflict. When Sileas discovered Griogair’s involvement, she would hate him. And being despised by the lass wasn’t something that he relished. As the perturbing thoughts rolled over in his mind, he felt the bile rise to his gullet. How the hell did he get into this mess?

  “Ye are making a mistake,” he said. “Ye will get people hurt —”

  “Robart was hurt at one time, but now he’s dead,” Niall said, his voice hard.

  “That’s nae what I meant.” He blew out a rush of air from his lungs. “Your strikes against the villagers arenae working,”

  “What are ye talking about?” he asked, his tone dismissive. “We’ll keep striking the village until they release the killer. Either that, or we wait until the entire Ellison bastards show themselves.”

  “They arenae in the tower, Niall. Whatever ye are doing, ye are only traumatizing the vulnerable and the weak.”

  “Ye lie.” His eyes narrowed as suspicion appeared on his youthful face. “How did ye come by this information?”

  “I’ve been staying at Sundholm Tower for the past while.”

  “Sae that’s why my man encountered ye there,” he said, his tone turning cool.

  He shrugged. “I knew ye were close by, sae I stayed there tae search for ye.”

  “And?” Niall crossed his arms over his chest.

  “While I was there I discovered that Fearghus Ellison and his men were gone.”

  Niall let out a string of curses. “Those bastards,” he spat. Lifting his hand, he shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I sent
a message for the Ellison tae hand over the scourge that was responsible for my brother’s death. But I didnae get a response. ’Tis nay wonder the cowards wouldnae come out. I just thought they were too cowardly tae show themselves, and were hiding behind their women’s skirts.”

  “What are ye going tae do?” Griogair asked.

  “Nay matter what it takes, I willnae go home until I kill the bastard who slayed Robart,” his voice broke, and there were unshed tears in his eyes.

  For a moment, he caught a glimpse of the bairn that used to hang at the sidelines, watching the fighting drills between Griogair and Robart. But then the image was gone, and the man intent on retribution stood before him.

  “If what ye say is true, we’ll wait until the Ellison returns, and then we’ll confront him. He’ll either have tae hand over the miscreant or face my wrath.”

  “I still think ye are making a grievous mistake,” he said, his tone mild.

  “’Tis nay mistake that I want that bastard dead,” Niall said, his temper rising. “Look, if ye have a better idea, tell me. If ye dinnae then get out of my way.” With that he tugged at his reins and started to move.