Return of the Highlander

by Julianne MacLean

  Hungry for more, she leaned up and tasted his neck, licking the salty skin just above the collar of his shirt. Then she greedily began to tug his shirt up until he sat back on his haunches and tore it off over his head. Smoothly, he lay back down, covering her with his hot skin. She ran her hands up and down his back, squeezing at the hard muscles, then slid them down lower over his kilt to his firm buttocks. He continued to thrust his hips and rub his manhood against the tender throbbing flesh between her open thighs.

  But still…the fabric of her skirts and his kilt were barriers against penetration, and though it was a wise thing not to sweep the garments out of the way, it took immense power of will to resist it.

  “I want to take this off you,” he ground out while laying wet, sucking kisses down the side of her neck and licking the tops of her breasts, just above the neckline of her shift and bodice. “I want to touch you and pleasure you. We’re safe above the waist. I could unlace you, lass. Touch you up here and not take your virginity. Please…let me have you up here.”

  Breathless and dizzy, she nodded her head. He began at once, with fast roving fingers, to untie her laces and remove her bodice. He then used his teeth to pick at the knotted ribbon of her shift, opening it down to her belly and baring her breasts to the cool night air.

  Her nipples tightened into firm peaks as he promptly took one into his mouth. Larena gasped in shock at the astonishing pleasure, for she’d never imagined a man could deliver such staggering delight by licking and suckling at a woman’s breasts. He groaned with hungry lust and tended to one breast devotedly before moving to the other. All she could do was throw her head back and cup his head in her hands, rake her fingers through his hair, and sigh with bliss.

  “What are you doing to me?” she begged to know as his hand slid up under her skirt to the damp nest between her legs. Gently he used the heel of his palm to massage her, and the dual sensations from his tongue at her breast and his hand between her legs sent her into a frenzy of passion.

  She was drowning in sensation, trapped between intolerable mounting pleasure and the desperate need for release. Her body tightened and her breathing grew rough and labored until a rush of heat shot outward from her core and all her muscles tensed and quivered. Her body became lost in spasms as she cried out, fisting thick wavy locks of Darach’s hair and grinding her hips forward.

  He crushed her mouth with his own, silencing her cries with a kiss that prolonged the agony of his pulsing hand down below, bringing her to the very edges of sanity. Out of control with wanting, she wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles together, while pulling him close, clutching at his broad shoulders, burying her face in his neck.

  He groaned with need. “Ah lass, what I wouldn’t give to be inside you right now.”

  “We can’t,” she replied, which was the wrong thing to say. She wasn’t sure what the right thing would have been, but clearly this was not it, for he lifted his head and stared down at her with frustration.

  A single heartbeat later, he rolled off her and rose to his feet, raked his hand through his hair and strode away from their tiny sanctuary in the rocks. The fog on the moor was thick as soup. As soon as he was away from the fire, he was completely gone from sight—as if he’d vanished into the mist. Only the crackling of the fire broke the interminable silence.

  Larena sat up and tied the ribbons of her shift to close it over her breasts, then shrugged back into her bodice, and stood.

  “Darach?” She looked all around. “Where are you?”

  He offered no reply, and she had no idea how far he had walked or how long he would stay away.

  Strolling to one of the big boulders and laying her hand on the rough stone, she strained to peer through the darkness. “Darach?” she called out again.

  Eventually, the sound of footsteps stalking across the tangled bracken caused her to perk up, and she prayed it would be Darach and not some other uninvited guest.

  Logan came to mind.

  Like an apparition out of the fog, Darach appeared before her.

  “I know I am supposed to hand you over tomorrow,” he said. “I gave you my word that’s what I would do, but the thought of it makes me sick, lass. It makes me want to strangle someone.”

  “Not me, I hope.”

  “Nay, not you. Him.”

  She trembled with apprehension. “You don’t even know him.”

  “Neither do you,” he practically spat. Then he brushed past her and returned to the fire. “It does not matter anyway. You’ve agreed to it, you’ve pledged a vow, so you’ll be giving yourself to him on your wedding night. But every time I imagine him touching you, undressing you, putting his hands on your body, my blood boils and my guts turns to acid.”

  “I feel the same way,” she said, following him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen. Everything seemed so simple a week ago.”

  Darach eyes lifted with a look of savage fury. “I know I have no right to you, lass, but the fact is…I’m in a jealous rage at the moment and I don’t know how I’m going to fulfill my duty to my chief tomorrow—or to you, for I know this is what you want. I know I cannot make you change your mind.”

  She wanted to reach out to him but was afraid of pushing things further. Whenever they touched, her body came alive and the world sparked into a blazing inferno. “I’m not sure what to say, except that I’d be jealous, too, if you were betrothed to another. I didn’t know I could feel this way, but it happened. And if you must know, I’m beside myself with dread at the idea of another man touching me, especially after tonight.”

  Darach turned away from her again and strode to the edge of the camp where he stared out at the darkness. “I don’t know if I can do this, lass.”

  She felt a stab of fear and desperation. “But you must. My father will die if I break my vow to Lord Rutherford.”

  Darach continued to stand with his back to her for the longest while. Then he faced her. “In that case, we both need to accept that this is all there will ever be for us, lass. Tomorrow we will rise and I will take you home to Leathan, and you will do what you must to save your father from the gallows.” Slowly, he strode closer. “But if you change your mind, or if you ever require protection, you know where to find me.”

  “At Kinloch,” she said.

  “Aye.”

  “But you’re a Campbell, Darach. Is there no chance you might wish to stay?”

  He shook his head. “Nay. I am a MacDonald now. As far as the Campbell clan is concerned, I am dead to them. I do not belong here. I never will.”

  She looked down at the ground. “But I don’t want to say good-bye.”

  He cradled her chin in his hand and gently lifted her face. “Look at me, lass. I don’t want to say it either, but if I stayed at Leathan, you know I’d cause trouble. You’d never make it down the aisle.”

  A terrible pain squeezed at Larena’s heart, while her body continued to burn with desire for this extraordinary man who had awakened her passions and her soul. “What about tonight?” she asked. “We still have until dawn.”

  He inclined his head with a look of apology. “I’ll hold you in my arms to keep you warm,” he answered, “but we can do no more than that. If I make love to you, it will change everything.”

  Her heart ached with sorrow and hot tears filled her eyes. “Will you at least kiss me again, just one more time? And again tomorrow when we say good-bye?”

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb, then bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leathan Castle

  The sun was just setting when Larena and Darach reined in their mounts a mile from the castle gate. They stopped on a high rocky cliff overlooking the loch below.

  “There it is,” Larena said, pointing to her beloved home—a monstrous fifteenth century stone bastion further along the cliff that jutted out over the water. Her heart raced with pride at its magnificence in the fiery glow of the setting sun. With striking
baronial style corner turrets adorning an impressive tower house, it was a threatening spectacle indeed—a powerful and intimidating Scottish fortress that had always made her feel safe and protected.

  Though it had not been powerful enough a fortnight ago to defend against the English invasion….

  “Do you see the Redcoats patrolling the battlements?” she asked, turning toward Darach who sat in his saddle, frowning at the castle.

  What must he be feeling? she wondered suddenly. He’d probably imagined he’d never lay eyes on this place again. Was he happy to see his old home? Or was this torture for him?

  “Does it trouble you to see it?” she gently asked.

  He started slightly as if she’d just yanked him out of a trance. “Nay, lass, it matters not. But are you sure about this? Are you positive you can trust Rutherford to let your father live?”

  “I have the pardon right here in my bag, with his signature on it,” she replied.

  “What about Chatham?” he asked. “Are you sure he’ll be a fair chief? He’s half English and he’s an officer in the King’s army. Look what you’ll be living with.” He tossed his head to gesture toward the guards on the rooftop.

  “Chatham is also half Scottish,” she reminded him, “and he wishes to remain here as such—as leader of our clan. He does not intend for Leathan to remain an English garrison forever. At least, that is what Lord Rutherford implied.”

  Darach regarded her steadily in the brilliance of the setting sun. “I hope you’re right about that. Either way, nothing will be the same as it was.”

  She turned her eyes back to the castle and felt a sinking sensation where her heart was located. “No, it won’t, but we’ve had this conversation before, Darach. I cannot simply let my father die.”

  Darach hesitated briefly, then without responding to that, he clicked his tongue to urge his horse into a slow walk along the top of the mountain.

  “Wait,” she said, following him. “What will we do when we arrive at the gate? Will you come inside with me? I know you don’t wish to be recognized, but I can’t let you leave without at least offering you a hot meal. I must thank you for all that you’ve done.”

  He did not look back as he rode ahead of her. “I’ll see you through the castle gates, lass, just to make sure you’re safe and sound and everything is as it should be, but then I will go.”

  Her body shuddered at the notion of never seeing him again. “But you promised me one last kiss,” she quietly mentioned, knowing it was wrong to remind him of such a thing when she was about to meet her betrothed.

  Before he had a chance to reply, his horse suddenly reared up on the path and he was thrown to the ground with a heavy thud. Miller galloped off, back in the direction from where they had come.

  Larena fought to keep Rupert under control as he too spooked and reared up. With only a few seconds to comprehend what was happening, she found herself staring down the barrel of a pistol—held in the tight grip of an English Redcoat.

  There were three soldiers who had risen up from behind large boulders on either side of the path. Two were now standing over Darach with weapons aimed at his face while the third was grabbing hold of Rupert’s bridle.

  Lying on his back, Darach slowly raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t everyone panic at once,” he said in a casual tone, gazing up at them. “We’re here with a message from the King.”

  “Are you Larena Campbell?” one of them asked her. “Daughter of Fitzroy?”

  “Yes,” she quickly answered. “I am she.”

  The soldier nearest to her holstered his weapon. “Well then….” He relaxed his stance. “Welcome home, Mistress Campbell. We’ve been expecting you.”

  All the breath sailed out of her lungs and she felt the tension drain from her shoulders. “You knew I was coming?”

  “We didn’t know for sure, but we were told to keep an eye out for you when we learned about the ambush.”

  “How did you hear of it?” she asked.

  “One of our lieutenants rode in two days ago,” the soldier replied. “He was with you during the attack but managed to escape. He said he searched everywhere for you afterward but he couldn’t find you or your horse. He assumed you’d escaped and would make your own way back here with the King’s pardon.”

  “So you know about the pardon on my father’s life?” she asked, desperate to be sure of it.

  “Yes, ma’am. Colonel Chatham called off the execution as soon as he learned of it.”

  Larena could have collapsed with relief. “How grateful I am. Thank you, sir. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

  Suddenly aware of Darach, still lying on the ground with two weapons aimed at his head, she spoke firmly to the other two soldiers. “Please, gentlemen. Lower your weapons. This man is no threat. He saved my life after the ambush and guided me home.”

  “But he’s a MacDonald,” one of them said. “We were told you were passing through MacDonald lands when you were attacked.”

  “Aye,” she replied, “but the attackers were rebels from another clan. This man is from Kinloch Castle and I assure you, he has been an invaluable aid to me.”

  The soldier standing beside her horse nodded at them to lower their guns and allow Darach to stand.

  “Relieve him of his weapons and put him in irons,” the leader said.

  “That’s not necessary,” Larena argued.

  “It’s fine,” Darach assured her, though his eyes glimmered with angry doggedness as the soldiers confiscated his sword, pistol, and knife, then clamped irons around his wrists.

  “Come along then, miss,” the soldier said to her as he began to lead Rupert along the path while Darach and the others walked ahead of them. “Colonel Chatham will wish to see you and find out everything that happened to you. And I reckon he’ll be eager to catch those rebels who attacked you. He’ll want to bring them to justice.”

  “I believe most of them are dead,” she told him. “And from what I understand, they were just a bunch of young ruffians setting out to imitate the Butcher of the Highlands.”

  He seemed to carefully consider that. “You’re sure they weren’t MacDonalds?”

  “They were MacDuffs,” Darach offered, speaking over his shoulder.

  “And what were MacDuffs doing on MacDonald lands?” the leader asked suspiciously.

  “I have no answer to that. I was out on a routine scouting mission when I heard the musketfire. It was over by the time I arrived.”

  Larena noticed he did not say “we.”

  “A scouting mission, eh?” the soldier replied. “Do you serve Angus the Lion?”

  “Aye.”

  “And did he send you here to discuss politics with Colonel Chatham?”

  “Nay,” Darach replied. “I’m just here to deliver the lady and the pardon. Nothing more.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” one of them said, poking Darach in the ribs with the barrel of his gun. “Move faster, Highlander. We want to reach the gates before nightfall. No doubt the colonel will have plenty of questions for you.”

  “But why?” Larena asked as a shiver of dread moved up her spine. “He already told you that he’s just here as my escort. He only wants to be on his way home again.” She glanced all around the mountainside. “And his horse must be recovered.”

  The leader looked up at her with menace. “Angus the Lion has a distinguished reputation when it comes to warfare, Miss Campbell. He’s known to have Jacobite sympathies like his father before him. Surely you know that.”

  She raised her chin defiantly. “I have heard stories…yes. But I had the pleasure of meeting Angus MacDonald after the attack and he assured me that he desires peace. It was he who assigned this man to escort me here safely and deliver the King’s document.”

  The soldier leading Rupert regarded her with suspicion for a few heated seconds, then one of them poked Darach with his musket again. He stumbled forward a few steps.

  “You can tell all that to t
he colonel,” the soldier said.

  “I will, but you must give me your word that this man will not be harmed or detained.” With that she allowed the soldier to lead Rupert along the mountain path, while Darach walked ahead of her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There was a flurry of activity in the bailey as the giant iron portcullis lifted and they passed beneath it. As soon as they entered, the chains rattled noisily and it was lowered back down.

  The soldier leading Rupert snapped his fingers and shouted at a groom who was carrying empty buckets across the bailey. She recognized him as one of her fellow clansmen. There were not many around. Most had fled after her father was taken into custody.

  “You there!” the soldier said. “Come here at once and do your duty!”

  The clansman dropped the buckets and hurried over. “Miss Campbell!” His eyebrows lifted at the sight of her. “Welcome home. No one knew what became of you.”

  “I’m quite fine, Alastair. Thank you.”

  He glanced uneasily at Darach who was still in irons. Alastair’s eyes focused on the MacDonald tartan and clan badge.

  “This man came to my aid and brought me home,” she explained in an effort to ensure there were no misunderstandings. “I owe him my life.”

  “Get a move on, Highlander,” one of the soldiers said, jabbing Darach in the ribs again.

  “Where are you taking him?” Larena demanded.

  “No need to concern yourself with that, miss. We’ll just hold him until the colonel’s ready to question him. Then I’m sure we’ll send him on his way.”

  As Alistair helped her dismount and took hold of Rupert, dread and agitation gripped her, for this could be the last time she would ever see Darach. Perhaps they would question him immediately and he would be gone within the hour, without ever saying good-bye, or perhaps they would not be so gracious in allowing him to leave.

  Her heart pounded with apprehension as she watched the soldiers lead Darach away. In the final few seconds before he entered the stone keep, he glanced back over his shoulder and held her immobilized in the intensity of his gaze. It was enough to wrench painfully at her core and pull a small prayer from her lips.