Highland Faith

by Hill, Madelyn

  He eased her britches over her hips, her smooth, hot skin touched his cock and he nearly lost his seed. “Slow down, darling.”

  She chuckled, a sexy rumble that he felt all the way through him. She spun around to face him, gripped his face between her hands and kissed him.

  They explored each other with their hands, mouths, bodies. He lifted her up and she wrapped her lean legs around his waist.

  Dear God.

  The searing heat of her core scorched him. When she started to rock, he pulled back and slid into her.

  A sigh of pleasure slipped from her lips in a shuddering release of air. He palmed her arse, kept them both steady when his legs were about to fail him due to the gaining storm tossing the ship and the undeniable pleasure of being sheathed within her.

  The pleasure—damn, the need—almost stripped his strength. Faith wrapped her arms around his neck. He nearly dropped her when she started kissing him with vigor.

  They kissed as their bodies were joined. Unable to resist, he shifted in and out of Faith’s honeyed silkiness. She clawed his shoulders and tipped her head back. He licked along her neck as she tightened around him.

  Pushed nearly beyond his limit, he moved toward the bed with Faith in his arms and his cock nestled tight in her womanhood.

  They tumbled upon the sheets, caressing, kissing, and loving each other.

  He pulled back and pushed the hair from her face, and the strand caught on her full lips. God, she was lovely with pink cheeks and eyes ablaze with desire.

  Faith traced his lips with the tip of her finger. Her brow lifted. “What are you thinking, Graeme?”

  He grinned. “I’m thinking of you.”

  “Me?” she teased.

  “Aye. Of how lovely you are and how you make my body shake with need.” He pulled from her, wary of spilling his seed too early.

  “Need,” she said with a serious tone. “Where is your need?” Faith slipped her hand between them and gripped his cock.

  “Bloody hell,” he yelled as he nearly exploded.

  She laughed and he pulled her atop of him so that she rode him. She rocked her hips against him until he could hold back no longer.

  With a roar, he lost himself to her. His mind, his body—his heart.

  She matched his shout with one of her own as pleasure overtook her features in rapturous beauty.

  They lay against each other, chests heaving, sweat slicking their bodies.

  Her lids drifted downward and within a thrice, she slept.

  He kissed the tip of her nose, enthralled with this brave lass. Her moods seemed to change swiftly, one moment shy, then a vigorous lover the next.

  Her steady breathing tickled along his face and he inched closer to her. After he pulled the sheet over them, he wrapped his arm around her just to feel the heat of her body and the beat of her heart as she slept.

  With a sense of peace that had evaded him since the death of his mother, he drifted to sleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  She woke with a start. Had the storm pushed them farther to sea? Dear God, if that were so, Hope and Aidan would never be able to find her.

  Shots cut through the night.

  Men yelled and loud thuds resounded against the deck.

  She scrambled from bed, grabbed her clothing, and tugged on her liene.

  The door slammed open.

  “Secure her,” a man yelled.

  Aidan? She quickly pulled on her britches.

  Hope pushed from behind him. “Faith?”

  Relief flooded her. “You came. Thank God.” She ran to her sister and hugged both her and Aidan.

  Hope pulled back and gazed at her as if to see she was real. “You had us so worried.”

  Aidan lit a candle, held it before him as he searched the chamber. The shouting of men still echoed from the deck as her clansmen secured Graeme’s crew. Och, his crew.

  She turned to Aidan and gripped his free hand. “Please do not hurt them.”

  He glared down his nose at her. “They kidnapped you.”

  “But I am fine. Truly, they were kind to me.”

  He cocked his brow. “Are you fine?” Hope’s husband nodded toward the bed.

  She groaned. Graeme had awakened and lifted from the bed.

  “By Saint Anthony, Faith, what have you done?” Her sister strode to her side and pulled her far from Graeme.

  “Ross,” Aidan said.

  Graeme reached for his tartan and slipped it on as if the audience bothered him not.

  Hope cleared her throat and looked pointedly at her. She’d not allow her sister to make her feel sorry for what had transpired. Never. The time she’d spent with Graeme had filled her with love and adventure.

  “Excuse me, m’lairds,” Graeme said with a slight bow.

  Then he stood, god-like and proud. She wanted to go to him, stand by his side. Hope grabbed her arm.

  “Here’s your ransom.” Aidan tossed a bag at Graeme; which he caught with one hand and lifted as if weighing the bag.

  “And there is Lady Faith MacAlister.” His intense gaze bored into her. It hurt to look at him as doubt filled his gaze—then a steel fortress appeared and those blue eyes became as cold as winter ice before he turned away.

  What did he want her to do? What did she want to do? What a mess. She gazed at him, imploring him to glance at her, give her some indication on what he wanted her to do. He needed the ransom, but did he need it at the sake of them, what they had started? Something wonderful, perfect in her mind. If only they could stay in the safe cocoon of the Blue Boy, away from her sister and Aidan, away from her responsibility to the clan.

  Graeme shifted the bag from hand to hand. “Do you think so little of your sister, Laird?”

  This he directed toward Hope.

  Hope stiffened and stepped toward him. “You brute, how dare you suggest such a thing.”

  A wry smile curled his lips. “The bag is light, to be sure.”

  She kenned her sister and if she were of mind, she’d challenge the captain with the sword hung at her waist.

  Aidan held up his hand as Hope moved toward Graeme. “You’ll do right by the lass.” The statement a demand, not a question.

  Thick tension filled the chamber as silence ensue. Sweat dripped between her shoulder blades as her breath caught in her throat. He said nothing—Graeme stood silent.

  Aidan looked from her to the captain. He sighed and came before her.

  “What do you want me to do, Faith?” He spoke low, just loud enough for her to hear.

  “I’m not certain.” Yet, just as she said the words, her heart twisted in her chest. She glanced over Aidan’s shoulder to Graeme. Did she want to leave him?

  His stony gaze broke her heart. His jaw clenched and she almost moved toward him—reached for him. For she knew if she touched him, if they had a tangible connection, he’d pull her into his arms.

  “Take her,” he said. “She’s been nothing but a pain in my arse.”

  Someone gasped and then she realized ’twas her. Piece by piece her heart shattered. Graeme’s cold gaze cut through her, dismissed her as if she meant naught to him.

  “Aye,” she said with more bravado then she felt. “Take me home—where I belong.”

  Aidan nodded. “Help her off the ship,” he said to Hope and their men.

  She looked over her shoulder as she left the chamber. Graeme kept his gaze trained on Aidan. Please glance at me, she silently begged. When he didn’t, she pivoted forward and walked toward where their men stood.

  “Good eve to you, m’lady,” Bram called.

  Dear God, she’d nearly forgotten them. She broke free of Hope’s grip and raced toward the men.

  She shoved her clansmen aside and
untied Bram and Dougal. They’d tied poor Wee William to the mast.

  “Honestly,” she said. “The lad wouldn’t harm a fly.”

  Hope commanded the men be freed. Her clansmen freed Amit and Wee Will, Colin and Alec. The men rubbed their wrists and nodded to her.

  Amit came to her side and grinned. “’Tis been my pleasure to have known you, m’lady.”

  Dougal winked and blew a kiss. She’d miss his company and talk of their travels. Wee Will patted her shoulder and even in the darkness of the night, she witnessed the tears shining in his eyes. Bram openly sniffled.

  She glanced toward the captain’s cabin and waited. Aidan emerged. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she held.

  He didn’t come out. He didn’t want her.

  Swallowing burgeoning tears, she nodded toward her sister and moved to the ship’s bulwark to be lowered to the awaiting rowboats.

  Each breath hurt, stabbed her.

  The Blue Boy’s crew stood, uncertainty clear on their faces.

  She sent a wavering grin their way before she allowed Duncan to help her down the rope and into the boat.

  Still, she wished for Graeme to appear and ask her to stay.

  He didn’t and as they rowed away, tears rolled down her cheeks as a steel cage surrounded her heart.

  She’d never be hurt again.

  Chapter 13

  The boat eased from the ship and he gripped edge of the bulwark so not to jump overboard and capture Faith once again.

  “Faith,” he yelled.

  Aye, he wanted to capture and keep her, keep her on his ship, in his bed. Never had he wanted a woman more than he wanted Lady Faith MacAlister.

  “Faith.”

  It was too late.

  He leaned over the bulwark, ready to jump ship and swim after the MacAlister entourage.

  Images of her time on his ship came to him, forced him to step back. Faith strolling along the deck with his crew, chatting as if it were an ordinary day and the men walking with her truly weren’t responsible for her kidnapping. Then the flash of brilliance as she stretched the bow and the arrow sang through the air—damn, she was the most graceful and lovely woman he’d ever seen. His favorite memory was as passion overtook her, rapturous pleasure that widened her eyes and created a smile of satisfaction on her full lips.

  He envisioned her lush with his bairn. Beautiful with the healthy glow women seemed to have when they were expecting. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Bloody hell.”

  How he wanted her to be carrying his child. Something, someone who was theirs—Faith and Graeme’s. And yet, he’d never learn if she was expecting since his ship started to set sail.

  Sweat drenched his back. The urge to go to shore, call the order to return to MacAlister lands nearly overcame the truth of the situation.

  She hated him.

  Faith had said she wanted to go home before her brother-in-law had even given her the choice. Aye, Laird Aidan MacKerry had thought he spoke softly, yet he’d heard the private conversation loud and clear. And why he’d pushed her, pushed her away.

  Bollocks. The look she’d given him. It nearly killed him. But she was a lady; a lady he’d treated badly and now her clansmen witnessed just how much he’d taken advantage. The shame she’d know when word of her behavior spread killed him.

  He thought of his father, how he’d berated him about his behavior with the lasses. Even though he claimed he’d changed, the truth hit him square in the face.

  What an arse.

  Those beguiling eyes of hers had filled with tears, dark pools of sadness. The slump of her shoulders. Och, and the way she’d glanced at his cabin door as if waiting for him to come out. He watched the deck from the privacy of the chamber and he’d witnessed her talking to his crew and how they’d babbled like weepy lads.

  He’d stripped away her pride and her unique spirit. He’d witnessed it in her eyes.

  Damn, it hurt. Even though he’d a mission and even though Faith had put a wrinkle in his goal, he’d found she’d fit perfectly into his life at sea.

  And now she was gone from his life forever. His words and actions made sure of that.

  “They brought the ransom?” Dougal asked.

  Forget the ransom, he wanted to yell; instead, he nodded.

  “Then we have all we need.”

  He shifted his weight. Did they? Because deep in the pit of his stomach, it clenched as he missed the most needed person—Faith. He scrubbed his hand over his face. He glanced toward the shore and then at Dougal. The man waited as if expecting an answer and he didn’t have one. On one hand, they had enough in the hold and the ransom bag to secure his family’s land. But on the other, he loathed taking the ransom. What if he could return it? What if he sailed the ship toward MacAlister territory and tossed the bag back at Laird Aidan MacKerry’s face?

  Could he? He calculated how much they’d gained so far through their travels. Bollocks, it wasn’t enough, making the ransom a necessity.

  His mate cleared his throat. “Shall I give orders to weigh anchor and head toward Ross territory?”

  He sighed. “Aye.”

  Dougal slapped his shoulder. “She was a bonny lass. But ye kenned what needed to be done.”

  He did. And even though the ransom was less than he’d expected, ’twould be enough.

  “You’re right.”

  Dougal stood patiently next to him. “But?”

  He set his hands at his waist, looked out over the water. “Lady Faith deserved better.”

  Better than the man who’d kidnapped her and stolen her innocence.

  “Ye have to keep yer mind clear—to yer goals.” Dougal went to say something, then stopped. He crossed his arms and stared at Graeme.

  Did he want to know what the man wanted to say? Surely, it mimicked what he already thought. Regardless, he said, “Speak your mind.”

  “If ye insist,” Dougal began with a wry smile. “The lass was the means to gaining yer father’s respect and getting the family lands back.” He nodded toward the crew, trying to look as if they were busy with their duties, yet their ears were cocked and listening. Colin swept the same spot over and over as he glanced their way. “But she was a braw lass, to be sure. And brilliant with a bow and arrow.”

  Self-loathing filled him.

  Dougal leaned in. “Does it matter now, Captain? What’s done is done and ye’ve the ransom.”

  And Faith’s hatred.

  Aye, what’s done is done. She was lost to him.

  “Weigh anchor,” he yelled.

  The men scrambled.

  And as he glanced over the water and the moonlight skittering across it, he could only wonder where Faith was at that very moment.

  More importantly, was she thinking of him?

  ~ ~ ~

  Her heart ached despite her pledge never to hurt again. An impossible pledge, to be sure.

  As the boat glided through the dark, evening water, she only thought of Graeme and how he’d taken the ransom.

  He’d taken the ransom.

  Hope kept patting her back and asking if her the boat made her stomach roil. Aye, she’d had an aversion to the sea but her short stay on the Blue Boy cured her. She shoved her sister’s hand aside and stared toward the shore.

  Soon she’d be home and among her clansmen.

  Soon she’d be home, and talk of her rescue and where she’d been rescued from would spread swiftly through the clan. She’d have to hide in her chamber or better yet, in the wood. But this time, she’d ensure she didn’t get captured by a ruthless captain aiming to ransom her.

  “Are you well?” Aidan asked. When she looked toward the water, he added, “We’ll have Honor see to you.” His gaze remained steady on her as he ro
wed the boat. The rest of the men were in the boats behind them, yet she worried Aidan’s words would carry through the night.

  She swallowed and nodded. Her heart couldn’t be mended by one of Honor’s poultices or tinctures.

  “They will not ken.”

  Hope squeezed her arm as if to reiterate what Aidan declared.

  She scoffed. “How will you stop the havering?” The clan’s penchant for idle gossip would never keep the secret.

  With a hasty shrug he said, “I’m laird. I have demanded the men not speak of what happened.”

  “Aye,” Hope said as she nodded. “We have demanded.”

  She rolled her eyes. ’Twould be a miracle if the men could manage to remain silent. She’d wager they were already sending the tale along with wind.

  She glanced at Hope. The uncertainty and fear pulled her sister’s mouth downward. ’Twas a strange moment when her sister acted uncertain. Hope’s worry was obvious, but something else unsettled her nerves, something akin to fear. Too tired and concerned with her own troubles to worry about Hope, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. How could she face her clansmen? She’d . . . she’d given herself to a man—the very man who’d kidnapped her.

  Her stomach roiled and she nearly lost the contents of her stomach.

  Och, she was foolish. She was Lady Faith MacAlister. The best hunter of the clan, more than likely the best hunter in the Highlands.

  Such a huntress didn’t lose her stomach over a man.

  She sat up straighter, removed her sister’s hand from clutching her arm, and pledged to think of Captain Graeme Ross no more.

  Aye, she pledged and her pledge was true.

  Graeme Ross could rot in hell.

  Chapter 14

  The winds were in their favor as they sailed toward Ross Territory. The crew did their duties and stayed clear of him.

  Not that he blamed them.

  “Tighter,” he yelled at Colin. “The lines must be tighter.”