The Forbidden Highlands

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Has anyone ever done this to ye, Rora?” he asked softly. “Have ye never been kissed?”

  She shook her head, quivering as his hand move to the soft skin of her neck. “N-Never.”

  “No man has forced himself upon ye?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Some of Laird Robert’s men have tried,” she said. “When I tell Miss Lizelle, she becomes very angry and Laird Robert dismisses them.”

  “So no man has… touched ye?”

  She shook her head. “Nay, m’laird.”

  He gave her a half-grin. “Considerin’ that I just kissed ye, addressin’ me formally sounds strange.”

  “Then… then what should I call ye?”

  He leaned forward, capturing her sweet lips in his. He suckled her bottom lip before releasing it. “My name is Jackston,” he whispered. “Let me hear ye say it.”

  Rora was breathing so heavily it sounded like she was gasping. “Jackston.”

  He licked her upper lip. “Say it again.”

  “Jackston.”

  Grinning, his mouth slanted over hers again, pulling her so tightly against him that she grunted with the force of it. She was sweet and soft, warm and pliable, and his mouth soon left hers to force a blazing trail down her neck and to her shoulder, where tender white skin beckoned. He suckled gently on her skin, pulling the top of her tunic away and down one arm, pulling it so low that he exposed her left breast.

  Jackston could feel Rora tense in his arms as her breast sprang free and she tried to cover it back up, but he wouldn’t allow it. He trapped her arm with a big hand as his mouth moved down her shoulder to the swell of her breast. She was starting to gasp now, in both uncertainty and in passion, and when his heated mouth claimed a nipple, her gasps became louder.

  God, those sounds fueled his lust!

  But he didn’t want their passion to be heard. In order to quickly silence her, Jackston’s mouth quickly returned to hers, kissing her deeply to stifle her noise even as a hand moved to her exposed breast and fondled her. He pulled at her nipple, teasing it, feeling her buck and quiver in his arms. Nothing in his life had ever excited him so much and his stiff manhood was straining against his braies. More kissing, more fondling, and he was ready to push her onto her back and throw up her skirts.

  But something stopped him.

  Attracted as he was to her, he simply couldn’t bring himself to take her in a stable, grinding her tender back into the urine-soaked earth. He had more respect for her than that and, no matter how physically ready he was to mate with her, he just couldn’t do it.

  More than that, there was something emotional between them now, a warmth and a bond like he’d never experienced. But she was a servant… God help him, she was a servant and his parents would never accept her as a wife to their heroic son, a man who would assume the Daviot lordship someday as the 2nd Lord Daviot, heir to a small empire. A woman sold into servitude as the wife of a great warrior?

  It could not exist in his world.

  More thoughts of taking her to England swamped him and his lusty kisses eased. Confusion was sucking the passion right out of him and he slowed his onslaught, pulling back to look at the woman as she lay dazed in his arms. The truth was that even if he took her to England to start a life with her, his parents would still know the truth. They would know he’d taken a servant for his bride and they would be shamed by it. Their foolish son would have passed on wealthy Lizelle Menzies only to marry a servant girl by the name of Rora of Lonmay.

  He had to stop and think about all of this. But one thing was for certain; he knew he couldn’t leave Rora behind.

  Wouldn’t leave her behind.

  But he couldn’t seem to let her go at the moment, either, and that indiscretion was his undoing. As he went back to suckling gently on Rora’s naked breast, one of Lizelle’s women, a round little mouse who spied and shared gossip with her mistress, made her way into the barn. The woman had kept her eye on Rora. She had seen from her vantage point in Lizelle’s bower window when the servant girl had fled the manse and disappeared into the stables.

  Suspicious and nosy, the woman had quickly followed simply to see what Rora was up to and having no idea that Jackston was in the stable, too. But when she peered around the side of the entry and saw Rora in the arms of Miss Lizelle’s betrothed, she nearly shrieked aloud. She saw the man nursing on Rora’s naked breasts, the servant girl with her arms over her head, letting him take advantage of her. It was both shocking and disgusting.

  Miss Lizelle must know!

  In a flash, the round little woman was scurrying for the manse with a great tale to tell.

  Chapter Four

  That evening

  After finally permitting Rora to go back to her duties because she was fearful that their tryst would be discovered, Jackston lingered with his horse a little longer, not wanting to retreat into the manse and back into the lair where a spinster sister was pinching him and Lizelle was trying to show him such domestic bliss. He was quite certain Lizelle had changed out of her stained clothing by now and was waiting for him to come to her and, frankly, he was surprised that she hadn’t come looking for him. But he was grateful for small mercies. His time in the stable had allowed him to come to know Rora in a most intimate way and he was more convinced than ever that he was smitten with her. Perhaps even more than smitten.

  But that was something he had to sort out for himself.

  So, he remained with his horse, pondering the dilemma he was facing. He’d been reluctant to come to Braelaw before he ever met Rora, and she was most certainly something he hadn’t expected. He began to wonder if his attraction to her was some extreme reaction to his unwillingness to marry Lizelle, but he’d never been the type to fall for a woman, at least not to the point where he was thinking of marrying her.

  God’s Bones… what was he going to do?

  Eventually, the sun began to set in the west, casting long shadows in the stables and the grooms entered with covered fish oil lamps to feed the beasts their evening meal. When the grooms entered, Jackston exited into the stable yard and headed to the manse beyond. The wall surrounding the manse was sealed off, the gates closed as the business for the day had been finished and people were finishing up their tasks before the evening meal commenced. Jackston could smell roasting meat on the breeze and it was making him hungry. Fortifying himself with a deep breath for courage, he headed into the manse.

  Robert was near the door in conversation with his majordomo when he entered and Jackston was once again subjected to the man’s very warm reception. But the moment he set foot inside the manse, Jackston took on the look of the hunted. He knew there were at least two hungry females nearby and he wanted to be ready when he was set upon.

  Oblivious to Jackston’s hunt-or-be-hunted demeanor, Robert led him into the great hall, which now had people in it, mostly senior soldiers, and other people that Jackston didn’t know about – or even care about. In fact, he was thinking of a plan to get Robert alone so he could relay his decision to the man when his host indicated for him to sit at the head of the table.

  In the host’s spot.

  Jackston groaned inwardly; Robert wasn’t making this simple for him in the least but perhaps that was the man’s plan. Perhaps Robert knew what Jackston was thinking, returning to Lizelle after all of these years, and he was showing him what it would be like when Jackston, in fact, was the lord of Braelaw. Much as Lizelle had done, Robert was creating quite the domestic picture – a prosperous home, many servants, and soldiers at his disposal. Any man would be proud and happy to have such a thing.

  But not Jackston; it was starting to make him sick.

  “Greetings, m’laird.”

  An unfamiliar voice sounded in his ear and Jackston turned to see the spinster sister planting herself next to him, her round face ripe with delight. Her head was severely wimpled with scarlet fabric, blending into scarlet robes, and with her rosy cheeks, Jackston couldn’t help but think she looked much like a
beet. She winked at him and giggled. He rolled his eyes and looked away.

  Truth be told, he didn’t have any patience with the woman whatsoever. He’d reached his limit and was finished feeling the need to be polite. The entire French army couldn’t intimidate him, but he realized he’d permitted the entire Menzies family to intimidate him to a certain extent. Since when did a man not speak his mind? Since when did he not speak his mind? When a servant offered him wine, he not only took the cup but also the pitcher the woman was holding. He drank his entire cup of wine in two big gulps and poured himself another. He was about to take another drink when he felt the spinster sister’s hand on his thigh. Reaching under the table, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it so hard that he nearly snapped her fingers.

  The spinster sister screamed and yanked her hand away, looking at Jackston as if he’d done something terrible to her. He met her gaze steadily.

  “You willna touch me,” he growled. “I’ve had enough of yer pinchin’ and yer advances. Do it again and I’ll break yer hand. Is this in any way unclear?”

  The woman turned positively ashen. Holding her aching fingers, she stumbled up from the bench and scampered off, straight to Robert, who was on the opposite side of the table speaking with one of his men. Jackston watched as the sister began crying to Robert, pointing to Jackston at the other end of the table, and he clearly saw Robert’s reaction. The man shoved his sister aside and evidently told her to leave the hall, which she did, in tears. Jackston braced himself as Robert drew near.

  “Is there a problem, Jackston?” he asked, seemingly concerned. “My sister said that she has offended ye.”

  Jackston smirked; he couldn’t help it. “Is that what she said? Yer sister has made unwanted advances tae me since I came tae Braelaw. If she wasna rubbin’ her feet on me leg, then she was pinchin’ me thigh. I willna stand for it any longer.”

  Robert looked stricken. “God’s Blood,” he hissed. “Please accept me apologies, Jackston. I had no idea.”

  Jackston was in an increasingly foul mood. “Keep yer sister in check, Menzies. The next man might not be as patient with her as I was.”

  Robert looked as if he’d been physically struck; he literally took a step back, shocked with the venom coming forth from Jackston. But in that reaction, Jackston suddenly saw his way out of all of this – perhaps if he was nasty enough and mean enough, Robert would cancel the marriage contract himself. Since Jackston was expected to sit through this meal, anyway, why not make it a meal to remember? Truthfully, perhaps that had been the answer all along. It wasn’t Lizelle had had to discourage.

  It was Robert.

  He was willing to try anything at this point.

  “Again, me apologies,” Robert said stiffly, both contrite and offended by Jackston’s attitude. “I will make sure she doesna join us again.”

  “Keep her away from me.”

  “I said I would.”

  Jackston’s gaze lingered on Robert, bordering on hostile, before turning away to down his second cup of wine in three swallows. More wine was poured. By this time, more people were entering the hall, including Lizelle. Before her father could warn her off of Jackston’s foul mood, she rushed straight to the end of the table and right into Jackston’s orbit.

  “Jackston,” she greeted, looking a bit flushed in her pale yellow brocade. “I am so glad ye dinna leave!”

  Jackston looked at her over the rim of his cup. “I told ye I wouldna.”

  “But ye dinna come back to me chamber.”

  Jackston looked away. “I have seen enough of yer chamber,” he said. “Sit down if ye have a mind tae. Dunna stand there. It makes me nervous.”

  Lizelle quickly obeyed. She planted herself in the seat vacated by her aunt, eyeing Jackston most curiously. He seemed to be… unhappy. There was no hint of warmth on his face. Lizelle caught a glimpse of her father and, noting the man’s concerned features, she thought that something might have been amiss but she didn’t dare ask what it might be. In her mind, perhaps Jackston was unhappy for a reason.

  Perhaps it was a guilty conscience.

  Aye, she’d been told by her woman what Jackston had been up to in the stable when she had been changing into a clean dress. Suckling on Rora, she’d been told. That silly little twit who had spilled all over her had evidently done it on purpose so she could rid herself of Lizelle and seduce her betrothed. At least, that was the general consensus among Lizelle and her women.

  At first, Lizelle had been crushed. Genuinely crushed. But after the tears of anger and embarrassment faded, she was certain that Rora had instigated the entire thing. Men were weak to feminine charms, after all, and surely Rora, who had run from every other man who’d ever tried to seduce her, must have finally found that part of her that lusted after a handsome man. She’d turned those charms loose on Jackston, who had been unable to resist.

  Sickened. Lizelle genuinely felt sickened by it. But she’d had time to think, to calm herself, and to understand that Jackston could do whatever he wanted. He was a man, after all, and it was not up to her to judge his actions. As long as he married her, Lizelle would look the other way if he had an occasional dalliance with a servant. Her mother did that a great deal with her father, so it was the example that Lizelle had set for her. Men philandered, women ignored.

  Therefore, Lizelle would not mention what she knew. She would not confront him. She had to marry the man no matter what the circumstances. She didn’t even care that she was sacrificing her self-respect to do it.

  But her attitude towards Rora was markedly different.

  She hadn’t seen the servant girl since the woman had been thrown from her chamber. Rora’s tasks were usually limited to serving food and helping with the bath. When she wasn’t doing those things, she was working in the kitchens, especially in the evenings. Therefore, Lizelle had been given all afternoon to plan her punishment for Rora. That hidden heart that Rora had spoken of, the one of fear and cruelty, was about to be revealed.

  So Lizelle would bide her time.

  As she sat there and thought of clever conversations to start with Jackston, more people entered the room. Some of these people were neighbors, having received a missive that afternoon that Lizelle’s betrothed had arrived. So, in a sense, this was a celebration. She wasn’t sure if her father had told Jackston that the evening meal would be anything but a quiet sup, but she suspected he hadn’t. Nothing like announcing a betrothal in front of a room full of people so that the groom couldn’t gracefully bow out of it.

  Lizelle’s lyre player found himself a warm corner of the room and, even now, faint lyre music floated over the throng of people as they found their places at the tables and more wine was brought forth. Jackston was on his fourth cup of wine now, feeling the fortification of it pulsing through his veins and thinking that the last thing he wanted to hear was that ridiculous lyre. At least Lizelle had kept her mouth shut and he didn’t have to listen to her foolish chatter, but he was seriously coming to wonder who all of these people were. Robert was greeting them all quite graciously as his majordomo found them seating in the hall that was growing increasingly crowded. When an older couple, well-dressed, were finally seated at one of the two big feasting tables, Robert finally raised his voice.

  “Me friends,” he said, beaming, “it is good tae see all of ye here tonight. It is a special occasion, it ’tis, and I wanted ye all tae share it with us. I know it was short notice tae ask ye tae feast with us on this night, but we were rather surprised by our guest of honor’s visit today. It is, therefore, with great pride that I introduce ye tae me daughter’s betrothed, Sir Jackston Forbes. Let us greet him properly.”

  Everyone gasped and clapped, cheering as Jackston sat there, dumbfounded. Lizelle stood up next to him, beaming from ear to ear, clapping her hands and pointing him out as he continued to sit there. Like a bump on a log, his father would have said. As much as Jackston didn’t want any part of whatever this feast was turning out to be, he knew some of these peop
le surely knew his parents and, even if he didn’t care about embarrassing himself, he didn’t want to shame them. Begrudgingly, he set his wine down and stood up, looking uncomfortable as the crowded cheered him. At the other end of the hall, Robert was cheering the loudest.

  “I’m sure ye’ve all heard of Jackston,” he said. “One of our own who made a name for himself at the great battle of Crécy two years ago when the French king was defeated. We are very proud tae know Jackston and I know me own daughter would like tae say somethin’. Lizzie?”

  Jackston didn’t really think this could get any worse. He was floored by the fact that there had evidently been a feast set up in his honor and he hadn’t even known about it. That was probably a good thing because he wouldn’t have been happy about it had he known; at least this way, he couldn’t back out. He was trapped. As he rubbed his eyes, feeling the alcohol swim in his head, Lizelle spoke.

  “As ye have probably suspected, Jackie knew nothin’ about this celebration,” she said, laughing as a room full of people laughed. “It was me da’s idea when Jackie arrived today and I thought it would be wonderful. I think… I think we have much tae be grateful for. Jackie and I knew each other as wee bairns and, many a time, he would save me from monsters or black knights. We played many games as children and that was when I came tae know and love him. He was only a lad when he vowed tae marry me and tae see him here this night, returned tae me as he said he would, shows what a great man of honor he is. Most men would have forgotten such a pledge but Jackie dinna.”

  She was looking at Jackston as she spoke, adoringly, and he simply looked at her as if he held nothing but contempt. He couldn’t believe he’d been caged up like this, praise heaped upon him, being pushed more and more into something he didn’t want to do.