The Forbidden Highlands

by Kathryn Le Veque

She’d kissed that young retainer once, and it had made her giddy for weeks. But that had been the rushed kiss of a lad. Dirk’s kiss was that of a man—a man who knew what he was doing. Heaven help her, she wanted this kiss to never end. His hands skated up and down her spine, kneading her flesh. And then he grew bolder, stroking a hand up her ribs toward her breast, before pausing just below the heavy flesh. Frissons of mesmerizing sensation wound their way around her limbs, her ribs, centering somewhere in her middle. Heat, blessed heat and passion. Lilias clung to him, crushing her breasts against his solid form. Her nipples pebbling to achy points. Begging him to take his touch a little higher. And when he did, she gasped against his lips. A thousand butterflies took flight in her belly, and with nowhere to escape, they thrummed within her, making her feel weightless and heavy all at once.

  Dirk was sweeping her up into a maelstrom of sensation and emotion. His hand cupping her breast so light, and yet so potent. This was shameful. This was decadent.

  Lilias couldn’t help kissing him. Couldn’t help threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Soft locks and hot skin. There had been something sizzling between the two of them since she’d walked through the doors at Dunstaffnage, and here it was, manifesting itself in this passionate kiss and their shared fear of her being taken.

  Oh, but this was beauty. This was perfection.

  How could something so wicked be so perfect?

  ’Twas Dirk who pulled away first, softly disengaging his lips from hers, holding her out at arms length, leaving her bemused and full of warm, tingling sensations. Where her fingers rested on his chest, she could feel the pounding of his heart.

  “My lady,” he said clearing his throat, regret saturated in his manner.

  Dark eyes met hers, and she was once again struck by what the seer had said.

  Stormy of eye.

  There was most definitely a storm there. Was it too much to hope that Dirk was the man for her? Too soon to tell? That was not the line of thoughts she should be having. Of course, it was too soon. One kiss did not a lifetime make. One kiss would not change the alliance or Dirk’s duty to his country.

  “We should get back,” she offered, not wanting to offer or hear his rejection, for that was undoubtedly next from one of them. “I wouldna want your mother to worry.” She straightened her hair, her fingers catching on snarls. “Your men, they will…they will need to hear your orders. And the outlaws will…” She swallowed, unable to finish.

  Her lips felt swollen, tingly, and her face flushed. Her breaths were heavy, heart pounding. There would be no hiding that she’d been thoroughly kissed.

  “I should not have done that. Ye are meant for another.” Dirk’s fierce frown returned. Dark brows were drawn together, creases etching the corners of his eyes. Lips that were once so lush and kissable were now thinned with tension.

  Lilias shook her head. “That is where ye are wrong, Dirk. Ye should have kissed me because I am meant for another.”

  Rather than explain herself, how she would never experience a kiss like that with Olafsson, that this may well have been the last bit of pleasure she could have stolen for herself, she lowered her gaze, shutting herself off from him. There were some things she’d rather save for herself.

  Dirk slipped his hand along the small of her back, branding her with his touch, as he led her back toward his men. Lilias resisted the urge to turn and run, to make him chase after her if only to kiss her again. To give him some challenge. To demand he return her to Cameron Castle or keep chasing her forever. But he’d only grow weary of her games, and then he’d likely tie her up. That was the last thing she wanted.

  “Best we head back.” He gripped her arm, gently, and guided her back toward his men.

  Expecting to see the three outlaws in a bloody pile, she was surprised to not see them at all. The men gave Dirk a solid nod, exchanging some silent conversation. They barely spared her a glance and she was grateful for it, because her lips still burned and she was certain they would know what had happened when Dirk found her.

  They mounted their horses, and before she could blink, Dirk lifted her up on his mount to sit on his hard lap. Arm linked around her waist, he tugged her back flush to his chest. Lilias worked hard to keep her breaths steady, to lean forward and away, but he only pulled her back, making her torment complete. She’d never thought sharing a horse could be so sensual—but then, she’d never kissed a man or let him touch her the way Dirk did either.

  Once back at camp, Dirk made the decision that they should find an inn or manor to stay at for the night, given the events of the day. ’Twould give the men time to circle back and find out if there were any other mercenaries laying in wait.

  Lilias wanted to protest that she did not need a soft bed and a roof over her head to recoup, but she supposed it would be wise to keep to herself that his kiss appeared to be all she needed. At least she would go into her marriage knowing she’d felt something before everything was taken away.

  Chapter Four

  Shortly after the attack, the caravan came up on a small, tranquil village situated alongside Loch Fyne. The afternoon sun shone down on the neat rows of wattle and daub buildings that straddled a dirt road. People worked in flanking fields, and a gaggle of children followed two priests along a path near a good-sized stone kirk. Despite the town not being protected by a fortified castle, they did have a roughly built wooden stockade fence that surrounded them.

  Those working the fields stayed hunched at their tasks, but eyed them warily, until Dirk stopped to introduce himself, which Lilias found admirable. There was no telling on any given day when a village or castle was going to be raided, especially when dozens of fully armed men approached. ’Twas good of him to put them at ease. These were his people and they relished a chance to show their gratitude and loyalty.

  Word quickly spread amongst the villagers and by the time they reached the fence, the makeshift gate was opened, the villagers welcoming. They offered food and drink, beds and care for the horses. Dirk graciously thanked them for their gifts and asked for them to point him to the village inn.

  Aptly named Fyne’s Tavern, the inn had two chambers available above stairs for rent, and while Lilias insisted she didn’t mind sharing with Lady Fenella, Dirk was quite adamant that each lady should have their own accommodations. When she argued about his own comfort and that of his men, Dirk simply argued back, stating that he and his men would all be on guard, and that she had naught to worry over, save the bath he’d have sent up to help her relax and wash away the bad memories of her attackers.

  The four guards who’d been on duty when she was abducted had been punished. How, she wasn’t certain, but they’d all apologized to her and begged her forgiveness, which she’d quickly given without question. The sooner she offered her pardon and could forget the scary ordeal, the better. For everyone. She had bigger things to worry about, such as her upcoming nuptials, and the kiss she and Dirk had shared.

  That had been hours ago. True to his word, Dirk had baths sent up to the ladies. Lilias luxuriated in the warm soapy water, but not for long. The dark thoughts cascading through mind seemed to chill the water more quickly than the air. She tucked her legs up, resting her chin on her knees. ’Twas not her attackers on her mind, but simply the remembrance of where she was going and what was expected of her.

  Drying off, she’d changed into her nightrail and worked to sew the torn bodice and skirts of her gown from earlier in the day. A shred of fabric was clearly gone, but she managed to put the ends back to together so it was barely noticeable. She’d packed light for her transference of freedom. Only a few gowns, chemises, and nightrails. She couldn’t afford to simply lose one because a few fools decided she was yet again a pawn in the schemes of men. While she wasn’t particularly fond of needlework, she did have a skill for it, and soon her gown was put back to rights, the lines of where she’d mended almost undetectable.

  The sun began its descent and a maidservant came in to li
ght a few candles and the hearth. Her bath was swept away and soon a young man carried in a delectable smelling tray.

  “Am I to eat alone?” she asked.

  The lad looked ready to bolt that she’d spoken to him, but the maidservant seemed more obliged to speak.

  “Lady Fenella wished to remain in her chamber. Asked to be undisturbed.” Shifting her eyes, she wearily said, “Ye could always join the men below?”

  “Nay.” Lilias had no interest in venturing below and joining the boisterous banter of the men. “Thank ye.”

  The lad and maidservant left the chamber, closing the door behind them, leaving her in weary silence.

  Lady Fenella had once been a strong woman, but it appeared that since her husband had died, she was losing a bit of her vigor. Lilias could understand that. Her father seemed to be going through much the same thing since her mother had passed away. ’Twas hard to live your entire life with one person, and then have them ripped away.

  Lilias made quick work of her bland stew and warmed, watered ale, then climbed into bed, wishing to take advantage of an extended sleep.

  But sleep eluded her.

  Lilias lay tossing in bed, unable to think of anything but Dirk’s kiss. Aye, she was able to distract herself with other thoughts, but she kept coming back to the firm hold of his hands on her back, the warmth of his mouth, the way his tall, brawny body had molded to hers. Every inch of her felt alive with excitement. Anticipation. As if her own self was setting up her future to be with Dirk, when she knew very well it could never be. Her mind whirled with loss—her mother, her father, brother, clan. The life she’d known. And worry for her new life. The imagined torment she was certain to endure. Olafsson would not be a comfort to her, and the men and women in his household would likely resent her Scottish roots.

  And there would be no Dirk there. No Dirk to watch her across a campfire. No Dirk to make certain the cinch of her saddle was tight. No Dirk to toss her apples to ease the hungry rumbles of her belly. No Dirk to save her. No Dirk—for anything.

  Since when did he become such a big part of her life? Was she clinging to him because he was familiar on this road to hell?

  Mayhap, but she’d known his mother Fenella for longer, and she certainly wasn’t pining after the woman. That thought made her giggle.

  Nay, there was no doubt that Dirk stirred something inside her. Something deep and feral.

  Lilias rolled over, adjusting her pillow and blankets, seeking comfort, but still unable to fall asleep. At least she was warm and safe. Except her mouth was dry.

  An incredible thirst held her taut in its claws, and she’d already gone through the watered ale left over from her supper. Lilias stood from bed, pulled her wrapper from the back of chair and tugged it on, prepared to sneak downstairs to ferret out something to drink. Even one of the men’s canteens, she didn’t care. Being so parched, she knew sleep wouldn’t come until she alleviated her thirst.

  As quiet as she could, she lifted the door handle and peered out into the corridor. All was quiet. Even the men seemed to have gone to bed. How late was it? As she’d put her head to her pillow early, she didn’t think it could be midnight yet.

  There wasn’t much light, save for a flickering from below stairs. A candle someone had forgotten to douse? The hearth, mayhap. The men on watch would be awake, but they had a duty to perform, no time for socializing, for fear their laird would dole out punishments on them all after this afternoon’s fiasco. That would explain the quiet. The men would all be super alert, but silent.

  If she snuck down quickly, either no one would be the wiser—doubtful—or they’d at least leave her be—hopefully. Whichever way, her parched throat would feel infinitely better.

  The first step she took into the corridor creaked along the sagging wood. She cringed, curling her toes against a threadbare carpet and sucking in a breath as though she were doing something wrong. Well, she wasn’t. She was thirsty. There was no crime in that.

  Confidence renewed, she held her head high and the wrapper tight, as she edged toward the stairs, wincing with every creak, and hoping not to wake Lady Fenella or put fear in the men of an intruder. As she reached the landing, a hand closed around hers, causing her to jolt and lose her footing. She grappled for purchase; the stairs looming up toward her face until strong arms caught her from behind, just before she completely tumbled over.

  Gasping, Lilias was pulled back flush against Dirk’s familiar, hard body. Her buttocks pressed to his muscular thighs, his strong arms around her middle. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she chewed her lip to keep from crying out. Frissons of heat flashed through her limbs. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath but also her sense.

  Dirk’s soft whisper caught her off guard. “What are ye doing? Trying to sneak away?” His warm breath tickled her ear and caused her to shiver.

  She spread her fingers over his, at first in an attempt to remove his hands from her body, but she stilled, wanting him to hold her a moment longer. “If only I were brave enough. I but wanted a drink.” Lilias shifted in his embrace, gently forcing him to let her go as she turned to confront him.

  His face was cast in shadow, his dark eyes roving, catching the moonlight from some window above the stairs as he gazed at her. The sight of him took her breath away. Ruggedly handsome. Confident. Strong. His hair was mussed like he’d been sleeping. Her gaze fell toward his mouth, remembering the confidence in his kiss. She licked her lips, taking a step away, trying to put some breathable distance between them before she leapt on him or suffocated from holding her breath.

  Dirk gestured at her body. “’Tis not safe for ye to go down alone dressed in naught but a blanket.” Like the rogue that he was, Dirk’s gaze traversed the length of her body, and he plucked at the shoulder of her wrapper.

  Zounds, but every part of her seemed to leap to life with that one look. Gooseflesh covered her skin, her breasts grew heavy, nipples tingly and rigid. She worked hard not to visibly shiver, despite the heat rushing through her veins. Did he not realize how much he affected her? A simple look turned her to quivering mush. Did she have the same impact on him? Probably not. Women must toss themselves at him constantly. He probably had a string of lovers. That thought spiked a pang of jealousy that she worked to tamp down before it could dig in its ugly claws.

  Lilias pursed her lips, trying to mimic his frown. “I’ve got on more than a blanket.” She tightened the wrapper, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to hide her pebbled nipples.

  Dirk raised a brow at that, his lip curling into a wry smile. Obviously, he’d seen the very evidence of her desire for him. “Never ye mind what ye’ve got on or not. Ye seem…” his eyes flicked over her breasts, “like ye might be chilled. Wouldn’t want anyone else to take note and assume the wrong thing. I’ll get ye a drink and bring it back.”

  Assume the wrong thing? Lilias shook her head, feeling the heat rise. She knew he teased her about being cold, if only to get a rise out of her for having looked at her nipples. Well, a rise wasn’t coming, because she was entirely too muddled at the moment. “Nay, that isn’t necessary. I couldna impose. I’ll not let anyone assumed a thing about me.”

  Dirk chuckled, the sound gruff, sending something inside her core to stir. “Och, lass, this entire journey is an imposition.” Taking in her shocked gasp, he was quick to add. “But it is my pleasure to serve ye, my lady.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her bare knuckles.

  Lilias bit the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning at the brush of his soft lips, the slight dampness he left behind.

  “I offer ye gratitude, then,” she whispered, yanking her quivering hand back and squeezing her knees together to stay upright.

  Dirk chuckled again and disappeared down the stairs. She went back to her rented room to wait for him, still feeling completely muddled. Every inch of her skin had been ready to leap for the man. To relive those moments in the woods. Lilias studied a crack in
the plaster along the wall, seeing, but not seeing. There was definitely something growing between the two of them. That kiss wasn’t all of it. They were… flirting. A bond had been formed. For certes, she was more comfortable with Dirk than any other man she’d ever met.

  He returned with a flagon and two cups.

  “Ye will have a drink with me?” she asked.

  He raised a brow, accentuating beauty of his eyes. “I was going to take mine to the corridor.”

  Without thinking it through clearly, Lilias shook her head and pointed to single chair before the hearth. “Please, sit. I haven’t been able to sleep. I should like the company.” When he raised his brow at her, cocked his head, she realized the impropriety of such a suggestion. “Leave the door open, and no one will suspect there is anything untoward happening.” Even if she wished there was.

  And that of course brought on many images… His hands and mouth on her as he lowered her to the bed…

  Perhaps she should tell him to leave. It would seem that when Dirk was around, she was unable to control her wicked mind.

  Dirk edged toward the bench beneath the small window where she sat and handed her full cup of wine. “Only thing I could find.”

  “I enjoy wine.” She breathed in the heady, if a little vinegary, essence.

  “As do I.” He poured himself a cup and sprawled on the chair she’d offered for him, taking a long sip as he eyed her.

  Lilias mirrored his movements, drinking deeply, and savoring the heat of the wine as it made its way down her throat and into her belly. She watched him. The way he unfolded his large form as he sat in a chair made for a much smaller man. No matter, Dirk oozed his confidence. The way he owned that chair and all the air in the room took her breath.

  “How many women did ye comb through before settling on me?” she asked boldly.

  Dirk studied her with a quizzical expression, perhaps reading deeper into her meaning. “I did not participate in the search. My men did so initially and then with final approval from my mother and grandmother.”