The Forbidden Highlands

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Ye should go to bed, my lady. Tomorrow will prove an exhausting day.”

  Lilias nodded numbly, allowing him to lead her toward her tent. Once there, she opened her mouth to tell him how she felt, what she’d discovered. But he gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss that felt like a goodbye, to her knuckles. Heat swirled on that spot, leaving her stunned and speechless. Panic welled in her belly.

  “Good night, my lady.” He’d not said her name. He was reverting to formal address when they were quite alone. So, he’d made his choice.

  Well, she wasn’t going to let that stop her from sharing her feelings with him. This was her only chance. Knowing he’d likely break her heart wasn’t reason enough to keep quiet. If she never told him, she’d regret it.

  “I dinna want to sleep,” she whispered. “For the sooner I sleep, the sooner tomorrow comes.”

  A fleeting expression of devastation crossed Dirk’s face. “We canna be, Lili. ’Tis forbidden.”

  He’d said her name… That was a good sign; at least he was letting pretenses drop.

  “How can love be forbidden?” she whispered, opening up her heart completely.

  Dirk’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed to lose command of his composure. “Is love worth the price of war?” He choked out the words, shook his head, squeezed her fingers. He spoke fast and quiet as though he were afraid some invisible force would cut off his tongue. “I am certain that I will never find another woman like ye for all the days of my life. Ye will be in my heart always.” He pressed her hand to his chest where she could feel his heart beating.

  “Find him another bride. Say there is a delay,” she begged, clutching his shirt.

  Dirk wouldn’t meet her eyes. “The papers have been signed. Ye’re as good as married already.” With those words, he untangled her fingers from his shirt and let her hands fall from his. He turned away from her, storming through the trees.

  Lilias desperately wanted to run after him, but she’d only make a fool of herself. She’d laid her heart out in the open, bared her soul, begged him to make her his.

  And he’d given her his answer.

  Dirk didn’t want her. If he did, he would have found a way and not left her standing in a sea of pain.

  Though he didn’t sleep, morning still arrived much too quickly for Dirk.

  Love. She’d spoken of love. And at the utterance from her lips, his heart had kicked up a notch. Aye, he loved her. It was killing him that today he’d have to deliver her to another. Maybe he’d feign illness and have Gunnar do it instead.

  Why couldn’t he take her back home to Dunstaffnage? Rip up the betrothal document? Send another bride in her place? Make her his bride…

  Because, he could not rightly send any woman to the vicious Olafsson. And that begged—nay demanded an answer—so why was he sending his heart, his joy, the one woman he was certain completed his soul?

  They readied their horses, packing up the somber camp, dousing the fires. He had no appetite and shook his head when his mother offered him a hunk of jerky. Fenella eyed him, kissed him on the cheek, and made certain that he saw her hinted gaze in Lili’s direction. She squeezed his hand, offering comfort but said nothing. She’d always wanted him to make his own decisions.

  For her part, Lady Lilias ignored him, not meeting his eyes as they readied to leave, and asking only Gunnar to accompany her as escort when she sought privacy.

  ’Twas no less than he deserved. When she’d offered him her heart, he’d shut her down. Walked away. Denied her feelings. Told her he was going to give her to a tyrant.

  Dirk was at a loss for what to do. If he followed his heart, he would start a war. But to not follow his heart would leave him and her forever in misery. And a war inside himself that he could never heal from.

  The torment of what to do continued in his mind for several hours until they reached a wooded rise overlooking a ravine and the Kyles of Bute. The choppy waters slapped against the shore. An ominous sign that nature did not want Lilias to sail away this day.

  Across the waterway, Dirk could make out a dozen of Olafsson’s warriors milling about at a makeshift camp. They waited for the MacDougall caravan and then they’d sail across the channel to make the exchange. There was no sight of Olafsson himself, and truly, Dirk was not surprised. The bastard couldn’t even come to collect his own bride.

  ’Twould be another hour before they reached the water. They’d have to pick their way down the ridge and circle round the ravine, toward the bank. From where they stood, the Norsemen had yet to spot them.

  Dirk ground his teeth. He glanced around at his men who waited for him patiently.

  Instead of signaling for the beginning of their descent, he hesitated.

  Love may not be the answer to preventing every war, but for the love of his woman, he was willing to wage a thousand battles.

  Swiveling in his saddle, Dirk regarded Lilias. She sat her horse with a straight spine, her hands folded in her lap and her head demurely bowed. Sensing him looking at her, she glanced up, solemn eyes meeting his. Sorrow kicked at his heart and he knew without a doubt, he could not continue on this journey.

  “My lady,” he said to her. “Might I have a word?”

  Lili regarded him with apprehension, nodding slowly, her gaze sliding to the men below.

  Dirk urged his horse beside her, their knees brushing, and he leaned in close enough that no one could hear what he had to say. “I would run away with ye, my lady. I would have ye for my own, for my heart beats a different tune when ye’re near and when ye’re far.” He took hold of her hand. “Every moment I spend unable to speak with ye is torment. I canna live without ye. And yes, my love, my darling, your love is worth waging a war. I was a fool to not say so last night. I will spend the rest of my days begging ye for forgiveness.”

  “Ye need beg nothing of me, Dirk. Tell me plainly, what are ye saying?” She was breathless, color flushing her cheeks. Her hands trembled in his grasp. Hope filled her eyes.

  “I am forever your servant, Lili.”

  “I dinna need anymore servants.” Although her voice trembled, a slight smile curved her lips.

  Dirk cleared his throat glancing back at the Olafsson men and the channel that would take her away from him forever. “I am giving ye the choice that no one else has. Go with them now, to the future your country demanded of ye, or take my hand and come away with me. Be my wife. Wage a war with me.”

  Her delicate throat bobbed, and tears sprang to her eyes. “But—”

  “No buts, love. I would fight every one of those men for ye if ye wanted me to. Right now. I would go to the ends of the earth to see ye safe and happy. And I would gladly die a thousand deaths if that is what ye wish.”

  Lili shook her head, squeezing his hands tighter. “This is a dream come true. I could never wish ye dead. I want to be the ripple. I want to go with ye. I want ye to be my husband.”

  The ripple… His grin widened. She was definitely meant for him if she could quote his grandmother’s life motto. “Ye’ll be my wife?”

  “Aye. Aye!” She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her from her saddle onto his lap, pressing his forehead to hers.

  Soft whistles of approval went up from his men, all of them seeming to know that silence was of the utmost importance given those who resided below the rise. A glance at his mother showed her wide grin of approval.

  “Of your own free will?” he asked, just to be certain.

  “Aye.” Lili laughed and then pressed her lips to his, claiming him in that one, very public move.

  He savored the sweet honey taste of her and could have bathed in her familiar, floral scent. Not giving a fig who was watching, he kissed her with all the passion and love he felt. Put his apology and his gratitude into the press of his lips on hers. This was his woman. His love. His Lili.

  When they parted, she clutched his hand to her heart. “Take me away, my love.”

  Dirk felt his chest swell near t
o bursting. “With pleasure, my darling.”

  Chapter Eight

  They rode hard back to Dunstaffnage, fearing Olafsson’s men were on their tail. They warned every village of the possibility of war, and word soon spread throughout every clan.

  There was no telling whether the Norsemen had seen the Scots upon the rise, but soon enough, perhaps in a day or two, they’d realize that Dirk was not coming. That Lilias was not to be delivered. And then they’d come searching.

  Lilias sighed with pleasure, riding at an intense pace beside him. Even with the fear that surrounded their decision to wed, her soon to be mother-by-marriage couldn’t have been happier. A smile never left her face—even when he kissed Lilias the few times they made stops through the day. Even when he tucked her into her makeshift bed. They laughed and exchanged conspiratorial winks when Fenella clucked her tongue, reminding them both that propriety was still important given they’d yet to exchange their vows. Never mind that simply declaring themselves to each other in front of all in their caravan theoretically counted as a true marriage under Scots law.

  Always the gentleman, Dirk did not take advantage of their promises to each other, saying he’d rather wait to claim her fully once they’d wed in his family’s kirk, and then he could make love to her languidly in the bed they’d share as a wedded couple.

  Three days later, they arrived at Dunstaffnage, still elated and filled with anticipation.

  Lady Elle stood in her usual green gown upon the battlements, silver-red hair flying out behind her in waves, a knowing smile on her face as she waved and the portcullis was raised.

  They were bathed, dressed, and wed within the hour. There was no need to explain to Lady Elle, who seemed to have expected their imminent return.

  Dirk ordered a feast hastily made that his mother and grandmother took the lead on. While the kitchens prepared the meal, he carried Lilias up the rounded staircase to his bedchamber—their bedchamber. The room had been freshly cleaned. Flowers adorned the tables giving a light, floral scent to the room. Candles were lit all around the perimeter, and a low fire blazed in the hearth.

  The pink light of a setting sun streamed in through the few arrow-slit windows where the coverings had been pulled back to allow air to circulate.

  “My love.” Dirk nuzzled Lilias’s neck, breathing in the scent of her hair, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him. “I was in such torment when I thought ye might not be mine.”

  “I still feel like this is a dream. A wonderful dream from which I dinna want to wake.” A whirlwind. Once they’d decided to wed, they’d made all haste getting back to Dunstaffnage, for this moment.

  Dirk grinned at her, nibbling her lower lip. “’Tis no dream, love. We are together now and always.”

  Lilias cupped the side of his face and kissed him gently, savoring that they were finally alone for the first of many times. “Always. I love ye.”

  “I love ye, too. Can ye feel my heart pounding for ye?”

  She giggled, pressing her hand to his heart. “Can ye feel mine answering your call?”

  Dirk slid his gaze from her face down to her breast, the place where her heart beat. Sensing his hesitation, Lilias grasped his hand and gently laid his palm in place at the center of her chest.

  Glancing up at him through her lashes, she said, “Ye can touch me, husband. Every day for the rest of our lives.”

  “’Tis beating so fast. Now ’tis I who feels like I’m in a dream.” Gently he placed her down, her feet skimming the fronts of his boots.

  She was a tall woman, but around him, Lilias always felt petite, and somehow that was pleasing.

  Though he’d put her down, he didn’t stop touching her. And she him. They seemed unable to part fully. One of his hands remained on her heart, and the other slid over her hip, tucking her flush against him. Every solid line of sinew molded to her softer curves. And there was one rigid force in particular that pressed hotly to the crux of her thighs.

  Dirk pressed his forehead to hers, gazing into her eyes. “I’ve wanted ye since the day ye walked through my castle doors.”

  Lilias sighed, pressing closer. “Make me yours fully.”

  Dirk settled his mouth on hers, nibbling gently, and she sank against him, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. She loved kissing Dirk. If making love was anything like the way he kissed, then she knew she’d enjoy that, too. He was gentle, masterful, and her entire body came alive in his arms.

  Where once she’d been so filled with fear, now her happiness knew no bounds. She’d been the ripple. She’d endured, just as her mother taught her. Lilias and Dirk together would vanquish the enemies of Scotland.

  Lilias clung to her husband’s shirt, kneading the muscles beneath as his hand slid from her heart to her breast. He cupped the rounded globe and slid his thumb over her nipple, causing her to gasp at the sudden rush of feeling as the skin there grew taught, an infinite and delicious ache that hooked to on invisible line linking straight to her core.

  “I love the way ye respond to me,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “Never stop,” she ordered softly. However nervous she was about the marriage bed, she was exceedingly more filled with anticipation. She wanted this. Dirk made her feel comfortable, beautiful, desired, safe. Opening herself up to him was only natural.

  “Never.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down on its surface and sprawling out beside her.

  She sank into the soft mattress, rolling slightly to the side to gaze at her husband, memorizing every line of his handsome face. They lay there, murmuring words of love, smiling with pure joy and triumph. At last, they’d made it. The journey and the risk had been treacherous. But here they were. Reveling in each other.

  Dirk caressed her breasts as he nuzzled her neck, licked her collarbones, and then drew his heated mouth down the length of her bodice, hovering over one turgid nipple and then the other. Oh, how she wanted to rip her clothes off to feel the heat of his mouth on her bare flesh. He toyed with her ankles, flipping off her shoes, and then slid his hands slowly up her legs to undo her hose.

  As he rolled the wool down her legs, he kissed her gently on her knee, her calf, her ankle.

  Lilias sighed, gasped, her breathing erratic and little mewling sounds that she’d never thought to make escaped her.

  “Ye have beautiful, long legs.” Dirk trailed kisses back up her legs just to her inner thigh by her knee, then rose above her to claim her lips once more.

  He rolled to the side, then his back, taking her with him so that she lay atop him, and as he kissed her, deftly untied the laces at the back of her bodice.

  When she sat up, straddling him, the heat of that very hard part of him was so close to her own center, sending wild frissons to pulse through her core. Her gown fell loose around her shoulders and Dirk pulled it over her head, leaving her in only her chemise, but that was soon gone, too.

  Her husband stared up at her in amazement, his hands resting hotly on her thighs, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breaths. Every part of her felt alive, sparking.

  His heady gaze raked over her, making the place between her legs tingle. “Ye’re exquisite.”

  “Thank ye.” She felt herself blush at his heated gaze. “I want to see ye, too.” Lilias tugged at his shirt, sliding her hands beneath, feeling the muscled flesh of his abdomen, the light sprinkling of hair, tickling her palm.

  Dirk did not move her from her straddled position as he unpinned his plaid, tugged off his shirt, and unbuckled his belt, letting the fabric of his tartan fall open. He lay beneath her just as exposed, the thickness of his arousal jutting up between her legs. The sight of him was… shocking to say the least, but sent a titillating thrill of excitement racing through her limbs, too.

  Boldly, she reached to touch him, her fingers wrapping around the turgid length, her thumb brushing over the ridge and velvet tip. She was amazed that something this hard could be so silky smooth.

  Th
e muscle in Dirk’s jaw ticked, and he breathed hard through his nose. “Saints, lass…”

  “Is this not pleasing?” She slid her grip up his length, and his entire body tightened beneath her.

  “Incredibly pleasing,” he said through gritted teeth. “If ye continue, there will be no claiming this night, for I will spend right into your delicate hand.”

  Lilias giggled and gave him one more stroke before Dirk flipped her back over, settling himself between her thighs.

  “Ye’re a vixen,” he growled, leaning down toward her breasts and flicking his tongue out over her nipple.

  Lilias bucked off the bed, gripping tight to his shoulders, the move causing her sensitive core to slide provocatively over his shaft. She gasped at the pleasurable sensations that thrummed through her veins from head to toe. Dirk growled in answer, gently biting her nipple.

  “And ye’re a…,” Lilias giggled. “What is the male version of temptress?”

  Dirk chuckled as he skimmed down the length of her torso, his mouth hovering over her sex. Her eyes widened as he tasted her, and then they fell shut as wicked, glorious bliss took over with every stroke of his tongue.

  “I believe that would me a debaucher…” As he spoke, he licked. Again and again. “A role I am more than happy to play for ye, my vixen.”

  Lilias moaned, as his fingers found her center, sliding inside her, stretching her, while his tongue worked its magic. She held her breath, pleasure mounting, until she could do nothing but moan and gasp and let the flashes of heat ripple through her, diving deep and spreading outward, like waves crashing and swirling sand on the beach. She cried out at the intense sensations, her hands threading through his hair, wanting him to stop and to keep going all at once.

  “Ye climax beautifully,” Dirk murmured, climbing the length of her body and settling his hardened length at her entrance.

  “Thank ye.” Lilias gazed at him, bemused, trying to catch her breath. She bit her lips. “I want to…taste ye, too.”

  Dirk grinned mischievously. “Did I say vixen? I meant seductress. Be gentle, love.”