WHEN YOU KISS A HIGHLANDER
Gybbon gently stroked her face and tucked the few stray locks of her hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ears. “Time to go inside.”
They slipped in with only one lone kitchen maid noticing them and then went up the stairs. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Gybbon had his arm around her waist. They had reached her door when he suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Mora let herself sink into the kiss and enjoyed the heat it stirred within her. She knew what he wanted and she was uneasy. A large part of her wanted it, too, but she was neither a widow nor a tavern maid and she knew she should not. There had been no words of love or even need. No promises she could cling to for a future.
Then she thought of all that had happened. What good were promises to her when she had a man determined to kill her? She was filled with a grief and anger that had little place to go and his kisses eased all that, gave her a moment to forget them. He was evidently a man who liked to wander and she was one who ached to settle. So what harm was there in allowing herself to just forget all of it in his arms?
He looked at her and she was certain there was a question in his eyes. A strong reckless and rebellious part of her rose up to answer that question and she opened her door. His eyes widened when she tugged him into her room. Delighted by his surprise, she curled her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the fierce desire she had fought to keep under control....
Books by Hannah Howell
The Murrays
HIGHLAND DESTINY
HIGHLAND HONOR
HIGHLAND PROMISE
HIGHLAND VOW
HIGHLAND KNIGHT
HIGHLAND BRIDE
HIGHLAND ANGEL
HIGHLAND GROOM
HIGHLAND WARRIOR
HIGHLAND CONQUEROR
HIGHLAND CHAMPION
HIGHLAND LOVER
HIGHLAND BARBARIAN
HIGHLAND SAVAGE
HIGHLAND WOLF
HIGHLAND SINNER
HIGHLAND PROTECTOR
HIGHLAND AVENGER
HIGHLAND MASTER
HIGHLAND GUARD
HIGHLAND CHIEFTAIN
HIGHLAND DEVIL
The Wherlockes
IF HE’S WICKED
IF HE’S SINFUL
IF HE’S WILD
IF HE’S DANGEROUS
IF HE’S TEMPTED
IF HE’S DARING
IF HE’S NOBLE
Vampire Romance
HIGHLAND VAMPIRE
THE ETERNAL HIGHLANDER
MY IMMORTAL HIGHLANDER
HIGHLAND THIRST
NATURE OF THE BEAST
YOURS FOR ETERNITY
HIGHLAND HUNGER
BORN TO BITE
Stand-Alone Novels
ONLY FOR YOU
MY VALIANT KNIGHT
UNCONQUERED
WILD ROSES
A TASTE OF FIRE
A STOCKINGFUL OF JOY
HIGHLAND HEARTS
RECKLESS
CONQUEROR’S KISS
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
HIGHLAND WEDDING
SILVER FLAME
HIGHLAND FIRE
HIGHLAND CAPTIVE
MY LADY CAPTOR
WILD CONQUEST
KENTUCKY BRIDE
COMPROMISED HEARTS
STOLEN ECSTASY
HIGHLAND HERO
HIS BONNIE BRIDE
Seven Brides for Seven Scotsmen
THE SCOTSMAN WHO SAVED ME
WHEN YOU LOVE A SCOTSMAN
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
HIGHLAND DEVIL
HANNAH HOWELL
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
WHEN YOU KISS A HIGHLANDER
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2018 by Hannah Howell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-4307-2
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4308-9
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Chapter One
The way her cousins burst into the house startled and frightened Mora. She paused in doing up her cloak. “What do ye want?” she demanded as she pushed Andrew behind her.
“We want ye gone,” answered Robert, the eldest.
“Why? I have a right to stay here and hold the house for my brothers’ return.” She felt a chill at the look that crossed Robert’s face.
“We can hold it for them. Now that your parents are dead, ’tis nay right for ye to stay here alone. How will ye fare with no one bringing in some coin?”
“The goats give me milk and I will have cheese to make and sell. ’Tis nay a bountiful living, but it will serve.”
Robert looked at his brothers and nodded toward the back door. All three went in that direction. Mora tried to stop them, but Robert paused long enough to backhand her in the face, and she fell. She was just scrambling to her feet when she heard the first goat scream. Keeping an eye on Murdoch, who rushed out the door and tried to stop what his brothers were doing, she grabbed the bag she had packed for young Andrew, handed it to him, and hurried over to a window to lift him out.
“Run with the goats if any get away. Go to Aunt Maggie.”
“But ye should come, too,” Andrew said. “We were supposed to stay together.”
“Go. I will come when I can. Go!”
She watched him run to the woods and a moment later saw several of her goats bolting into the woods as well. Pleased her cousins had not killed all the animals, she turned around and saw a badly battered Murdoch leaning against the side of the door frame, watching her.
The elder three brothers came stomping back into the house, and she tensed. “Ye shouldnae have killed my animals. Glad some of them kenned the danger and fled.”
“Ye willnae be able to gather them all back anyway,” sneered Robert as he walked toward her. “Now we have taken care of your parents and your cursed goats.”
Shock turned her blood cold and she said in a voice softened by horror, “It wasnae thieves. It was ye who killed my parents. Ye probably took what they had earned
for their goods as well.”
Robert laughed. “Of course we did. And it showed they had a good day at the market. They had no need of it and ye willnae either. And, curse it, where is that wee brat Andrew?”
“Ye expect me to tell ye where he is when ye have just admitted to killing our parents?”
“Aye, and if ye dinnae, we can easily make ye want to tell us anything.”
“I think people would frown on ye torturing your own cousin, especially if that person is a newly orphaned girl.”
“Nay when they are told ye are a thief and a killer.”
“What nonsense is that? I have stolen nothing and killed no one.”
“Ye stole money from our da and ye killed the mon who was caring for him.”
“William has died? How did that happen?” She forced herself to speak calmly although she was deeply shocked. “He was verra hale and hardy when I last saw him.”
“Aye, right before ye stabbed him with a sword ye stole from me, along with some coin our da had in a wee wooden box that has a carved dragon on the lid.”
The description of the wooden box with money in it told her they had robbed her of her father’s small savings. She also knew they did not have it, for it was stuffed deep in the bag she had packed. Mora suspected they had killed poor William, too, or Robert had, and she had the chilling feeling the man had died because he had suspected that the laird’s illness was being caused by something being given to him. Worse, it was something his own son was doing.
“Ye have gone mad, havenae ye?”
Robert grabbed her by the arm, and it was so shocking, and painful, she could not silence a cry. She heard a recognizable hiss even as she saw her small cat leap upon Robert’s face, her little paws scratching furiously at him. Robert screamed and his brothers Duncan and Lachlan started to rush to his side even as Robert grabbed little Freya and hurled her toward the fireplace. Since he had released her in his vain attempt to protect his face, Mora ran and grabbed the animal.
When she saw Murdoch signal with a motion of his head that she should run, she did not hesitate, but Robert still tried to stop her, grabbing her by the wrist and lashing out with a knife. He did not manage to stab her as he had clearly intended, but she knew he had scraped the flesh on her side for it stung and she could feel that there was some wetness, telling her that it bled. Breaking free of Robert, she then raced to the door while his brothers reached his side and clumsily tried to help him. He was screeching as if he had just been gutted.
She grabbed the bag she had packed, and while still in motion, shoved Freya inside and kept on running. The moment she espied a good place to hide, she ducked into the bushes and burrowed deep into the brush. Pulling the hood of her cloak up, she nestled down in the undergrowth all the while praying they would not search too hard for her. The light was fading as the sun began to set, so she also prayed that would produce enough shadow to keep her hidden. Once she was sure they had left, she would begin the long trip to Dubheidland and the distant relatives her mother had always insisted would help her. Mora was not sure what the Camerons could do to help her, or even if they would accept her word that the crimes Robert tried to hang her with were lies, but she had no other choices.
* * *
Night descended on Mora Ogilvy like a heavy fog, stealing the light and some of the warmth, and she shivered. She reached into the bag she carried and lightly scratched her cat’s ears. The animal licked her hand and Mora sighed. It had been silly to bring her cat with her. She knew few people would understand, especially if they knew what she had risked to accomplish it. She shifted back, deeper into the bushes she was crouching in. Fear still gnawed at her, but she almost welcomed its sharp teeth because it kept her alert, something Mora felt sure would help her stay alive.
She could not be certain how long her cousins would chase after her, or how hard. Considering how often she had to dart off the road and hide, it would be months before she reached Dubheidland. The way Robert had carried on about his face, she suspected he would insist on someone tending to the wounds soon, and that should delay the hunt for her. There were also a lot of dangers for a woman walking the roads and pathways alone, especially at night. Mora wished she had been able to grab a horse to flee on, but she had barely gotten herself and her little brother away.
Thinking of her little brother, Andrew, made her start to cry, but she hastily wiped the tears away. He was only seven—a surprise child, their mother had called him—and he was so smart. He had not argued much when she had told him to run to the woman they fondly called Aunt Maggie and tell her what was happening. Mora just prayed she had not put the woman in danger, too.
It was time to move on, she decided as she stood up and closed her bag. The moon was now out, so she had some faint light to see by. It was not as much light as she would like, but she suspected too many rests by the side of the road would be risky. She had already had to duck into the undergrowth of the forest or into the hedgerows several times because she heard someone approaching.
Unable to resist, she opened her bag and her pet immediately stuck her head out, eager to look around. “I am verra glad that ye are so small, Miss Freya, as I suspicion I will be carrying ye the whole way.”
Freya made a small chirping sound as Mora thought hard on where she was going. The clan she sought was a relation of her mother’s, but Mora had only met them twice. All she could recall about them was a lot of boys and every shade of red hair. She prayed they recalled her mother or she could find herself facing a lot of confused and angry men.
Shaking her head, she fought to recall how hard her father and mother had worked to make certain she knew how to get to Dubheidland. The moment they had suspected trouble from her uncle’s sons, they had begun to speak on where to run to. They had been very adamant about it being the best place for her to run to be safe, so for their sake she pushed aside her doubts and fears and started walking.
When Freya snapped her head around to look behind them, Mora turned and headed into the trees. The cat had proven to be very good at warning her of trouble. Mora listened carefully but it was several minutes before she heard the sound of a horse approaching. Freya crouched down into the bag, flattened her ears against her head, but made no sound.
A single rider came into view astride a magnificent horse. The animal had a white tail, a white mane, and a blaze of white down his face, but the rest of him appeared to be black. In a soft, deep voice the man spoke idly to the animal, and the way the animal’s ears moved made Mora ready to believe that it was actually listening to the man.
Once the rider was out of sight, Mora looked back down the road and listened carefully but neither heard nor saw any sign of someone else coming. She glanced down at Freya only to find the cat idly washing herself, so Mora relaxed. She was as certain as she could be that there would be no more surprises, so she slowly returned to the road and started walking again.
“Mayhap I should have spoken up when that man rode by, Freya. He was but one man and I didnae recognize him as an acquaintance of my thrice-cursed cousins. Even if I had not met him before, I would surely have recognized that horse. He may have even offered us a ride. It would be much nicer if we could ride to Dubheidland.”
Glancing at her pet, who was giving her what Mora could only see as an expression of disgust, she grimaced. “And, mayhaps not. Still, it would have been faster to be able to ride at least some of the way to our destination. And I would have someone to talk to aside from a cat. And, he could have provided some warmth, too,” she grumbled as the air grew even colder and she tugged her cloak more tightly around herself. “Ye are all tucked up in the bag and have fur so ye dinnae notice, but there is a sharp bite to the air tonight.”
Watching the road so that she did not stumble, Mora forced herself to keep a sharp listen out for the sound of someone approaching from any direction, although she wondered why she bothered as Freya could hear the sound of hooves long before she did. She carefully thought through all t
hat had just happened and made herself believe it, forcing away all thought of how they were family. Her cousins wanted her and Andrew dead. She had not truly caught her parents’ growing fear until they were dead, killed on the road back from the market. Even then it had been too easy to believe it had just been thieves. Then her cousins had come for her and Andrew and actually boasted of their killing of her parents.
Thinking back to that moment, she realized at least one of her cousins might not have been in complete accord with his brothers. Murdoch was just eighteen and, even through her own shock, she had seen how stunned he had looked at Robert’s boasting. He had then protested when his brothers had gone out to kill her goats. Unfortunately, he was also the smallest of the group and Robert had just slapped him around until he could only sag against the side of the house. She doubted she could count on him to give her much more help than that.
Another stroke of luck was that her goats were not the completely brainless beasts the cousins had anticipated. They killed a few but the fear and blood of the murdered goats sent the others racing for the fence, which they easily cleared, and then they disappeared into the forest. She had had the time to send her little brother off, for which she was grateful. Murdoch had watched her and said nothing, then motioned with his head for her to move away.
As she had grabbed some things to take with her and picked up her cat, the others had returned. They had tried to slaughter her goats and Robert had then tossed her cat toward the fireplace. Mora could taste the fear she had suffered thinking she was about to watch her pet get burned alive, but Freya had twisted as she had flown through the air to land hard just to the side of the fireplace. Mora had grabbed her cat and, dodging Robert’s attempt to stab her but still feeling the bite of his knife, shoved her cat in her bag, then bolted for the door, while Robert cursed and shrieked, his brothers trying to tend to him. She had raced down the road and hidden away, something she was getting very tired of doing, for she had begun weeks ago, when her parents had warned her there was a threat from her cousins.
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