Craving The Highlander's Touch

by Willingham Michelle

  Behind him, he heard the footsteps of the women. Iliana wore warm clothing that was slightly too big for her, no doubt given to her by Alys.

  “Are you ready?” Finian asked.

  They nodded. Silently, they passed through the gates, Iliana and Jeanne sharing a horse. Finian swept Alys up on horseback, riding behind her. To Brochain, he ordered, “If any threat occurs, take the women and return to Moristerry. I’ll stand guard with the others.”

  Alys stiffened at the mention of an attack, but Finian held her close as he drew the horse into the woods edging the hills.

  “I never even looked for the silver,” she said, under her breath. “Do you suppose Sir Geoffrey was right?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll return to Moristerry and if they want it, they can search for it themselves.”

  They rode through the valley, toward the English garrison that would soon emerge in front of them. As they drew closer, Finian started shifting their path into the hills, in an effort to avoid a confrontation with the soldiers. They rode for several minutes, and Finian leaned closer to Alys, whispering. “Are you all right after last night?”

  She turned her face slightly toward him. “I never knew there could be such pleasure between a man and a woman.” Her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Is it always like that?”

  “It was never like that for me. Only with you.”

  She looked startled by his answer, as if she didn’t know what to say. Finian covered her hands with his, slowing the pace of their horse as the camp of the English soldiers came into view. Behind him, Brochain kept a close watch over Iliana and Jeanne, while the others remained within a close distance.

  Though it was not quite dawn, Finian could see the faint light of coals from the camp fires. He motioned for them to leave the pathway, traveling higher up the hillside, in an effort to stay clear of the soldiers.

  But just as they reached the trees, Finian spied a single torch ahead. He tried to pull them back, but the silvery glint of chainmail armor emerged within the forest. The soldiers had been waiting for them, it seemed.

  Finian dismounted, unsheathing the sword he’d stolen from the armory a day ago. He handed the reins of his horse to Alys, giving her the means to flee if she needed to.

  He glanced backward at his brother, who was already shielding Iliana and moving towards Alys. Brochain would keep his word; he could trust in that.

  “Did you bring my silver?” came the voice of Sir Geoffrey.

  “No.” Alys tightened her grip on the reins. “And even if there was any silver, it was never yours.”

  “Bitch,” the knight growled, charging towards her. “You’ll give it to me or suffer the consequences.”

  “Or you will.” Finian lunged forward with his sword, striking out against the knight to keep him from reaching Alys. His weapon bit into the wood of Sir Geoffrey’s shield.

  The knight motioned for his men to close in. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, and Finian had only one chance to free Alys. He slapped the horse’s flank and ordered, “Go with Brochain. Now!”

  She faltered a moment, and Finian swung hard as four more attackers circled him. He knew there was no hope of escaping them—there were too many men outnumbering him. But he could save his family.

  “Alys, you’ve no choice!” he commanded. She looked stricken, but at last obeyed, riding hard with Brochain, back the way they had come.

  Finian didn’t care if he died protecting them. As long as she and his daughter were safe, that was all that mattered. More soldiers closed in, and he kept swinging his blade, praying to God that Brochain would keep his daughter and Alys alive.

  “We have to go back for him,” Alys pleaded when Brochain wouldn’t stop riding.

  “I will. But not until you and Iliana are safe. He made me swear it.” The man kept up a punishing pace, leading them farther away from the garrison. Alys felt the choking fear rising up. Finian didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Not after everything he’d done.

  She pulled her horse to a stop. “No. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that they’ve killed him already. I won’t let that happen.”

  “And why would you care, Lady Harkirk? My brother means nothing to you.”

  “You’re wrong.” She struggled to keep from crying, for tears would do no good. “He’s a good man and doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “I’ll agree with you. But if anything happens to Iliana, he’ll have my head for it.”

  She saw the child listening to them, and she led her horse back to Finian’s daughter. The young girl was trying hard to be brave, but everyone knew that Finian was in terrible danger.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Alys murmured. “We’re going to get your father back,” she said to Iliana, reaching out to squeeze the girl’s hands.

  “What if they’ve killed him?”

  “I don’t think they have,” she reassured the child, though inwardly she didn’t know if it was true. “They want the silver Lord Harkirk hid within the fortress.”

  Iliana’s gaze narrowed. “The silver?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if we’ll find it, but perhaps if we lead them there, the search will buy us time.”

  The young girl seemed to think for a moment. A sadness passed over her face, as if she remembered the time when Harkirk had held her prisoner. Then she asked suddenly, “Would they trade my father for a ransom?”

  Alys didn’t know what to say. If there were any coins at all, she’d never seen them. “I promise you, we’ll try everything to save him.”

  Iliana nodded thoughtfully and then raised her gray eyes to Alys. “Good. Because I know where the silver is.”

  Chapter Five

  Finian didn’t know why they’d kept him alive. The guards had tied him to a post near the center of their camp, and he’d overheard the men arguing about what to do. Later that afternoon, he heard the sounds of more horsemen approaching. Another nobleman had arrived, English by the look of him. From the sudden discomfort on the eyes of the soldiers, they were not pleased to see the man.

  Finian learned that the visitor was the Earl of Monterancy, a new overlord, so it seemed. Within hours, he took command of the garrison, meeting with Sir Geoffrey and the captains. No longer was there any mention of silver. Instead, the earl wanted Lady Harkirk found. Immediately.

  Finian couldn’t understand why the earl would know of Lady Harkirk, but from the pieces of conversation he’d overheard, he suspected that Sir Geoffrey must have carried out his threat, accusing her of conspiring against her husband.

  A coldness spiraled through him. They were going to find her and bring her back to face the charges.

  He couldn’t let that happen. And although he wanted to believe that his brother Brochain had taken both Lady Harkirk and Iliana safely back to Moristerry, he didn’t believe they were any match for trained soldiers on horseback.

  The ropes around his wrists chafed his skin, but he’d been working on loosening them since the beginning. It kept his hands occupied, though his mind kept returning to the memory of Alys. She’d been his angel of mercy, saving his precious daughter…and him. He remembered her sleep-tousled brown hair and the way her green eyes had softened during lovemaking. Her body had yielded to his, and he’d loved watching her come apart.

  He felt the ropes shift against his hands, and it gave him a measure of hope as afternoon drifted into evening. If he could free himself, he could go after them, protecting them from the threat of soldiers. Or if the worst happened, if they somehow found Alys, he’d lay down his life for hers.

  You don’t deserve a woman like her, his conscience taunted. After all the mistakes he’d made, there was no hope of redemption. Dreams of escape, of living a life with her, were never going to happen.

  His wrists were bleeding, but he felt another slight give in the ropes. Doggedly, he worked on, until the sunlight began to fade. The familiar sound of horses approaching caused him to look up, for fear that one of the search parties had located Alys.


  But it wasn’t a search party. She’d come with his kinsman Alan escorting her. A large leather pouch was tied to her horse’s saddle. Her hair was veiled, and she wore a gown he hadn’t seen before. Garbed like a princess, she rode forward, and a sea of guards surrounded her as she approached the waiting earl.

  The English lord’s face held satisfaction as he regarded Alys…almost as a possession. Finian’s hands clenched into tight fists, and he tore at the ropes behind his back. The earl wouldn’t lay a hand on her.

  When she reached the earl, she dismounted, still holding the reins of the horse. “It’s been many years,” she said to the man.

  “It has.” He glanced over at the others. “I understand there was a…problem with your husband.”

  “He died in battle.” Alys’s eyes glittered with anger, but she held her composure. It was all Finian could do to remain still, watching over her.

  “That isn’t what I’m told.”

  “It’s the truth.” Her voice held a steadiness, and she added, “I came to ransom your prisoner.”

  “Let us go in private to discuss the matter.” The earl offered a hand to her. Alys hesitated and looked back at Finian. In her eyes, he saw sadness and resignation. Did she plan to surrender herself for him?

  She’d had her freedom and an escape from all of this. Why would she return? He wasn’t worthy of any sacrifice, nor any ransom at all.

  The earl signaled to a man to bring the pouch forward, and from the weight, it seemed that they had found the silver somehow.

  Don’t, Finian mouthed, shaking his head. He didn’t want her to give a single coin for his life.

  But she sent him a quiet look, one that told him she had no regrets. And when she reached for the earl’s hand, he realized that she was going to offer herself up in exchange.

  No. She’s mine.

  Finian shredded the remainder of the ropes, tearing himself free. He smashed his fist into a guard, seized a dagger and charged forward. Though he knew it was reckless and might do no good at all, he couldn’t stand by and let her make the sacrifice.

  He shielded her, holding the dagger in one hand while he stared hard at the earl. “You’ll not take her, Monterancy. I’ll sheathe my blade in your throat before I’ll let that happen.”

  “Do you know who I am?” Arrogance dripped from the nobleman’s tone. “What I could do to you?”

  “Do what you want with me. But leave her alone. I’m not worth a drop of her blood.”

  The expression on the earl’s face shifted to amusement. “You are right in that.”

  “Finian, wait. You don’t understand—” Alys tried to interrupt him, but he silenced her with a hand.

  “Take the silver, and let her go,” Finian demanded.

  The earl sent a questioning look towards Alys. She stepped forward and took Finian’s hand in hers. Finian tightened his grip on her fingers, searching for a way out. Dozens of soldiers cut them off, and he knew in his heart that their only hope lay in negotiating with the earl.

  The English lord crossed his arms, seemingly unconcerned by Finian’s weapon. “When I heard what happened here, I came on King Edward’s orders. A new garrison will be established to enforce the law.”

  “The people here are innocent of any wrongdoing,” Alys informed him. “I lived among them for four years, and my husband earned this silver by ransoming slaves. And killing those who had no one to defend them.”

  She gestured toward the pouch of silver, held by the earl’s servant. “Those coins were forged from the blood of men. I ask you to take them. Accept my gift, and let us go.”

  The earl opened the pouch and sifted through the silver. “And what of the death of your husband?”

  “It was not her fault,” Finian said. “An arrow took his life.” He gripped the dagger hard and glared at the earl. “But after knowing what she suffered in that marriage, if I’d been able, I’d have killed him myself.”

  A flicker of a smile played upon the earl’s mouth. “It was a good match, and strong alliances were made.”

  “She deserved better than him.”

  Before the earl could respond, Alys lifted a hand. “Please, stop.” She lowered herself to her knees, begging, “You had my obedience, all my life. I did everything you asked of me. But this is something I want for myself.”

  Finian hated to see her lower herself, but her words suddenly made another truth clear. The earl was more than an acquaintance. And he’d come to the garrison on behalf of the woman kneeling before him.

  “Please, Father,” Alys repeated. “Grant me my freedom. And his.”

  Chapter Six

  Within the darkness of their tent, Alys lay in Finian’s arms. Though he remained quiet, she knew he wasn’t asleep.

  After her father, the Earl of Monterancy, had released them, they’d ridden hard to find the others. Though she had not a coin to call her own anymore, Alys didn’t care. She had her freedom, which was more precious than gold.

  Brochain and the others awaited them, and Iliana had wept tears of joy at the sight of her father. She’d admitted to him that she’d found the silver buried outside the shelter where Alys had hidden her, after disguising her as a boy. Once or twice, Lord Harkirk had nearly caught her, but Iliana had hidden herself within a pile of straw.

  “Why did you return?” Finian asked Alys, breaking the stillness. “You risked your life for me.”

  She rolled over. Though it was dark and she couldn’t see his face, she touched his cheek. “No one ever cared about me the way you do.”

  “No one ever will,” he said, catching her fingers with his hand. “You’re mine, Alys.”

  She smiled in the darkness. “So I’m to be your prisoner, now?”

  His hands moved beneath her shift, sliding up her legs, his mouth dipping down to kiss her. “I’ll bind you in silken chains. And torment you until you scream.”

  She fumbled with the layers of clothing between them, lifting her shift away and tugging at his trews. In a whisper, she said, “Show me.”

  Finian reached beneath her hips and captured her wrists at her side. The position tilted her womanhood towards him, and he smiled at her. “You’ll be at my mercy.”

  When he lowered his mouth to her cleft, the slow burn of ecstasy rippled through her skin. With his tongue, he tantalized her hooded flesh, nibbling and sucking, until tremors broke through her. He held her hands, not allowing her to move as he feasted upon her, driving her to a higher pitch.

  “Finian, come inside me,” she begged. “Love me.”

  His mouth moved away from her center, his tongue dipping against her navel and up to her breasts. And when he entered her at last, filling her with his shaft, she gave a soft sigh of relief.

  He thrust hard against her, cupping her hips as he deepened their joining. Her breath quickened with the rhythm pulsing against her wet entrance, and she met his penetrations by arching her hips.

  He did torture her, but with such pleasurable sensations, she hardly cared if she died from it. And when her keening gasps did tighten into a scream, he covered her mouth with his own, muffling the sound as he took her over the edge. She spasmed against him, loving the feel of his body emptying within her, his breath mingled with her own.

  “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you,” he breathed, passing his hands over her flesh. “If you’ll have me.”

  Alys smiled, holding him with all her heart. “Always.”

  Don’t miss other books in Michelle Willingham’s The MacKinloch Clan series! Look for these titles from Harlequin Historical, available now wherever ebooks are sold:

  Claimed by the Highland Warrior

  Seduced by Her Highland Warrior

  Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Harlequin Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:

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  RITA® Award Finalist Michelle Willingham grew up in a military household that took her all over the world, including Thailand, Germany, and England. She wrote her first historical romance at the age of twelve and was delighted to fill up eight pages of a legal pad. Thankfully, most of her early stories have been destroyed and are unavailable for blackmail.

  Michelle taught school for eleven years before retiring to stay home with her children and write full time. She married a rocket scientist, and they live in southeastern Virginia. When she isn’t writing historical romances, she loves to cook, read, and avoid exercise at all costs. Visit her website at www.michellewillingham.com.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-1299-2

  Craving the Highlander’s Touch

  Copyright © 2011 by Michelle Willingham

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.