Brenda Joyce, Terri Brisbin, Michelle Willingham

by Highlanders - The Warriorand the Rose; The Forbidden Highlander; Rescued by the Highland Warrior

  Good advice, even though Dougal had already planned how the man would suffer for having shamed his sister. He would be alive on his return—beaten, battered and abused, but alive. He nodded at the two and took his leave. Why the earl had waited this long before sending him, he knew not. Dougal only knew that he would find them and prevent his sister from making the biggest mistake of her life.

  Within a few hours, the three of them were on their way south and west to track down his sister and the man who would dishonor her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ELIZABETH LAY WRAPPED in his arms, fighting back the tears that had threatened for hours. Ever since...

  Ever since the most wonderful experience of her life.

  Now she waited for the rebuke and repudiation to come. If she was a coward for lying here in silence, savoring these last few moments in his embrace before the inevitable ending, so be it.

  The first bit of sunlight found her still awake and wondering what Jamie would do and what he would say. She’d promised to teach him to make oatcakes, but would he even care about that this morn? No longer content to wait about, she slipped free of him and gathered her clothes and dressed. She smiled as she realized she’d slept, and been tupped, in her stockings and low boots.

  She found his muddied clothes from his pursuit of the wayward horse and took them outside, brushing the worst of the dried, caked dirt from them. Turning them inside out and rolling them up, Elizabeth planned to wash them when they found a good place to do so. Then, she went back inside to do the thing she’d promised him she would do before everything between them had changed.

  Within a few minutes, she was mixing together some of the oats, a bit of salt she’d found, a small amount of honey and some water. She had no butter to add, but these plain oatcakes would fill their bellies. After adding some peat to the low fire, she put the heavy griddle pan on to heat it. Stepping quietly so as not to wake him, she only realized Jamie was awake when he reached out and grabbed her gown as she passed by him.

  “I have the oatcakes ready to cook,” she said, trying for a brighter tone than what she felt. And purposely avoiding any talk about what had happened between them.

  He sat up then, pushing the blankets aside as he stood and stretched. And damn her eyes! Elizabeth watched every move he made in case this was the last time she would see him so. If he noticed he said nothing as he walked outside to see to his needs and to check on the horse...and the weather. By the time he returned, the first batch of cakes were cooking on the griddle, filling the small dwelling with the delicious aroma of oats baking. He dressed before saying anything to her.

  “So what ingredients did you use?” he asked, walking up behind her as she took the first batch off and dropped spoonfuls of new batter on the hot surface. She felt the heat of his body from where he stood looking over her shoulder.

  “Oats, salt, honey and water,” she said, trying to ignore the longing within her heart to reach out to him and beg him to forgive her for the deception she played on him. Instead, she concentrated on the words she could say. “I would have added some butter if I was at home, but they will turn out without it in a pinch.”

  “I think this qualifies as a pinch, does it not?” he asked as he stepped away and began to gather up all the clothing they’d removed from their bags.

  She noticed he would glance over at her every so often and she waited for him to say something. But he did not. By the time she’d finished cooking the last of the cakes, he’d packed all their belongings and supplies and put them by the door of the shieling. Soon, they would leave and all evidence of what wondrous things had happened between them would be gone.

  But not forgotten. Not by her. Not for a very long time.

  Not ever.

  She set the plate on the table and poured some water into the cups now. He took his place on the other stool and lifted one of the oatcakes to his mouth. She waited, his opinion being important to her after their teasing about her cooking abilities. He bit into it and chewed. Then he took more. She chose one but waited for him to finish his before beginning.

  “For a bit of oats, salt, honey and water, these are delicious, Elizabeth,” he said. He smiled but did not meet her gaze. “Clearly you can cook oatcakes.”

  Another deception on her part and one that had been going on for some time. Not even her mother knew of her true cooking abilities for, though skilled in it, she hated it. So, she purposely ruined meals until she was allowed to do the thing she enjoyed more—working with her aunt.

  She thought on her aunt’s plan and realized it might be a godsend, for when she returned this time in shame, Connor would never let her stay. At least, he might consider sending her along with her aunt, far from Lairig Dubh in one of the cities.

  “Jamie,” she began before losing any words she planned to say to him. How could she explain?

  “You were not a virgin,” he said, softly. Neither his tone nor his expression gave away his feelings on the matter. He stated it as the fact it was.

  “Nay.”

  “When?” he asked without meeting her eyes. She understood the significance of his question even if it was asked in a calm voice. Did she carry another man’s bairn?

  “More than a year ago,” she whispered. “Jamie, I...” Again, unable to defend herself, she let the words drift off into the silence.

  She reached out to touch his hand, but he moved it before she could. Did he think she would deny it? She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing while reaching for another of the oatcakes. They continued to eat their fill without speaking, with the only sounds being the water jug or the plate being passed between them.

  Elizabeth rose and wrapped the ones left to take with them and used the water to put out the fire. Jamie checked it and once content that it was out, he began to carry the bags outside. By the time she’d cleaned and put away the griddle and water jug and gathered her own bag, he had the horse saddled and the rest of their bags secured.

  He pulled the door of the shieling closed and tied the rope to keep wild animals and the like from getting inside. Then he mounted and held out his hand to her to help her up. ’Twas at that time she noticed the thick blanket he’d placed behind his saddle, where she would sit. At first, it confused her, but then the reason became clear—he thought she would be uncomfortable riding this morning.

  Truth be told, she was sore, though not as much as she’d been that first time. Not a virgin, however she was not accustomed to tupping and not as vigorously as they had. Now, she felt heat enter her cheeks as she thought of just how vigorous it had been. Coughing to clear her throat, she accepted his hand-up and adjusted the skirts of her gown and shift and the length of her cloak around her legs. Trews were absolutely more convenient for riding, but her family and most of the village would be scandalized if they witnessed it.

  Jamie guided the horse down the now-drying path at a slow pace. Though the rains had stopped several hours before, the mud would take longer to dry out completely—if it did before the next storms passed through the area. They made it back to the bottom of the hill and Jamie surprised her by heading south.

  “Where are you heading?” she asked over his shoulder. Surely after last night’s discovery, he would call things off between them.

  “To the village. Where else would we be going?” he said, drawing the horse to a halt. “Nothing has changed, Elizabeth.” And yet it had, in so many ways she could not even begin to identify or describe.

  “And you still wish to marry me?” she asked. For was that not the primary question to voice?

  “I gave you my word when we made our plans to leave Lairig Dubh. I will not go back on that even now.”

  Was her heart bleeding? The piercing pain caused by his lack of enthusiasm and tone of entrapment took her breath away. Unable to speak, almost unable to remain upright, his truth tore her apart. He would marry her because he’d given his word. In spite of her lack of virginity and deception, he would continue in their bargain
because he’d given his word. After breaking it with Ciara, she knew him well enough to know he would not do that again. But, where were the soft words of yesterday? The pledges of love and hope and a life together?

  She really had no right to disagree, so she sat behind him holding on to the edge of the saddle to balance and barely touching him, as he guided the horse to the main pathway and they continued on their journey. He was once more trapped in a marriage bargain because he needed to do the right thing by her. But this time, she’d been the cause of it and would not be his escape but his captor.

  * * *

  JAMES HEARD THE pain in her voice and felt it in her body as she sat behind him, stiff as a fence post. Had she thought he would disavow her? Had she thought they would have an ugly, angry confrontation over her lack of virginity? Part of him did want that, that primitive part he buried deep inside and controlled and had planned it when he’d asked the question of her. The part more like these Highland warriors than the Scottish nobleman he was raised to be.

  She had given herself to a man before him.

  Had she loved that man before him? If so, why was she not married to him? How had he not heard of her disgrace? Or had she managed to keep her fall a secret?

  This, he realized, was what came from living for passion and making decisions based on lust and love rather than calm, rational discussions and reasons. He’d broken the code he’d lived by and now he would pay the price for such arrogance and bad judgment.

  He shifted and glanced back at her to see how she fared this morn. James had not noticed her moving with any obvious pain or discomfort and she’d given no sign that he’d hurt her when he’d bedded her. Remembering for a moment the sheer pleasure of their joining, he tried to understand why she’d lied to him.

  Was her past experience the reason for her enjoyment of the physical pleasure between them?

  Now her acceptance of his touches and caresses took on a new meaning. Did she compare him to whomever she had in her bed before him? Did she regret what they had done? She’d never paused or shown any reticence in the act or anything he’d done. Would she be so at ease in bed if she’d been forced in the past? Was that how she lost her virtue?

  That would explain some of his confusion, for why would Ciara remain friends with a woman who had no honor? Why would Connor allow her to remain in Lairig Dubh if she brought shame on her family? She would have been sent away if this had happened in his family. So, why did Connor allow her to stay?

  If she had told him the truth, told him of her lack of virtue, would he have pledged his love or promised to marry her? Would he have risked everything—family, fortune and future—to be with her? Would he have fallen in love with her? At this moment, he just did not know. At this moment, she could be carrying his child so that let him fewer choices.

  She sighed then, a soft sound he doubted she even was aware of, but he heard it. His body heard it and he fought to keep the desire he had for her, even now knowing what he did, under control. Until they cleared things up between them—though he was not certain he wanted to learn the details of her past—he would not lie with her. It might be too late to turn back, but it was not too late to try to gain some honesty between them.

  The sun broke through the clouds then, promising an easier path this day. Pushing off the doubts and the questions, he took the road’s measure and decided they could safely ride faster.

  “Hold onto to me, Elizabeth,” he said over his shoulder. “We must ride faster to make up some of the distance.”

  Elizabeth said nothing but he felt her arms encircle his waist and her hands take hold of his cloak. And the way her breasts, those wonderful, sensitive, responsive breasts that had risen to tight peaks in his hands, pressed into his back. His cock rose until it nearly reached where she rested her hands. If she moved them a slight bit, she would touch him there. He shuddered at the thought, causing her to shift against him.

  It was heaven and hell all in the same moment.

  They traveled as long as they could, stopping only twice to refresh themselves. If they ran into more storms, they would be forced to delay locating Father Ceallach another night. James had no doubt that they would be pursued at some point—one did not break with the Earl of Douran on his own lands and not answer for it. So, each delay could be the one that allowed their plans to be thwarted.

  Due to his unfamiliarity with the lands here, he’d overestimated the distance and the time needed to reach the village and the priest. It was midafternoon when they reached the first of the village buildings—a smithy from the sound and smell of it.

  There would be time enough to stop at the inn for a true meal and to buy some necessities before seeking out the good father and finishing this escapade. Then they could begin the marriage based on deception and dishonor.

  * * *

  DOUGAL AND THE men reached the peak of what should be the last hill before reaching the road that James must have taken with his sister. It was the only road into the village to the south and then through to Glasgow. And just beyond the village lay the old priest’s dwelling and small chapel.

  Their luck had held for the storms that had plagued the land all of the day before, had broken apart in the skies above and eventually the nearly full moon’s light showed the way. Stopping only to relieve themselves, they ate or drank as they needed while they rode, intent on stopping the Murrays’ heir from taking advantage of his sister and to return him to face the earl’s justice in the matter. They could rest once he was their prisoner.

  Niall spied the shieling just before they reached it, for it was hidden from above by the turf roof and the way it was built into the side of the hill. That protected it from the worst of the winds and created a small, sheltered place where animals could be covered. As they pulled to a halt, Shaw pointed out the tree that had burned, struck by lightning most likely.

  The shieling looked undisturbed and his hope that they would catch the two inside faded as he untied the rope and pulled the door open. It was empty. Dougal walked inside, waving off the others, and he took in all the signs of a recent use. What struck him as he had pulled open the door was the unmistakable, musky odor of sex.

  Christ! The man had already taken Elizabeth. He was too late to save her from shame. He kicked the stool near his feet, sending it crashing into the wall. It was not as satisfying as he’d hoped. But, he would get satisfaction when they caught up with the pair. Young James Murray would pay.

  He strode out and mounted his horse. They were on the right path and would catch up with them. He only hoped it was before they reached the priest and made this man’s crime into something too difficult to correct. Dougal motioned to Niall and Shaw and they rode down to the packed dirt path...and on toward the village and his sister.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ELIZABETH PULLED ANOTHER piece off the roasted quail and put it on her wooden trencher. She did not realize how hungry she was until the innkeeper’s wife began putting plates on their table. The bird, a thick stew of mutton and vegetables, another with cheese and bread. All smelled delicious and could not be resisted after the plain oatcakes of this morn.

  A younger woman, mayhap the innkeeper’s daughter, hovered around Jamie, filling his cup with ale as soon as he drank some and offering him whatever he needed. It did not take too much thinking to understand what she offered and only after several dark glares did the girl go away and tend to others.

  Jamie did not seem to notice her untoward attentions. His gaze moved between his cup, the plates of food and his own trencher. He hardly spared her a glance, so lost in thought he was. So, deciding that she would rather face his anger than this polite attitude, she spoke to him of the one topic neither had mentioned.

  “I wonder what happened to Ciara.”

  “Ciara?” He drank deeply from his cup.

  “Just because you—we—left, it does not mean that she married or will marry Tavis.” She sipped from her own cup and then added, “Or that the earl would permit su
ch a marriage.”

  James studied her then, before answering. “I had not thought of that. Tavis would not be a suitable choice for a woman of such wealth and connections.”

  “Nor am I one for a man such as you.”

  He let out a breath then and met her gaze directly for the first time they’d lain together and he discovered her secret. “Nay, you would not be someone considered when my parents were looking for a suitable bride.” He took her hand then and entwined their fingers, sending tiny bursts of pleasure and sadness through her. “But you are the woman I chose. We will make the best of this bad beginning.”

  There was the problem—she did not want to make the best of this. That was what she would have done had James married Ciara. Elizabeth would have remained at home, mourned the loss of the man she loved and the forced loss of her closest friend. For in marrying, James and Ciara would ensure Elizabeth’s alienation from them. She would not have been able to bear watching them.

  She thought that that situation would have been the worst thing to come from this three-sided relationship, but listening to James now, Elizabeth knew there was worse.

  This would be worse—to marry the man she loved and wanted because he felt trapped. It would eventually change whatever love he felt for her into complacency and forbearance, one for the other. But what choice did she have now? What choice did he have? To act honorably and return her to Lairig Dubh, not married? To return to marry Ciara? Her head ached from the uncertainty of it all.

  Her appetite fled her then, so she wiped her hands on the cloth given her and waited for James to finish eating. He asked the innkeeper’s wife to wrap the food that they did not eat so they could take it with them and she carried it off to do that. Elizabeth stood and watched as James got directions to where the priest lived. Once that was accomplished and a few of James’s coins paid for their meal, they walked out onto the road.

  “It did not sound far,” she said.