Highland Wish

by Colleen MacGregor

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he growls at me.

  Stunned, I can’t articulate any answer but, “Huh?”

  Stepping closer, he tilts his head and speaks, “Tell me, Katherine. Do you want Connor?”

  “What if I do, what do you care?” I don’t want Connor but he doesn’t need to know that.

  I attempt to step around him, but he moves slightly to the side to block me. Huffing, I turn to walk around the other side, but he has his hands around my waist before I can get far.

  “You’ll answer me. Do you want him?” His proximity short-circuits my brain and the educated woman in me is reduced to a simpering idiot. I should be ashamed of myself. I’ll get around to that later. Right now, all I can think about is how close he’s standing to me. I could reach out and touch him. It would be so easy.

  Swallowing audibly, I shake my head.

  He licks his lips and my eyes follow. I should be offended by his overbearing attitude, but I’m not. Instead I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

  “Good. At least now I won’t have to put a sword through him.” Smirking, he kisses me hard and fast before I can respond.

  I don’t want to kiss him back. Really I don’t. Well, maybe a little. But damn him and his arrogant mouth! I can’t let him think I’m that easy. I kick his shin, and he slides his tongue into my mouth.

  God, I hate him, I scream in my head as I moan into his mouth and pull him closer.

  His hand in my hair, he pulls me back so he can gloat.

  “I hate you!” I scream as I practically rub my body along his like a cat.

  “Ah lass, you can hate me but yer mine,” he says with absolute authority. “Do you deny it?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

  “I belong to no man,” I say with more conviction than I feel. I say the words, but the truth is that I’d let him take me right here and now.

  He knows, of course, because I’m a terrible liar. That, and the fact that I can feel that my face is flushed and my lips are swollen from his kiss.

  To further prove his point, he raises his fingers to my face and traces my lips. As his thumb barely slips into my mouth, he whispers in my ear. “Your body speaks the truth, mo aingeal.”

  I can’t help myself. I have to taste him, just a little. Tentatively, I run my tongue along the tip of his thumb and he groans in my ear. Pushing his thumb all the way in my mouth, he raises his head and looks me in the eyes. He sees how much I want him, but he has the same hungry look on his face. He removes his thumb from my mouth and lowers it to edge along the neckline of my dress. As he draws the lace down, he traces his wet thumb around my nipple.

  “Say it.”

  I’m about to agree when his eyes dart to the woods. Fixing my dress and kissing my nose, he ushers me back onto his horse.

  “We’re not through, but it’ll keep.”

  Wait. What the hell just happened here?

  A few of the Guard come toward us through the woods.

  “Angus, is everything all right? You weren’t at training?” His guard smiles at him.

  “All’s well, Seamus. Lady Katherine just needed to be taught a lesson. We’re heading back to the castle now.”

  Vibrating with anger and lust, I try to move away from him, but he tightens his arm around me and we ride back to the castle. He always has this effect on me. There’s never a simple interaction with Angus. It’s a constant struggle for power. He wants it and I refuse to relinquish it. There is a part of me that wants to give it to him. I want to completely abandon myself and give over to the feelings that are buried deep within me. I want him to take me. So, what am I going to do—sleep with him and then leave? Could I leave? Would he ever let me go?

  Do I want to go?

  He’s not unaffected. I feel him against my backside. I shift in my seat and he jerks me back, his arm a steel band wrapped around under my breasts. “Careful, love. It’s a dangerous game you play.”

  I’m a mass of mixed emotions. I hate what he represents; yet, I want him. I must be bipolar. Something is clearly wrong with me. I’m usually so levelheaded and focused. This person I’ve become is a lunatic.

  In the courtyard, Margaret and Claire are there to welcome me.

  Angus helps me dismount, and when I turn around, I must have a look on my face because they say nothing.

  “Good day, Lady Katherine.” Angus bows his head and leaves with his men.

  The three of us walk back to my room in silence. Once there, they let loose like a rapid-fire machine gun. I can’t keep track of who is speaking.

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Tell us everything and spare no details.”

  “Did he kiss ye?”

  “Well of course he kissed her—look at her!”

  “How was it?

  “Wait a minute!” I shout. “Nothing happened. He just tried to scare me out of going hunting with Connor, that’s all.”

  Two sets of disbelieving eyes turn to me.

  In unison they reply, “Indeed.”

  “Don’t ‘indeed’ me. There’s nothing to talk about. So what if he’s handsome, he’s an arrogant jerk.” I mumble under my breath as I pace the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see them following me.

  “Katherine, dear, do ye really expect us to believe he tossed ye over his shoulder and raced off into the woods and nothing happened?”

  Ah. So they heard about that. Soldiers gossip like little old ladies.

  “Well, he’s a barbarian.” Is that really my best defense?

  “The whole castle heard about it.”

  “It was just a kiss,” I relent. It’s fun to share with the girls as long as they can keep a secret.

  “Just a kiss? From Angus? Surely a kiss from Angus would be anything but ordinary,” Claire says.

  She does have a point.

  “It doesn’t matter what it was. It won’t happen again.” I turn to the window so they can’t see my face. I can’t lie worth a damn.

  “Do you not want him?” Margaret asks.

  “Maybe it’s Connor, then?” Claire hedges.

  I can hear the alarm in her voice. I know she wants him. They would make a lovely pair if they didn’t kill each other first.

  “No. I’m just so confused. He either seems angry with me or . . .”

  “Or what, Katherine?” Margaret comes to stand beside me. Claire’s not far behind.

  “It’s like he’s trying to stake a claim on me. Why would he do that? He barely knows me.”

  They’re quiet but I can tell they’re thinking.

  Out my window, I smell the scent of the climbing roses that are growing up the side of the castle by my window. Leaning a little too far out the window, I’m able to pick one, but not without alarming the girls. Claire squeals and grabs my waist so I don’t fall to my death. When I turn with my rose, she’s scowling at me as if I test her very last nerve. She isn’t angry, of course. I think she’s still trying to figure me out. We’ve come to such an easy friendship. She’s never pressed me for details about my former life. She’s there to listen and to guide me. I’ve come to value her friendship.

  “Katherine, that’s his way. What else would you expect? He’s the Captain of the Guard and the fiercest warrior in the land. Besides, he’s a man. That’s what they do.” Claire uses her softest voice. She can see I’m upset.

  She continues, “He wants you and he won’t share. It doesn’t matter if it’s Connor or any other man.”

  Margaret adds, “Everyone can see how much you want each other. You’re the only one that doesn’t see it.”

  I hadn’t noticed the tears running down my cheeks. I’m so confused about so many things. I reach up to wipe my face, but Margaret beats me to it.

>   “Dinna fash. You’ll find your way.”

  I smile at that. If she only knew.

  “In the meantime, I do believe cook is making tarts.”

  Claire knows just how to cheer me up. These women have become so dear to me in such a short amount of time. My mouth waters at the mention of the tiny bundles of culinary brilliance.

  Washing my face to erase any evidence of tears, I put a smile on my face and follow the girls to the kitchen. Claire is right. Cook is making some tarts for dinner and it smells wonderful.

  “May I help?” I ask.

  “Certainly, if ye’d like. It’ll be messy though.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  Surely, I can manage rolling dough and filling it with jam. I’m not Julia Child, but even I can do this much.

  “Hard work, is it not?” Cook notes looking over my shoulder.

  “It is. More difficult than I thought.” I smile in earnest. Feeding a whole castle full of people all day, every day, must be quite a workout. Rolling dough requires a little elbow grease, and I didn’t realize I’d have to cut a million of them. We need to make enough to feed the castle, and I hadn’t thought of how many people the laird has living here. It must be quite a responsibility to have so many under his care. Someday, young Duncan will be in charge. Children need to grow up so quickly in this time. Then I reflect on my childhood, and I realize I had to mature quickly as well. We’re not so dissimilar after all.

  Unconsciously, I lick the delicious confection from my thumb. I rarely cooked at home. It was only me and I ordered a lot of take out and always had salad in the fridge. I suppose I never really learned how to cook. I can see why people like it.

  “Mmmmm,” I say around a mouthful of heaven. “You’re amazing. The figs make a lovely jam.” I should know considering I sampled enough of it.

  A deep voice echoes in the kitchen shaking me out of my revelry.

  “What are you making?” It’s Angus. Why is it that even hearing his voice makes me tingle all over?

  He’s walking around the kitchen, stalking me.

  Cook pretends she doesn’t hear him. Apparently, it takes a lot of concentration to stir a pot of stew.

  Not daring to look up either, I answer, “It’s a tart for dessert tonight.”

  He’s still making his way around the large wood table covered with bowls and fresh vegetables. Ever so slowly his footsteps get closer and closer, the echo synchronized with my heartbeat. I start mixing the batter for the second batch of tarts. I’ll do anything so I don’t have to look up at him.

  Behind me now, he places his hands on the table, caging me in his arms. Every molecule in my body is vibrating with awareness.

  “May I have a taste?”

  Holy Mother of God. He’s got to be kidding me. “Ah. Well. It’s not ready yet.” My answer is barely audible.

  He presses himself closer to me. He smells like he’s been training. Sweat and sunshine. “When, mo aingeal?”

  How does he expect me to form a coherent sentence when he’s so close to me?

  Turning my head slightly, he leans in to hear my answer.

  “When I say so.”

  He leans forward even more, and taking my wrist in his warm, calloused hand, he brings it to his mouth and sucks the jam off my finger, biting down gently. Doing a very thorough job cleaning the remaining jam off, he releases me and kisses my cheek. “My feisty lass.”

  He laughs low enough that only I can hear him.

  Now that he’s completely rattled me, he walks out of the kitchen to the yard.

  Cook turns and gives me a little smirk as if she’s heard the whole encounter. I’m sure she has. I don’t doubt it will be all over the castle by dinner.

  “Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Margaret strolls into the room, grabbing a tart as she passes the table.

  “We’re going to the lake. It’s such a lovely day. We thought we’d have a picnic. You’ll join us of course.” Margaret must be sunshine incarnate as she breezes around the room. I can’t help but smile from her warmth.

  As it is a glorious, sunny day, I can think of no better way to spend it, and agree at once.

  Having decided, the preparations are underway. We pack blankets and baskets filled with food and drink. I’m dressed in the lightest cotton layers so thin and soft they feel like clouds caressing my skin. I pull my hair back though the maid wanted it down, and we’re on our way. We have a small group of women from the castle and some maids and as we walk through the castle grounds out through the fields, we come to a place out of my imagination.

  The hill overlooks a lake so blue, I can’t tell where the water ends and the sky begins. The water glistens like millions of tiny diamonds that are dancing a nameless tune on the surface. While the women unpack and set out our picnic, I stand and take in the awe-inspiring surroundings. Maybe if I were an artist or a poet I could do it justice. I wish I had a camera because some day, when I am old and gray, I’d like to remember this place.

  I’d like to remember that it was real and not a figment of my imagination. Standing on the hill with the sweet-scented balmy breeze ruffling my dress, the warm sun shining on my shoulders, and the sound of laughter in the air, I can’t think of a happier time.

  After our swim in the bracing cold lake in nothing but our shifts, we lay in the late summer sun to dry. My hair down and lounging in the grass, I feel like a child. I missed much of my childhood because I had to grow up quickly. I imagine this is what it feels like to be young and carefree. It’s decadent to warm myself in the sun, wriggling my toes and listening to laughter. I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so free, so at peace.

  “Well, I’ve seen Margot sneaking out of the stables,” Claire says amid a flurry of protests. “No, certainly not. She’d never take up with William,” Margaret says without conviction. “Why wouldn’t she?” I ask. “What’s wrong with William?” Truth be told, I don’t even know either of them but this is too much fun not to join in. “Margot can do much better. He spends too much time at the pub,” Margaret says. And so they weigh the pros and cons of William the horse master and I think that life now is not really as different as I assumed it would be. As the birdcalls ring out and laughter fills the sweet summer air, my mind drifts to the life I may never see again. The internal conflict is a constant. I know I’ll get home—if that’s still what I want. I’ve made better, stronger relationships in these few weeks than in my whole life at home.

  I’m not so sure anymore.

  As the sun lowers in the sky, I realize it’s time to get back to the castle. The women begin to gather up our picnic, and I remember I’ve left my dress by the lake.

  “I’ll be back,” I call out. “I certainly can’t go back in only my shift.” Giggling some more, I start toward the lake. I’m not really an outdoorsy girl, but I have enjoyed my time with nature. Passing through the woods on my way back to the lake, I’m struck by the silence. Odd. The forest is usually filled with woodland sounds like birds and squirrels.

  Even though the girls aren’t that far away, I feel uneasy.

  There is no warning. A blow to the back of my head knocks me out.

  Chapter 8

  When I wake on the cold unforgiving floor, I feel like I’m going to be sick. The smell of dank and mold assails my senses. It’s like waking in someone’s basement. I have a feeling that’s not too far from the truth, though I can’t see anything to tell for sure. My shoulders are strained since my arms are tied behind my back. I tug on my bonds, but it’s futile. At least my feet are unbound. I try to sit up, but it’s a mistake, as the movement brings a fresh wave of nausea. No, I’ll just lay here a bit, I think. Surely someone will notice I haven’t come back and they’ll search for me, right? How will they know where to start? It makes me
wonder about home. Nobody would know where to look for me then, either. Madison will be on her honeymoon and Ava will wonder where I went. Work will notice I’m missing. The cleaning crew would find my heels by the fountain. They’d probably concoct a great story about what kind of woman would leave her shoes behind.

  Abducted, aching, and now depressed. Great.

  Curled up in a ball on the floor, I fight the temptation to wallow. I need to reason out what’s happened if I’ll have any chance of escape. Who would want to kidnap me? I have no wealth or title. What could be the purpose? Tears spring to my eyes and I try not to move. I have a splitting headache but I can’t just lay here. I can’t die here alone in this cold dark place. As I lay there, a door opens in the distance, and the sound of footsteps echoes in the hall. A key springs a lock, and the door creaks open. Boots crunch along the gravel floor and stop in front of me. Crouching down, my captor greets me.

  “Well, you’ll be hungry I suppose?”

  I’m not in the least bit, but I’m certainly not going to argue with him. I attempt to look up, but it’s been dark and the lantern my abductor is holding blinds me. I can’t see much more than his boots. He drops something at my head and I flinch away. Though I’m struck by sharp pieces of something and splattered with mush, at least it’s not hot. The movement gives fresh life to the nausea, and I wretch while my captor laughs.

  I don’t know how long I lay like that covered in what I can only assume is porridge and bits of broken bowl. I have no concept of time because there are no windows and no voices. It’s just me and the rats. Sometime later, he returns. The lantern and his footsteps are the only warning I have before he yanks me by my upper arms and drags along the hallway toward a light. I stumble and try to remain upright, but it’s not easy since he doesn’t slow down. As we ascend the stairs, the light gets brighter, and I have to squint because I’ve been in the dark for so long.