My Daring Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  “Again. Harder,” he commanded.

  She let loose and did it three more times.

  Finally, he released her. “Well done.”

  “Did I bruise you?” She glanced down at his trim waist.

  “Nay. Don’t worry about me. I simply wanted you to know how it would feel if you stab a man, trying to make him release you. If you’d had a sharp blade, you would’ve done some damage.”

  “I did hurt you, then?” She wanted to see if she had left horrible red marks on his bare skin. “You kept saying harder.”

  “Seona.” He shook his head and took her hand. His warm fingers surrounded hers, filling her whole body with comfort. “Nay, you did not hurt me.” Taking the wooden knife, he stroked his thumb across her open palm, sending tingles up her arm. “Now, I want you to practice slashing. You would do this if the attacker is coming at you from the front. This will give you a little extra time to escape him.” He stepped back and swung the knife in a half circle at arm’s length. “If he is extending his hand to grab you, you may cut his hand or his arm. You try.”

  She took the knife and mimicked his movements several times.

  “You’re a quick learner,” Keegan said.

  “’Tis because you are a gifted teacher.” Moving forward, she offered the wooden knife to him.

  Instead of taking it, he encircled her hand with his larger one. A heated sensation poured from where he touched her. “And you are a beautiful, resilient woman who has bewitched me,” he murmured, his deep voice the most seductive sound she’d ever heard.

  Her breath halted and she couldn’t think what to do or say next. The knife slipped from her fingers and thumped to the carpet. He ignored it and stared intently into her eyes.

  What was he thinking? Would he kiss her? Her heartbeat accelerated in anticipation.

  Slowly, he moved closer until they were standing toe to toe.

  His eyes darkened, entrancing her.

  He leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

  She knew she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her, but how could she stop him when she craved him more than food when she was hungry? The months she’d secretly watched him across a crowded room had whetted her appetite.

  And each time he kissed her, she understood more about what he wanted, how she should respond and kiss him in return. She opened her mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss. She’d never guessed she would be an enthusiast of carnal kisses. But when he brushed his tongue over hers, she wanted to do naught but eat him up. He tasted of whisky and man. Intoxicating.

  She entangled her hands in his hair, loving the silky feel of it between her fingers.

  He moaned, taking her mouth in another slow, luscious kiss and gently tugging her against him. His hard chest pressing against her breasts, even through their clothing, made her body sing with need.

  She noticed something hard against the lower part of her belly. At first, she thought it was a weapon hilt, but then she realized it was that most male part of his body that she had glimpsed when he’d waded from the loch. Isobel had said a man’s shaft would become hard when his desires were aroused.

  As a lady, she should be shocked. But she wasn’t. His arousal awoke something within her on a primal level. She loved knowing she affected him in such a way. She felt a liquid warmth in the lowest part of her belly. She didn’t understand it, but it was incredibly spellbinding.

  His shaft nestled against her through his plaid and he groaned. Some part of her deep inside tingled and ached for him.

  She craved his touch on every inch of her skin.

  He tempted her. Captivated her. And made her want to do sinful things. This was why her aunt was such a ferocious chaperone, glaring at any man she deemed unsuitable who glanced her way.

  But carnal relations outside of marriage had to be dangerous. ’Twas how bastards were conceived, she realized. Imagining having to face her father and tell him she was with child but unwed sent fear lancing through her. She turned her head aside, breaking the kiss.

  “Damn,” Keegan whispered, his breathing more labored now than it had been when he’d rescued her from the horse days ago.

  “Pray pardon,” she said, mortifying heat rushing over her skin.

  “I’m the one who should apologize.” He drew in a deep breath. “I am sorry. I should not have.”

  “Nay. Don’t apologize.”

  He remained close, and she felt torn, wanting to press her body against his again and kiss him, but knowing at the same time this would be dangerous. His manly scent tempted her to bury her nose against his chest, but she didn’t move. She imagined, quite wantonly, what he would look like if he removed his shirt and plaid. Oh heavens. And if she was naked… their skin would brush and slide together in a very carnal way.

  She was suddenly aware of an abundance of moisture between her legs. It had to be female arousal, something she’d only experienced when near Keegan. The tingling and yearning only intensified.

  He stepped away, bent and took up his sporran, sword and baldric.

  Nay. She wanted to protest. His body against her had felt better than anything she’d ever experienced.

  “’Twas what I wished for, too,” she whispered, torn between need for him and shock at herself. Had she truly said that aloud?

  He paused in putting on his sporran and turned his head toward her. “What?”

  She should keep her lips sealed tight. Confessing her thoughts and feelings would only make the situation more precarious. At the same time, she would never have what she wanted if she didn’t show courage. “’Twas what I wanted…. You are the only man who has ever kissed me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Keegan halted, Seona’s words spurring fierce desire within him.

  ’Twas what I wanted…. You are the only man who has ever kissed me.

  “Saints,” he hissed. Of course, he’d expected that she was an innocent, but to know he was the first and only man to kiss her sent possessiveness pounding through his blood.

  She was meant to be his… had to be.

  His first instinct was to kiss her again, but he forced himself to be rational. Truth was, he wanted to do far more than kiss her… but he couldn’t seduce her.

  His aching and rebellious body told him he was wrong.

  He drew in a deep breath and held it, trying to smother his carnal yearnings. Aye, he’d played with fire when he’d kissed her, but to know she felt the same, to hear that she wanted his kisses… it near destroyed his resolve.

  Still, he had to wait and ask her father for her hand.

  “Seona, I would love naught more than to kiss you again. To kiss you all night, but ’tis not something I should do.”

  She stared at the floor. “You’re right.”

  “You’re an innocent lady, and I would never want to do anything to ruin your future.”

  She nodded. “You’re an honorable gentleman,” she whispered. “Besides, I wasn’t suggesting you kiss me again. I only wanted you to know there is no reason to apologize.”

  Was she angry with him? Or had he hurt her feelings? Hell, what did he know about women? Keegan’s stomach knotted as he tried to figure out what to say. “Aye, well, I simply wanted you to know how I felt. You tempt me beyond reason. And to know that you enjoy my kisses…” He blew out a sharp breath. “Makes me near insane.”

  Her dark blue gaze lifted to his. The emotion and passion he saw there was like a punch to the gut.

  “Iosa is Muire Mhàthair,” he muttered, grinding his teeth. How could she affect him so profoundly? He wanted to forget everything and kiss her… lay her on his plaid before the hearth, then make love to her for the rest of the night. He’d have to start off slow and gentle so as not to frighten her.

  But he couldn’t. Not until she was his, in truth. Forever. Because once he had her, he’d never let her go.

  “I bid you goodnight,” Seona said, then hurried out the door.

  “’Slud,” he muttered in the silence and sucke
d in a deep breath. He could hardly think for the arousal flooding his veins. He should be glad she’d left—’twas best for them both—but at the same time, being without her made him feel lonely and empty.

  After blowing out the candles, he exited the room, heading out to check on the guards and see if the outlaws had shown their faces.

  ***

  Seona slipped back into the chamber where her aunt was sleeping. The fire in the hearth provided enough light for her to see what she was doing. Millie, one of the maids, arose from the small cot in the corner and helped Seona undress.

  “I thank you,” Seona whispered. Wearing her smock, she climbed into the big bed beside Aunt Patience. She was glad to see her aunt hadn’t moved. Her deep breaths puffed in and out in the steady rhythm of sleep.

  Seona, on the other hand, was too excited to sleep. She turned onto her side, her body still burning from Keegan’s touch, from his kiss, and the words he’d spoken to her.

  You tempt me beyond reason.

  Her heart sped up. Indeed, he tempted her beyond reason, too. In fact, she’d been shocked at her own courage when she’d confessed she wanted his kisses and that he was the only man who’d ever kissed her. He’d tried to hide his reaction to that, but she’d sensed he was suppressing something powerful. Arousal? Emotion? Or a potent combination of both?

  Prior to her talk with Isobel, no one had seen fit to educate her on what to expect in bed with a man. Even though she’d recently learned a lot, Seona remained curious about every aspect of lovemaking. She suspected it might be something she could enjoy. Isobel did; so why not? With the right man, of course.

  Before she’d met Keegan, she couldn’t have imagined being so tempted by a man. She’d always thought the marriage bed was something to be dreaded and feared. Something violent, painful and humiliating for the woman. And something a man could crow about.

  Now she knew different.

  Earlier, when Keegan’s erection had pressed against her, clear evidence that he wanted her, a primitive need for him had come over her, as if he was her mate and she wished to please him.

  She relished his desire, but she admired his restraint and honor just as much. He was a good man, putting what was best for her ahead of his own needs.

  She well knew, for ladies and lairds, passion and marriage were rarely experienced with the same person. But wouldn’t it be hell on earth to be married to one person and in love with another? She couldn’t fathom it, nor would she be able to endure it.

  Her heart had never yearned for anything or anyone like it yearned for Keegan.

  But she didn’t know how she could marry him, or even if he wanted to marry her. Her father would never permit a match between them, anyway, even with Keegan’s new position as tanist. ’Twas a waste of time to even contemplate it… but she did. She couldn’t help herself.

  Seona couldn’t imagine all the things Keegan would teach her in bed. He would kiss her and undress her. He might caress every inch of her skin. He would guide her hands and show her how he liked to be touched.

  Recalling his broad shoulders, muscular arms, trim abdomen and intriguing masculine attributes as he’d strode from the loch, she envisioned him walking just that way, stripped of clothing, toward her in a bedchamber. Her breathing paused, and heat rushed over her skin. What would that dusting of hair on his chest feel like beneath her fingers? How would his hard shaft feel against her bare skin?

  Heavens, I am a wanton lass!

  She tried to put Keegan from her mind and sleep, but he walked into her dreams and taunted her with smoldering kisses.

  She hoped she did not talk in her sleep.

  ***

  The next morn after breaking their fast, Keegan and the whole of the MacKay party proceeded the short distance to the docks on foot, the guards surrounding the women and their injured chief. Several of the guards had already scouted the village, looking for the outlaws, and seen naught.

  Seona’s hand rested securely at the crook of Keegan’s elbow as they walked along the cobbled street. Feeling protective and ’haps a wee bit possessive, he placed his hand over hers and scanned their surroundings—the mix of gray stone and whitewashed buildings, the green hills, and Loch Broom reflecting the cloud-flecked blue sky.

  Linden MacKenzie, Isobel’s cousin and the owner of the manor house, had arranged passage for them on one of his merchant ships, a galleon large enough to transport them and some of their horses. The rest of their mounts would be stabled here until the MacKays’ return in a few weeks.

  Keegan hoped the weather would hold so they could reach Dornie before nightfall. He would breathe a lot easier when everyone was out of danger.

  What dampened his mood was the pain Dirk was in, even though he tried not to show it. Two of his men, one under each arm, helped him board the ship while Isobel looked on with a worried frown.

  Keegan surveyed the area again, especially the stone-dotted green hills around the northern and eastern edges of the village. Haldane and his men had a habit of hiding on hilltops and raining down arrows.

  MacMillan carried Lady Patience on board. She and four of the MacKay guards were prone to seasickness, and this was one reason they’d traveled overland thus far. Also, none of the MacKay birlinns or galleys was large enough to accommodate their entire party plus horses. But now they needed to reach Isobel’s brother’s keep, Teasairg Castle, as soon as possible for everyone’s safety and so a healer could treat Dirk’s leg.

  Keegan escorted Seona to the small, wood-framed captain’s cabin, where the women would remain until they reached their destination. When Seona’s gaze met his for that brief moment, he saw glimpses of secret yearnings in her eyes. He hoped they were the same yearnings he had. After what she’d said last night, he believed they were. He gave her a brief smile and took his leave.

  On deck, he and the other guards kept an eye out for enemies until the ship sailed out of the harbor. Maybe Haldane and the few men he had left were off licking their wounds.

  Keegan was thankful the sky remained clear most of the day with no severe weather in sight. The gentle but persistent wind in the galleon’s giant white sails propelled them the fifty or so miles south, between the Scottish mainland and the Hebrides. At first, the islands and their jagged mountains were hazy blue in the distance, but once they sailed closer, the green hills speckled with white sheep and black cattle were clear. He recognized the largest of these islands, Isle of Skye, for he’d visited a few years ago with Da and Uncle Griff, the former chief.

  Keegan wished Seona could join him on deck so he could point out the picturesque mountain ranges, the Red Cuillins and the Black Cuillins, but ’twas much safer for her to remain inside the cabin.

  The sun was low in the sky when the oarsmen paddled through a few narrow straits and along Loch Alsh. Keegan was glad they were almost to their destination with no sign of trouble. Of course, this was only a stopover, for he was tasked with taking Lady Seona home. A sinking dread settled into his gut.

  The ship anchored just off shore from Teasairg Castle, in the middle of the loch, and they took smaller boats to the sea gate. Keegan, Seona, Dirk, Isobel, three guards and an oarsman were in the second boat.

  Once they docked and the sea gate opened, Dirk hobbled up the narrow stone steps under his own power. The guards and Isobel followed. Keegan made sure he could catch Seona if she stumbled on the uneven steps. At the top, Dirk was breathing hard and his face was ashen. Although he wasn’t moaning in pain, Keegan knew he was feeling it.

  Chief Cyrus MacKenzie, frowning darkly, and his brothers, met them in the cobblestone bailey.

  Cyrus eyed Dirk’s lower leg below his plaid. “Saints! What on earth happened?”

  “Arrow through the calf,” Dirk said. “’Twas one of Haldane’s men. We had a couple of skirmishes during our travels.”

  “Show them up to Isobel’s chamber,” Cyrus told the maid standing nearby, then he turned to one of his men. “Go find the healer and send her to Isobel�
�s room.”

  “Aye, m’laird.”

  Isobel briefly greeted her brothers while the rest of their party disembarked from the small two-oared boats. Two guards helped Dirk across the bailey and toward the entrance to the keep.

  Leaving Seona with Isobel and Patience, who were surrounded by several MacKay guards, Keegan followed Dirk and the two men into the corner of the almost empty great hall. He trailed after them up the narrow turnpike stair and into Isobel’s old chamber to make sure the room was safe.

  The maid rushed to the small hearth to start a fire while the two guards helped Dirk into the large bed. He sank into what had to be a thick featherbed. Even if Keegan hadn’t known this was Isobel’s bedchamber from when she was a lass, the lacy curtains and abundance of floral embroidered pillows would’ve made it clear.

  “I thank you, lads,” Dirk mumbled, his words slurred.

  “M’laird.” One of the guards dipped his head. “We’ll wait in the corridor.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dirk grunted, his eyes closed.

  “How much whisky have you had?” Keegan asked.

  “Enough.” Dirk forced a grin but his face was sweaty and pale from the exertion and pain.

  Keegan had checked on Dirk several times throughout the day where he’d been lying in a hammock style bed used by the sailors. Half the time, Dirk had been sleeping, most likely due to the whisky, or because he’d lost sleep the night before. At least, if he was asleep, he wasn’t feeling pain. Keegan hoped the MacKenzie’s healer could help Dirk recover.

  Rebbie entered the room, his dark eyes concerned. “How is the pain?”

  “No’ so bad.” Dirk winced as he moved his leg.

  “You’re a bold-faced liar, my friend, but I’ll overlook it this time.”

  “Aye, you’d best do that.”

  “I’ll send Isobel in. She’ll cure what ails you.”

  Dirk actually grinned at that. “Both of you… update Cyrus on everything that’s happened.”

  “We will,” Keegan said. “Get some rest.”

  “Aye.”

  Keegan and Rebbie left the room, bypassing Isobel, her two maids, and an older woman, perhaps the healer, just as they arrived. At the bottom of the steps, MacMillan approached, carrying Lady Patience, her face white, eyes closed tight, and her hand pressed tightly against her stomach. Keegan cringed, imagining how miserable her extreme nausea must be. But MacMillan was taking good care of her. Keegan suspected the guard did not mind helping her. In fact, he seemed rather taken with the lady and was greatly protective of her.