Highland Archer

by Hildie McQueen

  “But your brother will come after you,” Lily said, wringing her hands. “And what of me, milady?”

  “Stop calling me that, Lily, I’ve told you, you are not my maid any longer.” Ariana moved closer and took Lily’s hands. “I have thought much about it this evening. You can come with us. Please understand that Valent is my chance at happiness.”

  Lily attempted a smile. “What does he say?”

  She let out a sigh. “That is what I will speak to him about tonight. He has to agree. Has to see it is the only way we can remain together.”

  “I will prepare my bag then, too.” Lily looked ready to cry. “Although, I think it’s a mistake. Where will we go?” She placed a hand on Ariana’s shoulder. “What of your brother? I’m sure he will allow you to remain here without marrying. He may even turn a blind eye to your relationship with Valent. Allow Mister Ceardac the opportunity before leaving.”

  “Oh, Lily. He will never allow a relationship with an archer.” Ariana knew it was selfish of her. There wasn’t a way to explain how she felt without sounding like a spoiled child. “I cannot bear the thought of another man touching me. Or of Valent with another woman.”

  There was a knock on the door and Lily went toward it. Her eyes remained misty and her lips downturned. “If you leave, I go with you.” She opened the door. “I will leave you to it then.”

  Valent’s large, muscular body immediately made the room seem smaller. He moved to her and pulled her against him. “Any moment away from you is torture. I need you right now, Ariana.”

  They needed to talk, so much to discuss, but she would not deny him the one thing he asked. “Yes.” She slid her hands under the rough fabric of the tunic and ran her palms up his chest. “I want you so much, Valent.”

  He didn’t bother with kisses or caresses. Instead, he pushed her bodice past her shoulders and lowered his mouth to her exposed mounds of flesh. His mouth closed over one nipple while his hand squeezed the twin, the pad of his thumb rubbing the pert tip.

  “Oh, Valent.” Her legs threatened to give way when Valent reached under her skirts and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh. He pushed his palm between her legs and cupped her sex. Slowly at first, he pushed one finger into her, the movements starting between her folds to the entrance of her sex. Each languid caress stirred her body to begin its trek toward the invisible mountain that promised a wonderful fall.

  Ariana held on to his shoulders attempting to keep upright as her legs wobbled when a second finger joined the first sinking into her body. “I can’t withstand much more,” Ariana breathed the words out then gasped when he fell to his knees and lifted her skirts higher holding them up to her waist. His warm breath fanned over her sex sending pools of heat to gather. The motions of his tongue against her pulsing core sent her spiraling to a climax like she’d never felt before. She clung to his shoulders and cried out.

  His gaze met hers, his lips glistening. “You are amazing, Ariana.” He lifted her and carried her to the bed. “I want to hold this night in my mind for the rest of my life. To always remember you like this. Wanting me. Needing me.”

  He pulled his tunic up over his head exposing the beauty of his body, hard planes and ripples of muscles with a thin line of hair leading from his stomach to the juncture between his legs. Not taking his gaze from her, he kicked off his boots and removed his britches, freeing his erection.

  It was impossible to look away from the perfection of Valent’s body. Ariana’s mouth watered with anticipation. Valent neared and tugged at her dress. “I need to see you, Ariana. See all of you.”

  “I can deny you nothing.” She pushed her skirts past her hips and Valent pulled the folds of fabric and tossed them aside.

  Dress removed, she lay back on the bed. No longer shy with him, Ariana wanted Valent to look his fill. His darkened gaze met hers for an instant before traveling down her length. He pushed her legs apart. Her sex clenched at his perusal. “You are ready, glistening for me.”

  “Yes.” Ariana reached to him. “I want you so much.”

  He came over her and looked down to meet her gaze. There was something different in the way he looked at her, as if wanting to memorize every inch of her face. Ariana pulled his face closer and kissed him hard on the lips, conveying how much she felt for him, letting Valent know he was the only man she’d ever allow in her heart. “Make love to me, Valent.”

  His hardness pressed against her entrance and she welcomed him into her body and further into her heart. Every moment in and out was as powerful as him. Valent pushed deeper into her. His neck corded with the exertion of his movements, his throat bared to her when he threw his head back. She lifted and ran her mouth up the side of it, tasting him.

  “You are perfect. My match, the woman I’ll never forget.” He drove in harder, lost in his passion, his climax nearing by the tightening of his body. Ariana wrapped her arms around him, no longer able to crest with him, too consumed by his last statement.

  Valent planned to leave. He would not remain and wait for her brother to come. She grappled with what to say to convince him she’d go with him. With a loud growl, he shook as he came, spilling his heated seed into her. When Valent collapsed over her, she held him sliding her hands up and down his back while he settled.

  The wonderful sensation of the powerful man undone by her body, laying over her, totally spent, made tears spring to her eyes. She loved Valent. He had to understand how important it was to stay together. She had to make him agree to not allow her family or conventions to pull them apart.

  He lifted and kissed her softly. “We should talk.”

  “Yes, we should.” She trembled when he lifted from her, allowing the cool air to touch her skin. Valent must have noticed because he pulled her against him and drew the coverings over them.

  “Now that your brother returns, I know you will be safe. Protected,” Valent murmured and kissed her temple.

  “I do not feel completely safe except when like this. In your arms.” Ariana kissed his chest. “Do not leave me, ever.”

  His broad chest expanded when he took a deep breath. “You know it is not possible.”

  Would he not fight for them, at least? Ariana tilted her head back to look at him. His gaze was on the ceiling. “What do you plan to do, Valent?”

  “I have to leave. I cannot remain and watch you marry another.” His jaw clenched. “It would be too difficult for me to know you will lay with someone other than me.”

  “What about me? I do not wish to remain here without you. I can go with you.” Desperation began weaving a heavy net around her body and her heart thudded against her breast. “Please, Valent. Take me.”

  “I will not. Without a solid place to go and without a name to claim, what kind of life can I offer you?”

  “You do have a name…” Ariana stopped when he glared at her. “If you chose it. You can take your birth name.”

  He did not reply, only frowned. The walls began to form and she lifted to look down at him. “Valent, I love you. Understand me. I refuse to remain behind.”

  The widening of his eyes was followed by him sitting up. He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Do not say that.”

  “What do you mean? ’Tis the truth. I know what I feel.” Ariana clutched his arm. “Surely you care for me if you leave only to not see me remarried.”

  He nodded relenting. “Aye, I do. That is why I will not take you with me.”

  “Stubborn man, why must it be your way? Will you at least try to hear what I am saying?” The determination of his expression scared her and she slid closer to him. But Valent slid to the edge of the bed and stood.

  He moved about the room completely nude and she devoured the sight of him. His tussled hair fell to broad shoulders giving him a dangerous look. He stood by the hearth and looked to her. “There is nothing you can say to change my mind. As much as I want you with me, I also know how hard my life will be until I find someone who will hire me.”

&
nbsp; “I have jewels. We could sell them and have gold for whatever we need. It will be a start.” Ariana got up from the bed and lifted her coats where she and Lily had sewn jewels into the lining when the McKenzies attacked. “Look, they are ready. I am packed.”

  Without speaking, he began gathering his clothes and pulled them on. She watched him, not sure what else could be said. If he would not fight for her and gave up so easily, then perhaps his feelings were not as strong. Ariana pulled on her robe and stood idly by watching his jerky movements. “When do you plan to leave?”

  Valent looked into her eyes. His lips pressed together in thought. He moved closer and pulled her into his arms. His strength seeped into her and she turned her head and placed it against his solid chest. They remained as such for a long time until he kissed the top of her head. “I will wait until you brother arrives.”

  “Will you consider us leaving before he arrives?” She looked up at him and lost her breath at his beauty. His gaze was warm, his lips turned up. “If I am stubborn, you are my match in that.”

  A flicker of hope lightened her heart. “Please, Valent, think on it hard. Take me.”

  “All right. Aye, I will consider it. I promise.” Valent kissed her and stepped away from her. “Sleep well.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What are your orders, Laird?” Niven asked Steaphan at dinner the next day. They’d arrived to his keep to find it fortified without incident. “I await news. So far, the scout has not returned. If he does not return by nightfall, I will assume he was killed by the McLeods.”

  “Aye,” Niven was pensive. “It could come to be that the McLeods, however, decide not to fight back. Unless they are joined by others, it would be impossible to beat us.”

  “Do not be so arrogant in our numbers, Niven,” Steaphan told him, looking to the men who ate with gusto, but refrained from drinking too much ale. “Small numbers can sometime win in battle with cunning.”

  A man walked in from the outdoors. He wore a cape of furs and, from the look of him, had just arrived after a long ride. It was the messenger he’d sent to his betrothed’s clan. The young man came forward and waited to be acknowledged.

  “What happens?” His mother finally deemed to make an appearance. Steaphan cursed under his breath knowing she’d be very upset at the news of his marriage. They’d yet to speak, with so much other clan business to tend to. “What is it, young man?” she asked the messenger who looked from his mother to him.

  Steaphan motioned for him to speak.

  “Sire, Laird Grant takes great offense at you not keeping to the agreement to marry his daughter. He asks for restitution in the form of another groom.”

  “What is he talking about?” Steaphan’s mother gripped his forearm. “Why would you not marry Genevieve Grant?”

  The beginnings of a headache, which often happened at his mother’s presence, edged into his temples. “We shall speak about it later, Mother.” He looked to the messenger. “Eat and rest. I will send you back with a reply in two days.”

  “Aye, milord,” the messenger responded. “There is something else I must inform you of.”

  “What is it?”

  “A large group of McLeods travel from Skye according to another messenger I happened about.”

  “How many?”

  “The man thought about one hundred and fifty, maybe a bit less.”

  “Go eat.”

  After a slight bow of his head, the messenger joined the other guards at a long, wooden table.

  Steaphan ignored his mother’s pointed looks and maintained a conversation with Niven who insisted they go on the offensive and attack the McLeods while they were tired from the travel.

  “Not so tired. It’s been almost ten days since we attacked. They didn’t travel hard.”

  “What of the laird’s brother?” Niven asked looking toward the guards. “He is still alive. Do you plan to release him?”

  “Nay. I want to make an example of him. The people need to know they will be defended.”

  His mother nudged his arm. “Steaphan, we must speak at once.”

  When he met her blue gaze, he was reminded of his brother. Unlike her, he and his brother had gray eyes closer to his father’s. But they’d inherited her nose and full lips. His mother’s brow furrowed. “What are you thinking?”

  It was not the time to tell her about his brother. She never spoke of him, whether due to pain of the memory or because she wasn’t concerned, he didn’t know.

  “I married Fiona McLeod,” he told her bluntly, knowing it was the best way to speak to the harsh woman. “The McLeod suggested it to keep from having to join in any battle against us.”

  She paled, nostrils flaring. “How could you do such a thing? They are a weak clan, unimportant. To turn your nose at the Grant, an imposing and strong clan is madness.” His mother let out a huff. “Annul it at once. Send a messenger to inform the McLeod it was a mistake.”

  “The marriage was consummated before witnesses,” he told her flatly. “It cannot be undone.”

  She drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop impatiently. “There is always a way to undo something rash.”

  “It is done.” He slammed both palms on the table and stood. “I bid you goodnight, Mother.”

  She did not respond, her gaze forward, lips pressed into a straight line.

  “And do not do anything. I will ensure things with the Grant are taken care of.” He looked to his head guardsman. “Come, Niven, I must discuss something with you in private.”

  Once inside his large study, he paced the room. “I don’t trust my mother. She’ll try to do something. Have one of the guards watch her.”

  Niven walked out to do his bidding and Steaphan turned to look at the fire in the hearth. Immediately, the picture of his wife came to mind. Her beautiful body; curves and plushness like he’d never experienced. The only regret he had about marrying her was that he could not plunder her body further at the moment. Another thing to hold against the damn McLeods. In order to keep Fiona safe, it was necessary for her to remain with her clan. Until the clashes between the McKenzies and McLeods subsided, she would be in danger at his home.

  His lips curved at remembering how angry she’d been at his leaving. It could be that the fair lady already felt a tie with him. It was to his liking that she was fiery, with a strong personality.

  She’d need to be strong in order to stand up against his manipulative mother.

  “It’s been done, Laird.” Niven returned and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing him one. “What do you plan to do about the Grant?”

  “Send a proxy.” Steaphan drank the strong liquid waiting to speak until after the fiery path made its way down to his stomach. “I have just the person in mind.”

  Niven straightened, his eyes fixed on Steaphan’s face. “Who could possibly go in your stead?”

  “My brother.”

  Niven threw his head back and laughed. “I wish you luck in convincing him to do so.”

  “I don’t plan to give him a choice. I will send men to take him and bring him here.”

  “And?”

  “I have not figured out that part yet. Mayhap have the Grant’s men come for him. Convince Darach to start anew. Give me time to think on it.”

  “You are leaving much to probables.” Niven rubbed his chin. “What you need is an incentive.”

  “Like?”

  “I do not know, more than likely he has led a humble existence. Silver may convince him. There is the added complication of the McLeod lady. He seemed to be quite taken by her.”

  “I did find it interesting how he protected her, but it could have been his sense of duty. Send three men to see about bringing Darach home.”

  “Very well.” Niven stood and looked down to him. “Meanwhile, I trust you will come up with a plan of sorts.”

  Just as Niven walked out, his mother stormed in. “Once again, I demand you annul the marriage with the McLeod lass. Nothing good can come of j
oining with her clan.”

  “We are strong and a force to be reckoned with on our own, Mother. We do not need alliances.”

  “Neither do we need enemies. Especially with the Grants, such a large clan.” She settled into a chair. “Besides I cannot abide the thought of having any grandchildren with McLeod blood.” She shuddered and looked to his hand. “Pour me some.”

  Steaphan did as she bid. “Mother, I ask that you allow me to make any decisions that affect the clan. To be at war with two clans, one to the north and another to the south, would mean constant vigilance. Now we don’t have to be so worried of our northern border.”

  “What of the Grant? How do you plan to appease him?”

  He wasn’t ready to tell her about his brother. Yet he couldn’t resist knowing her feelings of late. “If my brother would have survived, it would be easy. I would send Darach in my stead.”

  Nothing in her countenance changed. She drank from the glass and shook her head. “You speak nonsense. Darach is long dead. Therefore, hoping for him to suddenly appear is not a good plan.”

  As if without a care in the world, his mother leaned back and closed her eyes. “This whiskey is good. I am going to have to be the one to take care of this circumstance. Trust me to find a way to get rid of the McLeod lass without you having to be involved. It could be that you send for her and on her way here, she happens upon a mishap. Attacked by the McLeods of the south, of course.”

  He rubbed both hands down his face. Sometimes he hated his mother’s penchant toward the dramatic. “No.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fiona walked down to the great room when the guard she once considered her love, blocked her path. She refused to think on his name, no longer deeming it important. It was interesting to her that, in looking at his face, her heart no longer skipped a beat. Neither did her stomach quiver in anticipation of his kisses.

  “Lady Fiona, I wish a word with you,” he told her while his gaze moved past her. “Please, forgive me for what you saw.”