Return of the Highland Laird: A Highland Force Novella

by Amy Jarecki

  “Aye, and I’ll be the one to tend it.” Alex picked up a heavy branch. “Now turn your head, Mrs. Howard. A fine lady like ye shouldna have to see this.”

  She did as he requested. Bless it, the woman couldn’t even kill a chicken. How she survived out here alone was beyond Alexander’s reasoning. He made quick work of killing the wee beasty and slung it across his shoulders.

  “What goes well with roast pork?” she asked.

  “Do ye have any apples stowed from last season?”

  “No…ah…I have no idea if Mr. Cox put them up or not.” She shot Alexander a worried look and covered her mouth.

  He let it pass, as he had many slips of her tongue. Alex figured Mrs. Howard hadn’t been in the cottage all that long, else she would have better sense about things, like survival. “In Scotland the crofters dig out a wee hole beneath their cottages, put their winter stores in there and cover it over with stones to keep the vermin out.”

  “What a good idea.”

  “Of course if ye have room for a cellar that would be preferable.” He almost mentioned the enormous larder kept cool by thick stone walls and dirt floor at Brochel Castle. They stored all manner of food year round, including meat. But admitting so would have revealed too much about his identity. Mrs. Howard was so skittish about the possibility that someone might be scouring the countryside looking for him, he’d been very careful about what he said. “Nonetheless, applesauce is delicious with roast pork.”

  “Mm. The idea makes my mouth water.”

  The day’s fencing forgotten, Alexander formed a fire pit with stones and soon had a crackling flame. While the wood burned to coals, he pounded two Y-shaped branches either side and stripped the bark from a sturdy branch to turn the pork. Then he cleaned and skinned the beast and set it to roasting, planning to turn it every now and again until the end, when he’d spin the spit to ensure the pig was evenly cooked. Living on bland pottage and porridge for the past weeks, he could already taste it.

  To further make use of the hot coals, Alex fetched the rusted iron arrow mold from the stable and an old kettle. He’d found a hunk of lead in the paddock—just the right size to fashion a dozen arrowheads or so. He put the kettle directly on the glowing coals and dropped in the lead. Max trotted up and sat beside him.

  Alex glanced over his shoulder to see if Mrs. Howard had accompanied the dog, but she’d yet to make an appearance. “Ye ready for a feast, too, are ye, lad?”

  Max spun in a circle and wagged his tail.

  “Too right, laddie. We’re all hankering for a good meal.”

  Alexander kept an eye on the lead whilst he turned the meat.

  The cottage door clicked shut. He didn’t need to turn to know Mrs. Howard approached. The slight tremor in his fingers, the tightness in his chest, the stirring of his manhood were the now familiar signs she was near.

  She stepped beside him, bathing him in the scent of wildflowers and woman. “What have you got there?” She wore only a linen coif atop her head. Uncovered tresses flowed down her back in waves that resembled a field of wheat blown by a breeze. He liked it when he could see her thick, tawny locks. If only he could run his fingers through them.

  But Alex scratched his wiry beard instead. Bloody oath, he needed a sharp knife to scrape off his whiskers. She probably thought him a barbarian. “Making some arrows to hunt with.”

  Mrs. Howard inspected the pot. “Is that lead?”

  “Aye, found the piece over yonder.” He turned the carcass. “Thought I could melt it down whilst I tended the spit.”

  “Excellent. Who knows, perhaps we’ll have venison for our next meal.”

  “Have ye seen any deer about?”

  “Not lately, but I’ve oft seen them grazing in the pasture.”

  Alex licked his lips. “All the more reason to have a few arrows on hand.” He glanced at her. The sunlight sparkled in her hair and made it shimmer with gold. He couldn’t resist. Reaching behind her, he caught a wisp in his palm and let it slide off. Smoother than silk. “Have ye ever used a bow?”

  “Archery?” she asked, unaware he’d just touched her hair. “I was quite good at it when I was young.”

  He chuckled. “Ye’re no’ old now.”

  “Sometimes I feel much older than my years.”

  “If ye do no’ mind my asking, what is yer age?”

  She blushed. The woman would blush if you asked her how many eggs she’d collected that morn—certainly not the response of an old maid. “Eight and twenty.”

  “’Tis nothing.” He thumped his chest. “I meself am nine and twenty.”

  Her breath caught and she gazed up at him. There it was, that connection that made every fiber of his body want to take her in his arms and carry her into the cottage bedchamber. If only he could have felt half as much desire for Ilysa. Alexander clenched his jaw, his fists, his bum cheeks to quell the longing. God’s teeth, I’m daft.

  She stared for a moment and then blinked in rapid succession. “Forgive me. You have been such a marvelous help, and I’ve not been an accommodating hostess.”

  “I—”

  She held up per palm. “Please. I’d like you to dine in the cottage tonight. If you would bring in the pork when ’tis ready, I shall take care of the rest.”

  Radiant as the sun, Mrs. Howard was undeniably adorable when she put on her lady of the manor airs. Alexander bowed and tapped his forehead. “Until then, m’lady.”

  After he’d used up all the lead and turned the arrows into a bucket of water to cool them, Alex tested the pork and nearly dropped to his knees. Not only was it cooked to perfection, it tasted succulent and juicy. Max yipped and Alexander pulled off a morsel for the dog. “I’d better wash up if I’ll be dining at the high table this eve.” Alex chuckled. His place at Brochel Castle was at the center of the high table. Funny, he hadn’t missed it these past weeks.

  He cleaned up as best he could at the water barrel, pulled his hair back, tied it with a thong and headed into the cottage with the pork, hoping to God he’d be able to conceal the ridiculous lustful urges growing stronger by the day.

  When she opened the door, Alexander nearly dropped the pig. Lustful urges be damned. Heaven help him, she was stunning. Wearing a red silk mantle over a richly embroidered kirtle of gold, Mrs. Howard topped the ensemble with a matching French hood trimmed with sable. He’d guessed before, but now he had absolutely no doubt the lady was of noble birth. He’d only seen gowns this lavish at court—aside from those his mother wore, but she was the daughter of an earl.

  He must have been standing there for some time with his mouth gaping wide, staring at the creamy white mounds of succulent flesh peeking above her bodice. Mrs. Howard—if that was indeed her name—cleared her throat and stepped aside. “Will you not come in, Sir Alexander?”

  How the bloody hell did she know he’d been knighted? He bowed and proceeded inside. “Ye look beautiful.” He walked to the board and set the roast upon a large trencher. “But why don your finery for the likes of me?”

  “Why not?” She closed the door. “I have a few things remaining from my former life, why should I not enjoy them this eve?”

  When he turned, she was inches from him. God’s teeth, she smelled like she’d bathed in a valley of rose petals. The image that conjured made him sway in place. He grasped her shoulders to avoid trampling her. She huffed and held her palms in front of her face as if she was afraid he might hit her. Quickly, Alex removed his hands and bowed his head. “Forgive me.” What was he thinking, placing his hands on the lady?

  “Of course.” She nervously brushed her skirts and gestured to the table. “I found the apples and we shall have applesauce with our meal.”

  His stomach squeezed. Must have been caused by the hunger. “Ye are a wonder, m’lady.”

  “I most certainly am not, but I can follow instructions.” She gestured to the meat. “I daresay you are the wonder, my lord.”

  Alex lost all jovialness. “There is no need to call
me your lord, m’lady.”

  “Oh? But you insist on calling me ‘my lady.’” She pointed to a chair. “Shall we sit?”

  After taking a seat, he picked up an eating knife. Succulent juice dribbled down the roast whilst he sliced a portion and set it on her pewter plate. She’d even brought out the fine tableware for this meal, with all the candles lit and the tankards filled with watered wine. If only she had told him this would be a fancy gathering, he would have spent a bit more time cleaning up. “Do ye have a razor or a sharp knife? I’m afraid me beard is taking over me face.”

  “I’ve a dagger you can use, but I rather like your rugged looks.” Her smile turned seductive when she placed a wee piece of pork on her tongue, closed her eyes and sighed. “Mm. I do believe this is the best piece of meat I have ever eaten in my life.”

  His loins stirred to life with his chuckle. “That’s because ye have no’ had a decent meal in some time.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “I’ve been getting along nicely, thank you.”

  Alex dunked his meat in the applesauce and shoved a big bite in his mouth so he wouldn’t need to reply. He, too, salivated at the taste.

  After they were both fully satiated, he savored the fruity wine and watched her. The color in her cheeks was high this eve, as were her lips. Had she rouged them? Their gazes met. His mouth suddenly dry, Alexander’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He forced himself to look away—straight at the bedchamber door. Damnation.

  “Do you like music?” Mrs. Howard asked.

  He blinked. “Aye, very much, especially pipers.”

  “My favorite is the harp.”

  “’Tis a good choice. Do ye dance?”

  She swayed as if a tune were playing. “Before I…ah…at one time, I could have danced all night.”

  He liked how she’d begun to open up to him. Alexander stood and bowed. “May I have this dance, m’lady?” He offered his hand.

  “No.” She clapped a hand to the white swells of breasts which peeked above her bodice. Frowning, Lady Howard sat upright. “I mustn’t.”

  He grasped her delicate fingers and tugged. “Come.” He hummed a few bars of a slow almain. She relented and allowed him to lead her to a clear space on the floor. He continued humming while the courtly steps came back to him.

  Her eyes glistened. “You’ve been to court, sir knight.”

  “Aye, but ye tease me, m’lady.”

  She chuckled. “I think not.” Mrs. Howard proved light on her feet while Alexander grasped her petite hands and twirled her in a circle. Step brush hop, step brush hop—it was as if they’d both learned from the same dance master.

  Her skirts skimmed his calf. Licking his lips, he pulled her a tad closer to enjoy more of the silken damask titillating his legs. If only he could pull her into his arms and smother her ruby lips with a kiss.

  The lady’s mantle slipped from around her shoulders, revealing more of her low-cut neckline. Alex could not pull his gaze away from the milk-white skin and the perfectly formed breasts pushing against her stomacher.

  They weren’t dancing anymore. Had he done something wrong? Did she catch him staring at her incredibly delectable flesh? He met her gaze. Devil’s bones, those almond-shaped eyes were made for sin. “Why did ye stop?”

  “Your humming ceased.” She brushed her fingers along his bearded cheek. “The deep bass of your voice moved me.” Her words came out breathless.

  Alexander stared into those divine acorn eyes, consumed by his desire to kiss her. Ever so slowly, he inclined his head. Her honeyed breath caressed his face and she closed her eyes. Their lips met with an explosion that sent his insides into a maelstrom of longing.

  At long last, he gathered her into his arms and clutched her to his body, his senses filling with the delicious taste of woman. She didn’t resist, but swirled her tongue in concert with his, as if their mouths were continuing the languid dance.

  Her soft moan reverberated through his chest and heightened his need. He slid his palms down her back and drew her buttocks into his hardened manhood. With a stuttered breath, she pulled her lips away. “We must not.”

  “But ye want it as much as I.” She couldn’t stop. Not now.

  Lady Howard inched toward the door. “Wanting and maintaining one’s self-control are two separate things.” She clasped his face between her hands and joined her mouth with his, again showing the depth of her passion. “Sleep well, Sir Alexander.”

  His entire body shuddered while he forced himself to inch away. She was right, but it took every ounce of Alex’s strength to resist taking her into his arms and carrying her to the bedchamber. “Before I go, please tell me one thing.”

  The candlelight flickered amber in her eyes. “Yes?”

  He licked his lips and glanced toward the coveted, yet sacrosanct bedchamber. “I would like to know the given name of the woman who can kiss me so passionately she makes me want to climb to the rooftops and roar.”

  Her cheeks turned the color of her mantle and she grasped the latch. “Jane,” she whispered.

  “Well then.” He stepped in and touched his lips to her forehead. “Goodnight, Lady Jane.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jane spent most of the morning tying bundles of rushes for the roof. Alexander had shown her how sennights ago, saying the roof repairs would proceed much faster if she tied the bundles while he finished up the fencing. She was delighted to help. It filled her with a sense of empowerment to take part in the repairs. When Mr. Cox returned, he would be immensely impressed with the amount of work she—actually they—had accomplished.

  Mr. Cox? Jane straightened—goodness, she hadn’t thought of the endearing valet in some time. He should have paid a visit by now. Had something happened at Buttermere Castle? She offered a silent prayer for his good health. But what if he was sick or injured? How would she obtain her supplies? Feeding Alexander, she would run out of wheat and oats soon.

  Perhaps she’d mention it to Alexander. He might have a sensible suggestion. Jane cringed. Mr. Cox wouldn’t like it when he saw the Scotsman, but she’d just have to make him understand Alexander posed no threat.

  She craned her neck and searched for him, but the Highlander wasn’t at the fence line. However, the sheep grazed nearby. The poor animals were looking more bedraggled by the day. Perhaps she should invite Alexander to dinner again so they could discuss the remaining work to be done as well as when he expected to take his leave.

  In the past month, she’d grown accustomed to his presence. It pained her to think Alexander would be on his way. She’d even been sleeping better at night, knowing he was only a stone’s throw away. Hopefully the roof would take at least another month—and then he’d need to repair the stable roof as well. That would detain him a bit longer. There would be weeding and planting, harvesting, wood to chop. Jane smiled. Living in the wild, there was no end to all the chores needing attention.

  She tied off the last bit of twine and snipped it with the shears, then set out to find Alexander with Max happily trotting at her heel. Surprised not to see the Highlander in the paddock, she peeked inside the stable. Odd. “Alexander?”

  The sound of water splashed at the rear of the building. Ah, he must be cleaning the trough.

  She headed around back and abruptly stopped. Frozen in place, she couldn’t breathe. Her mouth went dry, tingles skittered across her flesh. She’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

  Completely naked, Alexander stood with his back to her.

  Unable to turn away, Jane’s gaze followed the dripping dark auburn locks to square and muscular shoulders. Sparkling with the afternoon sun, his back muscles bulged and rippled with his every move. Powerfully built beyond imagination, his shoulders tapered in a V to a lean waist. His hips, though narrow, supported chiseled buttocks, dimpled by muscular flesh. But his skin wasn’t smooth. He was riddled with white and pink scars—a sure sign of a knight.

  He splashed water under his arms, and it glistened down his back in str
eaks. Jane splayed her fingers. If only she could reach out and touch him. Swallowing against her arid throat, she stepped forward, her breaths stilted by staccato gasps.

  Max raced ahead and bounded up behind Alexander. He turned. “Max…”

  Further flummoxed, her gaze shot to his manhood. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Copper ringlets framed him. A fire ignited deep within her core, so hot, her body screamed for her to strip off her kirtle and bare her breasts to him. Never in her life had Jane experienced such wantonly desires, but in this moment, she coveted nothing more than to feel Alexander’s body pressed to hers. She craved the experience of loving a man without fear of pain or retribution.

  “Forgive me.” Alexander reached for his plaid. “I thought I wouldna bother ye back here.”

  Jane’s gaze slid up the undulating muscles of his abdomen to his potent chest, and finally met his humored gaze. She couldn’t manage to utter a sound.

  He covered himself. “Apologies. I’ve only one change of clothes, and they were getting on the nose. I daresay, I do no’ ken how ye could stand to be around me.”

  Her breath caught. His chin shone smooth as silk. Without a word, she closed the gap and brushed her fingers along his jaw. “You shaved.”

  “Aye.” He cleared his throat and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ah. Did ye need me for something?”

  She tried to stare at his face to avoid looking at his chest, heaving with his every breath. And for a moment, her mind went completely blank.

  A sheep bleated.

  Snapping to the present, she quickly turned her back as heat rushed to her cheeks. Had she honestly been ogling him? “Excuse my intrusion, Sir Alexander. I-I was wondering if we might do some shearing on the morrow?”

  “’Tis a good idea. We should get an early start.”

  For some reason his voice sounded deeper. Jane clapped a hand to her chest to quell her rapid heartbeat. “Perhaps if you were to come inside for the evening meal we could discuss the work to be done. I realized this morning you’ve already been here longer than I…we had planned.”