The Highlander's Secret Maiden: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  Conall had not yet arrived, but the ale was being poured quite freely and after half an hour, the sound of a bagpipe was heard as it announced the entry of the mighty haggis.

  Cheers resounded in the hall and glasses clinked together to welcome the feast. Georgina had never seen anything like it. For her it was a completely unanticipated event and one that she had been unprepared for in the best of ways.

  “This is lovely!” she said, trying to be heard above the pipes that echoed within the walls.

  “Aye, right lovely it is, lass! Dinnae get bored now, food and more drink, the bards’ll be getting up and giving their tales and songs, telling of the men we lost, telling of their bravery and command. Ye cannae miss that,” Marcas warned.

  “I wouldn’t wish to!”

  Marcas saw Conall finally slip in gently from the back, evidently not wishing to be seen. Their eyes connected and Conall gave him a signal that they needed to speak right away.

  “Wait here, lass. I’ll return in a moment,” Marcas said.

  By that point, Georgina had consumed a glass of ale and was already feeling light and warm, willing to accept orders from her lover.

  “Whatever you say, my darling,” she replied dreamily.

  Marcas smiled and greeted those he passed who were tearing into their haggis, neeps, and tatties, trying to reach his brother without causing any alarm as he now felt in his own chest.

  “What is it?” he asked, reaching Conall.

  “It’s nae good news,” Conall replied.

  “Well that’s mighty obvious, now isn’t it? Ye’d not have called me over if it were. What’s happening?”

  “The Earl of Aylesford. I received a letter just a couple weeks ago and I’ve been writing back and forth to smooth things over with him. Now that we’re back in good graces, he’s written to warn me…”

  “What is it?”

  “Bolton is coming. He’s coming with an army. He wants blood and he’s going to use the fact that we’re the enemy as an excuse to take it. He’s calling it a defense of the English against a blatant attack,” Conall explained.

  “Bugger it all! What a coward! Ye mean tae tell me that he’s trying to gain English sympathy for the fact that his lady didnae want him but chose instead to run away with us?” Marcas reiterated with exasperation.

  “I ken. He’s a fool and that’s all there is to it. But he's a fool with power and an army to back him,” Conall said.

  “Ach, aye. I cannae believe he would really do such a thing though. Calling it a part of the English cause?”

  “Listen, Marcas, there’s more to this we have tae discuss. I’m a laird. Me clan is me priority. We’d not have to do any of this if we hadn’t rescued the lass from him. That was the decision that brought this to our doorstep,” Conall said, hoping his brother would understand.

  “What are ye trying to tell me?” Marcas asked with angry suspicion.

  “Look, I’m not saying we turn her over or anything. But I also cannae pretend like there isnae a conflict here,” Conall said.

  “Are ye angry because she chose me?” Marcas accused.

  “Hald yer wheest, I never said anything so silly as that. I’m just telling ye to prepare yerself for the fact that I might be forced into a very difficult choice, and I have tae choose me clan. Every time,” Conall explained.

  “Then we’d best get that piece of shite out of our way sooner rather than later. I’ll not give up on Georgina.”

  “I ken ye won’t.”

  “So, what are we planning then? If the Earl is on our side with this then surely he can help us?” Marcas asked.

  “Help us? I cannae say that he’s likely to help us. But the warning was a start. For noo, our goal is to be ready as best we can and to defend our clan. Obviously, making that choice would be a last resort but I had tae warn ye that the choice might have tae be made,” Conall said again.

  “I understand. I willnae allow it to happen but I understand that ye have to consider it. And I’ll fight me arse off to avoid it being any kind of an issue,” Marcas declared.

  “Good, then ye’d best enjoy yer night, because the Earl sent the letter three days ago, and he warned me that Bolton was planning to attack in just five. That means we’ve got tomorrow tae prepare and then we’re ready for battle,” Conall said.

  “Then tomorrow it is. When are ye going to tell the men? Here we are feasting to the memory of those we lost and noo we have another battle?” Marcas asked.

  “Aye. I’ll tell them first thing in the morning. No sense in ruining their night tonight,” Conall decided.

  “Ye’re a wise man and a good laird. I’ll kill ye if ye try and give her up but it doesnae change that ye’re doing yer duty,” Marcas said and laughed. Conall laughed back, knowing that the threat was not entirely idle.

  “Anyway, head back and eat yer feast and drink plenty, because tomorrow we’ve got a fair bit of planning and preparation to do. Dinnae let the lass distract ye too much and tell her not tae go wandering anywhere in the middle of the night this time,” Conall said.

  “She’ll be too tired to do anything. I promise,” Marcas replied suggestively.

  No matter how much he may have joked about it, knowing they would be doing battle with Bolton made the urgency more intense. He had to be with her again, one last time before their consequences caught up to them.

  Chapter 31

  Marcas made the rare decision to pace himself with his drink and slow down as the night moved on. He wanted to be ready for her.

  As if in a dream, he led Georgina up the stairs and into his room. She seemed to be floating before his eyes and he could barely contain himself even in that moment.

  The moment the door was closed, her lips were on his. She had indulged in the ale as well and it made her bold. She responded with need to his hands around her waist and pulled him toward her by gripping his bum.

  It drove Marcas wild to feel himself against her, even through their clothing.

  “That's the only sword I want you using,” Georgina giggled, letting her hand reach down and pull up his kilt.

  Marcas eagerly removed it and quickly took off the rest of his clothing, standing naked before her.

  For a moment, Georgina allowed her eyes to take in the whole sight of him. From head to toe— and the erection between— he was like a magnificent statue.

  But Marcas had no desire to be looked upon when he wanted to do the looking.

  He came close to her again and pulled her dress up over her head. Following, he removed her chemise and finally the undergarment she had gotten used to wearing since coming to Scotland.

  She was bare before him now and they simply watched one another for a moment, the gentle haze of alcohol making everything seem like a vision.

  “Have ye ever looked at yerself?” Marcas asked her.

  “Myself? Why of course not, why would I?” she asked with that same giggle.

  “Because I cannae imagine ever wanting to look at anything else,” he replied.

  Georgina had no more words to say, so she allowed her body to do the speaking for her.

  She closed the small gap between them and brought him back into the embrace that they had been so hungry for. Her lips hovered over his, open, holding back just to taunt him and make him more desperate. Finally, she slipped her tongue into his mouth and he responded in kind.

  Marcas pulled back for only a second.

  “How much ale did ye have? I need tae make sure ye always have that before we do this,” he joked.

  “It is not the drink that intoxicates me,” Georgina whispered before letting her lips passionately suck along his neck.

  Marcas had never felt a sensation like it, the way she inhaled him. It was amazing how her lips could cause such an impact. He was already stiff, but he felt certain that if he ever faced the day when he needed help to get there, this would do the trick.

  He could feel that it would not take long for him to finish if he didn’t distract him
self. He needed her to stop so that he could spend some time concentrating on her arousal.

  “Lass…” he moaned, backing up just a fraction.

  Georgina’s eyes widened, concerned that she had made some egregious mistake.

  Marcas smiled at her. “I had best calm meself. Noo, to the bed with ye if ye please.”

  A smile teased at the sides of her lips and Georgina’s naked form made its way to the bed. Marcas gazed at her bum the entire time, looking forward to gripping it against him after he’d given her some time to warm up.

  Lying on her back, Marcas climbed on top of her and parted her legs enough to fit himself between them. While his mouth covered hers with tantalizing kisses, he slipped his hand down gently, running his fingers from between her breasts and along her belly and down to her sex. He played on the outside of the skin for a moment to entice her before sensing she needed more from him.

  Marcas softly rubbed her with his finger, causing her breathing to become more jagged. Georgina moaned, and it encouraged him that she was ready for him to slip inside her.

  “Oh, Marcas. Please…”

  She was still so tight that he felt her clench a little, trying to get used to the initial discomfort that he assured her would soon be gone. For Marcas, it only increased the sensation of her around him.

  Being reminded how large he was, Georgina relaxed her body and allowed him to move as he pleased. She was amazed to experience what it was like to have him inside of her while his hand continued its work externally.

  “Lass, ye feel amazing,” he whispered, moving himself gently inside of her.

  Georgina matched his slow thrusts and felt the pulsing increase in the way they moved together. At the same moment she thought she would burst from his fingers, she tried to transition her thoughts to what he was feeling.

  “Marcas, Marcas!” Georgina gasped.

  “Geor—” Marcas began but couldn’t finish saying because he was too overcome by desire. He quickened himself and Georgina met his pace. She cried out and he could tell she was close to climaxing. It was exquisite to watch her face expressing such pleasure.

  Taking her by surprise, Marcas spun her so that she was on top and he was on his back. He wanted to watch her body as she took control and moved against him. He could not close his eyes no matter how good he felt. He had to see everything.

  His hand firmly gripped her backside and he pulled her eagerly against him as if she weren’t close enough. The whole of him was inside of her and it made for a miraculous feeling when she squeezed him tightly.

  His free hand then traveled up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing it gently. He didn’t know if he could hold out much longer but truly wanted to distract himself until Georgina had been satisfied. It made him press a little more firmly against her with his finger, hoping to help her reach the place he was at.

  Marcas moaned, unable to resist the sight of her, with her eyes closed and her womanly figure bouncing in all the right places. He couldn’t tell if it was her perfect form, her eagerness, or her moans that excited him the most.

  “Just like that, lass. Dinnae stop,” he begged through shallow breaths. “Dinnae stop.”

  “You feel so incredible!” she exclaimed. “Marcas!”

  In the same moment that Marcas let out a deep groan of pleasure, Georgina released what seemed to him to be a melody of her contentment with everything pulsating through her body.

  As the waves of their oneness faded, Georgina collapsed on the bed beside Marcas. He pulled her form toward his and gave her a final, tender kiss.

  It took no time at all before both were asleep.

  The next morning, Marcas awoke before Georgina. He watched her as she lay, looking perfect even in her exhaustion. He had not told her what would be expected of him today and tomorrow. She looked too peaceful to tell her now.

  He got up and readied himself for the day, wanting to let her rest for as long as possible.

  Marcas left the room quietly, leaving a note for her to say that he loved her but had to get to some business. He made his way down to where he knew he would find Conall.

  “So, have ye told the others?” he asked.

  “Aye,” Conall replied gloomily.

  “And ye think everyone will be ready for tomorrow?”

  “Aye.”

  “What can I do tae help ye prepare?” Marcas asked.

  “The usual. Lead the archers. The rest ye can leave tae me. It’s me duty and there’s nothing else to it,” Conall said.

  “But ye dinnae have to go at this alone, ye ken.”

  “Aye, but I do. I’m the laird and ye ken it. It is my duty to ensure that the men are happy, safe, provided for, paying their debts, caring for their families. And now I’m tae defend an English brat who got us into a huge mess.”

  “Conall…” Marcas said with a warning.

  “I ken. It’s not just that I’m frustrated by the fact she’s put us in danger. Ye ken I’m also not over the fact that I had to hear her calling yer name in the night. Ye got everything I wanted. Ye arnae the only one that loves her.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve hurt ye, but I love her too. One of us had tae be hurt. I’m sorry it was ye but I also cannae pretend that I’m not happy. I hope one day ye can forgive me but until that happens, remember that I’m yer brother,” Marcas said.

  “I’ll not forget that anytime soon,” Conall replied.

  “Then do ye think we can support each other? We may not be on the best of terms, but we’ve got a bigger thing ahead of us. And if ye really love her, then ye'd want her tae be happy and not stuck with Bolton,” Marcas reasoned.

  “True. Either way, she’ll not be mine. Better ye than him,” Conall said. He still wouldn't make eye contact with his brother but at least it was a start and Marcas was feeling relieved at the slight change in attitude.

  “So, what is yer plan then?” he asked.

  “We’ll be the first wave with swords, ye’ll be up in the turret leading the archers, third wave will be between Carnarvan and the village. Women will be in the catacomb,” Conall said.

  “Just like faither always did it,” Marcas said.

  “Aye. Only twice in me own life and only once that I was old enough tae remember, but aye, I’m told that was always his strategy and it seems the best fit.”

  “Ye’re a great Laird, Conall,” Marcas said, wanting to reaffirm his brother’s quest to meet his father’s expectations.

  “And ye make for a great Laird’s Brother,” Conall teased.

  Many of those in the clan would have preferred Marcas who followed in the peaceful steps of their father who desired civility with the English. But they got Conall instead. He was a great leader, but his blood thirst was occasionally too strong.

  But Marcas knew there were times like this, when Conall allowed his personal feelings to prevent him from making objective decisions. He needed to learn to put those things aside.

  For now, he just had to be ready for whatever Bolton had planned. The entire clan depended on it.

  Chapter 32

  Morgan Bolton laced his boots tightly. He would need them sturdy as ever if he was going to be fighting. Then again, he expected that the whole battle would take no more than an hour.

  He would easily slaughter a few soldiers, then leave his men to distract them while he found his way inside the castle to wherever they were holding Georgina.

  Well, that was the worst-case scenario. First, he would appeal to the Laird to get his bride back. Just ask for her and toss a few threats about what would happen if Conall refused. It wouldn't be all that hard, surely.

  It also wouldn’t be as fun.

  He could threaten, or he could kill, and he had always preferred the latter. Especially when it came to those northern animals with their red hair, mysticism and loose women.

  I certainly don’t mind the last part.

  With boots tight and his shirt tucked in, Bolton was ready. He marched his way out and into the sun where
a few hundred men stood. They had been handpicked for this mission. A combination of steady precision and brutal hatred of the Scots.

  “Mr. Bolton, sir,” came the timid voice of one of his strongest men. It always irked him to hear that weakness through his words when Bolton knew his ferocity in battle.

  “What is it, Chalmers?”

  “The front is ready. Shall we ride?”

  “Yes, I am coming. We ride,” he declared.