The Highlander's Captured Bride (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance)

by Eloise Madigan

  “Aye.” The sunken feeling in his gut from earlier in the day, doubled in strength. “To a daughter of one of the nearby clans. It’s how we’ve always done marriages. Finley was ready to weather the lairdship unmarried but…I suppose when it comes to me time…I’ll have to find the right one.”

  “Ye will,” she said.

  Slowly he turned to her and saw her eyes down on her lap but her shoulders were rigid and even trembling. There was a vulnerable way to how she was holding herself, head down and fingers fidgeting on her lap, but what nearly did him in was her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth. She was worried—but why? He wished he could somehow make her know that he was attracted to her was strong, he could never act upon it.

  “Violet—”

  “I ken I should go back inside,” she cut him off. “It’s getting late and I am a bit tired and ye might—”

  “Violet,” he said calmly, “Stop.”

  Her head jerked to him and her eyes were wide. “Pardon.”

  His quick, impulsive closed-mouth kiss had her going rigid. The sweet vulnerability she was showing him was like fire to a powder keg, blasting the restrains he had just sworn to abide by into rubble.

  Her lips were immobile under his and he pulled away to slide a hand behind her neck. Violet’s eyes were saucer round and her lips were trembling. Instantly, he regretted his rash act. “I’m sorry, that was wrong of me, but I feel very conflicted. I am drawn to ye, more than I have ever felt with a woman, but I cannae, —willnae— have a dalliance with ye. Yer worth more than that.”

  She searched his eyes. “Ye’ve been with women before.” Her words were not a question.

  “Aye,” he replied, trying to judge, in the darkness, if his frankness was frightening her. “I have.”

  Her body went lax and she nearly—nearly—rested her head on his shoulder, “I expected.”

  “Ye did?” he asked, even though common-sense told him it would be a foolish question. Violet had senses and her mind ran in unfamiliar paths, how could she not have suspected?

  “Aye,” she said. “Ye werenae aware of it but I saw the eyes of women following ye through the towns we went through. I daenae believe ye were with them, but it stands to reason, yer age, and yer striking features.”

  A cold breeze did run over them and he wrapped an arm around her, carrying her to rest on her chest. “Ye ken me as striking?”

  Slapping his chest lightly she huffed, “Stop fishing for compliments.”

  “I’m flattered though,” he murmured in her hair. “And if nay has told ye, yer beautiful.”

  “Would ye dae it again?” she asked tentatively. He knew what she meant but was not sure it would be right of him. She plucked herself from his chest and asked. “Would ye kiss me again?”

  Twisting on the seat, he felt seduced by how her long lashes trembled and pure raw hope was made visible by the moonlight above. “Why?”

  “Because…” she whispered. “Ye are me first and I want to feel it right. I’m nay asking ye for a commitment, but I ken ye are the only one I trust now. So would ye, even once? That’s all I ask.”

  13

  She was acutely aware of Ethan’s rigid form a handbreadth away from hers. His nostrils were flaring, his left cheek was twitching and his eyes were dipping to her mouth.

  “Are ye sure?” His voice was husky and a little strangled. “Are ye sure ye want me to take yer first kiss.”

  Dae I?

  Violet was inexperienced but not that naïve. She had met men much younger than Ethan who had shamelessly boasted about their conquests. It was a fair assumption that Ethan had his share of bedpartners—prettier, classy, and lastly, practiced women. But she was not going to let slip the one chance she had to kiss a man she believed would not abuse her naivety.

  “Aye,” her voice was just above a whisper, “I dae.”

  The first touch of his rough hand brushing past her cheek had her shivering. Ethan hesitated before sliding his hand around the back of her neck and used his thumb to cant her head to the side. She felt his breath wash over her cheek and then his lips were on hers. Softly, barely there.

  She parted her lips, his head slanted, his lips, firm and slightly chapped slid over hers, evoking fluttering sensations in her belly. Then the kiss deepened and the fleeting thoughts running through her head blurred as sultry, shivering heat ran through her.

  Pressing closer, she opened further and his tongue slid into her mouth. Desire darted up her spine as she did her best to meet him. Ethan pulled away, and his eyes were dark. He came back and kissed the corner of her mouth before slotting his lips over hers and this time, his kiss was deep.

  Her hands were anchored on his shoulder and his kiss was thrilling, addictive, and made heat reroute itself through her body. He licked the roof of her mouth and her hands were now clenching in his hair. Her lungs began to burn for air but she would gladly trade life for the pleasure he was giving her.

  But he pulled away only to stare at her. Softly, she extricated her hands from his hair and rested them—tremblingly—on her lap. She blinked, once, twice and a third time. Summoning up the courage, she whispered, “That…that was nice.”

  With his knuckle he raised her chin. “T’was more than nice.”

  She was tongue-tied and fishing for words but found none. How had his kiss wiped out the words from her mind just when she needed to say something, anything at all? It didn’t matter; his reply was to place the sweetest, gentlest kiss on her closed lips.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she asked, “What was this about nay dalliances?”

  He tucked her under his arm, and laid his cheek on the side of her head. “Aye, I will nae compromise ye, Violet. It’s clear ye are an innocent of dealings between men and woman, and I will nae take advantage of that.”

  “Nay one said ye were going to take advantage of me,” she said. “I ken ye wouldnae hurt me, I’ve never made such a strong a connection with any man before and I just—forgive me if I’m wrong—but I hope that ye felt the same.” She cringed. “If I was wrong—”

  “Shush,” he whispered. “I ken what ye mean and…ye were right but I willnae…daenae expect too much, Violet, from me. I am nae sure about me future will hold.”

  She sighed. “A while ago me future was uncertain as well. I wasnae even sure ye’d kiss me once, much less twice.”

  “Neither did I,” he murmured

  This mist began to filter into the air, swirling around the hedges and trunks of the trees. His body was warm and buffered the cold air from making gooseflesh rise on every inch of her skin. Her shoulder, tucked under his arm, fitted into the space of his body like a missing piece. Moonlight danced over his fair hair and cast shadows in the hood of his eyes and the sinews of his bulging biceps.

  “Ye feel nice,” she snuggled, brushing off the fact that Ethan’s agreement to remain detached worked to let her know how it felt like to be wanted. “Quite warm too.”

  “And ye’re are very soft,” he chuckled. “For all yer rather unusual ways.”

  “I’ve heard that all me life,” she snorted, “Father once sent me to a girls’ boarding school in Glasgow for nearly a year. He believed that the mistresses there would instill in me what he couldnae teach me at home. The girls at school held me as an odd-duck, teasing me for me unfeminine ways and me body. Said I looked more like a lad than a lady, epically for me lack of er…bosom. As the ladies were plucked out time after time for courtship and marriage, I learned quick and fast that noblemen prefer ladies who are endowed, can dance, cook, and are willing to adopt a rather subservient manner. Most of which, I’m nae.”

  “Dinnae mind them, ye’re cut from another cloth,” Ethan smiled.

  She muttered something under her breath, “Like rawhide instead of silk.” Alarmed her words were audible, she shot a look to Ethan, who was peering at her curiously. Aiming an apologetic smile up at him, she snuggled back into his side.

  The summer night was cool, but it was getting chill
ier, and even with Ethan’s body heat near her side, her thin gown was failing to buffer her from the cold. “I ken we should go inside.”

  “Are ye sure?” he asked. “I was just getting comfortable.”

  “Ye might be able to tug yer shirt off and live in this cold, but I need three layers of this dress and a fire to combat this chill,” she retorted shimmying away from him. “I’m still nay used to yer weather yet.”

  As she went to stand, Ethan tugged her back. Her gaze flickered to his graver one, instantly apprehension curled her stomach. “Violet, will this change our connection?”

  “I dinnae see how it can,” she said. “It was one, er, two kisses. I feel better nae having to distrust meself when it comes to ye. And now, ye can take one more worry off yer mind. Ye dinnae have to be unsure with me again.”

  “How did ye ken I was worried about that, about ye?” he asked.

  Plucking a lock of his hair she smiled. “Trade secret, and Ethan… thank ye for tonight.”

  Holding onto his hands, she was whisked into the castle, that, aside from few guards, was empty on the lower tier. She was accompanied up the stairs and then to her room and before she slipped inside, Ethan dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Violet.”

  Stunned that he would kiss her again, she slid into her room and closed the door softly. A part of her soul wanted to castigate herself for being so bold with Ethan, but if she had not made the first step, he would have never breached the divide. Twice had he kissed her in the garden and again just a while ago at her doorway.

  It was enough for her. Ethan had a lot to work through; she could still see his grief lingering in his eyes and he had confessed about his fear about the lairdship. At least she did not have to worry about how he felt about her. With that unease out of the way, perhaps things could be that much easier between them.

  She went to bed with her heart lighter and her mindset at ease. She had not asked Ethan for anything more than the one kiss. If her father unraveled the case tomorrow and they did part, there would be no regrets on her part.

  They had stayed out longer than she had realized and again, dawn was soon to come. Her sleep though was deep, and when she woke at dawn, a relieved and refreshing feeling had settled on her heart. Perhaps she took a bit longer brushing her hair or a mite longer time choosing through her four dresses, but she got to the breakfast table to see her father there, Mister MacFerson, and the Laird. Ethan was predictably absent.

  After greeting the men and kissing her father on his cheek, she was seated and warm food was brought out to her. She listened in on the conversation amongst the three men with the Laird and her father explaining the one lead they had found—Miss O’Bachnon—and Mister MacFerson exclaiming.

  “So, the O’Bachnon woman is the only key to finding out who killed me nephew? And she is nay where to be found?”

  “Aye,” her father said, rather gravely. “Laird MacFerson sent out three squadrons of ten soldiers to each village to search for her or her son this morn. If we cannae find her, perhaps she left her boy with a friend or a distant family member. If we can find him, we can find her.”

  “And she originated from Perth?” Mister MacFerson inquired.

  “Originally she was from Turren, she left for Perth and got married,” her father clarified. “She married, had a bairn, and then when her husband died, disappeared, until she reappeared with Finley at the tavern.”

  “That is a peculiarity,” the laird’s brother mused. “And now we cannae find her. News must have spread about Finley’s death. If she was innocent, I’d ken she would have come forward to declare her innocence. Which makes me believe that she kent she was leading Finley to his death.”

  “I agree, somewhat,” her father said, then launched into the same discussion she had with Ethan the other day.

  “Are ye telling me there might be more than two people involved in this?” Mister MacFerson was appalled.

  Uninterested in hearing the same argument again, she excused herself and slipped into the kitchen. After asking the first servant for some bread and cheese, she took the kidskin bag and hurried to the stables. She knew even before entering that Ethan was there. She stepped inside and peered around, then heard quiet voices and rustling straw at a stall.

  She drew near and saw Ethan sitting cross-legged and watching a tiny chestnut foal get the hang of its wobbly legs. Its mother was laying on her side, breathing hard through her flared nostrils. The sight of the foal’s knobby knees made her smile.

  “Colt or filly?”

  “Filly,” Ethan smiled. “The birthing was hard, but we got through it.”

  The newborn filly resumed trying to keep her balance but went toward Ethan’s waiting hand. The young horse sniffed his palm and then wandered off again. Violet’s observation shifted between the tiny filly figuring how to use her legs and the caring look on Ethan’s face, and she felt affection for both.

  After making a wobbly circle around, she came back to Ethan, rocked back and forth on her hooves before collapsing onto Ethan’s lap. She stretched her neck out while Ethan rubbed her belly. “Dinnae worry lass, ye’ll get a hold of it soon.”

  “Did ye birth her?” she asked, looking for any signs of blood or afterbirth on Ethan’s hands.

  “Aye,” he said. “This little one was turned the wrong way, and I had to reach in and turn her, but I had help. The stable boys cleaned up the straw, and I washed up quickly. That was before dawn.”

  “I’m glad I brought this then.” She offered the sack of bread and cheese. “Ye must be hungry.”

  The filly was asleep on his lap while he reached and opened the sack. Plucking out the bread and cheese, he smiled, all the while minding the sleeping horse on his lap. “Thank ye. I am hungry, but I found it hard to tear meself away from her. Ye’d ken aiding in birthing would make one sick to yer stomach, but I’ve seen so many, I’m unaffected.”

  Her mind drifted to the conversation at the high table moments ago. “Did ye ken yer faither is sending soldiers to all villages to find the O’Bachnon woman?”

  Around a mouthful, Ethan nodded, “Aye, he told me yesterday.”

  “Dae ye ken they’ll find her?” she asked, while ideas—wild and risky— ran through her mind.

  “They should if they’re worth their salt,” Ethan replied then gave her a knowing eye. “And nay, we cannae go and join them.”

  Curses.

  “I wasnae—” his narrow-eyed look made her stop, swallow her lie and laugh, “All right, ye found me out, but ye cannae blame for trying.”

  “Well, we cannae,” he sighed. “I ken ye want to follow up on what ye discovered, but this is nay the time for it. Yer faither might catch on and ban ye from leaving the castle, much less go on to more searching quests.”

  “But I...” she sighed, and folding her skirts under her, sat near Ethan, daring to run her fingertips over the horse’s twitching ears before speaking. “I feel like I should be doing something, but I’m nae.”

  “Ye’ve done enough for now,” Ethan consoled. “Without ye, we wouldnae have found this woman, and now yer faither is handling it. Just pray that he finds her and all things play out.”

  “What are we going to dae today?” She sighed, “I feel listless.”

  “I can take ye to the village,” he offered. “There is a shop that sells the best sweets ye can ever find. I’m sure we can find something more to occupy our minds for a while.”

  A scuffle from behind had them looking up, and Ethan gently shifted the filly from his lap to stand. “Who’s here?”

  “Ah, nephew,” Mister MacFerson said. “Glad ye’re here. Help me saddle me horse.”

  Debating on what to do, as it might look funny to see her there with Ethan alone, Violet eventually stood and went around to join them. She saw the older man’s eyebrows arch up in surprise, but he never spoke on it. “Miss O’Cain, I wondered where ye had run off to.”

  “I came to find Master MacFerson, as he had promised to
take me to the village to a shop and sample the sweets there.”

  “Ah,” he nodded while Ethan came around with a saddle that he rested on the back of a large brown stallion. “He is trained to be a gentleman.”

  While Ethan was securing the saddle, she asked, “Where are ye riding off to?”

  “Dupplin Castle,” he uttered a disparaging sigh. “The Laird there has sent word, asking me to come and assess some of his newest imports from the far east and judge if they are original of nae.”

  “Ye’ve traveled to those places?” Violet was amazed.

  He smiled. “It’s quite easy to travel from Africa to the east,” Mister MacFerson said. “Ye just need a camel caravan and a good guide. They have forged trade routes all over the land for centuries and the people are very friendly, as well.” His eyes flicked to Ethan, who was slipping the reins over the horse’s head. “Ah, ye’re finished. I’d better be off, thank ye, nephew, and take care of Miss O’Cain on your jaunt.”