Highlander's Sinful Desire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Maddie MacKenna

  Rowena nodded yes. She kept her gaze on the ground to keep from looking into his eyes again. Even in the night darkness, she could see they sparkled a bright green. If she looked at him, she would not be able to look away. I do not understand this effect he is having on me!

  “Good,” Taran said, turning his body around slowly but letting his eyes linger on her a bit longer. She looked at him finally and their eyes met again. This time, he was the one to quickly look away. He set off at a brisk walk.

  Behind him, Rowena started to take a big step but her long skirts wound round her ankle and tripped her. She groaned as she fell to one knee. Taran turned around to look. “Wait, one moment,” she said. She untied the rope belt with the flask attached, grabbed her skirt waist and hiked it up until the skirt hung just below her knees. She doubled the extra cloth over at the waist, rolled it a few times, and secured it. “That’s better,” she muttered. She saw Taran avert his eyes. Exposing her calves like this was highly improper, but she would be able to move more freely now.

  Without looking back at her, Taran said, “Ye ready now?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said. She stole a look back over her shoulder to see if Malcolm was watching, too. Malcolm was nowhere in sight, but Rowena sensed his presence nonetheless.

  Taran took a few easy strides and then picked up the pace. Rowena followed in his footsteps just as he had instructed. She worked to stay no more than ten feet behind him. Somehow, she found the strength to keep up, though she was certain he would be moving much faster without her. With fascination, she watched Taran’s back and shoulders roll in rhythm with his gait. He moved with confident athleticism, each movement performed with maximum efficiency and awareness. Clearly, his survival skills had been well-honed by life in these Highlands.

  Rowena began to feel sleepy. She forced her feet to keep moving forward. She began to lose track of time. Not once had they paused to rest. The path seemed to have become more difficult. Was it, or was she so tired that every step seemed to sink into mud and hold onto each foot so that it was harder and harder to take another step?

  It could be mud they were slogging through. They were still travelling on the path that ran alongside the river, and her feet were feeling wet. Or was that sweat? For what seemed like at least an hour or maybe two, the terrain had been flat and soft in places like it was in the river plain. Another while longer, and the ground seemed drier underfoot. Rowena felt her pace change underfoot. They seemed to be going uphill now, or was she just that tired?

  She soon realized that Taran had gradually led them off the river path and onto higher ground. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they had begun climbing. Then, unmistakably, the way became steeper as they began to ascend up the side of a hill.

  Rowena thought the path they were now on seemed less traveled, if it was a path at all. In the darkness, she could not tell. She felt her legs pumping hard and her breath laboring to keep up with Taran, who showed no sign of weariness. She fought the urge to ask him for a rest. She felt like reminding him that he had said his safe haven was not much farther north.

  How long had they been going? Her feet burned like fire and her back ached. She was exhausted. How much further could she go? If she had been alone, she would have reached St. James monastery by now. She would have been sleeping under the watchful eye of the monks.

  They had climbed a steep, craggy hill, and Rowena’s legs felt as heavy as twenty sacks of flour. Behind her, she first sensed and then saw Malcolm appear out of the woods, as quiet as a whisper. Taran stopped in the dense shadow of a stand of evergreens where they were invisible to anyone who had seen them.

  He stood motionless, an ear cocked, listening for any sound. Rowena was about to tell him that she could go no farther when he turned to face her. He whispered, “Our outpost is just the other side of these trees. We can rest in the lodge there in safety. In Scotland.”

  Rowena said weakly, “Praise God, thank you. I am grateful.” She staggered, and Taran caught her up in his arms. He held his arm around her waist to steady her and kept it there the rest of the way. In her entire life, she never felt as protected as she did at this moment.

  6

  Steadying Rowena with one hand, Taran opened the lodge door with his other hand. It opened into a large single room. A fireplace gaped at them from the opposite wall. The room was simply furnished with a couple of comfortable chairs, and a rustic dining table and chairs. A bed stood in one corner and another bed occupied the corner across the room.

  Taran led Rowena to the nearest bed and helped her sit down. “What is this place?” she asked.

  “It is an outpost on me family’s farm. We have owned it for many generations. This lodge has been a refuge for us many times. We are safe here,” Taran said. “Now get some sleep. We’ll have time to talk tomorrow.”

  His answer satisfied Rowena for now. She was too tired to inquire further. She immediately stretched out and fell asleep.

  He watched her for a few more moments. He could hardly take his eyes off of her. Why was he so spellbound? He had just met her. He had known many beautiful women, what made her irresistible? She was probably just like any other, yet something about her was quite different.

  Was it her piety? Her courage? Her determination? He did not know. He had spotted her looking at him and had pretended not to notice. He was used to women watching him—he was well aware of his charm. His dark red hair and green eyes attracted their attention, and he had a grin that melted their hearts.

  Banish these thoughts! I am weary, he told himself. I need some rest to clear my thinking. He put the cross bar down across the lodge entry door jamb and locked it into its place. It would hold off a small band of raiders long enough to put up a defense or escape. It had never been necessary for as long as Taran’s family had owned the lodge and the land it sat on, but these were dangerous times. The English soldiers had probably given up chasing them, but he did not know what other menace was lurking out there tonight. He could not be too careful.

  The lodge was small but large enough to easily shelter the three of them for as long as necessary. Taran noticed Malcolm silently removing his boots and did the same. He motioned to the other bed and said, teasing his long-time companion, “Malcolm, old man, you take that bed. I’ll take the floor over there. The bearskin makes a fine enough bed for a young and vigorous man like meself.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “I’m only a wee bit older than ye, laddie. Just ten years, as I recall. So enjoy yer youth while it lasts, it will nae be long before yer bones speak to ye.” As Malcolm lay down on a hard spartan bed, he teased Taran. “Ahh, the comfort of this fine soft straw is delightful!”

  He glanced at Taran to gauge his reaction to Malcolm’s ribbing. Taran was watching Rowena and had not heard Malcolm. Malcolm said in a soft but more serious voice, “Mind yer manners, now laddie! Remember, ye’re betrothed to Lady Deirdre. She will nae have ye foolin’ with another.”

  Taran glanced at Malcolm, offended at the suggestion that Taran would do anything unbecoming of a gentleman. “Daenae worry, old man!” He shot back. “I have nay ill intentions. Now get some rest.”

  Taran stood over the bearskin. It lay in the center of the room in front of a large stone fireplace. The fireplace warmed the cottage in the cold season and cooked meals whenever the lodge occupants wanted to eat. Taran was glad the night was comfortable enough that no heat from a fire was needed. The bearskin would be sufficient to keep him warm.

  He took one more glance at the sleeping Rowena and noticed she was still wearing her shoes, now caked with mud and grass. He gently removed them and placed them on the floor by the door, then he pulled a blanket over her.

  He peered out of the window above the bed and looked at the sky. It was still dark as night, but the stars had slid farther west. Faint traces of light were barely perceptible on the edge of the eastern horizon. He estimated it was about four in the morning, about the time when the local sheepherders and peasants would be getting up
to start their days.

  Taran thought the immediate danger was past, but not for long. They should be able to sleep until they were rested and eat some breakfast. Then they would be able to plan the next phase of their journey. Taran glanced back at Rowena. She was breathing deeply but was otherwise still. His heart softened as he watched her in the stillness of the night. She was so vulnerable out here alone.

  He finally laid himself down on the bearskin. Despite being exhausted, his mind was full of images of Rowena from the night’s events-- her dashing to keep up with them, hitching her skirt up to free her movements, averting her eyes from his, and then holding his gaze just a little longer than was usual. Should he make anything of that? I will be marryin’ Lady Deirdre in a few months. She is the one who should be on me mind, not this fair- haired beauty I just met!

  He conjured Deirdre’s face in his mind and remembered the last time they made love. He remembered how she had played his body with her experienced hands and mouth. He had been completely spent when she had finished with him. Still, she had hungered for even more. Strands of her flaming red hair had plastered to her cheeks and framed her face. She was bred to be a Highland queen, no doubt about it.

  Lady Deirdre’s image faded and Taran’s mind wandered back to Rowena. He wondered what motivated such a breathtaking beauty to become a nun. Her manner was gentle and refined, nothing like Deirdre’s tough, haughtier nature. No question that both women came from well-bred stock. Yet the quality of character that Rowena had shown in the face of so much danger, so many obstacles, was not what he expected. If she had once been sheltered, pampered, and spoiled, she had overcome it.

  Rowena’s courage and confidence was nothing short of admirable. It all raised many questions in his mind. Was her devotion to God the only force that drove her out in Kielder Forest alone? Her explanation did not seem likely. She was hiding something, he felt sure. He would try to find out more tomorrow.

  But, was it any of his business? What did it matter to him? The fact that she had risked her life to free them from the English soldiers and returned his sword to him was proof enough of her trustworthiness. She had been willing to make the journey alone, well aware of the dangers. That meant that she was honest and sincere about her intentions to travel to the nunnery at Iona Island. Sleep began to overtake him. As Taran drifted off to sleep, he decided that he and Malcolm needed to escort her there. Lady Deirdre may not be happy about it, but it was the noble thing to do.

  7

  As Rowena, Taran, and Malcolm fled from the soldiers, frenzy had erupted back at St. Martha’s.

  At the early hours of the morning, the great church bells rang out like any other pre-dawn morning. They called the sisters to wake up and attend the day’s first of seven prayer services. Within a few minutes, the nuns began filing in one-by-one and took their usual seats on the church’s wooden benches. Mother Lenora noticed that instead of the usual eighteen nuns, this morning there were only seventeen. Rowena’s seat was empty. That had never happened before. Mother Lenora knitted her brow. “Has anyone seen Rowena?” she asked the congregation.

  The sisters looked around at the empty spot and regarded each other vaguely. They shook their heads and softly murmured “no”. Only Sister Prudence remained quiet and still.

  “Hmm, perhaps she has taken ill. Excuse me, I will check her cell.” Mother Lenora scurried away and then returned moments later. “Rowena is not in her cell,” she announced. “Please, sisters, let us go and search for her. I will go to the visitor’s quarters and see Lord Strongbow. Perhaps they have already taken her and gone. Sister Prudence, please come with me.”

  A cold chill went up Sister Prudence’s spine, but she did as Mother Lenora directed. Why had she singled me out? Did Mother Lenora suspect anything? No, it would be impossible for her to know that Rowena had run off and that I had helped her. If Mother Lenora had overheard our plotting, she would have intervened last night. And I am not going to reveal Sister Rowena’s plans. I gave her my word.

  Sister Prudence stood by in silence while Mother Lenora rousted Lord Strongbow and his men. They knew nothing about Rowena’s whereabouts. When the men heard she was missing, they threw on some clothes and began a full search of the priory and the grounds. Searching through the night, they went through every room, every closet, the barn, and the privy, and then they searched the grounds outside. They traipsed through the garden in the darkness, making a mess of the young radish plants and squash vines growing there. Rowena was nowhere to be found.

  As everyone searched, Mother Lenora began asking questions of the sisters. “Did she say anything about where she might be going last evening? Did anyone notice anything unusual?” The sisters had no idea but they offered suggestions, trying to help.

  “She occasionally walks into town, but never at night. And never alone.”

  “She seemed to be fine yesterday. I hope she is all right!”

  “She worries about the children in Jarrow, perhaps she went there to tend to someone?”

  No one offered anything specific.

  At the break of dawn, Earl Strongbow started barking orders to his men. He ordered them to mount up. They would scour the countryside beyond the abbey walls to find Rowena. They surmised that she could not have gotten very far, particularly on foot.

  On the road outside the abbey gate, Earl Strongbow sat on his horse and contemplated what to do. He sent two of his men into town to search and find out whatever they could and return.

  Earl Strongbow meanwhile explored the roadside for telltale signs that she had been there. At the intersection of the road and the river path to St. James, where Rowena had in fact been hours earlier, Earl Strongbow paused. He noticed a place on the ground where the earth had been churned up by travelers and their horses.

  “Wait!” he called to his men. He dismounted and inspected the ground. There were fresh footprints and horseprints leading in multiple directions. The soil was still soft and damp; it had not even had time to form crust around the edges. “Look at those tracks,” he said, pointing at the ground. “It appears that like quite a lot of traffic passed through here recently,” he said.

  The other men peered at the tracks from horseback. One of them said, “Indeed. And whoever it was, they were moving quickly. It is difficult to tell which way they were headed. It appears several went towards town.”

  They looked down the road in the direction of town. Earl Strongbow saw two of his own scouts coming toward them. They appeared to be escorting a small group of men marching on foot, carrying a royal banner. They were King Richard’s men! As the soldiers got closer, Strongbow noticed a man marching along with his hands bound behind his back. He limped, and his face was bruised and beaten.

  “Sir,” one of Strongbow’s men shouted to him as he rode up. “None of the townsfolk seems to know anything about her whereabouts. But these men are here under the authority of King Richard. They have information you want to hear!

  “Good afternoon, my Lord!” one of the soldiers called out to Lord Strongbow. “Your man here said you’re looking for a young lady. I believe we encountered her last night!”

  Earl Strongbow raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Please go on. Tell me what you know.”

  The soldier said, “Last night we were marching through Kielder Forest. We were just about five miles north of where we stand right now. We were minding our own business. Out of nowhere comes a gang of highway robbers. They ambushed us. We captured two of them, Highlanders they were, but they escaped. We chased them and nearly caught up to them but they got away from us. We got a good look at them, though. A beautiful girl was with them. She fits the description you gave … blond…wearing what looked like nun’s attire. But it was dark, and--”

  Earl Strongbow cut him off. It had to be Lady Rowena. “Did she seem injured?” He asked.

  The soldier hesitated, mulling that one over. He said, “My Lord, she did not appear to be. But it was dark. We called to her, and she heard us. But they a
ll ran from us.”

  “I see,” Earl Strongbow said, not sure what to make of that. “Where did you see them?”

  The soldier pointed up the path that led to the River North Tyne. “Up that way, several miles alongside the river. Stay on the path by the river, heading north. It goes to the St. James Monastery about twelve miles or so away near Chester. You will see a high rocky outcrop that rises in the middle of the path. It marks the edge of the disputed lands. You have to climb it or go--”

  Before the soldier had finished his explanation, Strongbow and his men had already spun their horses and were galloping down the path at full speed. They kept their eyes on the path. From the tracks that were everywhere, they could see a lot of frenetic activity had occurred in the area the night before.

  In a short time, they reached the rocky outcrop that slowed their progress. The path continued up the side, winding back and forth around the boulders protruding from the formation. On closer inspection, they could see where recent traffic had disturbed the terrain and places where people had lost their footing and slid down the side. The way forward here was steep but passable.