Loving Her Highland Enemy

by Samantha Holt

  “Dinnae underestimate yer enemies.”

  Leana’s hands worked their way up his arms, gripping his shoulders as his lips grazed tenderly across hers again. He felt as if he were in the middle of a tempest as lightening bolted down his spine, causing pinpricks of exhilaration all over his body.

  He slanted his mouth across hers, fingers delving into her wild hair, bringing her closer to him until they were flush against one another. The friction of his body touching hers was almost unbearable and she moved against his solidity, making him groan.

  Unable to resist, he deepened the kiss.

  She moaned against his mouth. It was the undoing of him. He hitched up her skirts and found her wet. He needed to be elsewhere, doing other things, but right now, he needed Leana more than anything.

  Tavish released her skirts, gripped her arms and maneuvered her back toward the bed. Her legs struck the edge of the bed and she tumbled back. He came with her, swiftly shoving up her skirts to reveal her. He muttered a curse that he didn’t have more time but Leana didn’t seem to care. She reached for him, pulling him on top of her.

  He swiftly shoved the fabric of his plaid aside and plunged deep into her, swallowing her cry with a kiss. He pounded hard into her, utterly lost. Her nails scrabbled across his shirt, pulling and tugging, urging him on.

  She cried out his name.

  “Nessa,” he groaned when her body clamped around him. He surged into her several more times, hard and fierce, the world of danger and revenge forgotten. His pleasure overtook him and he clenched his jaw hard and gave himself up to it.

  Panting, he eased to one side and wrapped her in an embrace. “I must see to my duties,” he managed to mutter.

  “Aye, ye must.” She twisted toward him and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Be cautious, Maclean,” she warned him once more. “I dinnae wish to lose ye.”

  “Ye willnae,” he vowed.

  Regardless of who the traitor was, he would not let them come between them. Once this was over, he would claim Leana as his, and the strife between the clans would be truly over.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maggie bundled into the chambers, shoving the door shut behind her as though she were being chased by a wolf.

  “What’s the matter?” Leana asked.

  Maggie sucked down a breath. “The matter? Ye should tell me. Tavish has told me to ensure ye dinnae leave the room.”

  “Aye.” Leana wrapped her arms about herself. She didn’t much like the idea either. Her stomach tightened at the thought of Tavish out there, alone, with his uncle. He might not be wholly convinced of his guilt, but she knew, without doubt, it had been him at the fire. She just wished she had realized it sooner.

  “I know who the traitor is,” Leana told Maggie.

  “Oh Lordy.”

  “Aye.”

  “So Tavish is off to confront him?”

  “Something like that.” Leana peered out of the window, paced to the fireplace, then headed back to stare out at the darkened castle walls once more. “I have an uneasy feeling, Maggie. Something is going to happen.”

  “Tavish is a strong man. Ye dinnae have to fear for him.”

  Leana chewed on her bottom lip. “But ‘tis his uncle, Maggie. What if he persuades Tavish that it isnae him who is the cause of all this strife?” She glanced at the maid.

  Maggie pressed a hand to her chest. “His uncle? Oh, goodness.”

  “Aye,” Leana said grimly.

  “He trusts ye, that much I can tell.”

  Leana eyed the darkness, peering up at the men patrolling the walls, then down into the shadows of the bailey. Movement caught her eye and her chest tightened. Someone was headed toward the laird’s chambers and she had a good suspicion who.

  “I have to get out of this room.” She pivoted but Maggie blocked her way. “Maggie, Tavish and his father could be in danger.”

  “Tavish ordered me to ensure ye stayed.”

  “Tavish is no’ in charge of me. Or ye.”

  “But it could be dangerous.” Maggie wrung her hands together.

  “Maggie, pray,” she begged. “I need to get to Tavish and warn him.” She retrieved a dagger from the chest of clothes and tucked it into the pocket of her kirtle.

  Maggie eyed her for several moments then her shoulders sagged. “Very well, but there’s a big brute of a lad guarding the room.” She thrust a thumb toward the door.

  “Ye can distract him.” Leana gripped Maggie’s arms. “Then I’ll slip past.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “Ye dinnae get yerself into danger or I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Leana vowed.

  Maggie drew in a long breath, her chest puffing up. Then she tugged open the door and dashed outside, wailing. Leana chuckled to herself and peered out of the open door to see Maggie had flung herself into the man’s arms.

  “Oh ‘tis just too terrible,” Maggie wailed. “First the laird, now mayhap my lady is in danger. Whatever shall I do?”

  “Well, um...” The man tried to ease Maggie to her feet and release her, but she sagged against him as soon as he attempted to right her.

  Leana slipped past, catching Maggie’s eye and mouthing her thanks, then hastened out into the frigid air. She darted through the darkness toward the laird’s chambers, coming to a halt when she spotted him.

  Tavish’s uncle.

  He stilled too, his gaze clashing with hers. Her breath caught. The torch light on the wall lit one side of his face. There was no doubting it. He had been the man she had seen. No wonder he wanted her dead. As the only survivor of the fire, she was the only one with a chance of identifying him. Ensuring she was gone meant no one was alive who could reveal him and he could also blame her for harming the laird. What better person to blame than a Sinclair?

  A smile slipped across his lips as he approached. Her throat dried and she tightened her muscles so he could not see her tremble.

  “Leana, I have no’ seen ye for two days. I thought mayhap ye had tired of our hospitality and returned home.”

  “Tavish feared with a traitor in our midst that I might be in some danger.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze head on. “He had me confined to my room.”

  “Did he? And why would he think ye might be in danger when ‘tis my brother who has been harmed?” He pressed his lips together. “Odd that he should come to harm when a Sinclair is visiting, is it no’?”

  “‘Tis odd timing,” she agreed, refusing to glance away.

  He looked to the chamber door, then back to her. “I should see to my brother,” he finally said. “He was lucky to escape with his life. Mayhap ye should like to visit him too. I should be happy to—”

  “I should return to my chambers.” She affected a meek look, dropping her gaze to her feet. There was no chance she was letting this man take her anywhere. Nor did she intend to return to her chambers.

  “Indeed. That sounds safest for everyone.” His voice dripped with unspoken bile.

  Lord, how she wanted to wipe that patronizing look from his face. How she wanted to tug the dagger she had secreted in her plaid out and lunge at him. But if she killed him here and now, she would never get her answer, and no one would believe her that their enemy was the beloved brother of the laird.

  She ducked her head and pivoted on the snowy ground, too aware of his gaze upon her back. Leana had wagered he wouldn’t harm her with patrols around, but she couldn’t be certain of that. She only let herself relax once she had tucked herself into the shadows of the castle.

  Pressing her back against the cold stone, she gathered her breaths and peered around the edge of the wall. Where was Tavish? She scoured the castle walls, but it was hard to tell who was who in the darkness that consumed the keep. If he was already with his father, then the laird would be safe.

  Hopefully.

  If he was not, then...

  She watched Tavish’s uncle enter the laird’s chambers. If he was not, then his father could be in
danger. Right now.

  ✽✽✽

  TAVISH’S HEART CAME to a thudding halt. He peered into the murky darkness from his position on the ramparts, breath held, waiting for another glimpse. It couldn’t be.

  Hell fire.

  “We’re under attack,” he bellowed into the night.

  Boats bobbed under the milky moonlight, pushed hard and fast by oars through the wash. He lost sight of them when they reached the bottom of the steps. He didn’t need to see faces to know who it would be—the Campbells.

  Braziers were rapidly lit and men gathered on the walls. Tavish turned to one of them. “Is the gate secure?”

  “I dinnae know,” Bram said, drawing out his sword. “They’d be fools to expect to make it through surely?”

  Tavish glanced back toward his father’s chambers. The two men stationed outside had come to the castle walls.

  And his uncle was making his way toward the room.

  He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

  “Check the gates, ready the men. They look to have small numbers but if they break through, we’ll have a time of fighting them off. Campbells are fierce fighters.” He looked toward the main keep. At least Leana was locked in her room. “Have someone ensure the women and children are hidden,” he added.

  Hand to the hilt of his sword, he peered over the walls once more. The gates were solid but not impenetrable. However, if the men broke through, they’d have to fight them one at a time. Why the Campbells would try something so risky, he didn’t know.

  He marched toward his father’s chambers, his throat tightening. The shouts of men and the scrape of swords on scabbards made the hair on the back of his neck rise on end. The Campbells had never tried to attack them in their own keep before. Mayhap they had decided they would all be drunk from Yuletide and easy to defeat but the fact they were here while his father was prone made him uneasy. It meant the traitor could very well be working with them.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed open the chamber door, his only hope could be that Leana was wrong.

  She wasn’t.

  He swiftly freed his sword and pointed it toward his uncle.

  Uncle Mac froze, the dagger in his hand pressed against the fabric of Leana’s plaid as she stood flat against the wall, her hands raised in submission. He turned his head slowly to view Tavish, his expression cold and calculating.

  “Tavish,” Leana cried.

  “Let her go, Uncle,” Tavish said firmly.

  From his bed, Tavish’s father struggled to push himself up in bed. “Yer a damned traitor, Kam,” he said. He nodded toward Leana. “The girl woke me as bloody Kam had a knife to my throat. He’d have killed me if she hadn’t arrived.” He tried to swing his legs out of bed but failed. “I suppose ye poisoned me and made me useless too,” his father spat.

  Tavish shook his head slowly. “Ye’ve been at my da’s side all these years, and now ye want to kill him?”

  “Yer weak,” he spat. “Both of ye are. Wanting to join with the Sinclairs when we could have finished them off and taken their land years ago.”

  “There’s no weakness in gaining allies,” his father said.

  Uncle Mac glanced between them and then looked to Leana, pressing the knife until she released a squeak of pain. Blood welled at the knife point.

  “If ye kill her, I’ll gut ye myself,” Tavish said through gritted teeth.

  “If it hadn’t been for her surviving, ye would not have thought twice about killing off the Sinclair chief.” Kam eyed Leana, his face mere inches from hers.

  Outside, the shouting and footsteps increased. The Campbells must have reached the gates. He needed to get Leana to safety as soon as possible, but if he moved, Kam could push that dagger into her breast in an instant.

  “I wouldnae have killed the last remaining Sinclairs. No matter what ye think, Kam.” Tavish’s father lifted his palms. “Now, pray, let the lass go and we can discuss yer complaints like civilized men.”

  “Civilized,” Kam spat. “I dinnae care for civilized and neither should ye.” He cocked his head. “Sounds like the Campbells have arrived anyway. They’ll finish the job for me, and I’ll take leadership finally.”

  “Ye would kill yer own kin for power?” Tavish felt the blood drain to his boots.

  “We’re Highlanders, Tavish. Dinnae be a fool. We must kill if we’re to survive.”

  “So ye did light the fire at the Sinclairs?” The words felt numb and hollow.

  Kam lifted a shoulder. “I helped, aided by the Campbells. They wanted rid of the Sinclairs as much as I did. I promised to broker an agreement with them once we took over the land.”

  “The Campbells would never agree to anything, ye damned fool,” muttered Tavish’s father.

  “Ye wouldn’t know,” Kam hissed. “Ye were too busy trying to get the damned Sinclairs to be yer friends again.” He took Leana’s arm and moved her away from the wall. “I’d hoped to finish this myself, Brother,” he said, easing Leana around and pressing the knife to her throat.

  Tavish saw her throat bob and watched the blade, so close to cutting through her fragile skin. He kept his sword point on his uncle and followed his movements as he made his way to the door, using Leana as a shield. He knew now his uncle would do anything—including killing Leana—and he couldn’t let that happen.

  “I suppose I’ll have to leave it to the Campbells to finish ye off,” Kam said with a sigh. “Dinnae fear. I’ll be sure to look after the clan when yer both gone.”

  “Ye bastard,” his father said bitterly.

  Kam slipped out of the open door.

  “Bloody get him, Tavish,” his father ordered. “Kill him before he kills yer lass.”

  Tavish didn’t need telling twice. If Uncle Kam harmed the woman he loved, he’d scalp the man himself and string him up.

  But first he needed to get her to safety.

  Chapter Twelve

  The knife point pressed against her throat. Leana held herself stiff as Kam hauled her down the stairs and into the bailey. She blinked up at the lit braziers on the walls. Why were the braziers aflame?

  Aware of Tavish following behind while Kam used her as a human shield, she stumbled through the snow. If she could just ease her hand down to where her knife was concealed...

  Kam’s grip was firm though, pressing her hard against him. With every movement, she remained tense, waiting for the blade to pierce her skin. It might have already. She couldn’t tell if the damp on her neck was blood or flecks of snow.

  “Uncle, release her,” Tavish ordered, shadowing their steps with his blade held aloft.

  “Turn yer attention to yer walls,” Kam said. Leana heard the grin in his voice. “Ye have company.”

  Scowling, she scanned the walls. She’d heard shouted orders when she’d entered the laird’s chambers but had little idea what was occurring. Kam had been upon her with his blade before she could so much as scream out. But at least he had not done the deed—he hadn’t plunged his knife into the laird. She’d prevented that.

  Men gathered on the walls and in the bailey. Shouts rang out and she heard the clang of metal upon metal. It was only as they neared the gate, did she realize they were being attacked. A handful of men pushed their way into the courtyard.

  She recognized one as a Campbell.

  God Lord, the Campbells were attacking.

  A man hastened up to them. “The gates were open,” he panted. “We couldnae shut them—” He stilled, his gaze fallen upon the knife at her neck. “Kam?”

  “Move,” Tavish’s uncle spat.

  “Do as he says,” Tavish barked. “And dinnae let those intruders near the keep.”

  The man moved away and Kam dragged Leana along for another few steps toward the battle. Her heart beat a sickening thud.

  “Ye opened the gate,” she said. “Ye let the Campbells in.”

  “Aye,” Kam said in her ear. “They’ll finish the job for me, and I’ll take my rightful place.”

  �
��Release her,” Tavish demanded, his voice growing in desperation.

  Leana eyed the tangle of bodies ahead of them. Several men split off, slipping past the blockade of Maclean men and heading toward the ramparts. One grabbed a torch and bile rose in her throat. Had it not been for the knife flat against her skin, her legs would have given way.

  They intended to burn the castle.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not to Tavish’s clan.

  She faked a slipped step, her eyes closed briefly as she prayed Kam had enough control over the knife not to slice her then and there. As she stumbled, she reached into the fold of her plaid and closed her fingers about the cold metal handle of the blade. She drew it out and sliced hard.

  Kam released her with a howl of pain. She darted back toward Tavish and he grabbed her plaid, hauling her behind him. Kam clasped his arm, blood seeping from between his fingers. His gaze, wide and wild, darted about. He threw down the dagger and pulled out his arming sword, gesturing toward Tavish.

  “If ye want to fight me, Nephew, I dinnae mind. I’ve bested ye many a time.”

  “Not in the past ten years, Uncle, if ye recall.”

  Kam took several steps back, his heel connected with the steps up toward the ramparts. He stepped back and up and Tavish shadowed his movements.

  Leana gripped Tavish’s arm and motioned to the man with the lit torch. “The Campbells...they’re going to burn the castle.”

  Tavish glanced up at the men on the walls. “Aye,” he said grimly.

  She scanned the area but there were no weapons and no way of her getting to the man while Tavish’s uncle stood between them and the men. The fight at the gates had grown less frantic, with several of the intruders being pushed back. She suspected they intended to set the fire and escape rather than try to take over the castle. She considered Maggie and Tavish’s mother and the other innocents inside the building.

  She couldn’t let this happen.

  Moving away from Tavish, she watched the path of the man with the torch. He was heading for the roof, where the timbers would light easily and burn down. She knew all too well what it was like to be trapped in a building with the fire raining down scorching heat upon the innocent occupants.