Highlander's Scarred Angel (Beasts 0f The Highlands Book 2)

by Alisa Adams

The air went out of Cenna’s chest at that answer. Then she regrouped.

  “Well, it willnae. I can do it as well as anyone, there’s no need for ye to touch me horse. Or me!”

  “I see,” Tristan said with a grimace.

  “No, I dinnae think ye do!” Cenna said angrily.

  “Then tell me Cenna and cease yer barking at me,” he said firmly.

  “You kissed me!” she said indignantly, pulling another dirk out of her belt and pointing it at him.

  Tristan stopped saddling Bluebell and turned to her. He stared intently at her for a moment, ignoring the dirk she had pointed at him. His eyes instead traveling from her eyes to her lips and back again. He saw her squirm a bit. He was not going to mention that she had asked him to kiss her.

  “Aye I did,” he said softly, almost threateningly.

  “Ye say that like ye are warning me,” she said warily.

  “I am. Warning ye that is,” he said quietly. “I will kiss ye again Cenna. Like it or not,” he railed softly at her.

  “Ye willnae! Ye kissed me when I had been drinking the whiskey!” she shouted.

  “Were ye drunk then?” he shot right back at her.

  “Of course I wasnae!” She blushed.

  “Then what is the problem?” he said. “Ye kissed me back.”

  She looked at him like a trapped animal.

  “Ye pulled me shirt off or dinnae ye remember that?” he said softly.

  He took a step towards her.

  She took a step back.

  “Ye ran your fingers over the scars on me chest…” he reminded her.

  He took another step towards her.

  Cenna’s eyes traveled down his chest and then quickly back to his face. Her breasts were heaving now.

  She took a step back.

  “Ye seemed to like my chest…” he whispered in a deep, silky, velvet voice as he took another step.

  Cenna opened her mouth to deny it, then closed her mouth abruptly as she took another step away from him.

  “Ye have so many,” she whispered throatily, unable to find her voice.

  “Not just on my chest, sweetling,” he said with a slight grin and another step.

  Cenna froze. “More?” she croaked. Her eyes went down to his waist. One of the scars had gone below the waist of his kilt.

  “Eyes up here, sweetling,” he said with a short, deep laugh as he pointed at his face.

  Cenna jerked her eyes—and her thoughts—back to what he had been saying.

  Tristan smiled at her. “Though yes, there are more scars…lower.” He said the last word in a voice so deep it was almost a growl. He took another step, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Cenna swallowed hard. “Oh?” She didn’t retreat this time, but stood her ground.

  “My thigh…” he said very seriously as he stepped right up against her, taking the dirk from her hand and dropping it onto the grass beneath their feet.

  He studied her. Hungry for every nuance of her face; the curve of her cheek, the arch of her brows, the flutter of her eyelashes. He saw the scattering of light freckles across her nose.

  “Ye have freckles,” he whispered in a velvety voice.

  “I dinnae,” she said with a light shove at his chest.

  He captured her hand. “I vow to you that one day I will kiss each freckle on your body.”

  He watched her lips open as she stared wide-eyed at him. He suspected she had other freckles, elsewhere on her body, and was thinking that very thought at that moment.

  “Wherever they may be…” he added in a whisper with a mischievous, crooked grin.

  “I should put my dirk in ye for that comment,” she said with a tremble in her voice.

  “Nay, ye willnae be able to do that,” he said as he stared into her eyes.

  “Why not?” she asked with an indignant croak, reaching for another dirk at her waist.

  “Because I’ll be too busy kissing you,” he said and wrapped his arm around her waist, his big hand holding her tiny waist tightly. He cupped her head in his other hand, flexing his fingers into her hair to hold her face where he wanted it so that their mouths were just right, and bent her back over his arm and kissed her. Deeply, urgently. With a hunger and desire that burst within him and threatened to burn out of control.

  Cenna reached up instantly and clutched his hair in her fingers, twining his wavy brown locks tightly in her fingers to hold him to her. She gave back everything he was giving her, and more. Returning his kiss with the same hunger that she felt in his own. Learning the way of his kisses, those kisses that were so new and unlike anything she had ever experienced. Thrusting her tongue against his with the same urgency. The feel of him, the taste of him was a heady drug that spun through her mind and body like the brightest sunlight. The same feelings that had flowed through her body last night at his kiss, at his touch, at the feel of his arm wrapped around her waist and his hand cupping her head came to her. She had not dreamed it. She had not exaggerated it in her memory. His taste, the spicy male scent of his skin came flooding back to her and throughout her body. She moaned softly and heard his groan in return.

  Tristan was starved for her, as if he had not kissed her thoroughly just the night before. She was everything. Everything he wanted, yet more. He groaned at the delicious sweet taste of her. The innocence that he felt was coming to life in his arms. How she so easily and trustingly gave back to him. Learning as he kissed her and happy and eager to taste him as well. His body was demanding more, the blood pounding painfully through him. He growled and nipped her lip tenderly as he brought her back upright and released her. Slowly, gently. With a tender look, he placed a chaste kiss on her nose.

  “Freckle number one,” he whispered softly as he turned and walked away, leaving Cenna wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He knew her lips were rosy and swollen from his kiss.

  Cenna put her fingers to her lips and watched him walk away. Actually, the man sauntered away, she thought. She grinned slightly at his cocky walk. Then she looked down at the ground and frowned.

  Her dirk lay forgotten, dropped onto the grass at her feet.

  The cheeky mon, she thought, turned my mind to mush, he did. She was not sure if she liked that.

  * * *

  Cenna walked over to where her sisters were having some oat cakes. She sat down next to them and reached for a cake; nibbling it, deep in thought.

  “How is your hand Cenna, and your ankle?” Ina asked her.

  “Och, tis fine,” she said looking at her hand. “It barely hurts a’tall.”

  “I’m not surprised. You seemed preoccupied with something else,” Ina said with a cheeky grin.

  Cenna’s head came up quickly to look at Ina. She saw the teasing grin on her little sister’s face.

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked her archly.

  “Och just that a certain big, handsome warrior seemed to have your attention. And your lips.” Ina giggled.

  “Ina!” Cenna exclaimed.

  “Wrapped in his huge, muscular arms you were, with him bending you over like that as he held you so securely. His big hand cupping your head so he could have just the right angle to kiss your lips with his hungry ones. For he did look hungry. Stalked you like prey he did, hungry for the taste of ye…” She sighed. “It looked so romantic, Cenna!”

  “Good grief Ina! Were ye watching the whole time?” Cenna asked indignantly.

  “Oh aye.” She sighed again, staring up into the clouds. “He is a beautiful mon Cenna. I niver understood why ye rail at him all the time. He looks like he kisses like a dream too.” Ina said blissfully.

  Cenna stared at her little sister. She was speechless.

  Tristan did kiss like a dream. Never had a man kissed her like that. But in truth, she had only shared silly little stolen kisses when she was a young girl. Those had been the kisses of boys. Blushing, awkward, slobbery boys. Not men. And Tristan was all man, pretty face or no.

  “Ina—” She started to admonish
her little sister, then stopped, looking to her older sister Flori for help. But Flori was staring off into the distance, her oatcake forgotten as she smiled vacantly, looking out past where they were sitting. “Flori?” Cenna asked, following where Flori’s eyes were looking. Sure enough, Cenna saw Loughlin, readying their horses, stealing glances at Flori every now and then. “Flori!” Cenna said again, louder this time.

  Flori jumped. Looking startled, she looked at her two sisters. Her face was blushing bright red.

  “Yes?” Flori asked with a guilty look on her face.

  Cenna and Ina sat there, looking at her.

  “Did ye have a pleasant evening last night Flori?” Cenna asked her with a grin and a wink. “Ye and Loughlin that is?”

  Flori sat up straighter and smiled. “Oh yes, it was perfect. Just lovely,” she said softly, with just a touch of surprise in her voice.

  Ina looked back and forth between her two sisters.

  “What did I miss?” Ina demanded.

  Ina’s question was met with silence. Flori continued to blush and couldn’t stop the smile on her face, and Cenna was deep in thought as she re-wrapped her hand.

  “Not fair!” Ina cried.

  The two older Ross sisters were rescued from their little sister by Tristan’s deep voice, calling out the command to mount up.

  As Cenna walked over to her mare Whins, she heard a shout and turned around to see the little girl from yesterday running towards her, her grandmother scurrying behind her.

  Cenna caught her up in her arms with a laugh and a hug. The little girl squeezed her neck and kissed her sloppily on the cheek.

  “She saw ye and it was all I could do to keep up with her!” the older woman said as she stopped in front of Cenna, trying to catch her breath.

  “I am happy to see her and be able to give her a hug,” Cenna said with barely a wince as the little girl squeezed her already bruised neck again.

  “Och, she left bruises on ye, didnae she?” the woman said as she gently lifted Cenna’s hair to inspect her neck. “It’s guid I brought ye more salve for yer hand. Put it on yer neck as well.”

  “Thank ye. Will ye all be safe?” Cenna asked her as Tristan walked over.

  The old woman smiled at Tristan. “Yer lady has bruises on her neck. I gave her more salve for her hand and ankle. Be sure to put it on her neck as well. Ye’ll have to do it for her as she cannae see the bruises. Gentle like, mind ye,” she said with a smile to Tristan.

  “Thank you, I will be sure to do that for her and gladly,” he smiled and paused. “Will ye be safe here as Lady Cenna asked? Where are the younger men to protect ye?”

  “All gone they are. Most got on ships to the colonies for a better life as the sheriff and his men have been trying to clear us off our lands for a while now. Cait’s own da was killed by the men, as were so many of our men.”

  “Ye must not let the sheriff’s men near yer village!” Cenna said earnestly.

  “Och, we have no means to stop them. They took all our weapons away with the Disarming Act,” she tsked. “So the young men, they saw what the future would be here—defenseless, homeless, no right to be on the land that yer family has farmed for generations. They risked death staying, so they left.”

  “Ye are Macallans tho?” Cenna asked.

  “Aye, I am Effie Macallan and the wee one ye rescued is Cait, me granddaughter.”

  Cenna looked intently at Tristan.

  He blinked and looked back at her, at a loss for what her look was trying to tell him.

  “What?” Tristan asked her.

  “I am keeping them,” Cenna stated firmly.

  Tristan just stared at her. So did Effie.

  “Dinnae ye say ye cannae just keep someone? Ye said so yourself only a day or so ago,” he said with a short laugh.

  “All the same, I am keeping them,” she said again, firmer this time.

  Tristan ran his hand through his hair and looked around at the people in the village.

  “Yer keeping Effie and little Cait?” he leaned over and whispered the question to her, his mouth beside her cheek.

  “Nay, I am keeping them all,” she said matter of factly, turning her face and saying it quietly into his ear.

  Tristan looked at her with his jaw working. “Sards,” he muttered and ran his hand through his hair again, looking at the ground. “All?” he said, looking at her.

  Cenna nodded her head exuberantly as she hugged little Cait. Cait was busy playing with Cenna’s hair and had found a particularly tasty strand that she was sucking on as she stared at Cenna’s face.

  “They have no protection, their fields are gone, their livestock is almost gone, their people and their homes are mostly gone. And Fionnaghall is just waiting for people to return to her. Most of our crofters are gone and their homes lay empty and waiting too. It’s perfect dinnae ye think?” she said with a big smile.

  “Ye are from Fionnaghall?” Effie asked.

  At Cenna’s nod, Effie dipped into an excited curtsy.

  “Och me Lady! Me Lord! Fionnaghall! Tis a beautiful place to be sure! Och thank ye, thank ye!” At that she turned and ran as fast as her old bent legs allowed her off to the village.

  “Everyone!” Effie called out to the other villagers, “pack yer things we be leaving fer Fionnaghall! We’ll have homes and the Black Watch Army to protect us! And our Lady and her Lordship!”

  Trist and Cenna watched her go.

  “She forgot her grandchild,” Tristan said drolly with one eyebrow raised.

  “Tristan,” Cenna said with a frown.

  “Does she know we have cliffs at Fionnaghall too? Bigger ones, in fact,” Tristan added, watching the villagers scrambling around gathering items. It seemed all were indeed coming.

  “She knows they will have protection,” Cenna said tartly.

  “Well, we arnae waiting for them. It will take a day or two for them to pack,” he said. “Loughlin!” Tristan called to the huge warrior who served as his right arm.

  Loughlin came up to him. “Ye shouted?” he asked Tristan.

  “Take half of the Black Watch soldiers and stay here as the village packs up. They will be coming to Fionnaghall. Lead them there as soon as you can get them all ready. Make haste, I fear the sheriff and his men will return. Without Warwick here to lead his clan, these people are too easy a target.”

  Loughlin nodded his head.

  “Oh and here,” Tristan said quickly plucking little Cait out of Cenna’s arms. “Take her too. Her grandmother is just over there,” he said, pointing to Effie.

  Loughlin held the little girl at arm’s length away from his chest. He stared at her, aghast, not knowing what to do with her. The little girl smiled a huge, drooling grin at the big, scarred soldier and he panicked further, looking around desperately for Flori.

  “I’m keeping Flori with me,” he said curtly over his shoulder to Tristan and Cenna. He took quick, large strides towards the grandmother with Cait held straight out in front of him.

  Cenna and Tristan mounted their horses. They could hear Cait laughing and giggling. They watched in amusement from atop their horses as the giant warrior in a kilt carried the little girl.

  Loughlin suddenly let out a yell. “She’s piddling on me!” Then he shouted, “Flori!”

  Flori came running. “Ye shouted?” she said on a laugh as she reached up for the little girl. The two aunts were right behind her with Aunt Hexy holding her arms wide for a chance to hold the little girl as well.

  Tristan looked over at Cenna. “They’ll be fine. Let’s go.” He gave the signal for the other half of the Black Watch Army to move out as he and Cenna put their horses into a trot towards Fionnaghall.

  Ina came trotting up beside them. “Should I stay with ye or stay with Loughlin and Flori?” she asked as she looked over at Flori and Loughlin.

  Tristan looked at those Black Watch soldiers that were with Loughlin. He saw the two men that were fighting over Ina and knew they would die before anything h
appened to her. They would protect her with their very lives.

  “You stay with Loughlin and Flori. Ye’ll be of help with the children. Ye’ll only be a day behind us.”

  Ina shook her head in excitement and rode over to Flori and Loughlin and Aunt Hexy and Aunt Burnie. They all waved to Tristan and Cenna as they rode away, though Loughlin called out to Tristan, “Ye owe me!”

  Cenna turned her head to look behind her as they trotted off, waving to her sisters. The scarred little village looked pitiful indeed, with half of its cottages burned. The smell of the smoke still lingered in the air. She watched for a moment, seeing Ina with her pale blonde hair shining in the sun, chasing around some children, her pale blue skirt swirling out behind her as she played with them. Flori was watching Loughlin, her head thrown back in laughter as her dark hair fell down her back. Loughlin was bent over, running after something…

  Cenna frowned as she watched them.

  “What is it?” Tristan asked her, seeing her expression as she twisted around on her horse to wave to her sisters.

  “I may have not thought this through,” she said as she bit her lip, still watching Loughlin.

  “You think that now, do ye?” Tristan laughed.

  Cenna frowned furiously at him.

  Tristan muffled his laughter and tried for a serious look. “Well then, what is it?”

  “Loughlin is back there chasing...what looks like...piglets? I believe he is trying to round them up…” Cenna said distractedly as she continued to peer over her shoulder at the receding village.

  “Sards! What?” Tristan all but yelled as he too looked over his shoulder. He gave a loud bark of laughter. “Aye, that is exactly what he is doing,” he said, laughing uncontrollably.

  “But Tristan, the livestock too?”

  Tristan was still laughing as she asked that, and could only shrug his shoulders. “Ye said all,” he said as he laughed.

  “Oh sards,” Cenna whispered. Then she said it again louder. “Sards! No!”

  Tristan twisted around in his saddle to see what had caught her attention this time.

  A number of the villagers had scurried into the line at the back of the Black Watch Army that was accompanying him and Cenna.