His Highland Surprise (The Clan Sinclair Book 1)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Let go, ye savage. Let her go before I run ye through.”

  Tavish pulled back from Ceit even as she resisted releasing him. He set her down and pushed her behind him as he turned to face this newest opponent. He took in a man close to his own age who wore breeks but sounded like a Highlander.

  “Keep yer filthy hands off the lady,” seethed the man.

  Tavish took in his opponent as Ceit’s arms wrapped around him. He realized the man who held a sword towards him was not a real threat. He did not know who the man was, but Ceit either would have drawn back or drawn dirks if she perceived the other man was a real menace.

  “Perhaps ye didna see the way the lass practically ate me whole. I would say she doesnae want ma filthy hands to be anywhere but on her.”

  Andrew was ready to lunge forward when Ceit darted around Tavish.

  “Drew, cease! If ye havenae noticed, there is still a battle going on, and we havenae time for this.”

  Tavish stared down at Ceit, not at all pleased with the way Ceit spoke. She knew this man well and seemed to have influence over him.

  “Who is he, Ceit?” Tavish was now angry. He had not been before, but jealousy flowed white hot from his toes to his still aching head. He was in no condition to deal with one more complication. He wanted Ceit, a bath, and food in that order.

  Ceit looked back at him, and her eyes widened when she saw the fury that had not been there a moment ago. She recognized it for how she wanted to react when Camille touched Tavish or the way the women looked at him in the royal bailey after their return from Crichton.

  “Tavish, this is Andrew Comyn. Andrew, this is Tavish Sinclair, ma betrothed.” She never took her eyes from Tavish as she spoke.

  Tavish was not sure if he liked the fact he merited a title and the other man, this Andrew, did not.

  “Ceit, ye are a long way from court. Ye dinna have to do this. I will take ye home.” Andrew was pleading.

  Tavish growled and made to move around Ceit, but she was faster. She stepped forward and glared at Andrew.

  “Did ye nae listen to me? The mon is ma betrothed. I amnae going anywhere but with him.” She softened her tone as she looked back at Tavish who was an inch behind her. “Drew, I am home. Tavish is free, and I am with him. That is home. I want to go with him.”

  She looked back at the boy who had grown into a man, and while his face was recognizable, she realized she knew little about him now. And he knew even less about her.

  “Drew, we were children. We arenae anymore. I am with the mon I was always meant to be with.” She looked back at Tavish and pulled his arms around her as she gazed up at him. “I love him.”

  “Dinna be ridiculous, Ceit. This isnae love. Ye couldnae have kenned him long since Isla never mentioned him before. It’s been hardly more than a fortnight since ye last saw her. Ye dinna ken this mon. Lust isnae what a marriage is made of.”

  Tavish was done listening. He tried patience for Ceit’s sake, but he was not about to debate his feelings, or hers, with a stranger.

  “Lad, mayhap ye didna hear ma lass. She said she loves me, and just as importantly,” Tavish looked down at Ceit and squeezed her against his chest, “I love her. I dinna ken who ye are, but ye are someone from Ceit’s past. And that is where ye will stay.”

  Ceit ran a soothing hand over Tavish’s arm. A moment of guilt for the way he spoke to Andrew tugged at her, but she agreed with him.

  “Andrew, he is right. I dinna want to hurt ye, but ye are holding onto a past that doesnae exist anymore. Ye only want me because I am a reminder of how things once were. We will never be the Comyns we were before the harrying. I am a Sinclair now.”

  Andrew lowered his sword and looked between Ceit and Tavish before nodding his head.

  “I wish ye happy, Ceit.”

  Their conversation was cut short by an angry roar that came from behind them. They all spun and saw John Comyn racing towards them with his sword drawn. Someone succeeded in rousing him from his drugged stupor.

  “Ye whore! Ye fucking whore! Ye drugged me, and now I will kill ye.”

  The angry former earl was surrounded by men who branched out to join the fight that continued. Ceit had a brief notion that it was unlikely the Sutherlands were still standing if the battle lasted this long. There were not that many of them to continue to hold their ground.

  Tavish pushed both Isla and Ceit behind him and was ready to use his size alone to head off Buchan. Andrew stepped next to him, poised to defend the women too. Buchan took two more steps towards them before the tip of a sword poked through his chest. His mouth gaped as he looked down. The sword disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and blood shot forward before racing down his chest. His knees crumbled as he sank to the ground, and Adair stood behind him. Isla pushed between Tavish and Andrew and raced to him.

  “Nay one will ever speak thusly to ye again. I will run them through just as I did this thieving bastard.”

  He pulled Isla into his embrace and then walked away with her. They left Andrew, Tavish, and Ceit staring at Ceit’s dead uncle. Tavish pulled her against his chest, and she sunk into the protection his broad body offered. He stroked her hair and held her until her shaking ceased.

  “It’s over now, mo sheillean beag. It’s over. He is dead, and the king will release ye from service.”

  Ceit nodded her head but refused to let go. Andrew slipped away to lick his own invisible wounds and to allow the couple privacy.

  “I have been terrified for the past day. I dinna ken if I can marry a warrior. It’s too hard.”

  Tavish tipped her chin up and furrowed his brow.

  “What are ye saying? Ye dinna want to marry me even though ye say ye love me? Even though I love ye?”

  “Nay! I dinna ken what I am asking, but I most definitely am marrying ye. If I canna bear sending ye off to battle because I dinna want to be without ye, then I most definitely amnae backing out of marrying ye. I just wish ye avoided fighting all together. I wish ye never have to leave ma side.”

  “Och, lass, ye say that now, but give it an hour. Ye will be annoyed at me again and wishing ye were free of me.” Tavish tried to laugh, but his heart still pinched like it was in a vice.

  “Tav, I am marrying ye. I want to do it this vera moment. I dinna ken if I am strong enough to keep seeing ye in danger. Kenning that one of these times, someone may kill ye.”

  “Would ye have me hanging on yer apron strings? Following ye around like a wean?”

  “Aye,” Ceit nodded emphatically. “If it meant ye were far away from danger.”

  Tavish looked at how serious she was, and his heart eased. It even melted a bit.

  “Ye do recognize the pot calling the kettle black, dinna ye? This is how I feel whenever ye go dashing off. Lass, I dinna go into battle that often. I am home more than I am away.”

  “Mo chridhe, I dinna want a devious husband. Ye swore ye arenae a liar. Dinna start now.” Ceit huffed. “I ken why Magnus was at court. It was to smooth over the angry clans ye, Sinclairs, have been fighting. Ye have been in the thick of it all. Before that, ye were feuding with the Mackays. Dinna try to tell me ye werenae a part of that.”

  Tavish had the grace to look sheepish.

  “Aye, well, we have had a spot more trouble, but it is over. There should be peace now in our part of the Highlands. We can—"

  “Tavish! Tavish! Where the hell are ye?”

  Hamish came running towards them, bloodied but in one piece. He looked his nephew over before pulling him into a hug. Tavish groaned but returned the embrace as best he could.

  “Uncle Hamish, I havenae ever been so glad to see ye.”

  “Och, I can say the same for ye, but ye will have to save it. This isnae over yet. The laird’s men who hold this keep are at bay, but only because many of Comyn’s men turned on him. But ye arenae safe here. Ma scouts just returned and said there is a contingency of mercenaries nae far from here. I would venture they are men hired by Buchan. It willna please them
to discover he is dead, leaving them unpaid. We must ride. Now.”

  “How many men do ye have with ye?”

  “Close to a score.”

  “A score?” Ceit broke in. “I asked for only five. I kenned ye brought seven, but a score. Where were they?”

  “Following a safe distance behind. Ye couldnae be serious that I would ride into an unkenned enemy’s bailey to rescue ma nephew with less than a dozen men.”

  Ceit looked between Hamish and Tavish and nodded.

  “Holy witch’s tits, lass. I wouldnae risk yer life or Tavish’s by being so unprepared. Ma men’s arrival and the Comyns who turned are the only reason any of us are still standing, but we willna be for much longer if we dinna ride out. It is nae our fight to be had when these men arrive. Buchan and the laird are both dead. I dinna ken if they are Scots or Sassenach, and I havenae any interest in finding out.”

  Tavish took Ceit’s hand and pulled her back to the main part of the bailey. As they arrived, shouts came from the battlements announcing the mercenaries had been spotted.

  “Postern gate,” Isla called out. “Tavish and Ceit, use the postern gate. We canna all fit through, but ye two can. If there are mercenaries on their way, it had something to do with the king. If it has something to do with the king, then they will ken aboot Ceit. Go!”

  Ceit pulled herself into the saddle and watched as Tavish mounted favoring one arm.

  “Just how hurt are ye, mo dhìonair?” Ceit was unsuccessful at keeping the worry from her voice. She had not taken full stock of his injuries when he climbed out. She was so relieved to see him alive, she did not consider whether he was wounded beyond what she saw at the castle.

  “I will live. But only if we ride out. I dinna have a sword, and ma arm is broken. I’m down to one dirk. I canna fight and protect ye at the same time. We must away with haste.”

  Tavish wrapped his good arm around Ceit’s waist and let her handle the reins. They rode towards the postern gate, relieved to see a Comyn swung it open. Ceit thought she recognized the man, but they rode by too fast for her to be sure.

  Once they cleared the gate, Ceit dug her heels into Whisky’s flanks and leaned low over his withers. Tavish grunted but leaned over Ceit’s back. They galloped across an open meadow and headed east, or at least that was the direction Ceit assumed they traveled. It was growing too dark now to tell for sure. The mercenaries were traveling north, and she hoped she would not inadvertently take them across the other men’s path. They rode hard, and the only sounds were their breathing and Whisky’s. Ceit pushed her horse for over an hour before he was lathered, but she was unwilling to risk him going lame. She slowed him to a walk.

  “Tavish, are ye all right?”

  “Right as rain, lass.”

  “Tav, dinna lie for ma sake. Ye’ve bashed aboot the head, ye are favoring ye ribs and yer arm. Tell me true. How are ye?”

  “It’ll all come right. Dinna fash.”

  “Are ye purposely being obtuse? Are ye trying to pick an argument?”

  “I’ve missed ye and yer fiery tongue.”

  “Mo chridhe,” she ground out.

  “Och, what do ye want me to say, Ceit? I’ve a broken arm and possibly some cracked ribs. I’ve been concussed at least twice, and ma body aches like a blacksmith has been hacking at me.”

  “Then let me tend to ye. We canna travel much further in the dark. I fear I’m already losing ma way, and we canna risk Whisky stumbling in the dark.”

  “Vera well. We stop for the night when we find somewhere safe. But we canna have a fire.”

  “I ken. I willna be able to do much until I can see, but mayhap we can find a stream where I can wash the cuts I ken ye have on yer head.”

  “I would give ma good arm for a bar of soap.”

  “Do ye mind smelling like rosemary and thyme?”

  “I dinna mind what flower I smell like if I didna have to stink anymore.”

  “I have a small piece in ma saddle bag.”

  “Bless ye, mo sheillean beag. Always prepared.”

  “Something like that.”

  They rode in silence for at least another half an hour before they came to a slow-moving river. It was not wide, and Tavish knew they would ford it in the morning, but for now, it would allow him to bathe and drink, and allow Whisky to rest.

  Ceit waited for Tavish to climb down before she lifted her leg over the saddle. She squeaked when she became weightless. Her toes touched the ground with Tavish’s solid chest pressing against her.

  “Ma mind was filled with ye every moment I was down there. If I wasna planning on how to get maself out, then I was fantasizing of ye. I dreamed of ye.”

  He kissed the side of her neck, she turned her head and rested it against his shoulder, giving him better access. She reached back and grasped his plaid in both hands to brace herself. His lips scorched her as they moved up and down, burning a trail of desire. His teeth nipped and then his tongue soothed as his mouth traveled from the shell of her ear to her collar bone then back to the tiny spot just behind her ear that made her tremble. She clenched her thighs together as an ache took up residence between her legs. She moaned as Tavish’s arm slid up, and his hand cupped her breast. He rested the hand of his injured arm at her waist. His fingers bit into her, but it was pleasure rather than pain that coursed through Ceit. She turned and looked up at him. Her hunger was mirrored in the longing written on his face. She pushed his sporran out of the way and hooked her fingers into his belt, pulling him to her. She wanted to wrap herself around him as she had at Closeburn, but now she was past her initial relief, she remembered someone badly injured his ribs. She stepped back, but Tavish pulled her to him.

  “I amnae broken. At least nae everywhere.”

  His lips brushed against hers, playing with her, tempting her. She tilted her head back to receive his kisses, but when he would not deepen the kiss, she growled in frustration. She sank her fingers into his hair and pushed his mouth to meet hers. He offered no resistance this time. His lips crushed hers, and she bit his lower lip. His tongue surged into her mouth, and she moaned from the pure delight of their bodies being joined, if only a small part.

  “Tavish, I need ye. I need to touch ye. I—I ache all over with longing.”

  “Tell me. What do you feel?” His hand kneaded her breast harder, and she sank against him.

  “I dinna ken how to say it.”

  “Try for me, mo leannan. I want to ken what I do to ye. I can tell ye that ye make ma cock so hard ma targe would hang on it. I want the inside of ye to milk me dry. A river of fire is running through me, and I ache too. With longing to make ye mine.” The hand of his injured arm no longer pained him. There was no pain except for his bollocks tightening. He squeezed her backside as he ground his rod against her belly. “Tell me.”

  “I ache between ma legs so badly it hurts. I want ye to fill ma sheath with yer sword. I want to ken what it is like to be one with ye as ye slide into me. Ma breasts are so heavy, and they tingle. Tav, I am so unsettled, so restless.”

  Tavish smiled down to her as he cupped her jaw.

  “See. That wasna so difficult.”

  “It wouldnae be so difficult for us to assuage our needs.”

  Tavish needed little more invitation, though it would disappoint her when their tryst did not go as far as her untried body craved.

  “Ceity, I will pleasure ye just as I have before. I will bring ye the release ye crave. I crave it too.”

  Ceit purred at the new diminutive. No one had ever called her that before, and she liked that it was something that only Tavish did. It was something that was theirs alone.

  “Somehow Tavvy doesnae sound as good.” She grinned up at him.

  “Especially since that is what Mairghread called me when she was a wean.”

  They laughed together before their desire got the better of them. Tavish pulled at her laces until her kirtle sagged. Ceit did not hesitate and pulled her arms free. The gown rested at her waist, and s
he watched Tavish as she pushed it to the ground. Tavish took in the sight of her in just her chemise, stockings, and boots. His cock twitched, and his clothes were too heavy on his body. He unpinned his breacan feile and put the brooch into his sporran. He unfastened his belt and caught the length of wool before it fell to the ground. Ceit took it from him and folded it. She looked for somewhere to place it and noticed the river again. She took Tavish’s good arm and led him back to Whisky. She dug into her saddlebag and produced the hunk of soap. She brought it to her nose and grinned again.

  “I shall have ye smelling fresher than a daisy.” She winked and walked to the river.

  Tavish trailed after her like an eager puppy. Before they reached the edge, he pulled her to a stop with his arm around her waist. He looked over her shoulder and surveyed the river bank. The moon and stars were bright that night, and they watched one another with ease. The water did not seem to be moving that quickly, but that might disguise a deeper, fast moving current.

  “Wait here, please.”

  He made it a request, knowing Ceit was less likely to listen if she sensed he was ordering her. He stepped down to the water’s edge and watched it again. A twig snapped under his feet, and he picked up the larger portion, tossing it into the water. It moved lazily downstream, but Tavish remained unconvinced. He looked around and found a small branch. He leaned as far forward as his aching ribs would allow and dunked one end into the water. The water pulled at the branch but did not drag it away. It reassured Tavish it would not be dangerous for them to enter. He turned back and held his hand out. Ceit took it, but it was just a courtesy because she moved sure footed until she was beside him.

  “We are overdressed for a bath.”

  Tavish had no time to offer a witty response because Ceit untied the ribbons to her chemise and let it fall to the ground. Tavish considered he had seen plenty of beautifully formed female bodies. He even considered there was little more to impress him. He discovered now how wrong and arrogant he had been. The sight of Ceit pulling off her boots and stockings made him impatient to see her body once again. He had left his own boots back by Whisky.