To Win a Highland Scot: A Time-Traveler’s Highland Love, Book 3

by Gill, Tamara

  He crossed his arms, legs spread, staring down at her. "You wish to have employment at the castle like one of my servants. You are my guest. I coudna use you in that way. Your family would have my head if they heard of it."

  "They will not hear of it, I promise. But I cannot be idle for so long. I shall go mad. Please, Macleod. Give me something to do."

  Boyd narrowed his eyes, looking at the lass dressed today in a green velvet gown that was as comely as the blue of last evening, and he could think of many ways in which to keep the lass occupied.

  He'd had the most dreadful nightmare last eve. He'd stormed the lass’s bedchamber, had his way with her, with her approval, he might add. A night of enjoyment, of pleasure, something he had not known he'd missed until now.

  Her mouth had been as maddening as he'd imagined it, and the things she had done with her pretty lips left his cock as hard as a rock. He'd woken spent on his sheets. His body breathing hard and fast from tupping her with a ferocious need that had left him reeling.

  He'd ridden out on the lands early, not bothering to break his fast, but to see the lass standing just beyond his castle gates, pensive, a worried frown across her brow left him uncomfortable.

  He put it down to not wanting any of his guests uncomfortable, no matter that he couldn’t care less in the past about their comfort, but this lass did not want his hand in marriage. He could attend for her a little and remain safe from her family, demanding a handfasting.

  "I canna have you cleaning the castle. ’Twould be an insult. Mayhap you could accompany me on a ride on Macleod lands once or twice a week. I know there is sewing that needs attending. Mrs. Fletcher is forever scolding me over the growing pile."

  The lass let out an annoyed groan, and his lips twitched. Was she non-verbally telling him his ideas were not to her standard? "You doona like my suggestion?" he asked, raising his brow.

  "I cannot sew, so to repair your shirts or pants or whatever it is that you wear," she stated, waving at his tunic, "will have to wait for a servant who can fix them. A ride would be nice, but maybe I could work with the horses, muck out the stables, or exercise your horses. I took riding lessons when I was in college."

  College? Riding lessons? What the hell was wrong with the lass? "I doona know what college or riding lessons are that you 'took,'" he accentuated with his fingers, "but I canna have you mucking out the stables or working the horses. You are a lady." Boyd lost patience with the woman and started for the castle. "You will have to bide you time like a proper lady, sit about and look pretty. That is good enough."

  Footsteps chased him toward the bailey walls. "Sit about and look pretty. You have got to be kidding. I'm not going to do that. I'm not a bimbo."

  Boyd turned, and she crashed into him, having not expected him to stop. He reached out, preventing her from falling on her ass. Although the sight of her landing on her pretty rump would be sweet.

  In his dream, he'd clasped her small, plump ass as he took his fill. Flexed his fingers into her soft skin with each thrust. He closed his eyes a moment, pushing her away and settling her from him less he hoist her up against the castle wall and sate a newfound need for female companionship.

  "I doona know what bimbo is. Speak English, woman. You are English after all." He left her standing after him before her footsteps chased him down once again. He groaned.

  "Macleod, I need something to do. Please don't make me beg."

  He stopped walking, cringing at the pleading note in her voice. What was wrong with the lass? No woman wanted employment, certainly not the type from good families who were sent about the countries looking for husbands.

  Maya Harris did not seem to fit that mold. In fact, he was certain they broke it the moment she was born.

  "Very well, you can work the vegetable gardens on the other side of the castle. You'll be safe there within the bailey walls, and when you are tired, you can sit and enjoy the view out over the sea. You can do no harm there."

  She walked around him, the smile on her face maddeningly sweet. Then, before he could leave her standing there like the crazy woman she was, she had thrown her arms about him and was hugging him with a strength he did not think she possessed.

  He stilled, his arms caught beneath hers. Boyd looked about, glaring at any of his clansmen who smirked or chuckled at the crazy Englishwoman hugging him with thanks.

  He shook her free, stepping toward the castle. "Right, that's enough, lass. Go about your day."

  Boyd walked into the castle, making his way to his solar. He shook off the feel of her against him, not particularly fond of the sensation of having a woman so close to him.

  Not Maya Harris in any case. His body, love, and affection were promised to another, and he would not break his vows to Sorcha, no matter how tempting the thought of Maya would be in his bed or that his wife had seemed to forget she was married to him at all.

  Maya was not for him. No one was.

  Chapter 5

  Maya found life at Castle Druiminn interesting, to say the least. Her bedchamber was opulent, more comfortable than she assumed it to be, considering the time she had landed herself in. Although the garderobe was one household fixture she'd never get used to, and she could not wait to return home to normal, modern bathroom amenities.

  She was allowed to bathe several times a week, even though some of the house staff thought her highly odd for doing so. Her working in the gardens was a pleasant way to pass the hours. Just in the last few days, she had weeded and managed to get the vegetables already growing in the plot to look a lot healthier than they were when she'd first started. It was fortunate that the castle had access to fresh water, even with the ocean being so close.

  As for the laird, he was as elusive and distant as ever. Over the past week, she had dined with him every night, and yet he rarely spoke, and she could count on one hand the number of times he'd bothered to look at her.

  It didn't bode well for the friendship that she hoped to have with him during her stay. She was stuck here, after all, for several months. As the guest of the laird, very few servants spoke to her. Mrs. Fletcher being the only one who did regularly.

  Maya wouldn't give in to loneliness, but she was certainly starting to feel isolated and without support. With no one to talk to, one did tend to dwell on things in life, and she had many hours through the day that were unoccupied with work.

  Today, instead of going out to water the vegetables, she strode through the castle door and started for the stables where several riding horses were kept.

  Surely one of them would be suitable for her, not too flighty or dangerous to get on the back of. She was a competent rider, but even she could grow nervous if the horse was high-strung.

  She knocked on the open wooden doors leading into the stables, and an older man, a long, gray beard covering most of his face, came out to greet her. She could not tell if he was smiling or not due to his facial hair, but his eyes were not unkind, and she hoped he would help her.

  "Hello, sir, I was hoping to go for a ride. Is there a horse that you can have saddled for me?"

  He pulled at his beard, his eyes taking in her gown. She was wearing a dress, but she had also been fortunate enough to find a pair of trews left drying near the kitchen. She would have to apologize to Mrs. Fletcher on her return for stealing them.

  "You wish to ride about the countryside, lass? ’Tis not safe."

  "I will keep the castle within view at all times. I promise. I shall not go far." When he didn't look convinced, she bit her lip in thought. "Can one of your stable hands accompany me? Or a guard?" she said, looking behind him to see several men watching their exchange.

  He raised his brow, looking past her in thought. "Thomas," he yelled, signaling for a tall, strapping lad to come over to them. Maya turned and felt her eyes widen at the sight of the young Scotsman. Were all the men in this time, in this country, made from the cast of romantic stories? Of course, she'd seen a few men who didn't fit her notion of what was hot, but she'
d certainly knew some of the men here in this clan would make her friends Molly and Heidi sit up and take notice.

  "Will you take Miss Harris for a ride? Keep her close and safe. Take your sword, and doona be afraid to use it."

  Maya frowned, her attention snapping to the Thomas lad and seeing he too held a sword behind his back like the laird had the previous week. Surely this time wasn't so very dangerous that people had to ride about with such weaponry. This was Macleod land. How unsafe could it be?

  "I'll keep by the river," Thomas said, striding past her and ordering the stable lads to saddle two horses.

  Within only a few minutes, they were trotting away from the castle, heading down along the river, the castle a giant pillar of power behind them.

  Maya studied the man, realizing he was perhaps only in his late teens. "Are you a Macleod?" she asked, wanting to break the silence and desperate for anyone to speak to her. Not just look at her as if she were some weird English invader.

  "I'm Thomas Beaton, Miss Harris, but we're loyal to Clan Macleod."

  "Have you lived here all your life?" She wanted to know anything really, so long as she didn't have to hear any more silence. She’d had a week of practically zero conversation. Maya wasn’t sure she could stand much more of that.

  He nodded, his attention snapping from side to side as if he were expecting an ambush of some kind. Gosh, Maya hoped that wasn't the case. This ride was supposed to be relaxing and already she felt on edge as if she should have eyes in the back of her head.

  She reached down and patted her brown mare, pleased that at least her horse didn't seem frightened.

  "Aye, I was born on the land."

  "Are your parents living here?" she queried when he said nothing more.

  He nodded yet again but didn't bother to answer her this time, and Maya didn't press him. It was obvious the guard was not interested in talking, and she refused to come across as desperate.

  They rode for several minutes, wandering along the banks of the slow-flowing but deep river. The water was so clear that Maya could almost see to its bottom, even in the deepest parts, the grasses flowing like ribbons in the wind.

  Thomas started them up the hill, and she knew he was turning them about to head back to the castle. They had to pass through dense forest trees, and so focused on his course, Thomas didn't seem to notice the three men that she spied through the trees and into a clearing.

  Nor did they seem to notice them, and Maya was certainly not going to say anything this close, and with three burly men against her and a boy, they would have little chance of survival if they happened to be enemies to Clan Macleod.

  Thankfully the horses did not nicker or step on any twigs and they passed them without their knowledge. So determined to give her the silent treatment, Thomas did not bother to seek out her conversation, alerting those nearby that they were near.

  Perhaps the men were Macleod clansmen anyway. Maybe Thomas had seen them but did not deem notifying them of their presence necessary.

  They returned to the castle without incident. Although the ride was embarrassingly short, at least it had got her out of the castle for five minutes.

  Thomas jumped down and held her reins, waiting for her to follow his lead. She slid off the horse, thanking him before returning indoors. Mrs. Fletcher greeted her in the Great Hall, her eyes bright and clear.

  "Miss Harris, ’tis good to see that you have had your outing. Will you be wishing to rest before supper this evening?"

  Maya noted the maids were working about in the Great Hall, and she started off toward the stairs. "I'll rest for a little while. I'll only get in the way here."

  "I'll send up a plate of cheese and bread for you. It doona escape my notice that you did not eat much at lunch."

  Maya reached out, clasping Mrs. Fletcher's arm. "I was merely eager for my ride. I stole a pair of trews you had drying near the kitchen door. I’m sorry, but I didn’t feel comfortable riding in only a gown."

  "Aye, I knew that you had done so, lass. Doona flash yourself, I doona mind." Mrs. Fletcher scooted her toward the stairs. "Now off you go. I'll see you in a moment."

  Maya started up the stairs, her feet heavy, her progress slow. Every so often, a narrow window opened up over the grounds. Hearing the shouts of men below, she stopped to look out of one, wondering who was yelling outside.

  The breath in her lungs tightened, her ability to breathe difficult at the sight of Boyd Macleod, his chilling, white hair blowing in the breeze, the tops of his muscular legs revealing themselves as he jumped down from his horse.

  What a magnificent man he was to behold. What a shame it was that his wife had been forced to leave all those years before. She could imagine he missed her. If she were his wife, she would miss having that large, muscular body beside her every night. Hers to do with as she pleased.

  Maya bit her lip. It was not difficult to imagine having delicious, hot, hungry sex with him. She bet he never suffered from lack of bed partners.

  A feminine laugh in the hall below reminded her she was supposed to be going back to her room to rest.

  Soon she would be seated next to the god of a man, Boyd Macleod, and again he would eat, drink, and stride off without a backward glance. Well, not anymore. She could not stay here, months on end, and not have anyone to speak to. So tonight, the laird would talk to her, engage as a host should, or he would find his medieval sweet ass chastised by a twenty-first-century Englishwoman.

  Even medieval Highlanders had to have some manners, surely.

  Chapter 6

  The Sassenach pulled everyone's attention as she walked into the hall for the evening meal. Boyd stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight she made. Never in his long life had any woman, mayhap not even Sorcha, looked so beautiful, and she was half-Fae, nothing but beauty and light.

  Maya Harris walked along the edge of the room, Mrs. Fletcher standing at the base of the stairs, a proud, motherly type of smile on her lips before she noted Boyd's stare and hustled back out of the room to the kitchens.

  What was the woman up to? Was she trying to make Maya more alluring to him?

  If she were trying such wiles, she was winning the war. He could not tear his eyes from her, the sway of her hips as she walked, her straight back and perfectly clear skin. Not marked by the sun, nor a childhood disease. Not to mention her dark, long locks were half-up and curled this evening, making her neck seem more swanlike and certainly more kissable.

  He shifted in his chair, forcing his attention back on the gamebird they were eating for dinner. All the while, he knew Maya's every step, his heart beating a rhythm faster each time her footsteps brought her closer to him.

  She sat, and the scent of jasmine engulfed him. Boyd shut his eyes and forced himself not to breathe deep like some desperate lout who had not had female company for years.

  He had not, but that did not mean he did not know how to control his urges, desires, and needs as a man. Gods blood, he’d spent a century denying himself out of honor and loyalty to a woman who remained his wife. He would be able to survive another dinner.

  "Good evening, Macleod," she said in that maddening, yet sweet English voice she had.

  "Good evening, lass. I hope you had a pleasant day?" There, his host requirements were complete, no need for any more interchange between the two of them. He picked up a roll of bread, ripping it in half and dipping it into the gravy left from his meal.

  "I did, thank you. I was hoping that we may be able to converse a little more tonight. I know that you're busy, but I'm alone here, and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm feeling a little isolated."

  Her words pulled at a part of him he'd thought long dead. Boyd turned to her and almost swallowed his tongue at the hope, the pleading light in her eyes.

  Damn it. He had never been the type of man who could hurt a woman or deny her an honest request. He inwardly cursed, but the words that escaped his mouth were nothing of the kind.

  "Aye, of course, lass. What
do you wish to speak of? I’m more than happy to oblige."

  She smiled at him, relief easy to read on her features. "Anything, really. I've not had anyone talk to me at all the past week, besides Mrs. Fletcher, but that's when she hands me a new gown to wear or chastises me when she finds me working in the vegetable garden."

  Of course, the vegetable garden. He'd seen her bent over the plants and had decided to avoid that part of the castle grounds until she traveled back to England.

  "Do you wish for me to hire a companion for you? I have a distant cousin who lives on Macleod land who can come in and keep you company."

  Her eyes widened. "Really? You would do that for me? I would like that very much, but only if it doesn't take her away from her responsibilities. I can survive if I have to. I don’t want to be any trouble."

  Boyd shrugged, knowing Jeane would welcome a stay at Druiminn. After losing her husband in a skirmish with Clan O’Cain the previous winter, she would enjoy her role here with Maya. There was little doubt in Boyd's mind that she would have already heard of his new houseguest and would be eager to meet her.

  "She will not mind. I'll send for her tomorrow."

  The double doors leading into the great hall pushed open, startling Maya. Boyd frowned at the intrusion, but his senses went on guard at the sight of Douglas Albany, his head guardsman and a trusted ally these past twenty years.

  "Laird," Douglas said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "There has been a sighting of three men wearing O’Cain colors near where the Macleod and Mackinnon lands cross. They had several heads of cattle.