Highlander’s Devious Ally (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  “Let us not talk about it now,” she begged. “We are together and we have better things to do.”

  “What better things?” he asked innocently.

  Then she kissed him, and it started a fire. Ailith could feel his body pressing hers. She wondered if this sensation of warm dampness and pleasant tingling between her legs was normal, because it was the most delicious sensation she had ever experienced, and she knew it was being caused by the feeling of Lyall’s body against her own. She felt her breath becoming shorter and shallower, and the feeling between her legs became more intense.

  She looked at him helplessly, and saw his lips part, then his gaze strayed to her mouth and up to her eyes again.

  His eyes were soft with love, and she realized at that moment that she could have asked anything of him and he would have done it for her, such was the power she had over him. He towered above her, and there was brute strength in every muscle in his body, but it would never be used against her.

  “I wish I could make you mine, right here and now," he said sadly. “But such things should be saved for our wedding night, when we have no fear of being censured or interrupted or...anything.”

  “Then I think we should be married very soon, Lyall,” she said tenderly. She was rubbing her hand gently on his chest underneath his shirt. “As soon as I am better.”

  Lyall took her hand away and kissed it. Her touch was awakening sensations that he knew would be difficult to control in a few moments.

  But he had to wait…

  He leaned down to plant another soft kiss on her lips but she held onto the back of his head and kissed him back fiercely. He groaned and rolled on top of her, with passion.

  Ailith had never kissed him this way before, but strangely his weight did not give her any discomfort. She felt his arousal pressing against her and wondered what it would feel like when they could finally give into the temptation.

  16

  In Heaven

  He pulled her down to lie beside him, and she rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was as loud and strong in her ears as a drumbeat, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was like a memory she had of being rocked to sleep in her crib as a child. She felt as safe as she had then, protected both by his strength and his gentleness.

  She reached up and ran her fingers over and through his hair, then kissed him softly.

  “What are you doing do me?" he whispered in disbelief. “You could wrap me around your little finger and I would not complain.”

  “I will try not to do that, then." she replied, laughing into his eyes. “I have no wish to hurt you.”

  He laughed softly. “You can only hurt me by leaving, my love.” He rolled away from her. “Oh, my Ailie, I can’t remember what I did before you came into my life. It must have been barren.”

  “My life was never barren," she told him, tracing the line of his lips with her fingertips, “but I have never loved anyone, and—and no man’s body has ever excited me the way yours does, Lyall. Not that I have ever seen any unclothed,” she added.

  “Not even Jock’s?" he asked, dreading the answer.

  She sighed. “Especially not his,” she replied tartly.

  Lyall nodded, but he could not be bothered thinking about anyone else, not when this lovely woman, the woman he would do anything for, was here with him.

  Matthew and Maria Galloway arrived three days later in Inverness on the boat from Yell in Skye. Maria was an older version of Ailith except that her eyes were brown instead of green and Matthew was tall, with swept-back gray hair and hawk-like aquiline features. Ailith had obviously inherited her bright apple green eyes from him. Lyall liked Maria at once, but he knew that he would take a while to warm to Matthew, who seemed to him to be cold and evasive.

  “How is Ailith?” Maria asked anxiously as she stepped off the gangplank of the boat.

  Lyall smiled at her. “Do not worry, Mistress Galloway,” he replied. “She is fine. She needed to rest, that was all, and the roses are back in her cheeks.” He bowed and kissed her hand. “I am Laird Lyall Stevenson, Ailie’s—shall I say ‘new’ betrothed.”

  He turned to Matthew Galloway and bowed to him, and the man bowed back.

  “M'Laird,” he said gruffly, in a voice that was almost as deep as Lyall’s baritone. Lyall was not inclined to ask him to be less formal, since Matthew Galloway, and his superstitious, backward beliefs had been the source of most of their problems.

  “I trust you had a smooth trip.” Lyall said. “Ailith rose from bed today and feels much better. She is waiting to welcome you.”

  “M'Laird, thank you for looking after her,” Maria said thankfully as she stepped into the carriage.

  “It was my pleasure, and you will see her soon,” he replied. Maria returned the smile he gave her, and both knew that they were going to be friends. He was less sure about Matthew. He spurred his horse up the hill and the carriage followed more slowly.

  Ailith was waiting as they stepped out. She ran down the stairs into her mother’s arms, and they hugged for a long time. She gave her father a briefer hug and a frosty greeting then they went inside, where Lyall poured them all some mulled wine.

  “Are you quite recovered now, darling?” Maria asked Ailith anxiously. “I cannot believe the way you were treated. If I were a man, I would give that Jock a good beating!”

  “There are two men who have already given him one,” Lyall informed her grimly. “A man called Findlay McBlain is doing it and when he is finished I am going to start on him. I am not a vicious man, Mister Galloway, but in Jock McCauley’s case I will make an exception. He is evil to the core. I believe he enjoys pain, though, but only when he is giving it to women, especially against their will, and that would have been Ailith’s fate if she had married him—a lifetime of pain.

  “You say the family would have been cursed if she had not married him. Well, you are still here, and you look hale and hearty to me. What on Earth possessed you to believe in curses anyway? An educated man like you?” Lyall’s voice had become a snarl and he leaned down to the other man, who backed away. He stopped speaking and frowned fiercely.

  Matthew Galloway stood up and pushed past Lyall, then paced over to the window and looked out for a moment. His face was tortured. “I wish I had never seen Agnes!” he spat. “I was deceived by her beauty but she only wished bad for me. She wanted to chain me to her side like a pet dog, but she had put a spell on me—quite literally—and I could not see it. When I met Maria, she was so calm and sweet with no strange moods and outbursts. She made me feel like a normal man.”

  He sighed, then went up to his daughter and knelt down in front of her. “Agnes was incandescent with rage when I told her I was marrying your mother, and that was when she told me she was a witch, and she was laying a curse on the family. Ailie...” He looked at her pleadingly. “If you had seen her face and looked in her eyes you would have understood.

  “She was terrifying. She had dark brown eyes but that night they were as red as blood with hatred. I swear that the devil was inside her, and I was terrified. I lived in mortal fear till the day she died, and when I heard the news it was as if a weight had been taken off my mind.” He looked desperately into his daughter’s eyes. “Please believe me when I say that I thought Jock was a good man. I had no idea any of this would happen but I see now that it is all part of the curse.”

  “For God’s sake!” Lyall thundered. “There is no curse! Can you not see that you are making things that are happening now fit in with what some lunatic woman said in the past? You have lost your wits, man, and your daughter has had to suffer!”

  He hauled Matthew to his feet and shook him. Matthew pushed him away, his eyes sparkling with anger, and it looked as though a physical battle might have ensued had it not been for Ailith, who pushed them apart. She had been watching and listening to the escalating argument with trepidation, never having seen such a fierce quarrel before, especially between two such big men, and it scared her.

/>   “Please, Father, Lyall,” she pleaded. “This is not helping. Please calm down.”

  Lyall looked down at her frightened face and felt immediately penitent. He wrapped his arms around her, pushing her head onto his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, but he was still glaring at Matthew Galloway.

  Maria had been watching, but not contributing to the argument. Now she stood up. “I am not listening to any more of this,” she said stiffly, and walked out of the room, with Ailith following.

  17

  Many Things Happen

  The two men stood scowling at each other for a few moments before Matthew sighed, sank into a chair, and put his hand over his eyes. “I have been so stupid,” he groaned. “I have been such a bad father to Ailith. She deserves better than a superstitious clown like me.”

  Lyall was pouring them both a glass of whisky. “That is not for me to say,” he observed. He handed Matthew a glass and he drank it gratefully.

  “What did Agnes die of?” Lyall asked curiously.

  “A broken heart,” Matthew replied dully.

  Lyall looked down at him scornfully. “So she had no illness at all?”

  “She had putrid throat,” Matthew replied, shuddering. Diphtheria was a terrible way to die.

  “Then that was the cause of her death.” Lyall’s voice was flat and definite. “There is no such thing as a broken heart. We must be sensible. Demons and angels belong in heaven and hell, not down here cursing people.”

  Matthew looked at him then shook his head. “ I have let my daughter down.”

  “You have admitted it,” Lyall acknowledged. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Go and tell her.”

  Matthew smiled at Lyall for the first time. “I have a feeling that I am leaving her in safe hands.”

  “You are,” Lyall replied. “None safer.” He smiled. “Let us go and find the ladies.”

  The ladies were sitting in the library, a large but comfortable room lined with the brightly colored spines of hundreds of books, from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall.

  Maria looked annoyed, but not furious, and Ailith took that as a good sign. When her mother was roused to anger, which fortunately was not often, she was a tigress.

  As soon as they sat down Ailith asked, “Mother, why did you not tell me about the curse?”

  “Because your father never told me about it,” Maria replied simply. “The first time I heard was when we got Lyall’s letter, then the whole story came spilling out. I tried to find out why he wanted Jock especially, but he only said that he was a fine young man and came from a good family. Later I found out that the two fathers hated each other. When I met Jock, though, he seemed like a pleasant young man and I was completely taken in. Forgive me Ailie, I thought I was a better judge of character than that.”

  Ailie hugged Maria. “It is not your fault, Mother. When I first met Lyall, I knew at once that there was something special about him.” She shrugged and smiled. “He is the kindest man I have ever met, Mother, and I love him. I love him completely.”

  “I am so happy for you!” Maria breathed with tears in her eyes. “And he is very handsome, which is never a bad thing!”

  Ailith laughed as she handed her mother another glass of wine. “You are right, Mother, but perhaps I should take a stout walking stick with me to beat all the other ladies away!”

  They were still laughing when the two men came in. Matthew went straight up to his daughter and gathered her into his arms. “Please find it in your heart to forgive me, my treasure,” he begged. “I am a silly, weak man.”

  Ailith sighed and looked at Lyall over her father’s shoulder. He was looking at the floor as if to say Do not ask me what to do. Listen to your heart.

  For a moment, she was in limbo. Her father was the dearest man in her life, next to Lyall. Though, however unintentionally, he had hurt her badly. Nevertheless, he was also the man who had protected her, loved her, provided for her, and sheltered her.

  She nodded. “No one is perfect, Father,” she whispered. “I forgive you.”

  “Thank God!” He smiled at her joyfully with tears in his eyes. Ailith kissed him then went to put her arms around Lyall.

  “I see that I have been supplanted in my daughter’s affections,” Matthew observed, putting his arm around his wife.

  “Which is as it should be,” Maria said, smiling at Lyall.

  “We have set the date for Sunday next week just so that Ailie’s dress can be made to an adequate standard.” Lyall gave Ailie a wry affectionate smile, and she giggled. “Now, would you like a tour around the castle with your daughter before dinner? I have to see to the comfort of a few prisoners.”

  “Do you mean Jock?” Matthew asked heavily.

  “Yes, amongst others,” Lyall replied. “But I am only going for a quick visit to see that they are being treated properly.”

  “They should eat bread and water like Ailie!” Matthew was outraged.

  “They will be doing just that for the next few days,” Lyall assured him. “But I need to assure myself that they will not die under my roof. I am not lowering myself to their level.”

  “May I come with you?” Matthew asked aggressively, his hands bunched into fists. “I want to see the swine!”

  “Not today, Mister Galloway,” Lyall replied. “Although I understand your impatience. You can see him tomorrow. Ailie will take you up to the highest turret and I will join you shortly.”

  “I am coming with you!” Matthew growled, then tried to push past Lyall, which was a bad mistake. Lyall’s arm shot out sideways and Matthew Galloway collided with something unyielding that felt like an iron bar. Lyall bent his arm and crushed the other man against his side.

  “I said no.” Lyall’s voice was soft, but throbbing with menace. “If you were not Ailie’s father, I might offer you some hospitality in my dungeon too. Wait till tomorrow.”

  Lyall’s threat had only been a jest, but the strength of his arm was real, and its pressure had squeezed the air out of Matthew’s lungs for a moment.

  “I am sorry, Father,” Ailith said mildly. “I should have warned you about him. Good thing for you he rarely loses his temper!”

  Once again, Matthew Galloway was seething with anger, but he had learned something that most men realized eventually when they met Lyall Stevenson. It was never a good idea to cross him.

  Findlay was waiting for Lyall when he went downstairs. He poured them both some ale and they went to look at Jock, who was sitting on the floor of a cell looking very woebegone. He had a white bandage wrapped around his head so tightly that he could not speak.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Lyall asked, frowning.

  Findlay sighed sadly, but his eyes were twinkling. “Mistress Kennie says that when you punched him you dislocated his jaw and knocked out two of his teeth. She thought at first it was broken, but unfortunately it is not. However, resetting it did give him quite a lot of pain, so we are thankful for small mercies.” He could not keep the vicious glee out of his voice. “He will not be able to eat any solid food for a while so he can have vegetable broth and milk, which is more than he deserves.”

  Jock was struggling to say something, and his face was purple with the effort, but all that came out was an incomprehensible mumble.

  Lyall turned away from him, knowing that he should not feel so triumphant, but he did, because he hated every fiber of Jock McCauley. Nevertheless, he wanted no harm to come to him under his roof, but if he somehow died a natural death he would not mourn him.

  He looked around the other cells to make sure that the rest of Jock’s men—the three who had remained unhurt and one who was only lightly wounded—were being looked after, and having satisfied himself that they were well, he went back upstairs again.

  Standing on the topmost turret, Matthew, Maria, and Ailith stood looking out over the magnificent landscape spread out before them. It was, as usual, a cloudy day, but that in no way detracted from the view of the sullen gray North Sea, with i
ts lowering, bruise-colored sky giving it a special kind of forbidding grandeur. On this side of the hill Scottish Black-Faced sheep were grazing, their black heads and feet giving them a comical air, as if they were in fancy dress. They always made Ailith laugh.

  They walked around to the opposite side of the wall, where Loch Ness, the deepest loch in Scotland, snaked its way backward and disappeared into the mist, beyond which lay the heart of the Highlands. Ailith’s heart ached with pride that she was a daughter of this beautiful little country.

  Ailith felt at peace in a way she had not for a long while. She had everything she wanted: her family, two homes, and the love of her life. Soon, hopefully, there would be a baby or two, and her life would be complete. She was happy beyond her wildest dreams.

  Presently, they heard the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs, and Lyall appeared at the top of the stairs, hair flying and cheeks flushed. There were a hundred and fifty three steps from the dungeon to the top turret but he hardly looked out of breath.

  He crossed the steps between them in three paces and wrapped his arms around her. Seeing Jock again had reminded him just how close he had come to losing Ailith completely. “We must be married as soon as we can,” he said urgently, looking over at Ailith’s parents over the top of her head as he spoke to her. “I want you to have the protection of my name.”

  “Is there some new danger?” Ailith frowned as she looked up at him.

  “No,” he replied, sighing. “I just realized that when I looked at Jock what a narrow escape you had.” Then his manner changed, and he smiled. “So, Mistress Galloway, I think it may be time that you urged your friend the seamstress to make her needle fly a little faster!”

  Maria chimed in then. “I will offer her a bonus for quick work providing it is good quality,” she said eagerly. Ailith nodded and grabbed her mother’s arm. “See you at dinnertime!” she called.