Sins of a Highland Devil: Highland Warriors Book 1

by Welfonder Sue-Ellen

  “Then I’ll be on my way before my presence annoys him.” Catriona smiled. She didn’t comment on the appropriateness of the Norse word for a court poet as the name for a beast associated with such tall tales.

  “Before I go….” She hesitated. “Does Skald have a stitched tear beneath his eye?”

  Colin’s smugness vanished. “How would you know of the mend? The banner’s been locked in a chest in James’ bedchamber for years. There are men who ne’er set eyes upon the standard until this night.

  “There is” – he glanced down at the reams of silk draped over his arm – “a small repair beneath Skald’s left eye. The tear happened centuries ago and, according to clan tradition, the damage was stitched by Ottar the Fire-worshipper’s wife, the lady Astrid.”

  Pah!

  A blast of cold air swept in through the shutter slats, swirling around them. The coals in the brazier snapped and hissed, the chill wind even guttering several candles on a nearby table. Gooseflesh rose on Catriona’s nape and shivered along her arms. She could almost see the raven-haired beauty shimmering beside her, indignant.

  For sure, she’d heard her.

  Colin didn’t seem to have noticed. “See here.” He lifted a handful of silk, indicating Skald’s jewel-like eye. “The repair is so finely stitched it’s nigh impossible to tell the banner was e’er torn.”

  He frowned. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I have good eyes.” Catriona smiled.

  The icy draught rippled the air, fluttering her shawl until she felt a light touch on her arm as frosty fingertips brushed her sleeve, seeking attention.

  Those stitches are so tiny because my skilled needle plied them.

  Lady Astrid had naught to do with the repair.

  ‘Twas my hand...

  Catriona started. The words rang in her ears, hushed but unmistakable.

  She recognized the voice.

  And as the cold air hovered at her side, chilling her so thoroughly she’d soon be coated in ice, she also knew what she had to say.

  She took a deep breath. “I heard about the tear, somewhere.” She scrambled for an explanation. “A bard or a wandering friar, I can’t recall. But I do remember someone other than Lady Astrid being praised for mending the banner so beautifully.”

  Colin blinked. “Any Cameron will say otherwise. Lady Astrid was renown for her stitchwork and is believed to have worked on many of the castle’s finest wall hangings. Though it scarce matters after all this time.”

  He looked at her, the twinkle in his eye belying his earnest tone. “What I’m concerned about is that James will have my head on a pike if I don’t see the banner safely back into its strongbox.

  “May I escort you to the stair tower on my way to his chamber?” He held out his arm, grinning. “Skald is less likely to leap from the banner and pounce on you if I’m at your side.”

  “I’m sure he’s vicious.” Catriona glanced at the silken beast. “But I’ll take my chances.”

  She knew who’d pounce as soon as they stepped into the dim passage.

  It wouldn’t be an embroidered dog.

  And wasn’t she running after trouble by wishing that it wasn’t Colin who was so eager to slip away into the shadows with her?

  Had James been the one to offer his arm, she wouldn’t have refused.

  She’d have grabbed his hand and pulled him straight into the darkness.

  * * *

  …at times, he can be seen prowling through the keep or…

  Colin’s words taunted Catriona as she hurried along the passage to the main stair tower. She already regretted taking this route. The poorly-lit corridor did skirt the hall, shielding her from curious glances. But it was also filled with the skitter of tiny creatures flitting across the stone-flagged floor. Equally unsettling, the shadows felt heavy with unseen menace.

  Sure of it, she quickened her step.

  Squeak!

  “Agh!” She jumped as high-pitched chittering revealed the nature of the wee beasties scurrying about in the darkness. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing. But she did touch a hand to her amber necklace, taking strength from the polished stones.

  She didn’t fear mice. Her concern was not to step on one, hurting him.

  But if anything besides mice stirred here, the ambers would protect her. The gemstones guarded MacDonald women all down the ages. Even so, she wished she’d again slipped along the edge of the crowded hall. The corridor was cold, dank, and held some of the deepest shadows she’d ever seen. Quite a few of the torches had burned out. And those yet flickering gave off little more than smoky, feeble light.

  An unpleasant haze that smelled almost sulfuric.

  Wishing she hadn’t noticed, she drew her shawl closer about her shoulders.

  Her footsteps echoed in the gloom, the eeriness making the possibility of Skald lurking in the darkness all too believable. Every few steps, she caught rustlings behind her, or somewhere. It was difficult to tell. But the stirrings sounded larger than mice.

  And ominous enough to make her curl her fingers around her ambers. A tiny pulsing came from deep inside them, each stone warming against her skin.

  Her heart began to gallop.

  This wasn’t the time for the stones to alert her of imminent danger.

  Yet the ambers almost scorched her fingers, their heat burning her neck. Clan tradition forbade her to let go of the waking stones. To do so before the necklace cooled of its own will, brought misfortune.

  She did look back to the entrance to the passage, a hidden door Colin had revealed by pulling back a rather splendid wall tapestry. He’d promised the secret corridor would allow her to quickly reach the stair tower.

  Except….

  She felt as if she’d been marching for hours.

  Tamping down her ill ease, she hurried on. Then-

  The ambers cooled abruptly, slipping like water from her fingers as an icy draught blew along the passage, whipping her skirts. Chills sped along her nerves, her heart pounding, when something large and black rushed across the darkness ahead of her.

  It might have been Skald.

  She could almost hear his growl beneath the whistle of the wind.

  Hoping she was wrong, she hitched her skirts and stepped faster until she reached the vaulted dimness of the main stair tower.

  There, she drew to a sudden halt.

  A huge shape, dark and threatening, loomed in the entry to the curving stair. And it wasn’t Skald, the snarling banner beast.

  It was the devil.

  James Cameron.

  And he looked so shockingly handsome she nearly swooned.

  She did stare, her heart flipping. “You.”

  “Aye.” Amusement flashed in his eyes. “I’m myself, true enough.”

  He slid his gaze over her in a slow, daring manner and she took a step backwards, knowing he was so much more than just himself.

  He was irresistible.

  And being alone with him in this empty corner of his castle was dangerous. Torchlight fell across his raven hair, but cast shadows over the proud lines of his face. The contrast suited him, making him look like he stood on the edge of light and darkness. He was a fallen angel come to tempt her. And she wanted to succumb. She drew a breath, sure she’d never seen a more beautiful man. Pure masculine power rolled off every inch of him and his tall, broad-shouldered presence made her hot and shivery.

  His magnificence overwhelmed her, sending desire racing through her.

  “What are you doing here?” She held his gaze, quivers of sensation making her tremble. “You were in the hall, with your men.”

  “So I was.” He pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against, the move predatory. “And now I’m here.”

  “Aren’t you needed elsewhere?” She lifted her chin, her physical awareness of him so strong that if she didn’t feign a bit of coolness, she’d cut out her heart and offer it to him on her outstretched hands. But his scent, dark, heady, and oh-so-rou
sing, drifted to her across the space between them, teasing her senses.

  She felt dizzy, lightheaded with the need for him to come closer. “I-” She had trouble speaking, tingling anticipation flooding her when his gaze dropped to her lips. “I thought you’d be in the hall until the small hours….”

  “You thought wrong.” He took a step forward, his eyes not leaving her face. “We have unfinished business. Or” – his voice deepened – “have you forgotten?”

  “You know I haven’t.” A hundred reasons to turn and run swept through her mind. She ignored each one. She wanted him too badly, had waited too many years for this stolen, forbidden moment.

  “A pity your wits are so sharp, my lady.” His tone was seductive, the words caressing her. “I’d hoped to enjoy reminding you.”

  “Perhaps there is a bit I don’t recall?” She couldn’t believe her daring. But he’d whirled her into a place she didn’t know, where her heart thumped crazily and all she could think of was the emotion rising inside her. It felt so right, so thrilling to be alone with him.

  Heat swept her and flutters teased the lowest part of her belly, exciting her. It was a sinfully wicked sensation. A pleasurable feeling she knew was pure womanly desire, brazen and carnal. An acknowledgment that made her pulse race all the faster, beating so rapidly in her throat that it was difficult to breathe.

  But she kept her chin raised, unable to look away from him.

  Moving proved impossible.

  She tried – she wanted to close the distance between them, stir him into kissing her – but nothing happened. Her legs seemed incapable of doing what she wanted. Even her arms wouldn’t cooperate, staying at her sides, her fingers frozen into the folds of her skirts.

  Her inability to move made her wonder if he was the devil.

  The fierce pull of attraction she felt for him hinted at such powers. And with his dark, flashing eyes and his glistening black hair unbound and wild about his shoulders, he could pass for the hell-fiend. He was certainly watching her as if he were. How else could he make her feel as if no one else in the world existed for him?

  Or that nothing mattered except the raw desire he roused in her.

  She frowned, not wanting to admit that so much more did matter. The truth was, he melted her heart along with her capitulating, not-to-be-mentioned feminine parts.

  A corner of his mouth lifted as if he knew.

  It was a slow, devastating kind of smile. A look that was full of heat, triumph, and seduction. But his eyes also held a challenge. And seeing it broke the sensual spell he’d wrapped around her.

  Catriona accepted the dare. “Colin told you where I was, didn’t he?” She set her hands on her hips. “He said you could catch me-”

  “Devil take Colin!” He advanced on her, his smile gone now. “It scarce matters how I knew you were here, flitting through a passage no one but a Cameron should know exists. You desired to be caught.” He looked down at her, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “That’s why you came here. Or will you be denying it?”

  Catriona felt her face flood with hot color. “I came here to-” She broke off when Hector hobbled out of the shadows, his scraggly tail wagging.

  When the dog – who could never have been the fast-moving blur-of-blackness she’d seen shoot across the passage - came over to stand beside them, she knew it would be difficult to remain belligerent.

  The beast had spent hours resting his bulk across her feet, after all.

  He’d even licked her ankles.

  Now, as he settled his bony haunches on the cold stone floor with deep canine sigh, she knew she was in trouble. Especially when Hector’s trusting gaze moved from her to his master, then back to her again. The hopefulness on his aged, white-muzzled face split her heart.

  “You needn’t tell me why you’re here.” James stepped closer, taking her by the shoulders. “We both know the reason. It had naught to do with a wee lost dog named” - he pretended to consider – “Birkie, I believe?

  “If he even exists?” He arched a brow, waiting.

  “Birkie is real enough.”

  “The mite is no’ missing, is he?”

  “Nae.” Catriona shook her head, trying not to notice Hector peering up at her so steadily. “Birkie is in the antechamber of my quarters at Blackshore,” she admitted, certain Hector knew they were speaking of another dog. “Beadle, his brother, is with him and one of our laundresses, Maili, will be looking after them.”

  “Ahhh….” Something very close to a smile flickered across James’ face. “Then I was correct in being flattered that you troubled yourself to come here.”

  “I do not understand your meaning.” She knew exactly what he meant.

  “Then you do need reminding.” His smile flashing dangerously again, he slid his hands from her shoulders down to her arms, gripping tight. “You came to see me. You knew that, once here, arriving so late in the day and on such a noble mission, I’d be honor-bound to offer you and your entourage accommodation. You hoped to claim the kiss I swore to give you if ever I saw you on my land again.”

  Catriona tossed her head. “Your opinion of yourself is grand.”

  He looked amused. “With good reason as I’ll show you.”

  Eyeing her up and down, his gaze heated as it lingered on her amber necklace. Though – a thrill shot through her - she was sure he was assessing the swell of her breasts rather than the gemstones.

  She should be scandalized.

  Instead she felt breathless. Under his perusal, her breasts went full and heavy, her nipples tightening with prickling, needful sensations she’d never dreamed. She tilted up her chin, hoping she looked bold. In truth, she was sure she’d burst any moment if he didn’t make good on his wicked, sinfully exciting threat.

  “Did no one e’er tell you that lasses who dance along the edge of a fire burn their skirts?” He leaned in, a scant breath away from her. “You, sweetness, just marched straight into the flames.”

  “Say you?” Catriona didn’t flinch.

  He glared at her. “I do. And” – he grasped her chin, lifting her face to his – “you’re about to get the scalding of your life.”

  She met his gaze very directly. His words whipped through her, rippling along her skin and racing down her limbs, filling her with a delicious cascade of sensation.

  “Hector, guard!” James glanced at the dog, nodding approval when the beast pushed to his feet and went to the archway back into the great hall.

  Hector placed himself in the center of the entry, once again lowering his rump carefully as he sat. But he held his head alert and proud, prepared to turn away anyone who might approach the stair tower.

  “He listens well and heeds orders.” James turned back to her, the look on his face making the world tilt and spin away, leaving only the two of them. He was close to her now, so near that she could feel the heat of his hard-muscled body warming her own.

  “Hector knows what is good for him.” His voice held silky menace. “A pity you are no’ as wise.”

  Catriona bit her lip. To her way of looking at it, she was clever. He was about to kiss her, after all. This was her victory. Something she’d been yearning for since their first ill-fated encounter years before when he’d caught her in the hills above Castle Haven, searching for Grizel and Gorm, the Makers of Dreams.

  Their recent meeting in the wood – and, especially, his taunt when he’d come to her on Blackshore’s boat strand - only reawakened old feelings, leaving her no peace.

  Now…

  It was important that he made the first move.

  But there could be no harm in taking just one deep breath, letting her lungs fill and – she could scarce believe her brazenness – allowing her breasts to rise and brush ever so slightly against his chest.

  “Ah, lass. You push me too far.” He closed on her then, bringing his huge, iron-hard body so near to hers that her back bumped against the cold stone of the wall. Heat poured off him, scorching her, branding her forever.
He made a sound low in his throat and braced his hands on either side of her head, trapping her within the circle of his arms. “Ne’er say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I-”

  “Save your words. I willnae believe a one of them. Only this…”

  With masculine intent, he curled one hand about her neck and pulled her roughly against the unyielding wall of his chest. His arms were suddenly around her, and breath couldn’t pass between them. Catriona grasped his shoulders, digging the fingers of one hand into his hair and clutching the coarse wool of his plaid with the other.

  She gripped him fiercely, leaning into him. She could feel the entire length of him, granite hard and hot as flame, thrumming with a tightness that bespoke how much he wanted her. If she bore any doubt, the thick and rigid column of searing heat pressing her hip proved his desire. Something inside her melted in response, releasing a spill of tingles almost too exquisite to bear.

  “James…” She gasped his name against his shoulder, the heady male scent of him filling her senses, making her giddy with sensations more glorious than anything she’d imagined.

  Before she could say more, or even think, he swept one hand down over her hip, splaying his fingers across her bottom. Even as he pulled her more intimately against him, he brought his other hand up to grasp the back of her neck, holding her firmly in place.

  “You’re a right pest,” he snarled. “Ne’er has a lass vexed me more.”

  Then he lowered his head, slanting his mouth over hers in a hard, devouring kiss. He plundered her lips with a savage fierceness that stole her breath and made the floor dip beneath her feet. Her heart hammered wildly and the tingles whirling inside her spun faster now, concentrating in one intensely sensitive place, low by her thighs. As if he knew, he tightened his grip on her bottom, his strong, warm fingers kneading her flesh.

  “O-o-oh….” She squirmed against him, clinging fast, desperate to prolong the startling pleasure.

  He deepened the kiss, his mouth fierce and furious. He groaned – at least, she thought he did – and then his tongue was probing her lips, seeking entry. She welcomed that intrusion, the burning pleasure inside her increasing as his tongue slid into her mouth, curling intimately over hers. It was now a slow, languorous kind of kissing so wondrous that she felt her entire body softening with sweet, molten heat. She wound her arms more firmly around his neck, fearing he’d stop kissing her, ending her bliss.