The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1)

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Besides, I explained everything in the letter I sent to Mamma this morning. Now that we’re married, there’s no point in telling anyone about Tira. And believe me, she’ll want to avoid the scandal, especially since the Kendricks have rallied behind me.” She cast an embarrassed look down at her lap. “Although that’s probably not true. I’m sure your family is quite appalled by our hasty marriage. Even Kade seemed gloomy about it.”

  “Then you haven’t been paying attention, Mrs. Kendrick.” He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her new name on his tongue. “Victoria is positively ecstatic that we’ve finally tied the knot. As for Kade, he was disappointed he didn’t get to play at our wedding. He’d been working on a new piece to honor the occasion.”

  She winced. “We did behave in a rather ramshackle fashion. I cannot imagine what that poor minister thought of me. I was such an emotional wreck.”

  Royal diplomatically refrained from agreeing with her. “I’m sure you were the prettiest bride the fellow has ever seen.”

  “I didn’t even have time to change into something decent. I looked a perfect fright.”

  Royal leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. “You’re perfect , and don’t ever forget it.”

  Ainsley had been in such a panic that she’d refused to waste time returning to Breadie Manor for a more suitable gown. Less than three hours after Lady Aldridge stormed out of Kendrick House, Royal and Ainsley had made their vows at the local kirk, with only the family members already in town to witness the event. Although the laxity of Scotland’s marriage laws had worked in their favor, a church wedding—no matter how small and rushed—would serve as irrefutable evidence that he and Ainsley were well and truly wed.

  “I’m sorry you were denied a proper wedding celebration,” he added. “I’d hoped we’d have time to invite some of your friends up from London.”

  “I don’t really have any friends I’d want to invite. If you want to know the truth, I simply don’t have many friends. Not true ones, anyway, except for Edie and Alec, and they’d already left town.”

  The Gilbrides had departed Glasgow a few days ago to return home to Blairgal Castle.

  “Not even old schoolgirl friends?” he asked, surprised.

  She tilted her head to give him a quizzical smile. “Surely you noticed during your time in London that I didn’t have many female friends.”

  “I assumed none of them could get near you, given the pack of suitors that always surrounded you.”

  “The reality is considerably less flattering, I’m afraid. I generally wasn’t that interested in spending time with other girls my age, since all we ever seemed to talk about were clothes and potential suitors.” She shook her head. “I was obviously spending my time with the wrong people. It’s no wonder I didn’t have many real friends.”

  “It sounds rather lonely.”

  “At the time I put it down to boredom with the usual round of social inanities. That’s why I liked you so much when we first met. Aside from that poetic, brooding persona of yours, you truly listened to me, instead of treating me as a possession to be acquired or a challenge to be won.” She flashed him a quick smile. “Even better, I could be rude and you never seemed to mind.”

  “That’s because I was even ruder, a standard requirement for a poetic, brooding persona. Compared to me, you were a rank amateur.”

  She laughed. “I suppose that’s true. I always felt like I could be myself when I was with you.”

  “That’s because we both knew you were never going to marry me. It meant you could say whatever you wanted with little regard for the consequences.”

  He instantly regretted his blunt words. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean—”

  She cut him off with an impatient jerk of the head. “You’re not wrong, which was more a reflection on me than it was on you. I used to be a terrible snob. I suppose I still am, so you shouldn’t even bother trying to deny it.”

  They lapsed into a rather awkward silence. Ainsley stared into the fire, a slight frown creasing her brow, while Royal pondered what would happen when they finally retired for the night.

  Just ask her what she wants.

  “Ainsley—”

  “I still cannot believe your middle name is Lancelot,” she said, interrupting him. “I was quite stunned to hear it during the marriage ceremony. Who chose it?”

  He studied her brittle smile. “Do you really wish to know, or are you simply coming up with idle conversation because you’re nervous?”

  Her smile went charmingly sideways. “Is it that obvious?”

  He tapped a gentle finger to her cheek. “It’s perfectly understandable. But remember the promise I made to you in the park?”

  “That you’ll never push me to do anything I don’t want to do?”

  “Yes, so there’s no need to be nervous, is there?”

  “Well, but I would still like to know who came up with such a fanciful name. And since we are supposed to be celebrating, I’d like a bit more brandy, if I may.”

  While he went to replenish her glass, Ainsley wandered over to the wall of windows overlooking the loch. She pressed her hand to a pane and appeared to intently study the night-shrouded landscape.

  “So?” she asked when he came to stand beside her.

  “My mother named me. She had a romantic soul and loved the old Arthurian tales. I’m sure my exceedingly Scottish father was appalled, but he adored her, so Royal Lancelot Kendrick it was.”

  “Your older brothers must have teased you about it.”

  “Logan tried. But after a salutary thrashing from Nick, he desisted.”

  “Then I will be sure never to call you Lancelot in the earl’s presence.”

  “Or ever.”

  She smiled and went back to gazing out the window. The uncertain light of a slipper moon traced the edges of the garden shrubs, creating odd and fanciful shapes. The loch was a gigantic inkblot at the base of the wide lawn, the occasional whitecap momentarily glittering into life. On the other side of the water, Highland peaks reached up jagged and black against a starlight sky.

  “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Quite my favorite view here at Kinglas.”

  “Aye, it’s grand. But I wasn’t aware you had a favorite view. I always thought you loathed everything about this place.”

  “No, just the inhabitants,” she said drolly. “In fact, when we were stuck here last January, I often snuck down to the library to read when the earl was busy elsewhere.”

  “And when you weren’t helping Victoria care for my stupid, sick brothers. Which, now that I think on it, you shouldn’t have been doing since you were pregnant.”

  “I didn’t mind. It was a good distraction from my troubles.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” He gently tugged one of the glossy curls framing her face. “I wasn’t nearly as careful with you as I should have been, lass. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that.”

  She turned to face him. When she placed her palms flat on his waistcoat, he covered her hands with his.

  “You didn’t know I was with child,” she said earnestly. “So there’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “But I knew something was wrong. I should have done more to help you, instead of letting you slip off to Cairndow all by yourself.”

  “If there is one person who should never apologize to me, it’s you, Royal Kendrick. I owe you everything .”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Ainsley. Truly.” The last thing he wanted from her was the sense that all that bound her to him was obligation.

  Gravely, she studied his face. He had the uncomfortable feeling she could read his mind.

  “You are a very foolish man if you think that’s the only reason I’m here,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “I’m here because I want to be with you, not because I have to be with you.”

  Under her slender fingers, he could feel his heart begin to pound. “Do you think you could be more specific, Mrs. Kendrick?” Emotion had made
his voice gruff. “Why are you here right now?”

  A teasing smile, blessedly confident, curled up the corners of her lush mouth. “Why, for a good night kiss, of course.”

  She went up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was so sweet and yet so determined that it all but took him out at the knees. He repressed the instinct to drag her into his arms, and instead carefully wrapped his hands around her waist.

  He gently pressed close, relishing the soft feel of her luscious lips. For glorious moments, their mouths played with each other, slowly building in intensity. For so long he’d yearned for her kisses, reverently storing in memory the few they’d shared. Now that she was finally secured within his embrace, Royal practically shook with desire, fighting the overwhelming, visceral need to claim his woman. But he could not and would not rush, for her sake and also for his. This was a moment to cherish and remember for as long as he lived.

  When he teased along the seam of her lips, silently asking permission to enter, she responded with a breathless chuckle that turned his heart inside out. God, he loved this woman. Ainsley had courage and pride enough to conquer kingdoms, yet she trembled in his arms, so vulnerable and sweet that he wanted to tear down the world and build a fortress to keep her safe.

  Gently, he slipped inside and tasted brandy and his wife.

  She murmured deep in her throat and wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck, responding with a delicious tease of silky heat. When she drew back a few seconds later, he almost groaned. But then she traced the shape of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, sending fire through his veins, before stealing back inside to torment him with languid, delicate kisses.

  For a few moments, he endured it, clamping down on the urge to take. But when she nipped his lower lip, desire blasted through him like a thunderstorm raging across the loch. Royal swept past her ladylike caresses to claim her mouth with all the passion and need he’d locked down and hidden away for long, lonely months.

  When Ainsley froze, as if startled, his heart slammed into the wall of his chest. But then she moaned, snuggling even closer. The feel of her full breasts pressing against his waistcoat set him on fire.

  Without breaking the kiss, Royal started walking her backward toward the chaise. When she willingly followed his lead, his heart soared. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid, period. Because she was Ainsley. If Royal weren’t so overcome with need, he’d be dropping to his knees and sending up a thousand prayers of gratitude to all the angels that his beautiful wife was the strongest woman he’d ever met.

  You can light a candle later, you lucky bastard.

  They were just about to sink down onto the plump cushions of the chaise when the library door flew open and thudded against the wall. Ainsley jerked back, her foot tangling around his boot, and they almost tumbled to the floor as Angus stomped into the room.

  “Oh, my God,” she gasped as Royal set her upright.

  His grandfather scowled at them. “I’ve been lookin’ all over the bloody castle for ye.”

  Ainsley leveled an accusatory glare at Royal. “You promised your family would leave us alone. You promised .”

  “I bloody well didn’t ask him to come,” Royal protested. “Why the hell are you here, Grandda? It’s practically the middle of the night.”

  “Och, it’s not that late,” Angus replied with a casual wave. “I’ve been here for at least a half hour, after a nice ride up from Glasgow. And that glad I am to be away from the stinkin’ city and back home.”

  Royal felt like the top of his head was about to fizz up like an exploding squib. “But why are you here?”

  “I couldna sleep knowin’ that the little lassie would be missin’ her grandda. So here I am.”

  “Oh, my God,” Ainsley repeated, sounding utterly appalled.

  “Do Nick and Victoria know you rode up?” Royal demanded.

  Angus hunched his shoulders and gave him a placating smile. “Dinna fash yourself, lad. I left them a grand little note to explain.”

  “Grandda, this is our wedding trip.” Never had Royal been closer to throttling Angus than he was at this moment.

  “Aye, that’s the point. I can watch out for Tira while ye and the missus have a wee bit of private time. Ye’ll hardly even know I’m aboot the place.”

  Ainsley switched her Medusa glare to Angus. “You are so irritating. I’m supposed to be looking after my daughter, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Aye, and ye can bloody well use all the help ye can get,” the old man retorted, “especially since the puir wee bairn is feeling poorly. I could tell Tira was off her feed before ye left. It’s no wonder I decided to follow ye.”

  When Angus tapped the side of his nose, trying to look wise, Royal had to hold back a scoff. The excuse sounded like complete bollocks to him.

  Ainsley went from irate to anxious in a matter of seconds. “What do you mean poorly? I was with her an hour ago, and she was asleep.”

  “She’s not sleepin’ now. That’s why I came down to fetch ye.” He flashed her a toothy smile. “As ye say, yer her mother. I knew ye’d want to be with her.”

  Ainsley picked up her skirts and pelted out of the room.

  Sighing, Royal followed in her wake, Angus falling into step beside him.

  “Is Tira really sick, or was that just an excuse to come to Kinglas?” he asked his grandfather.

  Angus shrugged. “Probably just another tooth coming in, but ye never know.”

  Royal shot him a dirty look. “One of these days, Grandda, I will kill you.”

  Angus snorted. “Laddie, none of ye would know what to do without me, least of all yer new missus. Even for a Sassenach , she’s bloody hopeless.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Royal placed his daughter stomach-down on the tartan blanket spread out on the floor of the family parlor. “There you go, little one. Be a good girl for Mamma when she comes down, will you? Papa will get you some nice biscuits to chew on if you promise not to cry or spit up on her.”

  Tira pushed herself up on her hands and knees and chortled, as if agreeing with him.

  “She canna understand a word yer saying, laddie,” Angus said with an indulgent smile. “And she’ll be doin’ whatever she wants, whether her mother wishes it or no.”

  Royal settled wearily onto the settee. He studied the tea service, set before him on the low, satinwood table, and thought about ringing for something stronger. But since he’d had three cups of coffee this morning and one after lunch, trying to clear his bleary head, it was probably best to stick with tea or else end up with a case of the jitters. Ainsley was already jittery enough for the both of them.

  “If she’d stop her fussin’ and carryin’ on, we might have a little peace,” Angus said. “And mayhap a good night’s sleep, for once.”

  “Who? Ainsley or Tira?” Royal poured himself a cup.

  His grandfather, seated in his favorite old armchair by the hearth, snorted. “Tira is a wee angel compared to her high and mightiness, and ye know it.”

  “What I know is that my wife is doing her best. If you don’t stop picking away at her, I will throw you out of Kinglas on your arse. You can walk back to Glasgow for all I care or go stay in one of the crofters’ cottages.”

  His grandfather’s whiskers bristled with offended dignity. “I am only tryin’ to help. But yer wife acts like she’s the only one who knows what she’s doin’ when it comes to Tira. And as if she’s more rights than the rest of us.”

  “She does have more rights than the rest of us.” Royal leaned forward for emphasis. “Ainsley is Tira’s mother. Her real mother.”

  “Mayhap, but a good mother would nae have given her up,” Angus stubbornly replied.

  The old man had said that more than once. Royal seemed unable to get through to him that the exact opposite was true. For someone like Angus, loyalty to family was everything, and voluntarily giving up a child was impossible to fathom.

  “Ainsley gave Tira up to protect
her,” Royal said, trying to be patient. “It was the right thing to do, given the difficult circumstances.”

  “More like to protect her own reputation, I reckon. That lass seems fair obsessed with how others think about her.”

  Royal bit back the reprimand on the tip of his tongue. Only Nick and Victoria knew the details of Ainsley’s assault and its aftermath, and she’d begged Royal to keep it that way. Ainsley loathed that others might think her a helpless victim or, even worse, believe that she was somehow irretrievably damaged. Her spirit and dignity had received a grievous wound, and Royal would do whatever was necessary to safeguard her privacy and give her the time she needed to heal.

  “Once a woman loses her reputation, it is lost forever,” Royal said, trying to pick his way through the morass. “And society can be utterly cruel, in those situations.”

  Angus pulled out a battered white pipe from his vest pocket, along with a tobacco pouch. “I ken yer right, but why didn’t the lass marry the babe’s father in the first place? Though I’m glad she didn’t,” he added hastily. “Else we would nae have gotten the little lassie, would we?”

  They both glanced at Tira and smiled. The lass rocked back and forth on her haunches, as if just discovering how to do it.

  “True,” Royal said. “It’s hard to imagine how we ever got on without her.”

  Angus stuffed some tobacco into the bowl and reached for a spill from a brass container next to the fireplace. “She was the savin’ of you, lad,” he said around puffs as he lit his pipe. “And that’s a fact.”

  Royal didn’t much like to think about the days before Tira and how close he’d come to the edge of despair. His daughter had saved him—from himself. And it was Ainsley who’d made it all possible.

  “If she keeps that up much longer, she’ll launch herself right off the blanket,” he said as he watched Tira rock with ever greater enthusiasm.

  “Aye, she’ll be crawlin’ soon. She’s a pistol, that one. Just like the twins were.”

  “God, I hope not. She’s a handful, but they were little demons.”

  “Tira’s worse now that herself is on the scene. She’s got the poor little thing rattlin’ about like a fart in a muff.”