Highlander's Fallen Angel : A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  Victoria smiled a little brighter. “One can only hope, and we must be careful until we can be sure that no one will discover our attachment.” Her eyes narrowed. “Heavens, you cannot know how much I abhor the peerage for treating us ladies as commodities, to be bought and sold by the highest bidders! Even when the husbands they forced on us are dead, they do not want us to be free.”

  Camdyn took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Ye can be free with me, lass. I’ll never ask anythin’ of ye, except for this.” He folded her hand back onto her heart, covering it with his own. “That’s all I want of ye, and we’ll see how the rest goes. I will nae take what’s nae willingly given.”

  He hoped she knew what he meant, for though he desired her body as well as her heart and mind and soul, he would wait until she was ready to lie with him. That way, when—or if—it did happen, it would be a divine thing, unlike anything else he had ever done in his life.

  “Ye dinnae think they’d foist ye off on some other rich lad, do ye?” The thought suddenly occurred to him, sending a spike of fear through his heart, more destructive than any bayonet or firelock shot.

  Victoria canted her head. “As a Countess with my deceased husband’s wealth all left to me, and no heirs to take the title of Earl, there would be many interested parties, but I have the power to refuse.” She did not sound as confident as she appeared. “Although, as you say, I doubt any would venture northward to try and pursue me. If they did, they would find they had endured a wasted journey.”

  “Aye, and they might get a nasty surprise from one of me fists if they try anythin’,” he warned. As far as he was concerned, their kiss and their confessions had knotted their hearts together with in inseverable twine. She was his woman now, and he would not allow anyone to take her away from him, not unless she was the one who sent him from her side.

  Victoria chuckled. “I feel safer already.”

  Saying nothing, Camdyn pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as they stood beneath the swaying boughs of the apple tree, where sleeping doves roosted. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the lavender and rose scent of her blonde locks. He kissed that sweet-scented hair as he embraced her, wishing his arms would forever be enough to protect her.

  But the trouble was, war had taught Camdyn a cruel lesson in attachment. The more you loved something, and someone, the more painful it was when you lost them. It was why he had never allowed himself to get close to anyone. Not for years.

  Now, I have something to lose…

  And that scared him more than facing a horde of redcoats.

  Chapter 13

  Taking tentative steps with a man as distractingly handsome and deliciously tempting as Camdyn proved to be far harder than Victoria could have imagined. A hundred times a day over the next week, she had to remind herself to focus on her patients, instead of daydreaming about Camdyn’s lips on her skin, his sculpted arms around her, and his body pressing her against tree trunks and into doorways.

  Day after day, they had stolen kisses from one another whenever the opportunity arose, playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the servants and Genevieve. For a house so large, Victoria had come to appreciate that it was awfully difficult to find a moment alone with the man she adored.

  “Well, thank you for your visit, Mrs. Balfour.” She did not often receive English visitors, and the wealthy ones were an even greater rarity. Of course, when they did come to her door, they tended to be the easiest to tend to. “If you take the tonic as instructed, your throat will recover within a few days.”

  Mrs. Balfour handed over a small pouch of money, in exchange for Victoria’s services. “No, thank you, My Lady. It has been driving me to distraction, but it already feels much better.”

  That is because you simply have a sore throat, and it would have gone away by itself in due course.

  Victoria did not say so out loud, for the money she earned from her wealthy patients went straight back into the charity drawer that she gave to those in need.

  “Do come again if the complaint returns,” Victoria said, as both women rose to their feet.

  “Certainly, My Lady. I would not go to another, after the countless afflictions you have remedied for me.” She paused, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Though I would never tell my husband. You know how sensitive gentlemen can be about such things.”

  Victoria’s smile tightened. “I do.”

  “And may I say,” Mrs. Balfour continued in her whisper, “I think it very prudent that you have found yourself such a strapping sentinel in these uncertain times. I hear there are still rebels running amok, and they would not hesitate to strangle a lone lady such as yourself in your sleep if they were to creep into your home. Naturally, I would offer you a place at my residence but, again, you know how sensitive gentlemen can be. My husband would never agree to it, though I would take you in without hesitation.”

  Victoria nodded, no longer paying much attention to the woman. Not with Camdyn gazing at her like that from the nearby armchair, with his enticing brown eyes sparkling and his lips turning up in the rakish smile that made her knees tremble.

  “You have no cause to worry for me, Mrs. Balfour. I am very well taken care of.” Victoria saw Camdyn grin and hid a smirk of her own. “Remember, take your tonic three times daily.”

  Mrs. Balfour exited with further mutterings about unruly rebels stealing into the homes of the “respectable English,” but Victoria had already closed the door on her. It was time for luncheon, which meant she would not have any more patients for two hours, and she had at least ten minutes before Genevieve brought up the tray.

  Evidently thinking the same thing, Camdyn leapt out of the armchair and had his lips upon hers before she could even utter his name. It did not appear to be luncheon that he was hungry for.

  “Och, lass, I’ve been thinkin’ of this for hours,” he groaned, his hands sliding around her waist as he walked her backward, his mouth seeking new delights along the line of her jaw and down the curve of her long, elegant neck. He buried his face in her shoulder, making her despise the thin fabric between his mouth and her skin.

  All of a sudden, her knees buckled as the backs of them collided with the front of the chaise-lounge. A yelp of surprise escaped her throat as she fell back onto the soft cushioning, transforming into a girlish laugh as Camdyn leaned over to resume his attentive kisses.

  Slowly, his arm about her waist maneuvering her like a willing marionette, he lay her down on the chaise, propping her head upon the top cushion. He lowered his body against hers, showing the strength and control in those rippling muscles, and caught her lips with his.

  Her back arched, pushing herself closer to him, desperate to close the gap between their bodies. All the while, she echoed the speed and sensuality of his kiss, indulging in her new favorite pastime of exploring his mouth with her tongue. A wildfire of passion coursed through her veins as his teeth grazed her lower lip, prompting her to loop her hands behind his neck and tug him closer. Part of her hoped his muscular arms would give way, and he would collapse on top of her, but she ought to have known that he was tougher than that.

  “I’ve an affliction, lass,” he whispered, biting gently at her earlobe.

  She gasped at the jolt of slight pain and immense pleasure. “Oh?”

  “Aye, there’s a burnin’ here in me loins,” he purred, laughter tinkling in his voice. “It’s the oddest thing, lass. It doesn’ae plague me ‘til this golden-haired vixen walks into the room, then I cannae get rid of it. I fear the agony might kill me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, to find him gazing ardently at her. “I have heard of ways to remedy such a dire torment,” she teased. “But I am afraid they are rather frowned upon in medicinal circles, for they have been known to exacerbate the ailment.”

  Camdyn gave a throaty chuckle. “Och, then I s’pose I’ll have to suffer through it, ‘til we can find a more permanent cure.” He dipped his head to kiss the narrow sliver of skin above her lac
e collar, and she fell back into overwhelming bliss, wishing she had the courage to slip a hand beneath his kilt. Or the courage to invite him to venture beneath her skirts.

  Damn my English propriety!

  It made her wish she had never been born with the reasonable wealth and status of her family. It came with its benefits, of course, but she had seen the way that the poorer folk of Inverness were able to love as they pleased, marrying whomever their heart desired. Yet her family’s wealth had acted as her shackles and her debt, forcing her to be a Countess restricted by rules and regulations.

  But, if I had been a humble maid or a fisherman’s daughter, I would not have had the means to meet him…

  Perhaps this was her reward, after ten years of enduring an arranged match of convenience that had neither fulfilled her heart nor her womb.

  She was so enveloped in Camdyn’s amorous attention, and the satisfying breadth of him above her, that she almost did not hear the sound of footsteps on the staircase, moving slowly across the landing to this very room. The telltale hobble of her dear Genevieve.

  Only when a floorboard creaked loudly, splintering through Victoria’s contentment like a firelock shot, did she remember that the luncheon tray was coming.

  Victoria pushed her palms into Camdyn’s chest. “It is Genevieve!”

  “She’d nay mind, would she?” He found her lips again, and she very nearly allowed herself to sink back into the tantalizing rhythm of his kiss.

  “She absolutely would mind!” Victoria hissed, pushing his chest more insistently. “She may have grown fond of you, though she will never admit it, but even she would take issue with finding her mistress in a compromising situation with a devilishly delectable rogue!”

  Laughing softly, he sat up and took a blanket from the back of the chaise. He draped it over her as though she were a sickly child and got up to walk to the window, where he paused to stare out at the front garden, likely to conceal the physical remnants of his passion until it faded. No sooner had he taken up his position than the study door opened.

  This is what you did when I could not breathe, she remembered, smoothing her hands across the blanket. Whenever she thought of that day, in retrospect, it gave her a curious thrill. At the time, she had feared for her life. But now, all she could think of was the care he had shown her, and the way her bare breasts had felt against him. There was no shame in it now, only a longing to repeat the experience in much more pleasant, less deadly circumstances.

  “M’Lady, whatever is the matter with you?” Genevieve hurried over, as fast her arthritic leg would allow, and set the luncheon tray on the nearby table.

  Victoria blinked, trying to think of an excuse. “I am just a little wearisome, Genevieve. It is nothing to be concerned about.”

  “But you look like you’ve a fever.” Genevieve laid her palm across Victoria’s forehead. “Goodness, child! You’re burning.”

  Victoria frowned. “I am sure it will pass. The fire may be too warm, that is all.”

  “Mr. McKay?” Genevieve diverted her attention to the imposing presence by the window. “Has My Lady shown other signs of being unwell?”

  Victoria froze, wondering if his expression might give them both away. She craned her neck so she could see him more clearly but, as he turned to face Genevieve, his face was a picture of calm. Not a single flush of fevered red in his cheeks.

  “I cannae say, Genevieve,” he answered. “Ye ken she doesn’ae say a word if she’s the one sufferin’.”

  Genevieve nodded emphatically. “You’re quite right, Mr. McKay. She doesn’t.” She looked back at Victoria. “I noticed you hardly ate anything last night, or the day before. And you pushed your eggs around your plate this morning like a petulant child with a picky palate. Hmm…”

  “I am fine, Genevieve,” Victoria urged, but the older woman was having none of her protestations.

  “Right, I will send all of your afternoon patients away and tell them to return on Monday if their ailments have not eased by themselves,” she commanded. “As for you, my dear girl, you are going directly to bed, and you will stay there until I’m satisfied that you’re not sick. I saw a lot of coughs and sneezes come through the house this week. You’ve probably caught a cold from one of them.”

  Victoria opened and closed her mouth, flummoxed by Genevieve’s firm hand. “I am the one versed in healing and illness, Genevieve. I have no other symptoms of a cold.”

  “Nevertheless, you’re to rest. I won’t take no for an answer. You’ve been working much too hard, and you’re deserving of a respite.” Genevieve beckoned to Camdyn. “Mr. McKay, if you’d be so kind as to carry My Lady to her bedchamber, I’ll follow directly with an altered luncheon menu from the kitchens. Chicken soup and sugared tea ought to do you the world of good, M’Lady.”

  Camdyn smiled, casting a discreet wink at Victoria as he came over to obey Genevieve’s orders. Without so much as a grunt of exertion, he scooped Victoria into his arms and carried her across the study, out of the door, and down the hallway to her bedchamber.

  She kicked her legs in protest, but it only made him grin wider. However, as they approached her bedchamber door, she felt a sudden anxiety strike her in the chest. She had never invited Camdyn into her bedchamber before. Indeed, she had never allowed any man in there. When her husband lived, she had always been expected to go to his chambers and go through the motions of their futile coupling, before retreating to her sanctuary to forget the cold, and often uncomfortable, act.

  “You may leave me here,” she urged. “I can walk into my room by myself, considering I have no ailment. Although, I suppose a racing of the heart could be considered perilous in different circumstances.”

  Camdyn shook his head boyishly. “Genevieve said I’d to take ye to yer bed, and I wouldnae want to go against her. She’d bite me head off, and I happen to like me head where it is.”

  “She said my bedchamber!” Victoria corrected frantically, as he opened the door and bore her across the threshold.

  “Did she?” Camdyn feigned obliviousness. “Might as well finish the job, in case them feverish legs of yers buckle before ye can make it across yer room.”

  Victoria sighed. “There is nothing wrong with me, as you well know!”

  “Aye, but a lad should be able to care of his missus when he wants to, and ye have been lookin’ a little weary this mornin’. I hope ye’re sleepin’ all right?” He took her over to the bed and laid her down, though he made no move to resume their thrilling interaction on the chaise. Instead, he took the down quilt and the soft blankets, and parceled her beneath them as if he were constructing a nest.

  How can I sleep properly, when I constantly dream of you?

  Although, she had found that the Camdyn in her dreams did not quite compare to the reality. She much preferred the real Camdyn, though there was a great deal more to be explored before she could compare every part of the two men.

  Wait… did he refer to me as his Mrs. or am I misunderstanding?

  She had come to comprehend most of his Highland brogue, but he occasionally said something that she could not translate. And she was too afraid to ask if she had heard him correctly. As such, she decided to consider it a term of endearment that had no English equivalent.

  “I can hear yer mind tickin’,” he teased, sitting up on the stuffed mattress and pushing back a strand of wayward blonde hair. “Is it too much? Are we nae bein’ cautious enough?” His eyes showed a glimmer of very real concern, his smile ebbing for a moment.

  She shook her head. “It is not that. I know what I said to you in the garden, but… I do not want to change how close we are becoming. I can contend with a frisson of danger, in being caught, if it means I can continue to… um… be with you.” She swallowed thickly. “It is just that… I have never allowed any man into these chambers, and my mind does not know what to think of it.”

  Camdyn looked around at the neutral-toned room, where embossed, golden lilies gleamed in the wintry noon li
ght. He glanced at the distant window, which offered the same view as his, before returning his gaze to the gauzy-draped four-poster bed and the mass of warming covers he had piled upon her. His hands smoothed over the soft fabrics in a tender caress.

  He has not lost all of the gentleness in him, she noticed. When he had first kissed her in the garden, she could not deny that it had frightened her initially. He was so large and so strong and so intimidating, and though she had dreamed of him often, and seen sweetness in those dreams, she had not known if he would be the same in real life. Part of her had worried that he might be too fierce and commanding, but it had not been like that at all. Of course, there had been a ferocity to his kiss, but not in a way that scared her.