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

by Lydia Kendall

  “And you were not seen? You encountered no trouble?” She willed him to look at her, but he would not. “Camdyn… is something the matter?”

  Finally, he turned around. “I’ve just been doin’ some thinkin’, that’s all.”

  “About what?” She did not know if she wanted the answer.

  “I’ve been a soldier so long that I am nae sure who I am if I am nae clutchin’ a broadsword on the brink of a battle, ye ken?” he replied with a melancholy smile. “It’s gonnae take some gettin’ used to.”

  Victoria relaxed slightly. “Well, as it happens, I was thinking about potential means of work for you. I can understand why you would be averse to taking on the role of my secretary, in a permanent capacity, but might you consider learning how to heal people? You could be a physician in your own right. You would not be employed by me, you would be working alongside me.”

  “A fighter turned physic.” Camdyn laughed. “There’s an irony to that, and nay mistake.”

  Victoria held out her hand to him. “Would you consider it?”

  “Aye, I’ll have a think about it, though I dinnae reckon I’ve the talent for it, like ye do.” He walked to her and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. Seemingly unsatisfied, he leaned right down and kissed her on the lips, letting his mouth linger for a moment.

  Her heart fluttered and her stomach roiled with excitement as she sank into his kiss, moving her lips against his in a sensual rhythm. She gasped as he bit her lip gently and wondered how it could be possible that something which sparked a hint of pain could be so pleasurable. There had to be a physical reason for it, but there was nothing in her healing books that could explain it.

  She was about to slide her hand beneath his kilt, to begin the day in more thrilling manner, when she heard Genevieve’s caterwauling grow louder, accompanied by the slow shuffle of her footsteps.

  “Och, she kens when to make an entrance,” Camdyn grumbled with a crooked half-smile, as he hurried to the armchair and sat down, like he had never moved from that position.

  Blushing with embarrassment, Victoria gathered her blanket into her lap and tried to sit as though everything was quite normal. Oddly, her limbs no longer seemed to know how to behave, and no matter how she draped her arm over the chaise, it felt awkward.

  Genevieve breezed in a few moments later. “Good morning, M’Lady. I thought I would bring your breakfast up to you, considering you had such a long night looking over your notes.”

  “My notes?” Victoria arched an eyebrow, and quickly remembered the small fib she had told her companion before she retired last night. “Ah yes, my notes. There are so many pregnancies at present, and though it must be the oldest medical profession, there is so much to know about midwifery. Every birth is unique, but everyone presumes it is the same for each woman.”

  Genevieve shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, M’Lady. I never had children of my own, though I hear it’s an unpleasant business.”

  “Oh no, not at all!” Victoria protested. “It is the miracle of life.”

  “It’s a bloody mess is what it is,” Genevieve retorted. She set the breakfast tray on the table in front of Victoria, practically ignoring Camdyn’s presence. “Now, are you sure you want to be seeing patients today? I have no qualms about sending them on their way.”

  Victoria reached for a piece of buttered toast. “I would not wish to stand in the way of your fervor for dismissing the locals, but I am quite certain that I am well enough to continue my healing endeavors.”

  “News must have gotten around.” Genevieve nodded to the window with pursed lips. “You’ve got quite the crowd gathering outside the gates.”

  Victoria took a large bite of her toast. “Then you must let them in, and begin sending them up in… say, ten minutes? That should be long enough for me to eat this and make myself look presentable.”

  “Very well, but if you feel at all unwell, you just say the word and I’ll have them out of here so fast there’ll be smoke coming off their heels.” Genevieve bent to stroke Victoria’s cheek. “You’re a wonder, M’Lady. You truly are.”

  “She is,” Camdyn chimed in.

  Genevieve whirled around. “Oh, I hadn’t forgotten about you! If you think there is peace between us, you are sorely mistaken,” she muttered. “If I had my way, I’d be kicking you out, too.”

  “What if I were to tell ye how sorry I am?” Camdyn flashed a mischievous grin that made Victoria’s heart quicken.

  Genevieve snorted and waltzed to the study door, but she was not about to leave without having the last word. “You can stuff your sorry up your bottom.”

  The first patient of the day arrived in the shape of Lady McVeigh—a regal gentlewoman in her late forties, with perfectly coiffed, shiny brunette hair that Victoria was convinced was a wig. Still, her appearance came as something of a surprise to Victoria, who rarely saw more than one or two fine ladies in a week, and usually toward the week’s end when their husbands were otherwise engaged of a Friday.

  “And how long have you had these feverish spells? Did you say they occurred sporadically?” Victoria had her quill and ink out, and a notebook resting on her lap, so she could make thorough notes on the day’s unwell.

  Lady McVeigh could not stop looking at Camdyn. “I heard from Mrs. Balfour that you had a… guardian of sorts, to help keep you safe from the riff-raff who come into your home.” She lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “I thought she was exaggerating when she told me about him. Now, I can see that there were no exaggerations. You must tell me—where did you find such a divine specimen?”

  “He is the… uh… son of my departed husband’s manservant,” Victoria lied awkwardly. “After a rather unpleasant attack some weeks ago, I thought it best to protect myself, and one of my staff reminded me that he worked as a personal guard for an English family in Edinburgh for some time.”

  “If you hear of any more delicious creatures in need of a position as a ‘personal guard,’ then you simply must let me know.” Lady McVeigh cackled lewdly. “We English cannot be too careful these days, especially those of us who reside in these… wild lands.”

  Victoria smiled stiffly. “Are you not Scottish? McVeigh is a Scottish name.”

  “Oh, darling, that is my husband’s name and he is more of a savage than most of the lowly individuals I have to avoid in town,” she replied. “Speaking of savages, did you hear about that abhorrent attack last night?”

  Victoria’s blood ran cold. “I am afraid I did not.”

  She looked at Camdyn, but he was standing in front of the medicine collection, rather deliberately checking the labels. An air of discomfort thrummed from his rigid demeanor, and the fact that he would not turn his head in her direction.

  What attack is she talking about, Camdyn? Do you know something of this?

  “An awful business, Lady Desiglow,” Lady McVeigh crowed. “Three Englishmen were assaulted on the edge of Culloden Moor late last night. One was strangled half to death, another almost had his skull caved in, and a third… Well, I am surprised he has not come to you, for he was run through with a brute’s sword and is currently fighting for his life. They are saying it was this ‘Devil of Culloden Moor’ that the military have been searching for, though they did not see his face, so no one can say for sure.”

  Victoria cleared her dry throat. “Surely, if it was this renegade that is being spoken of so much, he would have killed all three?”

  Was it you, Camdyn?

  She felt strangely torn by what she was hearing. Clearly, if it was Camdyn, then he had encountered some difficulties that he had kept from her. However, a sense of pride and thankfulness swelled in her breast, to discover that the three men had not been killed outright. Camdyn—if it was him—had let them live. Before he came here, she knew that would not have been the case.

  Lady McVeigh shook her head effusively. “That is the most terrifying part, Lady Desiglow!” she insisted. “It appears that this ‘Devil of Culloden Moor,’ was trying
to send some kind of warning to those who are pursuing him.”

  “Would it not have been a clearer warning if he had killed them?” Victoria was determined to nip this gossipmonger’s spooling ideas in the bud.

  Lady McVeigh paused. “Hmm… I suppose you might be right. Nevertheless, the military are having paroxysms about it, and I imagine we shall all sleep better once these cretins are all dealt with. The Jacobites really ought to understand when they have been defeated.”

  Victoria cast another discreet glance at Camdyn. A flash of red streaked his cheeks and, even at this distance, she could see his nostrils flaring. He might not have killed those three men, but Victoria had a feeling he would not have minded cracking Lady McVeigh on the back of the head with something heavy for that particular comment.

  “You have absolutely had the correct idea by hiring personal protection,” Lady McVeigh continued, oblivious to Camdyn’s apparent fury. “I ought to speak to my husband about doing the same. Though, I must ask, does he ever speak? I have been here for almost twenty minutes and he has not said a word.”

  “He prefers to observe and listen,” Victoria replied, eager to get Lady McVeigh out of the room before she said something that Camdyn would not be able to ignore. “Anyway, it appears we are getting distracted. I believe I know why you are having these sporadic spells of sudden feverishness, and I have just the remedy!”

  Victoria jumped up and went to the medicine collection, where she stood as close to Camdyn as politely possible.

  “Do not listen to her,” she whispered. “She is not worthy of your anger.”

  He gave a slight nod. “Aye, but I’ll stay over here a while longer, so I dinnae hurl a bottle of somethin’ at her heed.”

  Victoria flashed him an amused smile, as she reached for a bottle of tonic that would aid in Lady McVeigh’s womanly problems. As she plucked it from the shelf, she made sure to let her hand graze Camdyn’s arm, hoping that a fleeting moment of contact might settle him. His umber eyes met hers, and she thought she saw a glitter of desire in them.

  Within minutes, Victoria had handed Lady McVeigh her medicine, received the sum she demanded from wealthy patients, and had sent the obnoxious woman on her way. Truly, she had never felt more relieved to see the back of someone, though her absence opened up a much more intimate kind of conflict.

  “Was it you?” Victoria walked back to where Camdyn stood.

  He lifted his hand to her face, stroking the apple of her cheek with his coarse thumb. “Aye, I will nae feign ignorance. It were me what hurt those three lads, but only ‘cause they would’ve done worse to me.”

  “Why did you not tell me sooner?” She was not hurt by his omission, merely curious.

  He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “So ye wouldnae fret, and ye should nae, neither. That sour-faced Sassenach were right—they dinnae see me face, and I did away with me broadsword, as ye asked.”

  “Presumably not before running one of those men through with it?” She cast him a grim smile.

  He shrugged. “I couldn’ae conk out all three of ‘em, but I cut him in a way that he’d live. If he ends up dyin’, it’s ‘cause he’s not been tended to by a physician as good as ye, not because of my sword.”

  “Then we must continue as we are,” Victoria urged. “If the fine ladies who come here do not suspect you of anything, then we ought to be safe. They are usually the first to spot a fox in the henhouse, so to speak.”

  “Ye dinnae mind ‘em gawpin’ at me like they haven’ae eaten in weeks?” He chuckled, and brought his thumb down her face, to run along the soft curve of her bottom lip.

  Victoria met his gaze with a mischievous defiance. “They may look at you all they please, as long as they do not touch. I am the one who has your heart, and I am the only one who is allowed to thoroughly enjoy you, just as you are the only one who is allowed to thoroughly enjoy me.”

  With that lusty glint returning to his eyes, he pushed his thumb gently into her mouth. It startled her at first, for she had not expected it. But then everything he did surprised her, in the best possible way, and this was no exception.

  Holding his gaze, she ran her tongue along the underside of his thumb, before closing her lips around the digit and drawing her mouth back slowly. Seeing his pleased smile, she pushed her lips back down to the base of his thumb, before repeating the slow pull back.

  “When do ye finish with yer patients again?” He pulled his thumb away and ran it along his own bottom lip, as though tasting her.

  Victoria giggled. “Not for many hours yet, and do not forget that Genevieve will be watching you closely. Why, you may have to wait until the wee hours of the morning before you can slip into my bedchamber unseen. Even then, I cannot promise that I will not have fallen asleep.”

  “Och, ye tease me, lass.” He mustered a quiet groan that made the muscles in her abdomen tighten in the most exquisite way, reminding her of the inexplicable explosion that he had provoked within her just yesterday.

  My husband certainly never made me feel such a way… I daresay he did not even attempt to see to my satisfaction in the decade we were wed.

  “I prefer to call it anticipation,” she replied with a wink, as footsteps echoed in the hall to herald the next patient.

  However, as a tall, pale, sunken-cheeked fellow entered the room, his eyes darting all around like a frightened rodent, Camdyn’s expression transformed into one of grim panic. He twisted back to face the labeled tonics and before Victoria could say any sort of welcome to the man, Camdyn grasped her forearm and pulled her toward him.

  Leaning close to her ear, he whispered one solitary, chilling word, “Redcoat.”

  Chapter 19

  Camdyn knew the man immediately—the first Englishman that he had struck with the hilt of his broadsword. The broadsword that was not buried in some distant place, as Victoria thought, but was slotted between the slats underneath the chaise-longue in this very room.

  Victoria’s expression transformed into a mask of panic. “What do I do?”

  “Pretend there’s naught wrong,” he whispered back.

  She turned slowly to address the man. “Good morning to you, sir.” Camdyn heard the subtle tremble in her voice as he made a show of searching the bottles of tonic. “Please, sit down over here and we may begin.”

  The Englishman’s weaselly eyes continued to search the room, squinting as they rested upon Camdyn. Camdyn could feel the prickle of the man’s stare, and boldly glanced back in his direction. He gave a polite nod and moved to his usual armchair, where he sat down as casually as possible.

  Did he see me last night? Does he ken me face? Mayhap he wisnae out cold like I thought.

  He could not tell. The Englishman’s expression was clouded and hard to decipher.

  “Sir?” Victoria prompted, her hand shaking as she gestured to the chaise.

  The Englishman drew his gaze away from Camdyn and took a seat, not knowing that the evidence that could hang Camdyn rested just beneath him.

  “I am Lady Desiglow,” Victoria introduced herself. “If you might give me your name and your reason for visiting, I would be much obliged.”

  The Englishman eyed her warily. “I’m John Vickers, M’Lady.”

  Vickers… I heard the Sassenachs call one of ‘em by that name.

  If he had not been certain before, he was now. This man was not here to be healed. He was here to finish what he began last night. Or, at the very least, to find out if Camdyn was the one who had injured him.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Victoria replied, her tone high and uncomfortable.

  Ye’ve got to relax, lass, or ye’ll give us away.

  “And… your reason for visiting me?” she repeated her previous question as she shifted in her chair, looking visibly uneasy. “I do not think I have seen you here before.”

  John turned his back on Victoria and parted the hair at the rear of his skull. “Some Jacobite bastard smacked me in the back of the head with a sword h
ilt. Split the skin open.” His head twisted toward Camdyn, as though waiting for a reaction.

  “Yes… I can see the wound.” Victoria soaked a cloth in water and leaned closer to John Vickers. “This will hurt a great deal, but it is vital to cleanse the injury, so it does not fester.”

  John sucked air through his teeth sharply as the cloth touched his wound. “That Jacobite will be hurting a lot more when I get my hands on him.” He continued to stare at Camdyn. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any strange folks about who might be fugitives from Culloden, have you? People who’ve come here on the sly to get healed by you.”

  “I see so many patients, Mr. Vickers. I cannot remember them all.” Victoria sought out Camdyn’s eyes, but he refused to meet them. If he did, it would be a sure sign to John that something was amiss.