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

by Lydia Kendall

  “Och, lass… me Lady… me wife,” he groaned in unison, the grasp of her throbbing sex bringing him to his own ecstasy. He trembled above her as he thrust inside twice more and stilled as he spilled his seed within her depths.

  Immediately, he sought her kiss, his lips slow and satisfied upon hers. Her arms looped about his neck as she kissed him back, though she could not help but smile against his mouth as the tide of bliss ebbed, leaving her feeling more relaxed and alive than she had ever done in her life.

  This was the very thing she had been expected to forgo, and now that she had enjoyed a taste, she would never let it go. For this was what it meant to love a person truly, in heart, in body, in mind, in everything.

  “I love you, Camdyn,” she whispered, clutching tight to him.

  He collapsed onto her, burying his face in her neck. “Nae so much as I love ye.”

  If ever there was something worth living and dying for, it had to be this.

  Chapter 21

  Camdyn’s eyes flew open to the furious sound of fists banging against a door. It was the skill of a soldier, to awaken and be ready to fight within seconds of hearing the noise of conflict.

  But where’s the fight? I am nae on a battlefield nae more.

  Had it not been for the beautiful woman lying in the crook of his arm, her fair hair tumbling over his chest, her face turned toward him, he would have leapt out of bed and charged out of the door without pause, to see what was afoot. But Victoria had not yet stirred, despite the insistent racket.

  Is it Genevieve? It doesn’ae sound like her.

  “Victoria?” He did not want to disturb her from her peaceful slumber, nor did he want to have to relinquish her exquisite form, but he sensed that all was not well. There was a violence in those knocks that sent a chill through him.

  Victoria blinked, her lips spreading into a smile. “Mmm… so, it was not a dream. You are still here, and I have had the most wonderful rest.”

  “Lass, ye need to get up and get a nightgown on or somethin’.” He kept his voice low, in case someone heard him. “I think there are men in yer house, and they dinnae sound happy.”

  He hated the way her expression transformed from blissfully content to petrified in the space of one sentence, but it could not be helped. If his judgment of the banging was correct, the culprits would be knocking upon Victoria’s bedchamber door in a matter of minutes.

  She sat bolt upright, clutching the blankets to her bare chest. “What men? Why would they be intruding upon my house?” Her forehead furrowed, as if realization had dawned. “Do you think it might be soldiers?”

  Camdyn nodded. “That would be me first wager, aye. Either John Vickers got to ‘em, and managed to persuade ‘em, or there were somethin’ fishier about that lawyer than I thought.”

  “What do we do? There is no means of escape from this room. Even with a rope, you would likely be seen if you attempted to clamber down to the gardens.” Her voice shook, and she looked as though she might faint.

  Camdyn cupped her face in his hands. “Ye’ve got to be strong, lass, and put on yer best performance yet.” His eyes quickly scoured the room, searching for a hiding place. “Remember, ye’re a Sassenach Countess with power and wealth. There is nae anythin’ they can do to ye, even if they try and tell ye different.”

  “But… they will see you, Camdyn!” she hissed in obvious panic.

  He smiled, spying a blanket hamper. “Nay, lass, they’ll nae. Like I say, remember who ye are and what ye are, and they’ll nae dare to cross the threshold of yer bedchamber. Meantime, I’m goin’ to tuck meself in that basket thing.” He paused. “I dinnae want to hide, and it is nae in me nature, but if I dinnae, then they’ll arrest ye for harborin’ me. And I am nae goin’ to watch ye get hurt ‘cause of me.”

  “What if they do not leave?” Victoria’s head whipped toward the door as the sound of heavy boots pounded through to their formerly peaceful bed.

  “Then ye call for Genevieve and let her give ‘em hell. If Genevieve cannae, then… I’ll have to show meself and fight to get us all out of here,” he explained rapidly. “But, hopefully, it will nae come to that. Deep down, those soldiers are naught but cowards. Stand up to ‘em and they’ll back off. Think of ‘em as dogs, if ye have to, and ye’re the pack leader.”

  Victoria shook her head effusively. “I cannot, Camdyn. It is too much!”

  “Ye have to, lass. Think of our home by a loch somewhere, free from all of this,” he urged. “I dinnae like it any more than ye, but we’ve got to tread carefully, else we’ll all hang. I am nae worried for me own neck, but this neck…” He trailed his fingertips across her skin. “It is nae snappin’ today, or any day.”

  Victoria seemed to draw strength from his words. “Very well, my love. I will do my best to chase them away.” She squared her shoulders. “I am the pack leader. I am the wolf. I shall send them on their way, or they shall have to face my wrath.”

  He flashed her an encouraging grin. “That’s me lass.”

  With that, he threw back the blankets and hopped off the bed. Scooping up his kilt, shirt, and boots as he went, he made sure to keep his trusty dirk gripped in his hand, as he dove into the blanket hamper and flipped the lid shut above him.

  He did not want her to get into further trouble, but he would cut down every soldier out there if they tried to harm her in any way. Of course, he could not tell Victoria that, lest it panic her more. But, if the moment came, he would be ready, and those English would get the shock of their lives as a naked, blade-wielding Scotsman took their lives.

  Shaking so hard she could barely function, Victoria shuffled off the edge of the bed and collected her nightgown from the nearby chair. Pulling it on as fast as she could, she gathered the rest of the scattered clothing that had been discarded upon the floor and carried it over to the hamper where Camdyn hid.

  Lifting the lid, she threw the items in and stooped to kiss him, for one last dose of courage.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He smiled back. “I love ye more.”

  She had just closed the lid and begun to scour the room for any remaining signs of a passionate encounter, when a loud bang, like a thunderclap, pummeled through the air. The soldiers had arrived at her door.

  I am the pack leader. I am the wolf. I am an English Countess, and the soon-to-be wife of a Highlander, and I will not be afraid of cowardly men.

  Grasping her housecoat from the armoire, she fastened the belt and walked to the door, as a second bang thudded in her ears.

  “Open up!” The door handle jiggled, though the lock held fast. “Lady Desiglow, open up in the name of the King!”

  The King… who do they think they are trying to fool? The King is sitting on his throne, content that he can return his soldiers to the Continent, to shed yet more blood. He does not care for the situation here.

  Hurriedly, she rubbed her eyes so she would look even sleepier than she felt and moved to turn the key in the lock. It clicked softly, and she took a deep breath before pulling the door open.

  There, standing in the hallway, were ten armed soldiers. Even to her, who had little knowledge of military matters, that seemed rather excessive. Indeed, she had every intention of ridiculing them.

  “Good afternoon to you, gentlemen,” she said, surprised at the nonchalance in her voice. “Might I enquire why you are in my home, and why you are seeking to cause such an awful disturbance? I am suffering with a rather painful headache, and I have been woken by your fists upon my doors.”

  She stared at the soldiers impatiently and forced herself not to flinch as she laid eyes upon John Vickers, standing at the back of the cluster.

  “Ah, Mr. Vickers, I see you have returned. Were you seeking further attention for the injury to your head?” Victoria continued, before the soldiers had time to reply to her first questions.

  You will not wriggle free of my hook, you wretch.

  The gentleman at the front took a slight step forward an
d smoothed down the lapels of his military jacket. “Lady Desiglow, I hope you will forgive us for the intrusion, but no one heeded our request for entry.”

  “So, you thought you would just trespass as you please?” she shot back. “Did you not think that, perhaps, there might be a reason you were not answered? Perchance, that the lady of the house was abed with a severe headache?”

  The front soldier glanced down sheepishly. “We do apologize, but we are here upon rather serious business that could not wait.”

  “It must be serious, if you have seen fit to bring no less than ten soldiers into my house. Do you fear I am harboring a small, personal army? I fear that can be the only explanation for this excessive show of force.” Victoria could not believe how assured and strong she sounded. A few of the soldiers were already beginning to look as though they regretted coming here.

  The head soldier cleared his throat. “We have received news, on… reasonable authority, that you are sheltering a known Jacobite in this manor. He is thought to be the right-hand man of the Stuart ingrate, though we know him only as the Devil of Culloden Moor.”

  Victoria chuckled. “There is no devil under my roof, sir, nor do I know of any such man.” It was not exactly a lie. “As I informed Mr. Vickers over there, just yesterday, I heal people and then they depart my house. This is not a hospital.”

  “Mr. Vickers insists that he encountered a man who matches the description of the fellow we are searching for,” the head soldier continued, though he sounded much less self-assured than he had a moment ago.

  Victoria arched an eyebrow. “And what description might that be?”

  “Um… a fellow with a large scar or wound across his abdomen, a bayonet injury to his shoulder, and… uh… he would be wearing a kilt.”

  Victoria could not resist a smirk. “And you believe that I am prone to allowing half-naked men to reside in my house?”

  “P-Pardon?” the head soldier spluttered.

  “Well, Mr. Vickers must have seen a half-naked man if he was able to match the description of someone with such injuries,” Victoria retorted, though she tried not to sound too gleeful. “However, as I told him, any man with that degree of affliction would not have survived. I did ask him to confirm my words with your surgeons, but I imagine he did not.”

  The head soldier shot a dark glare at Vickers. “You said you did speak to the surgeons.”

  “I didn’t need to!” Vickers shouted. “I know she’s lying! I saw a hulking great Scot in her study, and I’d swear on me life that he’s the one we’re looking for.”

  Victoria offered a sympathetic look to the head soldier. “Injuries to the head can cause many unpleasant symptoms: disorientation, confusion, aural and visual illusions and delusions, among others.” She gestured to Vickers. “Might I suggest you return this fellow to your surgeons, before I am forced to make a complaint to your superiors for this unlawful intrusion.”

  “I saw him!” Vickers barked. “He was wearing a kilt, and he stood in that room, bold as brass. I know it’s him!”

  Victoria feigned a weary sigh. “If you are referring to my personal guard, then you ought to seek him in town. He has gone there to gather provisions. Although, he will not thank you if you accost him. He does not take kindly to being accused when he is not guilty, nor would his family be pleased if they heard he had been persecuted by English soldiers, when he is an honest Edinburgh man.”

  The head soldier really looked irritated. “You never said anything about him being an Edinburgh man, Vickers! You said he spoke with a Highland brogue.”

  “Him being from Edinburgh don’t mean anything,” Vickers argued. “I’m sure there are Jacobites who came from there.”

  “Well, my personal guard is not one.” Victoria held firm in her resolve, while perpetually aware that she had a naked Jacobite in her blanket hamper.

  The head soldier shook his head. “Lady Desiglow, there is one more thing that I must ask you. I am starting to think that we have been led upon a fruitless chase, but still, I have to be thorough.”

  “Of course, sir,” she replied evenly.

  He hesitated. “A man by the name of Galloway spoke with Vickers yesterday evening, after encountering one another, by chance, at a tavern. Galloway apparently informed Vickers that you had intentions to leave Inverness, and purchase land further north. He said he thought you had been persuaded by a Scot. Indeed, he said he thought you sounded rather like a Jacobite yourself.”

  That slimy, vile weasel! The moment he stared at Camdyn, I knew he could not be trusted. Well, he shall not see a penny of my fortune.

  For her sake, and for Camdyn’s, she made a show of annoyance. “For years, my husband fought for King George, clashing with the Jacobites on countless occasions, and this is how he is repaid?” she spat. “He died in conflict with the Jacobites, for goodness’ sake!”

  “Ah… I did not realize that, My Lady,” the head soldier said quietly, as the rest of his men began to look uncomfortable.

  “As for my departing Inverness, that is no business of yours.” Victoria balled her hands into fists. “However, as you are so incessantly curious, you should know that it was my husband’s wish to have land by a lake, where we could live out the rest of our days. And now, more than ever, I am determined to abandon Inverness, at it appears I am not welcome, and neither is the memory of a man who fought for the King!”

  Vickers jabbed a finger at her. “She’s lying through her teeth! Can’t you see it?”

  “That is quite enough from you,” the head soldier retorted, before returning his attention to Victoria. “I apologize for having interrupted your rest. That being said, I have been told of your rather famous healing practices. So, if you do happen to see any man with the injuries that have been described, I trust you will inform us?”

  Victoria nodded. “I will, though I do not think I shall be opening my doors to the sick and injured any longer. And if they ask why, I shall point them in the direction of Mr. Vickers here.”

  “But… you are one of the finest healers, My Lady! You should not close your doors!” a different soldier chimed in. One whom Victoria vaguely recognized from many months prior, who had come to her after a wound had festered, and the military surgeons had threatened to remove his arm.

  She shrugged. “As I said, you shall have to blame Mr. Vickers. He was ungrateful when I attempted to aid him, and now he has caused me further trouble by having you all ransack my house.” She paused and offered a smile to the other soldier. “Though, I am glad to see that you still have your arm.”

  “Well done, Vickers,” the soldier muttered angrily.

  Their leader tugged at his collar, as if it were threatening to strangle him. “I do apologize, My Lady. We will trouble you no more and leave you to your rest. And you may rest assured, I will see to it that Vickers is punished for telling untruths.”

  “I thank you, sir.” Victoria dipped her head.

  “We shall leave you now,” he said, and quickly ushered his men back along the corridor, toward the stairs. Vickers attempted to stay behind, but one of his fellow soldiers grabbed him sharply by the arm and tugged him away.

  Still riding a wave of energy, Victoria crept out of her bedchamber and followed the soldiers’ route along the landing, to the top of the staircase. Standing there like a defiant sentinel, she watched the soldiers depart, until the door had closed behind them.

  Yet, their intrusion was not their only insult. Judging by the state of her entrance hall, and the wide-open doors of all the rooms that branched off, they truly had ransacked her home, in search of Camdyn.

  “And they did not even offer to clean the mess they made,” she grumbled, as she turned back.

  Only when she was in the safety of her bedchamber did the enormity of what she had just done sink in. If she had made a mistake, there would have been mayhem. If she had not faced them with bravery, she might be on her way to a cell, with a hangman measuring rope for her love’s neck.

 
; On shaky legs, she staggered over to the bed and sank down, gripping the bedpost for support. “It is safe to come out now. They are gone.”

  The hamper lid lifted, and Camdyn clambered out. He wasted no time darting across the room toward her, where he crouched down and rested his hands upon her thighs.

  “I couldn’ae hear much, but ye did a grand performance, lass,” he soothed, evidently noticing her unease. “I knew ye’d put ‘em in their place.”

  Victoria swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We cannot trust Galloway any longer. I do not know how we shall do it, but we must escape further north as soon as possible.” She leaned forward until her forehead rested against his. “If they return, with greater numbers, I do not know that I can maintain such a ruse.”