The Highland Renegade

by Amy Jarecki

  Robert’s knees wobbled but he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. Bugger the dice; God save him, he wanted to roll with the lass.

  He started moving inside her chamber, but she placed her hand on his chest—a very warm, inviting hand. “Might we venture to the library?”

  Damnation. “Ah…how about the parlor? The furniture is far more comfortable.” Especially the settee, where he could sit alongside the lady, perhaps with their thighs touching. More if I’m lucky.

  “Very well. Give me a moment to don a proper dress.”

  His shoulder twitched up. “Och, no one will see you at this hour.”

  Leaning forward, she peered up and down the corridor. “Are you certain?”

  “Positive.” He offered his elbow, and to his astonishment she placed her dainty fingers around it without another objection. Together they walked side by side down the stairs.

  “What shall we wager this time?” she asked.

  He opened the door to the parlor, led her inside, closed it, and set to lighting the candles. “I have an idea.”

  She sat on the settee, exactly where he wanted her. “Yes?”

  “You are quite talented at kissing.” He slipped into the seat beside her…his thigh snug against hers. “We could wager kisses.”

  Covering her mouth with her fingers, Janet turned scarlet. “Sir, you are brash.”

  “We’ve kissed before. I rather enjoyed it, and if I had to guess, you enjoyed kissing me as well.”

  “I’ll not lie, but we mustn’t.”

  He slid a finger along her forearm. “Whyever not?”

  Her breath caught as those brilliant blue eyes met his gaze. He raised her chin with the crook of his finger. “A wee kiss never hurt a soul.” His heart thrummed faster while he slowly savored her beauty, lowering his lips until he plied her mouth with a single peck. “See,” he growled. “That was not so wicked.”

  “I beg to differ. I daresay even a simple kiss from you is unquestionably wicked.” Her eyelids fluttered closed as she puckered her lips, clearly wanting more.

  But she might be even more tempted if they played the game he planned—one he couldn’t lose. Taking the book, he removed the cup, plunked in the dice, and rolled them. “I call six for the main.”

  She leaned forward and examined the dice. “Twelve.”

  “Nicks.”

  “I have a feeling luck is with you this night.”

  He shifted a hand to her waist. “I do believe you are right.”

  Her lips parted, making her look more tempting than an apple tart fresh from the oven. Powerless to resist, Robert captured her mouth in a searing kiss, hot enough to melt his very bones. With a wee moan, she slid lithe fingers up his chest. Och aye, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Growing more daring, he trailed kisses to her neck. Janet’s back arched as she leaned in to him. The arisaid slipped from her shoulders, revealing ample breasts hiding beneath the thin linen shift. A shadow of dark circles enticed him, the buds of her nipples straining against the cloth and begged to be suckled. His lips traveled lower, and he tugged the tiny ribbon at the shift’s scooped neckline.

  “Good Lord,” she said breathlessly. “You mustn’t…’Tis my turn.”

  Bugger the game. “I’m not yet finished claiming my prize,” he growled, spreading open the linen and beholding pure perfection. “My God, you are divine.”

  “But—” He lapped her nipple with his tongue. “I-I may swoon.”

  His cock stood at attention, already leaking seed as he kneaded and kissed her breasts. Breasts that should be worshiped and loved morning and night. Breasts that were too perfect for words. Breasts he needed to kiss and suckle over and over again.

  “Please, Robert.”

  Relenting, he gave each breast one last kiss and sat back.

  “You push me too far,” she said, closing her shift but not tying it. “I call fives,” she declared, while Robert’s cock throbbed beneath the folds of his kilt. He was surprised she hadn’t decided against playing, slapped him across the face, and marched up the stairs.

  It took her two rolls to make nicks—her turn. Arching her eyebrows, she faced him, her gaze meandering to his shirt. “Are a man’s nipples as sensitive as a woman’s?”

  Again a pulse of desire thrummed through his member. “Why don’t you kiss me there and find out?” He untied his lace and pulled the shirt out from under his waistband and over his head. His nipples hardened at the mere sound of her gasp.

  A primitive growl caught in his throat as her silken finger caressed him. Her touch brought his flesh alive, tingling with the slightest contact as she drew him into her spellbinding web. She drew a line from the center of his chest down below his navel and toyed with the tuft of hair leading beneath his kilt. “You have more hair than I imagined.”

  “And there’s even more where that wee line leads.”

  By the way her eyes grew dark, she was curious, but she snapped her finger away, leaned forward, and kissed his nipple as if she were kissing a bairn on the forehead. “Och, is that all?” he asked. For the love of God, he’d led her to the fountain, the least she could do was drink.

  She gave him a sober look, though a wee bit of mischief twinkled in her eye. “I’m just starting out…planning my mode of attack, if you will.”

  Then, like a woman accustomed to the wiles of the boudoir, she took his nipple in her mouth and teased him with tongue and gently nipping teeth. By the time she came up for air, Robert was leaning back on the settee and panting as if he were the one being seduced, his cock as hard as the steel hilt of his sword. Given Janet’s present state of undress, all it would take was a few flicks of his fingers and she’d be naked. He could take her right there in the parlor.

  But I cannot.

  I must not take her innocence. Doing so will incite a bloody war against Glenmoriston lands, and I will not risk the lives of my clan no matter how much I want her.

  Still, he picked up the dice and rolled again. Janet won the next two rounds, and by the time she finished kissing him like a conquering lover, Robert was as hard as marble and on the verge of throwing caution to the wind. When he finally won again, he crawled over her like a fox stalking its prey. “There’s one more place that needs to be kissed, lass.”

  He slid to his knees and wedged his shoulders between her legs.

  Janet shoved her hands downward. “Oh no.”

  “Oh aye.” He tugged up the linen, exposing her calves. “’Tis my turn to drive you mad. Deliciously, rapturously, stark raving mad.”

  * * *

  Janet couldn’t remember how she’d ended up on the settee with Robert’s face between her knees, her bottom half naked and utterly prone to him.

  Heaven help her, his tongue turned her wanton as he swirled it along her thighs.

  “Och, ye smell like heaven,” he growled.

  “But—”

  “Wheesht.”

  Janet grabbed the armrest as her back sank into the settee. Robert watched her while his tongue worked magic. With a devilish chuckle, he lapped his tongue right over the most secret part of her body. She gave a wee gasp as her thighs shuddered. “Mercy,” she cried, arching her back.

  But the rogue was ruthless in his attack. His fingers swirled in tandem with his wicked tongue. Janet gasped again when his finger slid inside her. Her core was wet and slick, and he worked his finger back and forth as he continued his merciless kissing.

  Her eyes rolled back, and her hips began rocking in tandem with the escalation of desire—a craving low in her belly demanding more, threatening to send her to the brink of insanity if he dared to stop. His finger worked faster. Stars darted through her vision. Her breath came in short gasps, the mounting tension making her buck.

  “No more,” she whimpered, afraid his promise to drive her mad had not been in jest. As the words slipped past her lips, the rumble of his chuckle reverberated in her flesh. He swirled his tongue faster, matching the rhythm of his
relentless finger. Unable to utter a coherent word, Janet gasped and tossed her head from side to side as he drove her body’s need higher and higher, making her crave more and more. “Don’t stop! Please!”

  Then, all at once, her eyes flew open, and a cry caught her throat as her body shattered. Stars shot through her vision while she tried to catch her breath. Her breasts heaved as if she’d just run a footrace. Finally she gained enough control to gaze down at Robert’s face, the predatory look in his eyes unmistakable.

  “What happened? Have I gone mad?”

  “Nay. You’ve experienced a sampling of what it is like to lie with a man.”

  “A sampling?” She glanced down to his loins, knowing full well what lay beneath—wanting more, but knowing such an act would ruin her for the rest of her days.

  “Aye, but I reckon we’ve played enough hazard for one night.” Sliding beside Janet, he wrapped her in his embrace and kissed her temple. “I could hold ye here forever.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Are you in here?”

  Janet jolted awake as the door to the parlor opened and Emma moved inside. “Robert?” she called.

  The big Highlander shifted Janet off his chest and stretched. “Aye,” he replied, sounding as if he had gravel in his voice.

  “Oh, thank heavens you’re here. ’Tis time to break our fast, and I cannot find Miss Janet anywhere.”

  “Ah…” Robert’s gaze shot to the woman in his arms.

  Cringing, she straightened her shift, slid the arisaid over her shoulders, and held a finger to her lips to keep him silent. If he took his sister to the dining hall, she just might elude a scandal.

  Emma sniffed. “Oh, there you are, Miss Janet. Did you ken there’s a whole band of outlaws in the gaol? Cook is ranting about having a mob of underserving mouths to feed.”

  Curses. “I did. A-as a matter of fact, I was just discussing the prisoners with Mr. Grant. Emma, do you ken where I can find old blankets—mayhap some castoff cloaks and hats?”

  “It seems the lass wants to shower the tinkers with kindness,” said His Lairdship.

  “I’ll wager Mrs. Tweedie can help us there,” Emma agreed, nodding.

  Robert rolled his eyes. “Afore we go off making the miscreants all cozy, let us retire to the dining hall to break our fast.”

  Janet glanced down at her state of undress, including her bare toes. “Goodness, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my shoes—silly me.”

  “No shoes?” asked Emma. “Then you’d best sit close to the hearth.”

  Janet wasn’t about to be seen in the dining hall wearing little else but her shift. The servants would be agog with gossip—if they weren’t already. “You pair go on. I won’t be but a moment.”

  Robert stood, offered his hand, and pulled Janet dangerously close. “We’ll wait in the hall. Haste ye, for I do not care for cold porridge.”

  Janet gave him a pointed look, wedging her fists between them. “V-very well.” she said, twisting away and shaking her finger to tell him to behave. They were no longer alone. Moreover, the servants would be milling about, and if he persisted, a scandal was sure to erupt—assuming it hadn’t already.

  She met Mrs. Tweedie on the landing as she dashed up the stairs—speaking of servants. Regrettably, the matron had proved the nosiest of the lot. “My heavens, it is awfully drafty to be so scantily clad.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Not stopping, Janet dashed for the rose bedchamber and closed the door. She clapped a hand to her chest to steady her breathing. What on earth was I thinking? And why did Robert let me fall asleep in the parlor? I’ll wager every servant in the house kens what we were up to by now. Blast it.

  Janet nearly leaped out of her skin when a knock came at the door. “Do you need help with your laces, miss?”

  Why must she be an invalid at a time like this? “I do,” Janet sighed, opening the door and stepping aside for the housekeeper to enter.

  Mrs. Tweedie passed with a knowing glint in her eye and picked up a pair of stays. “You seem out of sorts this morn.”

  “I couldn’t sleep…,” Janet explained, her mind racing as she turned her back, letting the woman tie the laces.

  “I take it neither you nor the laird slept overmuch.” The nosy shrew was fishing, and Janet wasn’t about to fall into her trap.

  Janet stood straight while Mrs. Tweedie slipped a kirtle over her head. “Mr. Grant has a great deal on his mind.”

  “I’ll say he does,” the woman agreed.

  Pursing her lips, Janet refused to say another word.

  Mrs. Tweedie stepped around to fasten the front laces of the gown. “Your arm will be healed in no time, and then the laird will take you back to your kin.”

  “He will.”

  “In the interim, I would be remiss if I didn’t offer you a word of warning.”

  “Oh?” Why will you not let it lie?

  “I ken I am but a housekeeper, but I have been a servant in this house most of my life, and I have only the best intentions—for you and for His Lairdship.” She drew an enormous breath through her nostrils. “I have seen the way the pair of you look at each other, and nothing good can come of it. Remember that you are a Cameron. I’ve kent of your da my whole life, and even if Robert lost his mind and fell in love, your father will not approve of such a union. Watch yourself, for you do not want any illegitimate bairns to come nine months hence.”

  “Mrs. Tweedie, you misspeak. I would never—”

  “Do not go off believing you can pull the wool over my eyes. I am far older, and from my viewpoint you need the wisdom of a mother. In her absence it is my duty to speak firmly with you. The walls of this house have ears and eyes, and I kent you slept in the parlor in Robert’s arms—with hardly a thread hanging from your bones, mind you.”

  “I—” Janet coughed out a groan. No, she couldn’t deny what she’d done. But she wasn’t about to apologize to the housekeeper for it. “Nothing untoward happened.”

  “Thank the fairies.” Mrs. Tweedie patted the bow she’d tied. “And you’d best ensure you don your shoes, else Miss Emma will ken something’s amiss.”

  “I will. And you had best mind your duties.” She wasn’t about to let the woman think she could completely run roughshod over her.

  “I always do.” Before Janet could issue any further reprimand, Mrs. Tweedie headed for the door. “And I’ll collect those blankets you’re looking for.”

  “Thank you.” The door closed while Janet slipped her feet into her shoes. Blast her meddling. How could I have been so careless? And why did it feel so utterly marvelous?

  Once she arrived in the dining hall, Robert and Emma were deep in conversation, bowls of untouched porridge in front of them. Janet slid into her chair and picked up her spoon. “Forgive me. Mrs. Tweedie wanted a word.”

  Robert’s eyebrows arched. “Did she?”

  “Aye, she’s gathering blankets for the prisoners.” She took a bite. “Emma, do you knit or crochet?”

  “Nay, I’ve never tried it.”

  “Well, to knit, one needs two hands.”

  “I have those.”

  “Then I shall teach you. Together we ought to be able to turn out a half-dozen scarves and hats in no time.”

  “You’re serious?” asked Robert.

  “I am—that is, if you want to find out who the real thieves are. What have your prisoners eaten this morn?”

  “Cook gave them porridge.”

  “And hot cider?” Janet asked, her hands still trembling from her altercation above stairs.

  “Cider?” Robert looked up, aghast.

  “Emma, we shall take them some when we give them the blankets.”

  “No, you will not,” Robert objected. “You will not approach the gaol without a Grant man accompanying you. Those varlets are ruthless tinkers.”

  “I would have thought no less.” Janet reached over and almost patted his arm, as she might do to one of her brothers at home, but if the walls had eyes a
nd ears, she’d best start checking her every move. She snatched her spoon instead. “My, the porridge tastes exceptionally delicious this morn.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As he did every Tuesday when he was in residence, Robert sat in the great hall and listened to supplications from clansmen and women. “Who’s next?” he asked his factor, Mr. Wallis, who kept the Grant books of accounts in order.

  Wallis ran his pointer finger down his ledger. “Tavis and Shane have a wee dispute.”

  “When do they not?” Robert flicked his wrist. “Bring them in.”

  The two crofters sauntered forward with their bonnets in hand.

  Robert sat forward in his velvet-upholstered chair. “What’s the issue this time, gentlemen?”

  Shane gave his neighbor a snort, then spread his hands to his sides. “Tavis’s ram keeps jumping the fence. I scarcely have enough hay to feed my own sheep, let alone that rogue beast.”

  “The ram again, is it?” Robert asked. “What say you, Tavis?”

  “The wee beastie only has a hankering for the ewes on the other side. He’s doin’ more swivin’ than eatin’.”

  Robert scratched his chin and looked to the other. “If that’s the case, I’d reckon you’re building your herd. Tavis’s ram is a fine specimen. Much stockier than that spindly beast you keep.”

  Tavis grinned.

  As expected, Shane’s frown grew deeper. “Och, all my ewes are already pregnant.”

  “Is that so?” Tavis asked, crossing his arms.

  “Aye.”

  “Most are impregnated by my ram, mind you.”

  “Tell you what.” Robert held up his palm to stop their bickering. “Tavis, I charge you with building a higher fence. And Shane, to show your appreciation for the service of your neighbor’s ram, you’ll grant him your largest lamb come fall.”

  “My largest, sir?”

  Robert looked the man in the eye. “Or allow Tavis to have his pick. Now off with you both. I’ve better things to do with my time than listen to frivolous squabbles.”