The Highland Renegade

by Amy Jarecki

  Janet shuddered while his hard body slid up hers until he claimed her mouth. Wrapped in an embrace, skin to skin, he warmed her. Still, gooseflesh pebbled her skin as his manhood brushed her abdomen. Desperately needing him lower, Janet scooted up, wrapped her leg around his hips, and swirled into him.

  Robert groaned, his chest heaving. “I can hold back no longer.”

  “Me also.” Janet’s breathless words came whispered and fast.

  He rolled her to her back. “Part your legs for me.”

  Trusting him, she opened without a moment’s trepidation. “Take me.”

  “It may hurt your first time.”

  She grasped his shoulders. “Join with me and together our love will overcome any pain.”

  He kneeled over her, and his kisses grew reverent while his member slid to her core.

  A tiny gasp caught in Janet’s throat as he slipped inside.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “Nay.” She shook her head, gazing into his handsome face.

  Slowly he inched a bit farther, again stopping with her gasp.

  Needing more, she grasped his buttocks and forced him deeper as a high-pitched moan slipped through her throat. “Please. Do not stop!”

  “But—”

  “Ride me like a stallion colt,” she begged, steeling her mind against the sharp bite.

  “By God, I love you.” With a final thrust he filled her. Janet held in her urge to cry out, her need for him trumping the pain. Urging him farther, she tightened her grip and circled her hips around his enormous manhood.

  “That’s right, lass. Make your body grow accustomed to me.” Slowly he moved with her until the rhythm changed to an insatiable rocking that took her higher than she’d ever soared before. And as the pain faded, their lovemaking grew. Faster and faster Janet rocked her hips, craving friction, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her body. A shrill cry caught in the back of her throat, and the heavens opened with blessed, shattering release.

  Robert roared and drove his hips harder still, plunging into her as his eyes lost their focus until he stopped and held himself shuddering and buried to his root. “God’s teeth, you were born to breed.” He grinned down at her. “You have enraptured me mind, body, and soul. I never want to live another day without you in my arms.”

  “Your words are music to my heart.”

  He nuzzled into her neck, rolling to her side. “I want our wedding day to come as soon as practicable, for I would die if your father should have a change of heart.”

  Janet curled into his warmth. “Stepmother is already making the guest list. Perhaps we can set the date for a fortnight hence.”

  “All I need is time to fetch Emma. I want her to be here.”

  “Oh yes, and I want her to be my maid of honor.”

  “Truly?” He kissed her forehead. “She would be thrilled beyond belief.”

  “And she would be ideal.”

  “Then let us make it so. I’ll agree on a date with your parents, then I’ll ride for Glenmoriston.”

  “Will you take me?”

  “Och, I’d love to have you come along, but aside from the foreseeable objections from your father, you’ll have gown fittings and all that goes with preparing for the wedding day.”

  “Blast. Will you promise to return straightaway?”

  “I give you my oath. A mob of angry dragoons couldn’t keep me from you. I meant what I said about keeping you in my arms forever, and as soon as we are wed I will make it so.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Janet stood in front of the dressing table in her bedchamber while tingles of anticipation made her feel as if she were in the midst of a dream.

  “I believe you are the bonniest bride I have ever seen.” Lady Jean, Janet’s stepmother, primped the veil, her eyes moist.

  Over the past few weeks, the woman had become more motherly as the wedding plans brought them closer. Perhaps she’d needed something like this to feel more a part of the family. Whatever the reason, Janet was grateful. “Thank you for all you’ve done to prepare for this day. I ken it will be perfect.” But more than anything, Janet was grateful for the lass sitting on the overstuffed chair with an enormous grin on her face. “Emma, you look so bonny, I think you are prettier than the bride.”

  “Och,” Her Ladyship began to protest, but Janet held up a finger and shook her head.

  “And there will be a grand ceilidh this eve.”

  Clapping her hands, Emma stood. “Do you believe anyone aside from my brother will dance with me?”

  “I ken it.”

  “Will they fear me?”

  Janet grasped the lassie’s hands and squeezed. “If they do, then they can go take a flying leap off the battlements.”

  “Janet!” Her Ladyship scolded.

  Rolling her eyes, she huffed. “Well then, curses to the superstitious. I will stand for none of it.”

  “I thank you both for inviting me to Achnacarry. But I want to see you, lass.” Emma raised her hands.

  “Very well.” Janet stood still while her future sister-in-law started at her veil and lightly swirled her fingers over Janet’s eyes, nose, and lips and then along the collar of her wedding gown.

  Lady Jean stepped in. “I think you should—”

  “She ought to continue,” Janet interrupted, guiding Emma’s fingers to the neckline of her bodice. “The gown is of silk and trimmed with lace and pearls.”

  Emma whistled when her fingers brushed across the fine fabric. “’Tis exquisite.”

  Lena pushed through the servants’ door. “The chapel is full, and there are people standing, and I think if you do not haste to the altar Grant will combust.”

  Her Ladyship chuckled. “We mustn’t have that. Grooms are hard to come by in the Highlands.” She primped the wedding gown one last time. “I do believe all is in order.”

  “And the bairn?” Her new brother had already won Janet’s heart.

  “The nurse already has him dressed and in the chapel.”

  “Then all is truly in order.” Janet collected her hem, then took Emma’s elbow. “Let us walk side by side. Then, once we reach the chapel, Ciar MacDougal will escort you down the aisle and you’ll stand beside me whilst Robert and I take our vows.”

  Emma sighed, and her smile grew radiant. “I still cannot believe you chose me as your maid of honor.”

  Janet kissed her dear almost-sister on the cheek. “I would have none other.”

  Funny; with Emma beside her, Janet felt no prewedding jitters. She was ready. Happiness filled her wholly, as if the ground beneath her feet were but clouds.

  * * *

  Pacing the vestibule of the Cameron family chapel, Robert clicked open his pocket watch and stared at the blasted thing, willing it to tick faster.

  Kennan leaned over. “Has the bloody timepiece stopped working? By the way you keep pulling it out, I reckon ’tis on the verge of busting a spring.”

  Robert stuffed the damnable thing back in his waistcoat pocket. “You sound like my henchman.”

  Ciar gave him a slap on the back. “I cannot say I blame you. It must be exasperating to stand before God and pledge undying love to a single woman for the rest of your days.”

  “I agree there,” said Kennan.

  “I reckon that’s on account of neither of you sops ever being in love afore.”

  “I’ve been in love plenty,” said Ciar, thumping his chest. “’Tis just I fall out of love nearly as fast.”

  “God save the woman you marry.”

  “I’m with him.” Kennan threw a thumb Ciar’s way. “It is as easy to fall out of love as it is into. Mayhap easier once you’ve met the lassie’s kin.”

  Robert swiped a hand across his eyes. If the bride didn’t make an appearance soon, he just might grab the cleric, make an insane dash across the grounds, barrel up the stairs, open every door until he found Janet, and marry her on the spot. To hell with the guests and his wayward groomsmen.

  �
��Aye,” Ciar continued. “It was not all that long ago you were a wandering buck yourself.”

  “Wheesht,” Robert shushed them. True, he might have been a bit of a rogue, but that was before he fell in love with Janet. Since, he’d lived like a monk for the better part of a year. He’d be loyal to her until the end. He couldn’t even think of looking at another woman—not ever again.

  The door opened, thank God. Sucking in a sharp breath, Robert faced it. Lady Jean stepped inside with Emma on her arm. “Merciful Father,” he mumbled, barely recognizing his sister. Not only was she dressed like a princess, she could be an angel, her face brighter than he’d ever seen it. “What have they done with my wee lassie?”

  “She’s no wee lass anymore,” said Kennan, the rake.

  “Do I look as bonny as they say, Robert?” Emma asked. “Tell me true, for I do not believe it.”

  Before he could answer, Ciar stepped in and took her arm. “Och, believe it, Miss Emma. You’re so radiant this day, only a bride can compare. Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  A footman escorted Her Ladyship down the aisle and, on cue, the bagpipes began a march. Ciar took Emma next, which made Robert’s hackles rise a bit. After all, he was solely responsible for his sister and would tolerate no foolishness where she was concerned. Kennan followed, taking the arm of one of Janet’s cousins, and then Robert proceeded forward, his kilt slapping the backs of his knees as he proudly took his place beside the priest and waited for his bride to make her grand entry.

  The music slowed and grew statelier. Both doors to the chapel opened. Sir Ewen stepped forward with his daughter on his arm. Initially Robert saw only snippets of a blue gown and gossamer veil from behind the imposing form of her father. But when they turned to walk along the aisle, his knees turned to boneless mollusks.

  The music faded.

  The guests vanished.

  Even Sir Ewen paled and blurred.

  Robert somehow managed to breathe. His mind consumed with the beauty moving toward him, he could do little else but gaze upon his heart’s desire. Happiness radiated from her smile. Her eyes shone like sapphires. Smooth skin, a slight blush to her cheeks, blonde curls peeking from beneath a sheer veil.

  I cannot believe I am so lucky as to be marrying this woman.

  As father and daughter stopped beside him, Robert clutched his hands behind his back to keep from taking her away from Lochiel before the priest asked, “Who gives this woman in holy matrimony?”

  “I do,” said Sir Ewen, making Robert’s heart soar. The fierce chieftain of Lochiel uttered two wee words without argument, without bravado. And those two words opened the door for happily ever after.

  Chanted in Latin, the Catholic service continued. While Robert held Janet’s hands, he gazed into the bonniest eyes he’d ever seen. While they stood together before God and their kin, Robert knew this was the most righteous, most holy, most honorable act of all his days.

  At the end of the rite, he slid his mother’s sapphire ring onto Janet’s finger—the ring he’d retrieved when he’d ridden to Glenmoriston to fetch Emma. “To match your eyes, my love.” And then he kissed her. Right there before a clan he’d never thought could be an ally, he kissed the woman who was now and would always be his wife.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Enjoying the wedding feast, Janet sat primly as a bride ought, though she held Robert’s hand beneath the table. From the time she entered the chapel, everything had passed in a blur, but the one thing she would remember forever was the magnificent Highlander whose eyes did not stray from hers throughout the entire ceremony. Who knew she would fall in love with a man she’d once considered a rascal and a rogue? A man who’d accused her kin of cattle thievery, and whom she’d suspected of the same? A man who’d fought her brother in a deadly duel of swords?

  Gooseflesh rose on her skin as she smiled at her husband.

  No, he was none of the things she’d thought before. He was brave and honest and true. He’d ridden to her rescue, not once, but many times. Twice she would have died if it hadn’t been for her hero. He’d cast aside his own preconceptions, his own inbred prejudice, and together they had hewn a bridge out of love.

  Robert plucked a wild strawberry from the serving platter and held it to her lips. “For you, mo cridhe.”

  The sweet tartness tantalized her tongue. “Heavenly.”

  “But not as delicious as you.” He inclined his lips toward her ear. “How much longer must we endure these festivities? I want you to myself.”

  Covering her mouth, she almost laughed aloud, which would be most unladylike. “There are two more courses and then dancing. We mustn’t be rude.”

  He swilled his wine. “If it pleases my bride, I will wait.”

  She winked. “As will I.”

  The meal was perfect.

  “Will you be taking over the menu planning at Glenmoriston?” asked Emma from across the table, her expression a tad uncertain.

  Robert squeezed Janet’s hand, though he didn’t try to answer on her behalf. Honestly, the wedding plans had been all-consuming, and there hadn’t been much time to think beyond this day. Of course Emma would be anxious. Janet smiled. “You are so proficient at it, I do not see any reason to change.”

  The lass sighed. “I was hoping you’d be agreeable.”

  “Mayhap we can discuss the duties involved in running Moriston Hall on our ride home?” Janet suggested.

  “I’d like that.”

  Da had hired a proper Highland orchestra with fiddle, pipes, drums, and flute for the dancing, and after the meal they took their places for a country dance.

  Lochiel tapped his glass. “Afore the merriment begins, cheers to the bride and groom. May their lives be long, their children be braw and happy, and their coffers always be brimming with coin.”

  “Sláinte!” roared the crowd, but none louder than Uncle Broden, seated at the far end of the table.

  He stood with his glass aloft. “I, too, toast the happy couple. I’m pleased to report that repairs to the town house are underway, thanks to Grant’s generosity.”

  Gaping, Janet focused on her husband’s face. “You are footing the bill?”

  “It seemed the right thing to do.”

  “That was considerate of you indeed, though Sir Broden’s coffers are quite healthy.”

  “Perhaps, but when one is building allies, it never hurts to spend a bit of coin. Besides, the man did write a missive on my behalf. It may have been the weight that tipped the scales in my favor.”

  Janet giggled behind her fan. “If that’s the case, then we should build him an entire new town house.”

  “Let’s not take things too far.”

  The music began. Robert stood and bowed. “May I have this dance, lady wife?”

  At the sound of his deep brogue calling her “lady wife” for the first time, Janet could have melted. She placed her palm in his. “You may.”

  Across the table Ciar addressed Emma. “And would you do me the honor, miss?” he asked, placing a hand on her forearm.

  The lass’s lips formed an O. “Me?”

  Rather than bow, which Emma wouldn’t be able to see, Ciar took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Aye, such a bonny gown mustn’t remain hidden beneath the table all night.”

  As Robert led Janet to the dance floor, she inclined her head his way. “Has Ciar met your sister before?”

  “Aye, he has been to the manse.”

  “I thought he might have. He seems to understand how to…”

  “Hmm?”

  “Well, he understands that for her touching is necessary— Ye ken.” Together they strode to the dance floor. “If she were sighted, he would have bowed and offered his hand, but such a common gesture will not work with her.”

  As Robert escorted Janet to the women’s line, he arched his brow at Ciar and Emma. His sister looked as happy as a lass on Christmas morn. “I only hope she doesn’t end up turned around.”

  “She
will not. I’ve practiced with her, and she’s as sure-footed as anyone I know.” The music demanded Janet curtsy. “Besides, Ciar will keep her on pace. You needn’t be concerned.”

  Robert bowed, sashayed toward her, and grasped her hands. “Then I shan’t. This night I have no worries.” They joined elbows and promenaded in a circle, their gazes meeting in a smoldering exchange that made the other dancers fade into oblivion. “This night is ours and ours alone.”

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for joining me for The Highland Renegade. I’ve been ever so eager to write Robert and Janet’s story. You may remember this pair from their cameo appearances in The Highland Chieftain, where I established the feuding between their clans. In truth, Clan Grant and Clan Cameron were allies during the Jacobite years, and I did use literary license in creating the rift between them. I based this love story on that of Iain-a-Chraggain Grant and Janet Cameron, who were actually married in 1698. To coincide with the time period of the Lords of the Highlands series, however, I chose to make the wedding occur in 1713.

  Of note, Janet gave her husband six children and lived to the ripe age of eighty. She endeared herself to everyone she met. It is said that over two hundred relatives attended her funeral to pay respects to their beloved matriarch.

  The record also reports that Robert was a staunch supporter of the Jacobite cause and raised the standard with the Earl of Mar in the 1715 rebellion. He forfeited his lands as a result, but never lost the deep love he harbored for his Janet.

  About the Author

  Award-winning and Amazon All-Star author Amy Jarecki likes to grab life, latch on, and reach for the stars. She’s married to a mountain-biking pharmacist and has put four kids through college. She studies karate, ballet, yoga, and often you’ll find her hiking Utah’s Santa Clara hills. Reinventing herself a number of times, Amy sang and danced with the Follies, was a ballet dancer, a plant manager, and an accountant for Arnott’s Biscuits in Australia. After earning her MBA from Heroit-Watt University in Scotland, she dove into the world of Scottish historical romance and hasn’t returned. Become a part of her world and learn more about Amy’s books on amyjarecki.com.