The Highland Outlaw

by Heather McCollum

  Holding the blanket before her, Alana threw one arm out. “See, it is cozy.” It was only then that Shaw noticed anything other than the near-naked siren smiling at him.

  The room was aglow in firelight, and Alana had found two half-burned candles which were lit to sit on the table. The meager contents of her satchel sat with them, their flasks, her ointment, another bandage, and what looked like a pack of playing cards. The room was warm and smelled of flowers and freshness. Her trousers, skirt, stays, and smock hung like a curtain on a rope that she’d fashioned across the room. She had cleaned the dust from the table and the ash from the hearth. It felt rather like a home.

  “Much improved,” he said and held up his catch. “And I have dinner.”

  Alana’s smile grew until the happiness flooded her eyes. They were dark in the shadows, but the firelight gave them a sparkle. “Thank you, God. I was about to start chewing the leather of my boots,” she said.

  “It seems this forgotten cabin sits in the middle of easy hunting grounds.” He had already spitted both animals and walked across to prop them on the iron grate in the hearth, high enough that they wouldn’t burn. He dodged her wet clothes. “Maybe I should hang some of this on the porch. There is a beam by the front door.”

  She took down her trousers and her shift. “Fresh air will dry these faster if they are under the overhang where the dew will not fall on them.”

  Tucking the end of his blanket tightly into the edge at his hips, he hung them across the beam and came back inside. She was sitting on the bed and pulled the table up to it, using the bed as a second chair. The one chair in the room sat on the opposite side. “Do you play at cards?” she asked, splaying the painted rectangles out on the surface of the table.

  “My mother taught me whist years ago,” he said, the pang of her memory like an old scar. He went to the bird and hare, turning them on the grate. It would take an hour or more to thoroughly cook them. When he turned around, his breath caught. Did the lass know that the blanket had slipped just enough to show the top of her cleavage, her breasts propped up on the edge of the table?

  “How about cards up? Have you ever heard of that game?” she asked, dealing out five cards to each of them, their faces down on the table. “My friend, Cat, says it is the favorite card game at the London court right now.” She smiled, even though her gaze was turned toward the cards as she spread her five out evenly. She gave a little tug up on the blanket, and Shaw’s inhale came easier.

  “I have never heard of it,” he said, standing there. Bloody hell, she must look smooth and lush under that blanket. He scraped a hand through his damp hair.

  She gestured toward the chair. “Sit. It will keep our hunger at bay while we wait for our food to cook.”

  He doubted very much that the hunger that was gnawing at him would be held at bay by sitting across from the beautiful lass who now smelled like flowers more than ever. Pulling the seat out, he nearly flung the puny chair across the room with his pent-up strength. “It may not hold me,” he murmured and sat, making it creak under his weight.

  “We can switch places?”

  He shook his head. “Tell me, lass, do ye always carry flower soap with ye?”

  Her brow furrowed. “You do not like the smell?”

  Like the smell? Hell, he wanted to roll around in that smell. “Aye, it is bonnie, but I did not know ye had it with ye.”

  Her frown faded, and she glanced at the remaining clothes. “I washed everything in it after I washed myself.”

  The stilted silence continued as she gently touched the tops of the painted cards. Memories of those fingertips skimming him made his eye twitch, and he raised his gaze, taking in a full inhale. “My wound is still fine. I cleaned it when I washed and re-bandaged it.”

  “Good, but I should still put some ointment on it.” She moved to stand.

  Blast.

  “I thought we were playing cards,” he said, to delay his torture. “This cards up game that is so popular with the English fops. How do ye play it?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she settled back down. “We take turns flipping our cards. If you flip a black suit, then you must tell me something about you. If you flip a red suit, then you can ask me a question. And the reverse for me.”

  “A question about anything?” he asked. Did she love anyone back at Finlarig? He didn’t think the man who’d escorted Alana and her Roses was anything to her since she hadn’t mentioned him. Or he could ask her about her family, what her mother looked like, but that might make her suspicious.

  Alana curled her hand into a fist. “Nothing about war or the defenses of the Campbells.”

  Fok. What was wrong with him that questioning her about Campbell weaknesses hadn’t even come to his mind? He grabbed the back of his neck, squeezing it. “Do the numbers mean anything?”

  “Yes,” she said and pulled a card from the deck, turning it face up. “The higher the number or royal, the more secretive, important, or prying the question or answer should be.” She tapped the ten of hearts lying up. “So, if you turned this up, you could ask me a question that was rather…sensitive.”

  “Such as?” he asked, meeting her gaze.

  The glow of candlelight painted her face in gold, but he still saw the slight darkening of a blush. “Such as if I like to be kissed or…” She cleared her throat. “If I enjoyed last night.”

  “Enjoyed the quiet terror of almost getting pissed on by Dixon’s men?”

  A small laugh came through with her exhale, her smile returning. “As long as I tell the truth, I might take the question any way I wish.”

  He nodded. “Ye go first.” He stood to turn the hare and pheasant and returned to see a three of spades upright before her. Relief made it easier to sit in the rickety chair.

  “Hmmm…” she said, her pretty lips twisting as she thought. “What is your favorite tart flavor?”

  “Tart,” he said without hesitation.

  “Yes, what flavor?”

  “Tart flavor. I have no favorite.” When was the last time he’d even eaten a tart? Years of squatting and moving about so Campbells didn’t catch him hadn’t given him time to bake. “I would gobble any tart offered.”

  “Have you had a honey tart?” she asked.

  “That is a question ye can save for the next card.” He smiled at her frown. Baiting her was fun and kept his mind off the memory of her fingers on him. Aye, the night would be one big battle for Shaw.

  He flipped up a card. It was a black six. “I have never had a honey tart,” he said and smiled.

  Her frown deepened. Was the game not going well? He thought it was.

  “A six should be something that is a little more personal,” she said.

  “Personal? Well, I have never had a honey tart because no one has ever made me tarts before, and I have not had a chance to learn how to bake.”

  “No one?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Not your mother?”

  His smile slipped. “The answer is no one.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, Alana searching his gaze, but she wouldn’t find any answers there. She looked down and flipped her second card. A red jack came up, and Shaw leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

  Alana folded her slender fingers together over the card. “Well.” She clicked her tongue in her mouth, and he tried not to think of what else that little tongue could do. She thought herself not very powerful, but she might be able to cripple him with that tongue.

  Her gaze lifted. “A jack is pretty high.”

  And getting harder with each inhale of her flowery scent.

  “Well,” she repeated. “My secret is that…I am not a virgin.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The muscles in Shaw’s stomach contracted. Damn it all! Had the woman been attacked, raped? Was that why she carried so many weapons? She watched him closely, but he kept his features still.

  “Ye have been with a man before?” he asked softly. It was another question,
but more elaboration was needed, like whether the act was what she wanted or the bastard’s name so he could hunt him down and geld him.

  “No,” she said. “Not a man. A horse.”

  Shaw’s breath caught, making him cough hard into his fist. When he could draw a full breath again, he looked at her. Did she not know what it meant to lose her virginity? “A horse?” he asked, his voice strained.

  “Many women lose their maidenhead while riding in the saddle. I grew up riding horses.” She nodded. “I am certain that my maidenhead is gone.”

  It wasn’t, at least not from what he’d felt last night. The memory of her hot, wet tightness sent a rush of blood through him below the table. “Being pure from a man’s touch is different from losing your maidenhead,” he said. “Riding a horse does not make ye less of a virgin.”

  She frowned. “If being impure because of a man’s touch is what makes a woman lose her virginity, then I would say you did that last night.”

  His palm slid down the side of his face. What could he say? Nothing that wouldn’t stir more anger in her. So, he flipped his third card. A black king. Fok.

  What big secret could he tell her that wouldn’t make her hate him? Only one secret came to mind. He looked across to her expectant face, so beautiful and masking a clever mind that would pick up on lies immediately. Best to steer completely away from his past.

  She leaned forward, her fingertips wrapped over the edge of the table. “Something true. Something big. A king demands the most.” As if he didn’t know that. He could call her a cheat, accuse her of laying out the cards she wanted, but purposely making her angry wasn’t how he wished to spend their time tonight.

  And how do you want to spend the time tonight? His conscience and jack warred within him. Blast it all.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I want nothing more than to love ye here in this cabin all night long.” Was that true, though? Didn’t he want Girnigoe more? He opened his eyes to see her wide ones staring back at him. “But giving yourself to me could jeopardize my mission to reclaim my clan’s lands and castle,” he said. “And it could jeopardize your future.” He swallowed. “With the man ye wish to wed.”

  She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look down when she flipped another card. It was a five of diamonds, but she hadn’t seen it. “We will likely not have this opportunity again, Shaw.” Her voice was soft but strong, a whisper full of determination and conviction. “I would give myself to the man I want.” She shook her head, her unbound hair moving along the skin of her shoulders. “Not to bring two clans together or to do my duty of bringing a babe into the world. I would give myself to one who makes my blood boil with want, my skin tingle, and my body soar. And that man is you.”

  Her words hit harder than a battle ax, vibrating through his discipline, cracking it open to lay his want bare. His hands fisted on the table before him. “Alana… I am the chief of the clan that your clan has been battling for a decade.”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Stop saying that. Tonight, in this cottage, in the deep woods, without men or students or babes or even dogs, we are free of all that. No one need know what conspires between us, what has been consuming our rational thoughts.” So, she had felt the pull between them all day, too. “What happens here is just between us,” she ended on a whisper.

  Sitting higher in her seat on the bed, she inhaled and straightened her shoulders. The golden shades of firelight from the hearth slid over the smooth skin of her collarbone. Slowly her fingers uncurled from the blanket wrapped around her, and she let it loosen, inching down.

  His breath stopped as the blanket slid lower, and her beautifully full breasts were bared. Perfectly round and lush, with dusty pink centers around peaked nipples. The skin looked as soft as he remembered feeling last night in the darkness, their size and weight perfect in the palms of his hands. “Och, lass,” he murmured but didn’t move.

  “Something else you should know about me, Shaw,” Alana said, rising, her blanket falling to the curve of her hips. “Once I decide on a course of action, whether that is to demand I be allowed to participate in a festival game, kill a man to protect a babe, or seduce an honorable man into showing me what complete passion feels like…Once I decide…” Her hands reached up under the heaviness of her breasts, lifting them, her thumbs strumming against her already pebbled nipples. “It becomes my mission, one that I will see finished.”

  Mission. See finished. The words surfaced in Shaw’s mind like leaves blowing on the wind, but they blackened into ash as the fire within him exploded, lighting his blood. If he had a mind to question what was happening to him, he’d wonder if Alana were a witch. She was certainly a temptress.

  His fingers curled around the edge of the table as he stood. He meant to shove it aside, but the light table went flying with the restless energy in his muscles, the cards scattering like the leaves falling on the thatched roof above them in the deserted forest. But his focus didn’t leave Alana standing proudly before him as the blanket fell down her legs to her feet.

  …

  The air in the cottage was cool on her bare skin, but the heat in Shaw’s stare swamped her with warmth. She shivered anyway, her toes curling against the swept floorboards. The chill in the room was forgotten in the wash of wildness swirling within her. She’d never done anything like this before, had never even been naked before a man. But she’d also never felt anything close to this heat inside her.

  The table and cards were tossed away, just like she’d tossed away all Shaw’s reasons for leaving her alone and untouched. For she wanted to be touched by him, to feel the magic he’d kindled as they strained together in the darkness last night. She wanted to be felt and seen and remembered by this mountain of a man. When he looked at her, she no longer blended away into nothing, and she wanted something to remember forever when their missions were done.

  She stepped forward into the place where the table had separated them and raised her hand to lay a palm flat over his heart. Shaw truly saw her; the proof was in the wild thumping under his skin. She tipped her head back, feeling the cool brush of her drying curls slide along her bare backside, and met his gaze. Shuddering under the intensity of his stare, she tried to keep her breaths even. “Shaw, I want you. Give yourself to me,” she said, changing around the words. “Make the world outside these walls melt away. Just for tonight.” She swallowed as she stared up into the darkness of his eyes.

  Before she could draw in her next breath, his arms came up around her, pulling her against him. Heat ignited a fire for which she yearned instead of feared. She slid her splayed hands up his thick arms, over the dark lines of the horse etched there. She skimmed them across to the muscular curves of his chest and upward over his broad shoulders. Chill bumps rose on his skin, and his nipples hardened under her touch. He bent over her, kissing her, tasting her, ravishing her mouth as she slid her head to the side, welcoming everything that he gave. She would take it all, every last sensation and detail of the magic coursing between them, locking it all up inside her memories forever.

  Breathing against each other, they kissed, and Alana felt the stroke of Shaw’s hands down to her naked backside, palming each globe; he lifted her to fit intimately against his hardness, only the blanket wrapped around his hips keeping them apart. She moaned into his mouth and pressed her pelvis against him, the spark of pleasure spreading into a heavy ache there.

  With a tug, he pulled the blanket loose, letting it drop. She glanced down to see the length that she’d felt last night. Large and powerful, he stood erect, making the flutter in her stomach twist with a mix of concern and raw want. Shaw didn’t give her long to worry, pulling her back in to sweep her away in more kisses. The heat of him pressed against the curve of her stomach, his hands catching her cheeks as they broke apart, both of them breathing hard.

  “Alana, lass?” he said. She heard the question and saw it in the small part of his gaze that wasn’t totally consumed with their passion.
r />   “Yes, Shaw, yes, I am certain. I want this, and I want you.”

  His hands slid along her face to cup her head, and she closed her eyes as the warmth of his kiss turned wild. His hands caressed her shoulders and down her arms, as if he were trying to touch every square inch of her naked skin. She raked his back gently with her nails down to his toned backside. He groaned deeply into her mouth, and his hand slid across her collarbone and lower to cup her breast. She moaned with need as he palmed one and then the other, tweaking the raised, sensitive buds.

  Shifting, he kicked off his boots and lowered his mouth to one aching nipple. “Yes,” she hissed, throwing her head back. His hands held her arched back as he feasted on one taut breast and then the other, loving each with nibbles and hot kisses, sucking them into his mouth until she felt the sensation course down her body to the damp place between her legs.

  Alana pressed against his hardness, her fingers curled into the thickness of his massive shoulders. He took two steps, carrying her with him backward until she felt the bed against the bend of her knees. Shaw trailed kisses down between her breasts as he held them, tweaking her nipples which were wet and cool from his mouth, until he was on his knees before her. Feather-light kisses down her stomach and abdomen sent shivers of heat and sensation up and down her.

  “Sit, love,” he whispered, the endearment sending spirals of tightening through her chest to speed her heart. His large hands captured her hips to urge her down on the edge of the bed. She watched through half-closed eyes as he continued a path of kisses lower, the heat from his mouth matching the heat growing like an out-of-control wildfire within her body.

  “Shaw.” He was beautiful in a mountainous, powerful way. Like a barbarian of old, full of masculinity and strength, but with the gentleness and honor of a gallant knight.

  “Lean back and feel,” he said, his northern accent thick, and he lifted each of her legs to rest on his broad shoulders. She was completely spread and bare to his gaze. “So lovely,” he said, his gaze moving up to meet her eyes before he bowed his head.