Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel

by Violetta Rand

  “Is this the way things will be now?” Broc questioned. “So bitter because Aileana has left, you’ll shadow me, and deprive me of pleasure?”

  He looked upon Broc with great disgust. “I’ll protect any lass from you.”

  “Then I shall seek counsel with your father. I willna live with you at my heel.”

  “No,” Errol said between clenched teeth. “But you’ll die with me in your bloody face.”

  He flung himself at Broc, lashing out with his fists, landing a solid blow on his nose. Broc stumbled backward, unprepared for the attack. He wiped blood from his face.

  “If it’s a fight you want…”

  Errol prayed the man would retaliate. He unbuckled his weapon belt and let it drop on the ground. Then he removed the knives he kept strapped to his ankles, in his boots, tossing them on top of his belt.

  “Have you gone mad?” Broc asked.

  “Quite,” he confirmed. “For I just returned from the MacDonald keep on Skye—with Aileana at my side.”

  “Whatever the lass told ye is a lie.” Broc’s face turned pale. “A she-devil with the power to chew a man up and spit him out—bones and all.”

  Errol laughed bitterly, for even when the truth stared the captain down, he would deny his guilt.

  “Surrender your weapons and face me like a man.”

  Broc did as he suggested, his sword and two dirks discarded on the floor. By that point, the stable lads had gathered behind them. Though Errol hadn’t planned on fighting indoors, it seemed impossible to change it now.

  “What purpose does this serve?” Sweat beaded on Broc’s forehead. “What crimes am I guilty of?”

  Errol shoved his hand in Broc’s face, the silver, galley pendant hanging between his eyes. “Does this answer your question? You traded a lifetime of brotherhood for money and the possibility of a higher position in the MacDonald guard? Faithless swine. My sire loved you. I loved you.”

  Broc tried to rip the chain from Errol’s hand, but Errol punched him in the stomach. He staggered, trapped between the wall and Errol.

  He struggled to catch his breath while hunched over, his hands resting on his knees. “Aileana belongs to me,” he spit. “It doesna matter that you spoiled her.” He raised his hand, slashing with a knife he must have hidden in his sleeve.

  The blade bit into Errol’s arm. He shook the pain off, having suffered splinters in his hand that hurt more. “You’ve too many sins to work through,” he said, “and there’s no priest available to offer absolution. Let me hasten your trip to Hades.”

  Grateful his enemy had given him a reason to kill, Errol scooped his sword off the ground, and it flew through the air in a rage-filled slash, finding Broc’s chest. The impact of the blow sucked the air out of Broc’s lungs. He dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with shock.

  “You’ve mortally wounded me,” he said, covering his heart with his right hand, then examining his bloodstained palm. “It doesna change the truth—and you’ll live with it all your miserable days. I claimed her in the woods the same night you consummated your betrothal. You’ve taken a filthy whore as your wife.”

  Errol growled, hearing a commotion behind him.

  “Let him go,” he heard Liam say.

  “For the sake of your soul,” a woman added.

  He’d accept whatever punishment the Lord chose, but nothing would keep him from finishing this. Not the Almighty, and surely not the pleading of his kinsmen and servants. The truth would win today. Aileana’s honor would be restored. No man would question her virtue, insult her, or covet what belonged to him.

  Broc met his gaze, not a trace of regret on his face.

  “Say hello to the devil for me.” Errol kicked him in the chin, and the bastard’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped like a great stone, face planted in the earth.

  Several people hurried around him to aid Broc. But Errol knew the man was dead. He turned around and picked up his weapon belt and knives.

  “Did ye accomplish all you set out to do?”

  Errol met Liam’s solemn gaze. “I did what any man would do to protect the honor of his family. And if I hadn’t killed him, the MacDonalds would have, for there’s a price on his treasonous head.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Errol drew closer to his kinsman. “This goes no further. Do I have your word?”

  “Aye.”

  “Broc was a spy for Cian MacDonald. One of many things I learned in my private meeting with the laird.”

  For once his cousin was rendered speechless.

  “Curse his soul for eternity.” Liam spat on the ground. “Some men doona deserve to live.”

  To Errol, the subject was closed. He’d hear no more about it. The only person he owed an explanation to was his father, and once Laird MacRae knew the details of his favorite captain’s secret life, he would celebrate Broc’s death, too.

  Love could rob any man of rational thought—whether a saint, or as evil as Broc. For that’s what had kept Errol’s heart beating all the days Aileana was gone. Love. Knowing she was safely tucked in her bed upstairs might help him sleep and recover from all the sorrow and pain.

  Tomorrow was a new day, and Errol planned on living life to its fullest.

  Chapter 26

  TEN DAYS LATER…

  Her wedding day had arrived, and Aileana paced nervously within the confines of her mother’s home. A secret ceremony was planned, the kind of celebration she’d always dreamt of, taking her vows before God and the people she loved most.

  “You shouldna worry yourself so,” Sgùrr said. “I’ve agreed to let your father and uncle attend, and Errol will be here soon enough. The missive I received yesterday expressed his infinite joy knowing you’d be his dear wife. And there’s a gift…”

  Aileana clapped her hands together, always eager to see what her betrothed would give her next. In the last week he’d presented her with a white mare, a gold bracelet, and more gowns than she could count. Not that she wanted anything, his love had been more gratifying than she ever imagined possible.

  It had taken an edict from Laird MacRae to let her spend a few days with her mother in the mountains. And though Broc was dead and she was no longer in danger, three guards escorted her, and whenever she ventured outside, they stayed with her at all times. Things had changed drastically since she returned from Skye. Her soon-to-be father-in-law knew everything about her past, and accepted her even though she was a MacDonald. To the rest of the clan, she remained the pitiful little foundling that won the heart of the future laird, for no one outside the immediate family need know the truth.

  “Here it is, child.” Her mother handed her something wrapped in a fur.

  She sat at the table and opened it with care, finding a gold pendant in the shape of a hand holding a sword. Turning it over, she read the single word inscribed on the back, Fortitudine. Latin for with fortitude, the MacRae clan motto. The attached missive simply read—Wear this with pride, Lady MacRae, yer the future of our clan.

  Chills suffused her whole body as she regarded the delicate chain. She understood the significance of it. Though Errol accepted her blood tie with the MacDonalds, he didn’t like to see her wear the galley pendant that originally belonged to her sire—the emblem of his family’s power. It reminded him of Broc’s betrayal and her father, who Errol couldn’t accept quite yet.

  “What did you get?” Her mother joined her.

  “Something priceless,” she said, offering the letter.

  Sgùrr read it, then laid it on the table. “A better man doesna exist.”

  “Sometimes I fear I’m not worthy of his love. What if I fail to meet his expectations? What if the clan never fully accepts me?”

  Sgùrr took the chain out of her hands, and walked behind her. “Lift your hair.”

  Once the clasp was secured, her mother sat on the chair across from her.

  “In what way do you think you could fail him, child? Hasn’t enough time passed for you to see ho
w much he loves you? That he accepts you for the good and bad, that no one can stand in the way of your destinies? ’Twas something I foresaw all those years ago I left you in the woods. I knew then what I know now, the MacRaes will bring peace to these lands someday, and yer the beginning of that process.”

  It had taken much introspection to accept what her mother had done—abandon her. But if she hadn’t, Aileana knew she wouldn’t be sitting there, waiting on her future husband to arrive.

  She reached for her mother’s hands across the table. “Thank you.”

  “Aye,” Sgùrr said, her eyes wet with tears. “I am a proud woman this day. And though our connection must remain a secret because I am a MacDonald, know I will always watch over you. This place is your second home. And in time, once your life is more settled, I will reveal the mysteries the women in our family treasure.”

  “Milady?” a guard called from outside.

  Sgùrr rose and walked to the entrance, pulling the skin flap aside. “Have our guests arrived?”

  “Aye.”

  Laird MacDonald and Cian stepped inside and Aileana rushed to greet them.

  “Father,” she said, opening her arms for a hug.

  His usually serious expression softened. “I am very happy to see ye again.”

  The embrace lasted longer than Aileana expected. Maybe someday they’d love each other, but for now she appreciated just having a father. Then she turned to her uncle. “Thank you for making the journey, milord. I know what risks you took coming here.”

  He grinned. “ ’Tis not every day my niece gets married.”

  Sgùrr served them some ale, stew, and bread before she showed them to one of the subchambers in the intricate network of caves she lived in. The main room was off-limits to the men, for Aileana must prepare for the ceremony.

  A few hours later, wearing a yellow gown her mother had given her, her hair loose the way Errol preferred, and the gold chain, she stepped into the afternoon sunshine, where her family and the man she loved waited. Taking in the natural splendor that surrounded her, she gazed across Loch Duich, in the direction of the Isle of Skye. She thanked God for answering her lifelong prayer to know where she’d come from.

  But more importantly, for giving her a second chance in life. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, for she couldn’t remember a time Errol had looked so handsome, his perfect smile a reward just for her as she approached the bonfire. With her mother and father standing behind her and Errol to her right, she listened intently as the priest blessed them in Latin and then offered the vows.

  Errol cradled her hand in his, his strong fingers squeezing hers occasionally, their gazes meeting, then shooting back to the holy man.

  And once she promised to love and honor her husband, to protect Clan MacRae with her life, and remember that she’d be cherished for eternity, the priest consecrated their union, making the sign of the cross over their heads, and smiled.

  This was the part Aileana had waited for—the moment when her new husband would seal their love with a sacred kiss. He kissed her, pulling her against his hard body, his tongue gently urging her lips apart. It wasn’t chaste, but a kiss that hinted at immeasurable passion. His gray eyes burned with love and lust, and her body tingled all over in anticipation of what was to come. She wanted him in every way.

  The wedding feast was simple, fresh venison with garlic and onions, cabbage and beans, wine and ale, and sweet bread Edme and Margot had sent with Errol.

  As the sun set, Errol whispered to his wife, “ ’Tis time to wish our guests a good night.”

  Aileana stood thinking as she watched her husband gather a flagon of ale and two cups. Precious memories had been made tonight, which also marked the beginning of her new life. What astounded her even more was that the MacRaes and MacDonalds were sitting side by side in her mother’s home, at peace with one another. Miracles still happened, and she closed her eyes and once again whispered her thanks to the Lord.

  “Are you well?” Errol caressed her cheek, and she opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her.

  “Aye,” she said. “Better than you’ll ever know.”

  He smiled warmly, offering his hand. “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweet Aileana. ’Tis the first time I will take you into my arms as my wife. Something I’ve dreamed of.”

  “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

  “Nay,” he said.

  “ ’Tis impossible to put into words, milord.”

  He growled playfully then, his gaze slowly drifting down her body. “I’ve told you sometimes words doona suffice. Now show me the place where we can make love.”

  Sgùrr had worked very hard to prepare a bridal chamber for them. Aileana led Errol to a cozy alcove where candles had been lit, illuminating the straw-stuffed mattress covered with furs and embroidered pillows.

  Errol set the ale and cups on the floor, then embraced her from behind, his soft lips blazing a trail down the side of her neck. She shivered with delight, and sighed when he nipped her earlobe. Then he gently moved her hair to the side and began to unlace her dress. Too afraid to break the magic of the moment, she stood completely still, letting him do as he pleased. For earlier he had whispered naughty things in her ear, promising this night belonged to her. I will worship you forever. Love you forever. Cherish you forever. And fill you with my seed forever.

  She swayed as he stripped her gown off, then stepped around her and knelt at her feet, slowly removing her wool leggings. He placed feather-soft kisses on the top of her thighs, working his way lower. One knee, then the other, all the way down to her ankles.

  “Errol…”

  “Yer perfect,” he murmured, pausing to look up at her.

  “I-I…”

  “Doona speak, lass.”

  He nudged her legs apart, and before she knew what he was doing, filled her with his fingers and tongue—tracing exquisite shapes inside her, making it nearly impossible to stay upright.

  Her first release came on a muted cry, and Errol sat on his heels, a triumphant smile on his face.

  “Did I make my point, lass? Are words necessary tonight?”

  She shook her head vigorously, ready for him to get naked, too.

  “Good,” he said, standing up.

  Unwilling to miss her chance, she reached for the brooch that secured his plaid over his left shoulder, then leisurely opened his tartan. Sure to tickle his exposed skin, she then removed his linen shirt. In the glow of the candlelight his muscular body looked divine—this man she’d taken as her husband must be from another world. He let out a sigh as she traced his body with both hands, massaging his ballocks and manhood with growing fascination.

  She loved how long and hard he was whenever they were together. And the clear liquid that dripped out of the opening made it easier to stroke his length. She did it over and over again, and he hissed at her, begging her to stop.

  “No,” she denied him. “You’ve had your way with me. Now it’s my turn to give you pleasure.”

  But it only lasted a few more seconds, for he pulled her into his arms, and somehow wrestled her onto the mattress. She giggled uncontrollably as he kissed her collarbone, then her overly sensitive nipples, moving to her belly button before he captured her right foot in his hand.

  “Do you know what I do to unruly lasses who don’t obey me?”

  “Lasses?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “My lass,” he corrected.

  “Nay,” she said. “Show me.”

  His wicked grin should have served as a warning, for she nearly kicked him in the face when he sucked her great toe into his mouth. “Errol!” She squirmed and tried to get away, but he held on tight.

  “There’s only one escape,” he said.

  “Anything.” It tickled so much she was breathless.

  “Get on your knees, Aileana.” His eyes grew wide and dark.

  The thought of him taking her from behind excited her, and she immediately did as he ask
ed. She held her breath as he got into position behind her. When he didn’t say anything or move, she thought something was wrong.

  “Errol?”

  “Lass,” he said hoarsely. “I’m captivated by the vision before me.” He slipped an arm about her waist. “If it hurts, even a little, tell me.”

  She’d take the pain, because she wanted to feel him inside her. Her love for Errol had made her weak, and she’d do anything to please him, especially in the bedchamber. Slick and ready for him, she felt nothing but unadulterated pleasure as he slid inside her. She fisted her hands in the fur as he hammered deep, filling her then withdrawing, the exquisite friction and heat taking her to the edge.

  Dear God, she loved him. So much.

  “Aileana…I canna hold it.”

  Rendered speechless by the force of their shared climax, Errol rolled off of her and pulled her into his arms.

  “Is it like that for everyone?” she asked.

  “Nay,” he said. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”

  She swelled with pride, and rested her cheek against his chest.

  “When we get back to the keep, what is the first thing you’d like to do as Lady MacRae?”

  Since the day of their betrothal, Aileana had decided when she had the power to make important decisions, she wanted to reward her aunties for their years of unconditional love. “I’d like to assign less vigorous work to Edme and Margot. They deserve more time to themselves.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “You’ll need a lady’s maid, perhaps one of them…”

  “No,” Aileana laughed. “I willna have both of them in my bedchamber every morn bickering about which gown I should wear.”

  He chuckled. “Whatever you choose, I trust your judgment, sweet one.” He yawned, then kissed the top of her head. “You’ve worn me out.”

  “Sleep, then,” she said, happy to lay in his arms. “When you awaken, I will be here.”

  “Aye.”

  Within a few minutes, her beautiful husband was asleep. She draped her arm over his chest, gazing at his face. He belonged to her now. The wild boy she first met in the kitchens. The lad who thought she didn’t see him hiding in the trees when she stripped down to her shift in the summer and took long swims in the loch. The man who watched her walk across the great hall with a tray in her hands. The man who she dared not talk to, for she never felt worthy of his attention.