Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides)

by Lynsay Sands

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “Aye, I broke his neck,” Geordie said, his voice grim. “He’ll no’ be bothering us again.”

  Dwyn merely nodded, and rested her head against his chest with a little sigh. She believed him, but didn’t really believe him if that made any sense. She’d been so afraid and worried about Brodie for so long it would take a while for her to accept she had nothing more to worry about.

  “Ye found her!”

  Dwyn blinked her eyes open and glanced around at that relieved cry from Aileen, surprised to see that they were already back at the small makeshift camp where the women had waited. She hadn’t been that far away, after all. The woods here were just so thick she hadn’t been able to see the fire for the trees.

  While the women had all been sleeping when she’d slipped away several moments ago, they were all up now. Many of them were busy tending to the wounded making their way to the camp, but Aileen and Una were rushing toward them as Geordie carried her toward the fire.

  “Aye,” Geordie grunted in response to her sisters as they rushed to his side. When Aulay and Alick appeared on his other side, he added, “Brodie had made his way back here and found her.”

  “Is he dead?” Aulay asked, offering Dwyn a smile as he waited for her husband’s answer.

  “Aye. I snapped his neck,” Geordie said grimly as he sat on the log nearest the fire, and adjusted Dwyn to sit in his lap. “He’s about twenty feet into the woods.”

  “Alick and I’ll take torches and go find the body to be sure,” Aulay said, and moved away with the youngest Buchanan brother following.

  Geordie grunted at that, and then clasped Dwyn’s upper arms and murmured, “Now, let me see ye, love.”

  Dwyn turned from glancing around the now-busy camp and raised her face for him to see it.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Geordie breathed, running a finger gently over her cheek as his gaze took in the various bumps, bruises and cuts on her face. As his gaze dropped to her chest, he growled, “I should have taken me time killing the bastard.”

  Dwyn tucked her chin in to look down and grimaced at the large ugly black bruises visible on her chest. It was where some of Brodie’s punches had landed when he was beating her after learning that she was married.

  “Yer dress is ripped, lass. Did he . . . ?” Geordie’s voice was soft but grim and he seemed incapable of finishing the question. Dwyn figured out what he was asking from that and shook her head at once.

  “Nay, he did no’ rape me,” she assured him, her voice still just a raspy whisper. Dwyn’s throat was sore, and she was sure it would bruise as well from his choking her, if it hadn’t already started. Still, she pushed on. “He just hit me. I’m fine, husband, truly.”

  Geordie swallowed, and managed a small relieved smile, but then he sighed and shook his head. “I want to hug and kiss ye, but am afraid I’ll unintentionally hurt ye if I do.”

  “Here.”

  Dwyn gave a start and glanced around as something cold brushed her chest. Una and Aileen were beside them. Una was trying to press a cold, damp cloth to her throat while Aileen stared at her with a combination of dismay and concern. Dwyn lifted her head so Una could press the compress to her throat, her eyes widening as she found herself meeting the gaze of a large, fair-haired mountain of a man now standing on Geordie’s other side.

  “Lady Buchanan,” the man growled, solemn eyes moving over her bruised and battered face. “’Tis a pleasure to meet with ye again.”

  “MacGregor?” she whispered in query.

  She immediately thought it doubtful that he could hear the word over the noise around them, but he did, and said, “Aye. ’Tis glad I am ye’re safe now. I apologize fer allowing Brodie to camp on me land. Had I kenned what he was up to, I would have captured him and brought him to Buchanan meself.”

  “’Tis fine,” Dwyn whispered, but noticed that his gaze had wandered to Una as she continued to hold the cold compress to her throat.

  “Here, hold this, Dwyn, and I’ll fetch ye something to ease yer throat,” Una said now.

  Dwyn reached up to take over pressing the cloth to her throat and noted the way the MacGregor watched her sister move away.

  “That’s Dwyn’s younger sister Una,” Geordie announced with amusement, apparently having noticed the MacGregor’s interest. “She’s only sixteen and betrothed.”

  The MacGregor turned back at the news, and asked, “Who’s her betrothed?”

  “Laird Graham’s eldest son, I believe,” Geordie answered.

  Dwyn nodded when he glanced her way for verification, and then shifted her surprised gaze back to the MacGregor when he snorted with amusement.

  “Alpein Graham,” he said, obviously knowing the Graham clan, or at least who the eldest son was. “Poor lass’ll live a lonely bairnless existence does she marry him.”

  Dwyn frowned with concern, and opened her mouth to ask why, but he saved her the effort by explaining, “The man prefers men. To the point I doubt he’ll even be able to consummate the marriage. He’ll leave her in the keep and ride off on ‘hunting’ trips with his ‘friends.’” He shook his head with disgust. “’Twould be a waste o’ a lovely lass did she marry him.” He watched as Una started back with a mug in hand and added, “I canno’ abide a waste like that and may have to do something about it.”

  He turned and walked away and Dwyn stared after him with amazement, and then glanced to Geordie in question.

  “He’s a good man,” Geordie assured her solemnly. “He’d never hurt a lass.”

  Dwyn was just relaxing when he added, “He’ll ask me permission first and wait until she’s a little older to steal her to bride.”

  When she turned wide, dismayed eyes to him, Geordie shrugged. “Would ye rather yer sister was with a man who preferred men and neglected her, or someone who would fill her with bairns and make her happy?”

  Dwyn couldn’t answer. Aside from the fact that her throat hurt too much to respond just then, Una had reached them by that point and she didn’t want her sister learning what Conn MacGregor had said and worrying unnecessarily. But she was definitely going to be discussing this with Geordie later, Dwyn decided firmly as she smiled at Una and accepted the mug she held out.

  Dwyn was dozing fitfully when the sound of the bedchamber door opening and closing stirred her. She opened her eyes to see that the sky was lightening with the rising sun. Dawn was coming and Geordie was just finally joining her, but it had been quite late when they’d got back to Buchanan. After looking her over here in Geordie’s room, Rory had given her a potion to soothe her aches and pains, and then Geordie had helped her undress and get into bed. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, about the only place on her face he could kiss her without causing her pain, he’d told her to rest and he’d be along as soon as he finished dealing with things.

  Dwyn hadn’t made him explain what these things were. She knew. They included figuring out what Katie had done to “handle” Aulay, and deciding what to do with the maid as well as Brodie’s soldiers, at least the ones who had survived the battle.

  Curious about those things, she lay on her side facing the window and listened as Geordie disrobed and then slid into bed behind her. When he started to curl around her, his arm reaching over her and then stopping uncertainly, she took his hand and pressed it to her breast with his palm over her nipple.

  “’Tis the only spot that is no’ bruised,” she explained with amusement when he went still with what she suspected was surprise.

  Geordie relaxed then and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I did no’ expect ye to be awake yet.”

  “I drowsed fer a bit,” she admitted, scooting back until he was spooning her. “But I was curious to learn when we are leaving for Innes.”

  “Everyone’s decided to delay fer a day so we can rest up after what happened. I thought ye may prefer fer us to travel with yer da and the others so ye can rest in the cart while ye heal.”

  “Nay,” she said without hesitation
. “I can ride.”

  “Are ye sure?” he asked with concern.

  “Aye,” she assured him. “Me bottom is no’ bruised. Besides, riding in a wagon would be more torture than rest.”

  “Ah,” he murmured with understanding.

  “What will become o’ Katie?” Dwyn asked after a moment.

  Geordie pressed another kiss to her neck, but then sighed and admitted, “She is dead. We left her locked in the room with Rory guarding the door, and she chose to jump out the window rather than face whatever punishment might have been meted out.”

  When Dwyn stiffened and turned her head in question, she was able to see him nod in the light cast by the rising sun.

  “He did no’ mention it when we first got back because he did no’ want to upset ye,” Geordie explained.

  Nodding, Dwyn turned to peer out the window again as she asked, “Did ye figure out what she had done to ‘take care’ o’ Aulay?”

  “Aye,” he murmured, his hand moving lightly across her nipple, in what she suspected was an unconscious action. “There was poison in the whiskey in his study. Rory did no’ think anything else had been tampered with, but Aulay had everything in his study thrown out just to be safe.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Dwyn said a little breathlessly, wiggling her bottom closer to the hardness she could feel growing and pressing against her. “What about Brodie’s men?”

  “We’ve decided to release them,” Geordie admitted, rolling her nipple between thumb and finger now, which definitely wasn’t unconscious. Leaning up again, he began to nibble at her neck as he pointed out, “They were only following their laird’s orders, so they’re being escorted off Buchanan land as we speak and sent on their way . . . without their horses.”

  “Without them?” she breathed as he nipped at her ear and then sucked on the tender flesh briefly, before shifting his mouth to her neck and nipping and sucking lightly there as well.

  “Aye.” His voice had deepened in direct proportion to the hardness growing between them, and Geordie shifted, rubbing himself against her. “They had to be punished somehow and walking home to Brodie seemed— Damn, Dwyn,” he interrupted himself on a moan of despair. “Ye’ve been beaten and abused and I should be just holding ye and offering ye comfort, and instead I want to . . .”

  “Come home?” she suggested gently when he broke off.

  “Aye,” Geordie breathed apologetically, and then kissed her gently on the shoulder, and eased back from her, retrieving his hand from her breast to rest it on her hip instead. “But I love ye and wouldn’t want to hurt ye, so I can wait.”

  Dwyn hesitated for a minute, and then reached down and back to clasp his hand. “While we canno’ kiss just now with me mouth sore as it is, and the only safe places to touch me are me breasts and right here.” She drew his hand between her legs and pressed his fingers against her. “I’d like ye to come home, husband. That would comfort me.”

  “God, I love ye, Dwyn Innes Buchanan,” Geordie growled, kissing her neck again as his fingers began to slide between her folds to caress her. “Ye’re brave and ye’re smart, and ye’re funny . . . Ye’re just perfect. I think God surely must have made ye just fer me.”

  Dwyn opened her mouth to assure him she felt the same way, but a gasp slid out instead as his fingers glided over her sensitive core.

  “Ye’re wet fer me, love,” he breathed with awe by her ear.

  “I’m always wet fer ye, husband,” Dwyn moaned. Her hips moving into his caresses, she reached back to clasp his hip. “Please love me, Geordie. I want to feel ye inside me while ye touch me. I need ye to make me ferget today, and—” Her words ended on a groan as he shifted and slid into her, filling her even as he caressed.

  Within moments, Geordie’s steady thrusts and caresses had Dwyn forgetting about Brodie and what had happened that day, along with pretty much everything else as he kissed her neck and shoulder and patiently but slowly drove her toward her release. It was different this time though, Dwyn noticed. The passion was still there, but he was being extremely gentle and careful with her. Geordie was making love to her, rather than just loving her, and she quite suddenly understood what he meant. She too felt like she’d come home.

  Epilogue

  With the sound of the wind blowing and the waves crashing on shore, Dwyn didn’t hear the horse. It was Barra’s excited bark that told her someone was approaching and who. Smiling wryly at the dog, she turned, unsurprised to see Geordie riding up on his mount.

  “I can never surprise ye with those beasts around,” Geordie said on a laugh as he reined in and dismounted.

  “Nay, ye canno’,” she agreed with a grin, shaking her head when Barra immediately rushed excitedly to her husband the moment he was off his horse and standing in the sand. The dog licked his hand, and then dropped to the ground and rolled about excitedly on his back, showing submission even as he invited pets. Clucking with irritation, she said dryly, “That dog used to be mine.”

  Geordie chuckled at her jealous comment, and bent to run his hand over the dog’s belly, before giving him a pat and straightening to approach Dwyn where she stood next to a much more dignified Angus. Much to her relief, he, at least, had not abandoned her, and had remained seated obediently at her side.

  “We’re all yours, love,” he assured her, bending to pet Angus now as well.

  “Hmm,” Dwyn murmured dubiously.

  Geordie grinned at her expression. “I’m sorry, wife. Are ye feeling neglected? Shall I rub yer belly too?”

  Dwyn laughed softly when he did just that, rubbing the small bump where their child grew. Her laughter turned into a soft moan though when he kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.

  “Damn,” Geordie sighed a moment later when he managed to make himself break the kiss. Resting his forehead against hers, he confessed, “I’ll never get enough o’ ye.”

  “That’s a good thing,” she breathed, resting against his chest.

  They were silent for a minute, just holding each other while they waited for their passion to ease a bit, and then he pulled back to peer down at her and announced, “Rory and Alick are here.”

  “What? Why?” Dwyn asked, and then worry knitting her brow, she asked, “Is there trouble? Do your sister or one o’ yer brothers need ye?”

  “Nay,” Geordie assured her, hugging her briefly. “He’s here to check on you. He’ll be visiting us often to check on yer progress growing our child, and then staying the last month or so ere ye have him, her or them.” He pulled back again then and said seriously, “I’m no’ taking any chances with yer health, love. I’m too happy here at Innes with ye to risk losing ye on the birthing bed.”

  Dwyn grinned, but asked, “Are ye? Happy here, I mean? Ye do no’ miss yer Highlands too much, do ye?”

  “I’m very happy,” he assured her solemnly. “I love ye, Dwyn. I love you, I love our dogs, I love our home, I love Innes and I love having the ocean at me back door.” Cupping her face, he added seriously, “I love our life together, Dwyn Innes Buchanan, and do no’ miss the Highlands. Ye’re the best thing that ever happened to me, lass, and I canno’ even imagine me life without ye.”

  Dwyn breathed out a relieved sigh, and smiled. “I love you too, husband, and canno’ imagine life without ye either.”

  “And ye never will,” he assured her, bending to kiss her again. This time Geordie didn’t stop when their passion ran away with them, but lowered her to the sand.

  “What about Rory and Alick?” Dwyn gasped after tearing her mouth from his.

  “They can wait,” he growled, sliding one hand up under her skirts and running it up her leg, pushing her skirts before it. “I’ve a mind to—” He paused on a groan as her hand found his growing erection through his plaid.

  “Come home?” she teased softly, caressing him.

  “Aye, lass,” Geordie said seriously, and then told her, “Ye may laugh that I call it that, but home is where the heart is, and ye’ve had me heart almost sin
ce the first moment I met ye. You are home to me, love.”

  Dwyn’s face lost its teasing expression at those words, and she pressed a hand to his cheek as she said solemnly, “Then come home, husband.”

  An Excerpt from Love is Blind

  Read on for a look at

  LOVE IS BLIND,

  a fan-favorite Lynsay Sands historical,

  reissued in a beautiful new package!

  Coming July 2020

  Chapter 1

  London, England, 1818

  “‘Love is a fever . . . in my blood.’”

  Clarissa Crambray winced as those words trembled in the air. Truly, this had to be the worst of the poems Lord Prudhomme had recited since arriving at her father’s town house an hour ago.

  Had it been only an hour? In truth it felt more like several days had passed since the elderly man arrived. He’d entered brandishing a book, announcing with triumph that, rather than go for their usual walk, he thought perhaps today she’d enjoy his reading to her. And Clarissa would have, had he chosen to read something other than this poppycock. She also would have appreciated it more were he not acting as though he were doing her a favor.

  For all his words, Clarissa was not fooled. She knew the reason for the sudden change in plans. The man was hoping to avoid calamity by restricting her to sitting decorously on the settee while he read aloud from his book of poems. It would appear that even the aged and sympathetic Prudhomme was growing tired of her continued accidents.

  She couldn’t really blame him; he’d been terribly forbearing up until now. Almost a saint, to be honest. Certainly he’d shown more understanding and fortitude than her other suitors. He’d appeared to accept and forgive all the times she’d mistaken his fat little legs for a table and set her tea on them, had given a pained smile through her tendency to dance on his feet, and had even put up with her stumbling and tripping as he led her on walks through the park. Or so it had seemed. But today he’d found a way to save himself from all that. Unfortunately, his choice of reading material left much to be desired. Clarissa would rather be making a fool of herself in the park and stumbling face-first into the cake table than suffering this drivel.