Brenda Joyce, Terri Brisbin, Michelle Willingham

by Highlanders - The Warriorand the Rose; The Forbidden Highlander; Rescued by the Highland Warrior

  Celeste looked at him, and though she tried to put on a brave face, he saw her fear of being alone.

  “It will be all right,” he reassured her. “I’ll stay with you.”

  She took a deep breath and ventured, “What about our tracks? They won’t believe we’re gone if the tracks end here.”

  He let out a slow breath, understanding what she wanted him to do.

  “Take Ivory and lead them deeper into the hills,” she continued. “I’ll...stay belowground in hiding as long as I must.” She squared her shoulders, her face appearing calm.

  But he saw the truth in her eyes. She had reason to fear, for they had already fired arrows at her. If a single soldier found her, she might die.

  “She’s right,” Callum agreed. “They already tracked you this far.”

  Dougal stared at Celeste, wondering if he dared to leave her behind. Though she nodded, he didn’t miss the slight tremble at her lips. There was nothing he could do to ease her fear.

  Callum reached for his bow, leaning down to kiss his wife. “We won’t be gone long. Hide her until our return.” Marguerite nodded and touched his face, her hands lingering upon his cheek.

  Color rose in Celeste’s face. She was trying to remain calm, but when she met his eyes, he saw the worry lurking.

  “I’ll return for you. I promise.” He rested his hand upon her spine in reassurance.

  Marguerite led them toward the back of the Hall, where she lifted an iron ring, revealing a ladder that led belowground. “It’s down here,” she said, picking up a torch from an iron sconce on one wall.

  “You can go with your brother,” Celeste told him. “I’ll be fine.” But even as she said the words, her eyes looked down into the darkness with undisguised fear.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he promised. “We’ll lead them to a false trail.” But although she braved a smile, he saw through it. She took another breath to steady herself and then suddenly threw herself into his arms, gripping him hard.

  He understood her need for comfort and security. The warmth of human touch soothed in a way words could not.

  “Don’t be hurt on my behalf. No matter what happens,” she urged.

  He kept his arms locked around her, breathing in the scent of her skin and marking a memory. The softness of her, the wordless gratitude, were so unexpected he couldn’t speak a word. Instead, he let his touch speak for him, resting his face against her hair while both arms held her tight.

  “I feel safe with you,” she confessed. “And...I need you to return.”

  Her blue eyes revealed the uncertainty, and she reached up to touch his roughened cheek. Aye, he fully intended to return to this woman. Especially with the way she was looking at him now.

  “Remain in hiding until I come for you,” he commanded. Without knowing why, he leaned down and kissed her hard. She nodded, and when he left, he shielded the wayward thoughts and the empty ache that had begun inside him.

  * * *

  THE CHAMBER WAS so frigid, Celeste could see her breath against the lonely torch Marguerite had given her. The cold night was an enemy impossible to defeat. It was a fear that sank into her veins, reminding her of how alone she was.

  She leaned against the wall, thinking of Dougal. He possessed a strength that made her want to lean upon him, to take comfort. With each day she’d spent at his side, her feelings for him only intensified.

  She’d wed Edmon de Laurent to give Melisandre the life neither of them had before. Though it had broken her apart to leave Dougal, she’d believed it was wiser to follow the urging of her head rather than her heart. She’d sacrificed herself, leaving the man she loved...the man she had never stopped loving. She couldn’t say what had rekindled the feelings, but time had not diminished them. She’d only pressed them deep inside, believing they would go away.

  Beneath the fur coverlet Marguerite had given her, Celeste was trembling, though no longer from the cold. Dougal’s kiss had twined around her fragile heart, tempting her to see the man he was and not the guardian he represented.

  Was there anything left between them now? Or was he protecting her only for the gain it would bring him? He might not want her anymore...only a stallion for his beloved mare. Guarding her was a means to an end. Hadn’t he pushed her aside time and again?

  Let him go, her head insisted. Find another way to protect Melisandre.

  A way that didn’t involve risking her feelings. She sensed that she was treading within shallow water that could drown her. It would take very little to push Dougal over the edge, to bring him into her bed. And after it was done, he might claim his own vengeance, leaving her behind.

  Her earlier plan now seemed like the impulsive plan of a girl, not one that would offer any protection. Even if she did conceive a child, Rowena would never leave her in peace. The woman was ruthless and cared for nothing, save her own children. It was not safe to return. And it was not safe for Melisandre.

  Dougal would keep his word to defend them both. But each moment she spent with him weakened the walls around her heart. He deserved better than a woman like her. She should let him go, ignoring the desire he’d conjured.

  For if she did set aside her inhibitions, it would bare her heart in a way that would break when they parted ways.

  * * *

  DOUGAL RODE FOR an hour north while the soldiers searched Cairnross. Although Marguerite had promised that it was impossible for anyone to find Celeste, he couldn’t let go of the sense that he should be there with her. Both of them knew what would happen if they caught her.

  He gritted his teeth against the thought, turning back and retracing his path back toward the fortress. When he reached the river, he drew the mare into the water, hiding her tracks there. Again, he changed direction, leading Ivory into the hills, obscuring any tracks he’d made. He waited on higher ground until it was late afternoon. Only then did he see Callum’s men leading Lord Eiloch’s forces upon the trail he’d made. He breathed easier when they took the bait, for it meant they had not found Celeste.

  Impatience pulled at him to go to her, to bring her out from underground and ensure that she was safe. A vision pulled at his mind, of her arms around him, her body pressed close.

  The past few days had worn both of them down, and in the face of the threats surrounding them, there was the need to reaffirm life. To hold her skin against his, daring to reach for a woman he was never supposed to have.

  Was it worth it, to kneel before her body to worship, knowing that she might once again walk away? Or could he convince her to look past his poverty to see the man he was? The man who would never let anyone harm her.

  * * *

  CELESTE DIDN’T KNOW how many hours passed or how long she was waiting in the dim light before the trapdoor swung open.

  “Are you all right?” came the voice of Dougal. He climbed down the ladder and helped her back to her feet.

  No, she wasn’t. But Celeste forced herself to answer yes, despite her chattering teeth. She’d remained beneath the fur coverlet, trying to stay warm. Her hands were numb, her cheeks icy from remaining belowground for so long.

  “Come above, and I’ll see to it that you get warm.” His voice held worry, and he guided her hands to rest upon the ladder rungs.

  Her hands stilled upon the wood, and she paused a moment. “What happened to the soldiers?”

  His hands encircled her waist, and he gave her a slight nudge, silently encouraging her to climb. “Callum let them search here, while I went riding with Ivory, making a trail to the north. It should keep them occupied for a while.”

  Though she climbed up a single rung, Celeste turned to face him while his hands remained at her waist. “Will they be back?”

  “Not this night,” he said. “You can get warm and sleep without fear.”

  She wasn’t certain that was true, but she managed a nod. “Thank you for your help.”

  “I keep my promises, Celeste. I’ll let nothing happen to you.”

  She sta
red into his eyes, unable to stop herself from reaching toward his face. Gently, she smoothed a hand over his hair, resting her palm against the back of his head. Standing atop the single rung, it brought her face even to his. He was so close, she could lean in and touch his mouth with hers.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he warned, his voice in a low growl. Though she was shivering, she saw the flare of desire in his eyes. It was like last night, when he’d warned her of what he would do if he spent the night beside her. Her body softened at the thought of him claiming her, moving with their bodies joined together.

  Quickly, she turned away, climbing up the ladder. Her breathing was shallow, her heart quaking within her chest. When she reached the top, Lady Marguerite and Callum were waiting. The light was fading, and Celeste stumbled toward the fire burning in the hearth.

  “She’s freezing,” Dougal told Marguerite. “We need to get her warm.”

  “I’ll arrange for a hot bath,” the young woman agreed. To Celeste, she added, “There is a smaller chamber near to mine. I’ll have the children sleep down here tonight, and you may have the space to yourself.”

  Celeste thanked the woman, still rubbing her hands above the fire. Dougal was speaking to his brother, and she watched him from the corner of her eye. They were discussing the men tracking her, and although he’d tried to explain that there was no longer any danger this night, she didn’t believe it. They would not abandon the search so easily.

  Servants were busy heating water and bringing it above stairs for her bath. The idea of sinking into hot water was near to heaven, and she was eager to get warm. Marguerite offered her a fresh gown to borrow, and Celeste followed the woman up the winding wooden stairs, grateful for it.

  “I’ll send a maid to tend you in your bath,” Marguerite continued. She opened the door to the chamber and welcomed her inside. The servants had already added steaming water to the tub, and another had laid out a linen drying cloth.

  “Before I go, I...wanted to ask if you and Dougal—” Her words broke away, as if she didn’t know how to phrase the question. Embarrassment flushed over the woman’s face, and she added, “I don’t mean to pry.”

  Her words voiced a question Celeste didn’t know how to answer. In essence, Lady Marguerite was wanting to know if she and Dougal were lovers.

  This night, Celeste craved his presence, even if it meant nothing more than sleeping with his arms around her. The comfort and safety Dougal represented were everything.

  Keeping her voice in a low whisper, she admitted, “He means a great deal to me.”

  There. Let her make of that what she wanted. Even if it meant Dougal slept outside her door, it would make her feel better.

  Marguerite’s expression remained serious. “Dougal has never shown interest in a woman before you.” Her gaze fixated upon Celeste. “He is like a brother to me, even if we do not share the same blood.”

  She did not have to say anything else. There was no doubting the warning in her words. Celeste nodded but met the woman’s gaze squarely. “I understand. But I would want him near to me this night.”

  The servants continued to come and go, filling up the small wooden tub. Steam billowed up into the cool air, and the light was dim, despite the flare of several beeswax candles.

  Marguerite helped her to unlace her gown, and within moments Celeste was in the water, up to her chin. She closed her eyes, so grateful for the healing warmth. “I will send someone to you shortly,” the lady said before she closed the door behind her.

  * * *

  DOUGAL HELD THE cake of soap Marguerite had given him. “Knock on the chamber door and give this to the maidservant, if you would.” His brother’s wife did not wait for him to argue, but fled as soon as his hand had closed over the soap.

  It was a strange bidding, but he supposed she’d forgotten to give it to the maid.

  He went up the winding stairs and paused before the doorway. Though he supposed Marguerite would want him to sleep in the Hall with the other men, he fully intended to sleep outside Celeste’s door.

  If Lord Eiloch’s soldiers somehow returned in the night, he wanted to be there to defend her. He and Callum had posted extra guards, with the reminder to the men to alert them at the sign of anyone suspicious.

  Dougal knocked upon the door, waiting for the maid to open it. A voice called out for him to enter and his hand stilled upon the latch.

  Enter? When they did not know who stood beyond the door? Were they expecting another maid?

  Slowly, he lifted the latch, averting his gaze as he waited for the maid to approach. Instead, there was only silence.

  He closed the door behind him and when he dared to look, every thought left his brain. Celeste was resting in a tub of water, her hair pinned up, while her bare breasts bobbed atop the water.

  “Forgive me,” he muttered, turning to go. “I thought a maid was with you to—”

  “Wait.” Her voice was calm, not at all afraid of him. Dougal froze with his back to her, and in that single word, his imagination filled in the spaces, reminding him of the bare skin he’d glimpsed. She wanted him to wait?

  “I wasn’t trying to intrude,” he said. The steam from her bath made the air heavy, and the aroma of dried herbs filled up the tiny space.

  “You weren’t intruding.” He heard the faint splash of water and though there was hesitation in her voice, she said, “Will you bring me the soap?”

  His feet wouldn’t move. A rigid desire swelled through him, and he gripped the bar of soap as if it would somehow dispel the dark needs.

  “No,” he answered after a time. “I’ll send someone else.”

  “And what if I want you?”

  The words severed any remaining denial within him, and he dared to turn back. Though her arms now covered her bare breasts, he could see the blush on her cheeks. She was no maiden, for she had known a husband’s touch. She knew exactly what she was offering, and God help him, he lacked the willpower to say no. But he would try once more.

  “This wasn’t part of our arrangement.”

  She regarded him, her blue eyes capturing his. “Do you want to leave me?”

  He’d dreamed of touching that sweet skin, of tasting every inch of her. Of joining their bodies together, sheathing himself inside until she arched with trembling pleasure.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.” He drew nearer, setting the soap down upon the wooden floor. There was a stool beside the tub and he went to sit upon it. From this vantage point, he could see her wet skin glistening against the candlelight.

  “Yes, I do. And I don’t want to be alone this night. Not when I might die on the morrow.”

  He understood, then. She wanted a few hours to forget the men pursuing them, to seize a moment of pleasure when it could be her last. He could no more refuse her than he could sever his right arm.

  Slowly, Celeste lowered her arms back into the water, revealing her breasts again. Pink-tipped and wet, they were large and tempting. Her nipples were erect, and his body responded with a desire so strong, his groin ached.

  He dipped his hands into the hot water and then lathered up his hands. “Sit up,” he commanded. She obeyed, and he began by washing her back, sliding his hands over skin so soft, his hands grew slick. Scooping handfuls of water over her back, he rinsed her, and then soaped his hands once more. He caressed her shoulders with the soap, moving his palms down to touch her breasts.

  They were a gentle weight, and he drew his thumbs over the pointed nipples, tormenting her as he shaped them with the soap. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub, her eyes closed as she allowed him to touch her.

  “Please—” she managed to say, gasping as he rinsed away the soap, easing her to sit up. Her nipples had darkened in color, and he gave in to temptation, kissing her deeply as he explored her breasts with both hands. He didn’t want her remembering her first husband or anyone else at this moment. Only him.

  Though he didn’t know what had made her decide to i
nvite him in, she’d made his honor crumble into dust. There was only her kissing him hard, her tongue touching his while he gripped her above the water. Her hands were pulling at his tunic and he broke free long enough to remove it.

  Celeste rose up to her knees in the tub, embracing him skin to skin. He didn’t care at all that her body was wet against his own. The sensation of her breasts pressed to him was more arousing than anything he’d ever felt before.

  “Slow down,” he commanded, pressing her back. “I haven’t finished tending you in the bath yet.”

  She stilled, but her eyes held a passion that mirrored his. “Then do what you will.”

  * * *

  SHE WAS DYING against his touch. Dougal had washed every part of her, paying particular attention to her sensitive breasts. “Before the night is over, I’m going to taste you,” he warned.

  Heaven help her, she prayed he would. Her body felt alive, as if he was possessing it with every touch, every kiss. Now that his tunic was off, she could see the firm muscles and his hard chest that tapered down to a ridged abdomen.

  He used the soap again to wash her feet, his hands moving up one calf. He massaged her skin as he explored her, his hand drifting to her inner thigh. Her breathing was shaky, and the water lapped against her in another caress. Dougal repeated the motions with the other foot, washing her gently until his hand moved between her legs. His fingers rested against her intimate opening, and he palmed her there, his dark eyes locked with hers.

  She gasped as his thumb edged her mons, his hand cupping her curls.

  “Shall I wash you there?” he demanded.

  She couldn’t speak, her body was rising so hard. She was utterly pliant against his hand, her breathing hitched as he stroked her. His fingers edged the hard nodule above her opening, while he slid one inside her.

  “Is this what you were wanting?” he asked, bending to kiss her mouth. His lips captured her, while below the water he penetrated her with his finger.

  Slowly, he added another when she managed to answer a breathless, “Yes.”

  The steady rhythm was starting to pull at her, and she was afraid of surrendering, unsure of what he was doing. But the more he touched her, the more she leaned in to him, feeling the ache between her legs. His warm mouth enclosed one nipple, and she gripped his head, shaking hard as the sensations intensified.