The Highland Commander

by Amy Jarecki

  “Thank you.” She took the handle and drank greedily, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Feels better already.”

  “Good.” Aiden guzzled the entire contents of his tankard and motioned for the barman to bring another. “Do you think someone truly tampered with the chandelier?”

  She shook her head, watching the bubbles foam across the top of her ale. “I have no idea. It could have been wear. As I recall, that wing of Whitehall was built by King Henry VIII. The chain could have been two hundred years old.”

  “Interesting point. But what about Lady Saxonhurst? What were she and Blackiron saying to you at the ball?”

  Maddie groaned. “I swear that woman was a thorn in my side throughout the duration of my time at Whitehall. She and Lord Blackiron continually try to force me to admit that my father is a Jacobite. Do you think they had something to do with it?”

  “Mayhap, though the old chain seems more likely. Rigging a chandelier? It seems unlikely. The thing could have fallen in the middle of the night when no one was about.”

  “True.”

  The barman approached with two bowls. “Lamb pottage, sir.”

  “I’m starved.” Maddie nodded at the man, showing her gratitude.

  “My thanks,” Aiden said, taking up his spoon. “Ye ken what I reckon?”

  Maddie took a heavenly bite, the stew warming her insides. “What?”

  “I’d wager Saxonhurst is an ornery witch who cannot leave you be because you’re bonnier than any of the other ladies at court, and on top of that you do not have a perfect pedigree. She thinks her birth status gives her the right to bully you.”

  “I cannot believe the Duchess of Marlborough tolerates her. She never chides the countess for anything.” Maddie took another enormous bite.

  “Mayhap they are cousins.”

  She hadn’t thought about that possibility. All the gentry seemed to be related in one way or another. “But why is Blackiron playing into her hands?”

  “He’s a buffoon if you ask me. He’s a Whig as well, and the Whigs have fallen out of favor with the queen. If they can reveal the Jacobites in the Tory Party, the Whigs think it will strengthen their position in Parliament.”

  “But what does that have to do with me?”

  After taking a bite, he pointed his spoon her way. “Och, I think you’re being used as a pawn to get to your father.”

  “And now I’m not even there for them to tread upon.” Maddie ran her spoon around the bowl, scooping up the last dregs. “Woefully, with Lady Saxonhurst’s allegations, the Whigs have lost their conduit to my father.”

  Aiden looked to his empty bowl and smacked his lips. “Well, we can only hope the truth will prevail. Until then, we must ride.”

  She eyed him as Agnes often did her. “You’d best allow me to have a look at your leg first.”

  “Nay.” He batted his hand through the air. “Not here.”

  Feeling almost alive after a bowl of meaty pottage and ale, they were once again on their way, looking over their shoulders to ensure they still weren’t being followed. With food in her belly, Maddie’s fear of being chased ebbed into exhaustion. Everything hurt, from her grazed shoulder to her bum from spending hours seated across Aiden’s lap. Though she couldn’t deny that having his arms wrapped around her as he maneuvered the reins made her melt a little on the inside. And why shouldn’t she allow herself to relax into him? There was naught else to do, and he hadn’t complained—in fact, he’d even encouraged her to lean back.

  She closed her eyes, surrounded by brawny male. Swirls of yearning weighed her breasts. Would the entire journey to Stonehaven be fraught with unfulfilled longing? It seemed the more she resisted her yearnings, the fiercer they grew. Helpless to stop her silent desire from flooding to her nether parts, she rested her head against his chest and sighed.

  “Mm.” His deep voice rumbled against her back. He didn’t need to utter another sound for Maddie to know desire coursed through him as well. Though only desire of a carnal nature.

  Lust, not love.

  Maddie crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders to will away the intensity of her feelings. Must she continue to remind herself that what they’d once shared had been merely pleasure of the flesh—the profession of fallen women? Never again would she succumb to hot passion without love, without marriage.

  “How is your leg feeling?” she asked, trying to sound indifferent.

  He shifted against her back. “It bloody hurts.”

  “You should have allowed me to look at it when we stopped in Wooler.”

  His shoulder nudged hers almost playfully. “And you should have allowed me to look at your scratch.”

  “It doesn’t hurt overmuch.”

  But there hadn’t been time.

  And she was still in trouble—and might be in hot water for the rest of her days.

  At dusk about four hours later, they crossed the River Tweed into the burgh of Coldstream.

  Aiden inclined his lips to Maddie’s ear. “We’re in Scotland, lass.” The words made gooseflesh pebble across her skin.

  She looked up into his green eyes and her stomach flipped. Why couldn’t the man have eyes of steel-cold gray like his heart? Moreover, the stubble that had grown in since they’d left London made him look incredibly dangerous—and, to Maddie’s chagrin, all the more desirable.

  Forcing herself to glance away, she swept her gaze across the wee burgh. “I do not ever again want to leave Scotland’s soil.”

  “Agreed, though we still must prove your innocence.”

  Such words made the chill in the air even frostier. Maddie rubbed her arms. “’Tis growing cold.”

  “Aye, and neither of us has a cloak.”

  “Even a woolen blanket would do.” She chanced looking at him again. Merciful fairies, how her lips pursed with want to kiss him—even if only once. “Have you given any thought as to where we’ll stop for the night?”

  He pointed up the road. “I’m hoping the alehouse up yonder has rooms to let.”

  “An inn?”

  “Mm-hmm. I still need to send a missive to your da, and as you said, we’re not equipped to ride through the night.”

  “Do you think ’tis safe to stop so close to the border?”

  “I reckon we’ll find out. Besides, even if Captain Child reported us to the Alnwick sheriff, he’d have no jurisdiction in Scotland.”

  “What about the army?”

  “Och, that’s a different story.”

  “So they’re probably coming after us?”

  He gave her a sober arch of a single eyebrow. “Most likely, though I’d wager they’re at least a half day’s ride behind.”

  “And they’ll have to stop to rest their horses as well?”

  He winked. “I’m banking on it, lass.”

  After they left the horse at the stable yard with orders for the stable boy to give him an extra ration of oats, Maddie followed Aiden across the street. A shingle outside the alehouse read “Castle Inn.”

  “I’ll do the talking,” Aiden said over his shoulder, then held the door for Maddie.

  Inside the patronage was small—a few scraggly-looking men seated at the bar and a pair seated at a table.

  A stout woman came from around the bar—as solid as a mighty oak, with a square jaw. She would fit right in at Stonehaven. “Have a wee peek at what the wind brought in. You pair look as if you’ve been through the wars.”

  “Nay.” Aiden stood a little straighter and hooked his thumbs in his doublet lapels, while his gaze swept across the hall. “My wife and I have been traveling for days. You wouldn’t happen to have a room and a warm meal?”

  The barmaid eyed him from head to toe. “A guinea for the room, sixpence and a quarter for two meals. But you’ll have to sign the guest log.”

  He gave a nod. “Thank you, Mrs.…?”

  “Swinton. And you are?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Grant from Inverness.” The lie rolled off his tongue as i
f he’d repeated it a hundred times. He dug in his sporran and handed the woman the coins.

  “Inverness? My, you are a long way from home.” Mrs. Swinton carefully counted the change in her palm. “I could send up a warm bath for another two pennies.”

  Maddie shook her head. “That will not—”

  Aiden squeezed her shoulder. “A bath would be lovely, thank you.”

  Maddie shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “Well then, if you could please send up a salve as well, matron.”

  Aiden gaped at her as if she’d uttered a curse, holding up a finger to indicate silence.

  Shaking her head, Maddie ignored his admonishment. She had a tongue to speak for herself. “Mr. Grant caught his leg on some yellow gorse, and I’m afraid he received a nasty scrape to his calf.”

  Mrs. Swinton glanced down to his blood-soaked hose. “Goodness, that does look nasty.”

  Aiden pressed his palm in Maddie’s back. “Och, it just needs a bit of cleaning up and ’twill be good as new.”

  “I reckon you should listen to your wife.” The innkeeper bustled toward the stairway. “Follow me, and we’ll set you to rights.”

  At the top of the stairs, she led them down a passageway while old, dry floorboards creaked beneath their feet.

  The woman pulled a ring of keys from her belt. “The bed has fresh linens, and there’s a stack of firewood beside the hearth.” She opened the door. “I’ll have the lad bring up your meal before your bath, shall I?”

  “Aye, thank you, matron.” Aiden bowed as Maddie walked inside.

  Maddie stood in the center of the chamber and stared. The room was nothing if not stark. One narrow bed sat shoved against the wall. The hearth was small, with an iron screen. In one corner was a wee table with two rickety wooden chairs, and under the window was an even smaller table with a bowl and ewer atop.

  “I could take your overskirt and mend it,” said Mrs. Swinton. “Have it returned to you by the morning.”

  Maddie glanced to her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

  “Thank you,” said Aiden. “Would you please send up a needle and a spool of thread?”

  The woman shrugged. “Very well, if that’s what you would prefer.”

  After Mrs. Swinton closed the door, Maddie moved her fists to her hips. “There’s only one bed,” she whispered.

  Aiden unbuckled his sword belt. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  She nodded. “But what about the bath? Surely you’re not planning to bathe?”

  “As you noticed, I need to clean my wound. If it would cause Your Ladyship too much consternation, then I suggest you keep your back turned. Though…”

  “What?”

  “After your dip in the sea and crawling under brush and then riding all day, you might feel better if you cleaned up a bit as well.”

  Her gaze drifted downward to his abdomen, then lower. A curl of desire coiled deep inside her—that place where only Aiden could satisfy her longing. ’Twas a potent fire stirring, reminding her of the scorching-hot passion they’d once shared, and it made her gaze linger. But no, she couldn’t allow him to take advantage of her yet again, no matter how heroic he’d been. Snapping herself from her moment of insanity, she looked him in the eye. “So now you believe you have the right to lord it over me? Do you think because of your undeniably handsome face that I will bend to your sexual whims this time?”

  Drawing his eyebrows together, he took a step back.

  Throwing up her hands, she in turn stepped nearer. “You rescued me from certain death, and for that I reckon I owe you my life, but parading around the countryside like we are married?” She harrumphed. “’Tis ghastly.”

  His jaw dropped, those green eyes flashing with ire. “What would you have me do? Firstly, ’tis a good cover for us. Secondly, if I paid for two chambers, there would be no way for me to protect you—not to mention, the coin in my sporran isn’t going to last forever. And lastly, if anyone caught wind of an unwed maid traveling with a roguish marquis, it wouldn’t be my reputation ruined forever.”

  “Ugh. I ken all that, but are you not taking things a bit far?” She stamped her foot, throwing out her hands. “You ordered a bath and suggested I have one, too. Do you plan on bathing fully clothed?”

  “I—”

  “I believe you have overstepped the bounds of propriety.”

  “But—”

  She shook her finger under his chin. “Let me make it perfectly clear, Your Lordship. I am no man’s whore.” She sneezed.

  “Bless you.” He pulled a kerchief from his sleeve and handed it to her. “I also want to make it clear that I have never thought ill of you.”

  She swiped the cloth across her nose. “Well then you are one of the few at Whitehall.”

  “All anyone needs to do is take a wee bit of time to come to know you.” Cocking his head, he stepped even closer. “In fact, I think very highly of you.”

  She blinked. His face looked stone-cold sober. But how could he think her anything but a tart after what they’d done? She’d gone to his chamber at night and had taken part in unspeakable things with him. How could he look at her and not think of their impropriety? Truly, at one time she’d thought he harbored the same emotion for her that she did for him, but his recent behavior at Whitehall had proved her hopes to be those of a fool. She stamped her foot. “And I’ll not have you play me for a simpleton.”

  “I would never even consider doing such a thing.”

  She sneezed again.

  “See,” he said. “Another reason I ordered the bath was because you were chilled to the bone earlier this day. My mother always said a bath keeps the sniffles at bay.”

  Maddie wiped her nose one more time, folded the damp bits inside the kerchief, and handed it back to him. “I will not strip bare in front of you.”

  He stuffed the cloth back into his sleeve and studied her.

  Goodness gracious, why did he have to look at her like that? She knew he didn’t love her, and she’d told him she wouldn’t be played for a fool. But he still had the most confounded effect on her insides.

  “I…” Reaching out, he grasped her hand. The look in his eyes was unreadable. A storm brewed beneath his heavy lids as if he were angry or warring with conflicting emotions. “God bless it, Maddie, I owe you an apology.”

  “For wha—” Before she could finish, he pulled her into his powerful arms and covered her mouth with his lips. His tongue slipped inside, tasting like the wildness of the sea, fevered with hot passion. He devoured her as she stood helpless against her own need for him.

  Overwhelmed by the shock of his advances, Maddie’s knees turned to wobbly mush. When she next inhaled, Aiden’s scent filled her nostrils like a drug. Spicy, masculine musk made her swoon. The strength of his embrace was the only thing supporting her as her thighs trembled.

  Clinging to him and rising on her toes, she pushed into his hard maleness, her breasts flush against his chest, aching for his hands to caress them. As he trailed his lips down her neck, Maddie sucked in a deep breath to try to clear her swooning head. It felt so good, but she had to make him stop. In a blink she gained a modicum of sanity. “I-I cannot allow you to seduce me.”

  Aiden stilled his lips and inhaled.

  Seduce? Why the bloody hell did she accuse me of seducing her? I do not want a one-sided affair.

  Hell’s fire, if his cock grew any harder, he’d come right there, pushing himself into her hip. And she’d melted like butter in his arms. She’d kissed him back with every bit of pent-up passion he’d been restraining for sennights. And she felt so damned good with her body pressed against his. Soft, pliable breasts were still molded into his chest, the ridge of her mons brushing his cock right where he wanted to be stroked.

  His gaze slid to the bed. All she had to do was say yes and he’d carry her there. In seconds he could raise her skirts and slide inside her wet core. Bury himself deep inside. Make love to her as he’d dreamed of doing every goddamned night si
nce he’d sailed from Whitehall for the war.

  But she must want me as much as I want her.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Your supper, sir.”

  “Come.” Aiden dropped his hands and stared into Maddie’s eyes.

  Filled with the same pained expression he’d seen many times, she slowly drew her fingers over her lips—lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

  Had he been too aggressive, too brutally impassioned with her?

  The lad placed a tray on the table. “Shall I start the fire, sir?”

  Aiden didn’t even look his way. “Thank you.”

  Maddie broke the intensity of their connection by shifting her gaze to the table. “We should eat.”

  “Aye.” He held the chair for her and gestured with his palm. “M’lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  After Aiden took his seat, the lad stacked a piece of wood on the crackling fire, then faced them. “The kettles are on the boil for your bath, sir.”

  Aiden glanced to Maddie and considered canceling the bath. But truth be told, his leg ached as if he’d been sliced open with a rasp. “My thanks.”

  “Do not forget the salve as well,” Maddie said.

  “Straightaway, madam,” said the lad before he slipped out the door.

  Lady Magdalen broke off a bit of bread and popped it in her mouth. “I could grow accustomed to meals delivered to my bedchamber.”

  Aiden couldn’t help but snort.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A big wooden tub sat in the middle of the chamber, wafting steam. Removing his doublet, Aiden looked to Maddie. “I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  She turned her back. “Go ahead then. Don’t mind me.”

  He removed his shoes and untied his flashes, then gingerly pulled his hose away from the wound. Bloody hell, a half-inch deep gash three inches long looked like mincemeat. Worse, it was encrusted with grime from the trail. Wincing, he straightened and unfastened his belt, sending his kilt to the floorboards. After whipping off his shirt, he stood totally naked, his back warmed by the fire while he gazed at Maddie, willing her to turn around and rush into his arms.