“Ye dinna give me a chance to explain.”
The predatory gleam shining in his eyes unnerved her.
She’d seen that look once in the eerie gaze of a Scottish wildcat roaming the woods. Except, she’d become the prey and stood as much chance of escape as a defenseless rabbit.
Mouth gone dry, her heart beat an erratic rhythm.
Whiskers shadowed his jaw and combined with his disheveled black hair, gave him a rakish, swashbuckler’s mien.
What woman could withstand such irresistible temptation?
Not I.
Moments ago, she’d been freezing, now giddy warmth suffused her.
Presenting her back to Hugh, she laid her undergarments atop the bed’s scarlet coverlet. She took her time arranging them to her satisfaction.
With composure she didn’t feel, she faced him and released a tiny, surprised squeak.
Scarcely three feet separated them.
Mon Dieu, he’d crept up behind her.
Her gaze lingered on his beautiful mouth for a fraction.
A devilish smile on his lips, his dark gaze hovered on her bosom far longer.
Glancing down, she almost groaned aloud. Her nipples, pebble hard, strained against her gown, begging for his touch.
Thank goodness she could blame the turgid tips on coldness.
Giselle cleared her throat and folded her arms, hiding the evidence of her arousal. “You shouldn’t be here, as you well know. My bathwater and soup will be arriving any moment . . .”
His gaze roved her tidy chamber before settling on her once more. “Nae, they won’t. I sent word ye’d ring when ye wanted them.”
Nervousness gave way to irritation at his interference.
“I want them now.” Giselle jutted her chin upward. “How presumptuous and brazen of you.”
He closed the distance between them. “Aye, when it comes to ye, lass, I’ve found subtlety ineffective and a waste of me time.”
His arms snaked out, entrapping her in his solid embrace. “Ye see, I canna sleep without ye invading me dreams.”
Him too?
He nuzzled behind her ear, and Giselle’s legs trembled, the knees going soft as warm custard.
She gripped his rocklike forearms to stay upright.
“I canna eat without imagining what yer luscious lips taste like.”
Oh, dear God.
His lips traveled lower, blazing a scorching trail the length of her neck, until he came to the juncture of her throat.
She angled her head to give him better access, already addicted to his touch.
“I canna see ye, day after day, wanting ye so badly, I’m beset by a fierce ache that disnae go away, ye ken?”
Oui, I ken.
He thrust his groin into her belly.
The rigid evidence of that truth pressed into her soft flesh.
“Hugh . . .” She struggled to speak, overcome by dizzying sensations. “I do know. It’s . . . It’s the same for me.”
He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but did he love her? Could he love her, the wife of his dearest friend?
She placed her hands on either side of his face, and rising on her toes, kissed him with the love and adoration she’d stifled for so long. After all, today was Valentine’s Day. What better day to confess her feelings?
“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth.
There, she’d said the words aloud for the first time, though she’d uttered them in her mind a thousand times over.
Hugh stiffened and leaned away, his large, calloused hands gripping her shoulder. His scorching gaze searched her face with intense earnestness.
She wanted to weep.
“Ye do, lass? Ye love me?”
Hope tinged disbelief reduced his voice to a gravely rasp.
She smiled, tears blurring her vision. “Oui, I love you.”
Hugh crushed her to him, his mouth taking hers with such reverence, she’d no doubt he loved her, too.
“Giselle, I’ve loved ye for so verra long.”
She touched his face, searching his eyes. “If only I’d known.”
“How could ye ken?” He rested his forehead against hers. “Shame and guilt tormented me for loving ye, the wife of me friend, and I ken ye blamed me for his death.”
“Non, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hugh, and I stopped blaming you a long time ago. Liam knew the risk of venturing onto the loch. He loved us both so much.” She laid her hand on Hugh’s heart. “I think he would approve.”
Hugh covered her hand with his.
She offered him half-smile, more content than she’d been in a very long while. Well, at least emotionally satisfied. Her passion was another story.
The bed loomed, a giant beacon of relentless temptation.
Hugh held Giselle in a tight embrace, as if afraid she’d leave. Whispering words of love, he kissed her hair and stroked her back.
Arms wrapped around his waist, she indulged in a wanton daydream involving Hugh naked on her bed and a generous portion of Devonshire cream.
A log crashed in the fireplace, disturbing her sensual reverie.
Zut.
Chieftainess responsibilities could not be postponed any longer. Her head resting against his chest, Giselle pressed her palms into his back. “I suppose I ought to ring for my bathwater. There is still the rest of the Valentine celebration to oversee.”
She smiled into the hair tickling her nose. “I don’t know any other people who take the holiday quite as seriously as you Scots.”
Hugh kissed the top of her head, his hands caressing her buttocks.
Mon Dieu, if he doesn’t stop . . .
“Our Valentine celebrations be rather mild compared to Lupercalia.”
“Lupercalia?” Giselle angled her head upward. “I’m not familiar with that holiday.”
He traced her jaw with his forefinger, the roughness of his callouses, oddly arousing.
The back of her knees bumped against the mattress, and she swallowed a groan. Heaven help her. It had been so long since she lay with a man.
Mère de Dieu, she’d give her jewels for a distraction. She needed one before she ravished Hugh this very moment.
That holiday. What had he called it? “Lupercalia. What is it?”
“An ancient Roman festival, quite risqué at that. The men traipsed about naked as robins and,” he swatted her bottom, “spanked young maidens with whips.”
Giselle’s gaze collided with his amused one.
“Mon Dieu! Why?”
He patted her derriere again, his hand lingering to squeeze a buttock.
“They thought it improved fertility.”
Hugh winked, then laughed outright.
She gaped at him, horrified.
“That’s barbaric.”
“Aye.”
“And completely ludicrous.”
“Aye, I canna argue with ye, though I dinna think running about naked patting yer bum would be all that awful.”
Giselle giggled and swatted his chest.
Hugh drew her into his arms once again. “Will ye sprinkle bay leaves with rose water and put them on yer pillow tonight, lass, so ye dream of me?”
God’s wounds, if she had her way, he would share her pillow tonight and every night hereafter.
His breath caressed her ear sending a delightful tremor along her nerves and woman’s center.
“Non. I’ve no need to see mon amour in a dream.”
She turned her lips to his and boldly pressed her mouth to their warm firmness.
He chuckled. “So, ye ken that legend, do ye?”
His expression grew serious, and he clasped her hands in his. “Will ye marry me, Giselle? Ye ken I love ye, and I love the laddie too, as if he was me own.”
“Oh, Hugh . . .” She wiped at the tears pooling in her eyes.
He caught one on her cheek with his thumb. “I ken how important that be to ye.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She grinned and threw her arms around his neck,
raining kisses on his stubbly jaw. “Today. Allez, let’s get married today!”
“Maman.”
The door latch wobbled up and down. Small fists pounded on the wood.
“Maman, open up. I had me nap. It be time for our picnic.”
Giselle hurried to let Ewan in. “Come in, chéri.”
She lifted him and turned to Hugh. “Ewan, Sir Hugh is to be your new père . . . your father.”
Hugh draped a muscled arm about her shoulders, and ruffled Ewan’s hair. “Your maman and I be wedding, laddie. Does that meet with yer approval?”
Ewan’s eyes rounded. He looked between Giselle and Hugh, a huge grin on his precious face. “Well, of course, ye have to get married. Ye met on the road, and Hugh picked up yer glove, too, Maman.”
He spread his small hands. “Every Scot kens that on Valentine’s Day, that means ye have to wed.”
The End
About the Author
Award winning, bestselling author, Collette Cameron, has a BS in Liberal Studies and a Master's in Teaching. Author of the Castle Brides series, Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series, and Conundrums of the Misses Culpeppers series, Collette writes Regency and Scottish historicals and makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and five mini-dachshunds. Mother to three and a self-proclaimed Cadbury Chocolate chocoholic, Collette loves a good joke, inspirational quotes, flowers, trivia, and all things shabby chic. You'll always find dogs, birds, quirky—sometimes naughty—humor, and a dash of inspiration in her novels.
Her motto for life? You can’t have too much chocolate, too many hugs, or too many
flowers.
She’s thinking about adding shoes to that list.
Also by Collette Cameron
THE VISCOUNT’S VOW
The Castle Brides series, Book 1
Soul Mate Publishing
Part Romani, part English noblewoman, Evangeline Caruthers is the last woman in England Ian Hamilton, the Viscount Warrick, could ever love—an immoral wanton responsible for his brother’s and father’s deaths. She thinks he’s a foul-tempered blackguard, who after setting out to cause her downfall, finds himself forced to marry her—snared in the trap of his own making.
When Vangie learns the marriage ceremony itself may have been a ruse, she flees to her gypsy relatives, declaring herself divorced from Ian under Romani law. He pursues her to the gypsy encampment, and when the handsome gypsy king offers to take Ian’s place in Vangie’s bed, jealousy stirs hot and dangerous.
At last, under a balmy starlit sky, Ian and Vangie breech the chasm separating them. Peril lurks though. Ian’s the last in his line, and his stepmother intends to dispose of the newlyweds so her daughter can inherit his estate. Only by trusting each other can they overcome scandal and murderous betrayal.
Purchase THE VISCOUNT’S VOW
HIGHLANDER’S HOPE
The Castle Brides series, Book 2
She was the heiress determined to never marry.
Yvette Stapleton is wary of fortune hunting men and their false declarations of love. She’d rather become a spinster than imprisoned in the bonds of marriage. At first, she doesn’t recognize the dangerously handsome man who rescues her from assailants on London’s docks, but her reaction to Lord Sethwick’s kisses soon have her reconsidering her cynical views on matrimony.
He was the nobleman who vowed to make her his own.
Not a day has gone by that Ewan McTavish, Lord Sethwick and Laird of Craiglocky, hasn’t dreamed of the beauty he danced with two years ago; he’s determined to win her heart. On a mission to stop a War Office traitor, he unwittingly draws Yvette into deadly international intrigue. To protect her, he exploits Scottish Canon law to declare her his lawful wife—without benefit of a ceremony.
Yvette is furious upon discovering the irregular marriage is legally binding, though she never said, “I do.”
Purchase HIGHLANDER’S HOPE
THE EARL’S ENTICEMENT
The Castle Brides series, Book 3
Soul Mate Publishing
She won’t be tamed.
A fiery, unconventional Scot, Adaira Ferguson wears breeches, swears, and has no more desire to marry than she does to follow society’s dictates of appropriate behavior. She trusts no man with the secret she desperately protects.
He can’t forget.
Haunted by his past, Roark, the Earl of Clarendon, rigidly adheres to propriety, holding himself and those around him to the highest standards, no matter the cost. Betrayed once, he’s guarded and leery of all women.
Mistaking Roark for a known spy, Adaira imprisons him. Infuriated, he vows vengeance. Realizing her error, she’s appalled and releases him, but he’s not satisfied with his freedom. Roark is determined to transform Adaira from an ill-mannered hoyden to a lady of refinement.
He succeeds only to discover, he preferred the free-spirited Scottish lass who first captured his heart.
Purchase THE EARL’S ENTICEMENT
TRIUMPH AND TREASURE
Highlander Heather Romancing a Scot Series, Book 1
Soul Mate Publishing
A disillusioned Scottish gentlewoman.
Angelina Ellsworth once believed in love—before she discovered her husband of mere hours was a slave-trader and already married. To avoid the scandal and disgrace, she escapes to her aunt and uncle’s, the Duke and Duchess of Waterford. When Angelina learns she is with child, she vows she’ll never trust a man again.
A privileged English lord.
Flynn, Earl of Luxmoore, led an enchanted life until his father committed suicide after losing everything to Waterford in a wager. Stripped of all but his title, Flynn is thrust into the role of marquis as well as provider for his disabled sister and invalid mother. Unable to pay his father’s astronomical gambling loss, Flynn must choose between social or financial ruin.
When the duke suggests he’ll forgive the debt if Flynn marries his niece, Flynn accepts the duke’s proposal. Reluctant to wed a stranger, but willing to do anything to protect her babe and escape the clutches of the madman who still pursues her, Angelina agrees to the union. Can Flynn and Angelina find happiness and love in a marriage neither wanted, or is the chasm between them insurmountable?
Purchase TRIUMPH AND TREASURE
A KISS FOR MISS KINGSLEY
A Regency Short Story
Olivia Kingsley didn’t expect to fall in love and receive a secret marriage proposal two weeks into her first Season. However, one dance with Allen Wimpleton, heir to a viscountcy, and her fate is sealed. Or so she thinks until her eccentric and ailing father, unaware of Allen’s proposal, announces he’s moving the family to the Caribbean for a year. Unaware of her father’s ill health, Allen demands she choose—him or her father.
Heartbroken at his callousness, but thankful he’s revealed his true nature before she married him, Olivia turns her back on their love. The year becomes three, enough time for her broken heart to heal, and after her father dies, Olivia returns to England. Coming face to face with Allen, she realizes she never purged him from her heart and once again the flames of love ignite, but is it too late?
Purchase A KISS FOR MISS KINGSLEY
WAGERS GONE AWRY
Conundrums of the Misses Culpepper, Book 1
Brooke Culpepper resigned herself to spinsterhood when she turned down the only marriage proposal she’d likely ever receive to care for her family. After her father dies, a distant cousin inherits the estate and becomes their guardian but permits Brooke to act in his stead.
Heath, Earl of Ravensdale is none-too-pleased to discover five young women call the dairy farm he won and intends to sell, their home. Desperate, pauper poor, and with nowhere to go, Brooke proposes a wager. His stakes? The farm. Hers? Her virtue. The land holds no interest for Heath, but Brooke does and he accepts her challenge.
Brooke loses, and her devastation is compounded when the cousin arrives, intending to haul the Culpepper misses off to London. Heath astounds himself and propose
s in order to apply for guardianship of the other girls.
Does Brooke dare marry the handsome stranger who’d been bent on compromising her? Will Heath regret his impulsive gesture, or will unexpected love flourish?
This book can be read as a stand-alone, but is part of the Conundrums of the Misses Culpepper series.
Purchase WAGERS GONE AWRY
From the desk of Collette Cameron
Dear Reader,
I never set out to be a romance author. It’s true. I am, like you, first and foremost a devoted reader of romance. That’s what led to this journey. And what a journey it’s been!
It wasn’t until February 2011 that I decided to try my hand at this writing business. I soon found the creativity in me that kept trying to find other outlets was meant for one purpose.
Writing.
I confess, I’m a bit obsessed. All right, more than a bit. I have so many stories just waiting for me to put them on the page. And what makes it all worthwhile, is you! Yes, I write because I love to write, but I write romance because I want to impact lives, even if only for a few magical moments.
I’m so thrilled you chose to read Heart of a Highlander. This sweet Scottish tale is the love-story between Giselle McTavish and Hugh Ferguson. You meet them in Highlander’s Hope after they are married and have four children together.
Please consider telling other readers why you enjoyed this book by reviewing it on the site you purchased it or on Goodreads. Not only do I truly want to hear your thoughts, reviews are crucial for an author to succeed. Even if you only leave a line or two, I’d very much appreciate it.
Heart of a Highlander Page 3
