Highland Messenger (Scottish Strife Series Book 4)

by Dana D'Angelo

  “We’ll rest here.” Thom grabbed his bow and arrow from the side of his stallion. He nodded to Makolm and Mairead. “Set up the area while I hunt for some food,” he said.

  She saw a patch of red on his arm. “Your wound,” she gasped.

  “’Tis nothing.” He glanced down at his limb and shrugged.

  “I’ll have tae apply more yarrow powder tae the cut,” Mairead said stubbornly. Thom’s injury had reopened during the rescue. It was prudent that he didn’t exert himself, since she didn’t want him to fall unconscious again. They didn’t need any more delays.

  “I caused ye enough trouble,” Makolm jumped in. There was a guilty expression on his face, and it appeared as though he wanted to make amends. The scholar looked better, and aside from the slight bruise on his cheek, he was unhurt by the attackers. He walked over to Thom and put out his hand. “I likely dinnae have your mastery of the bow and arrow, but I’m sure that I can bring something back,” he said. “Mairead can tend tae your wound.”

  “Aye, let Makolm go hunt for game,” she said. Whether he was aware of it or not, his previous injury had weakened him significantly. And while he showed no signs of fatigue when he saved the scholar from his captors, the effort Thom exerted would catch up to him.

  Mairead was relieved when Thom shook his head and reluctantly relinquished his weapon. He walked over to the empty firepit and stared into the dead ashes. Likely he was thinking about his lover again. From what he said earlier, she recognized that he demanded revenge. But from the little she knew only death and destruction came from acts of vengeance. Even if Thom managed to annihilate Lester MacLeaburn, the man’s kinsmen would seek him out. Then the circle of revenge would resume for years or maybe even for centuries. And if he held on to his grudge, the hate and anger would eat him from the inside out. This wasn’t a hell that she wanted for anyone she knew.

  “I was thinking about our earlier conversation,” Mairead began. She indicated to his arm, and he stretched it for her to administer the medicine.

  He watched her as he waited for her to finish, although his expression was difficult to fathom. The silence between them stretched awkwardly, and she wondered if it was a good idea to broach the subject. The reality was that she had already started the topic, so she needed to persist. “If ye go ahead tae enact vengeance, ye might get hurt.” She held up her hand when he started to protest. “Let me finish. If by chance ye succeed in eliminating Lester MacLeaburn, do ye think that ye can bring Cristiona back from the grave?”

  His hands clenched into fists, displaying the whites of his knuckles.

  “Nay, she’ll be dead forevermore,” he said, his voice low. His jaw hardened. “Is there a point tae this conversation?” he asked, his tone clipped.

  “Forgive me for saying this as we’ve only been acquainted for a short while.” She knew that she had hit upon a sore spot. Twisting the fabric of her skirt, she was hesitant about whether she should continue. From what she observed, and from dealing with her own brothers, she knew that most Highland men were stubborn. But she had to tell the truth. “I — I care about ye,” she finally blurted out. “I dinnae want anything bad tae happen tae ye…”

  The glint faded from his eyes and his expression softened. Reaching over, he took her hand and squeezed it. “I wouldnae want anything tae happen tae ye either,” he said.

  Mairead glanced down at their joined hands, startled at the contact. His large hand clasped her small one as his thumb stroked along the base of her palm. Each tiny caress sent a stream of fiery heat to shoot up her arm.

  At the same time, her heart pounded in her chest, the rhythm so loud that she feared that he could hear it. He brought his thumb and forefinger to her chin, tilting it so that she met his gaze. When she looked into his depths, her breath caught in her throat. She licked her dry lips as all thoughts and reasons why she spoke to him fled her mind.

  As he watched her tongue flick across her lips, his pupils became dilated, and his hot gaze smoldered with desire and hunger. His long fingers stroked along her jaw, causing her heart to stop beating altogether. As if he was mesmerized by her, he slowly leaned forward until she felt the warm flutter of his breath on her mouth. Then he pressed an inch further, closing the gap between them. As their lips collided, liquid heat began to spread rapidly throughout her entire body. The wave of sensation swelled, and suddenly she felt as if she floated among the mountain mists.

  But then he pulled away. “Sorry, I shouldnae have kissed ye,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile.

  “Why did ye do it?” She drew back slightly and searched his face. Did she imagine the current that passed between them? Lifting her fingers to her mouth, she could still feel tingling there.

  “Perhaps I wanted tae.”

  He started to move away, but an impulse gripped her, and she grabbed him by the arm. “Perhaps I want ye tae continue.” Then before she lost her nerve, she quickly went on her tippy toes and kissed him back.

  Thom went still, shocked by her action. He continued to hesitate for a split second longer, as if he was undecided as to what he should do next. But then he seemed to make up his mind, and he lowered his head to graze his lips on hers. His large hands glided to her hips, circling them while her body molded against his hard planes.

  The brush of his lips felt strange yet familiar somehow. It was as light as air, but its impact was heavy and potent. Unable to keep herself steady, she swayed forward and fell against his hard chest. His sinewy arms snaked out and anchored her.

  Years ago she and Kila often discussed the act of kissing. Mairead suspected that it was pleasant, but that was all. She never knew that a mere kiss could make her body burn as hot as coals. In fact this was infinitely different from the first peck she received as a lass. At that time, a lad had done it at the urgings of his friends. However the kiss that Thom gave her was exquisite and powerful, and she wanted it to go on and on.

  Thom must have read her mind because his grip tightened, and the pressure of his mouth deepened. At the same time he pressed into her, forcing her backwards until she flattened against the trunk of a large hazel tree. As he continued to kiss her, she felt herself being lifted from the ground. Instinctively her legs wrapped around his waist. Her eyes flew open when she felt his unmistakable hardness cradled between her legs. But his lips trailed down to her collarbone, spreading heat to the sensitive area. The sensation took her breath away, and it felt as if everything inside her body had turned to mush. Leaning the back of her head on the tree trunk, she allowed it to support her. It was impossible to think. The only thing that Mairead could focus on was the male, virile strength that enveloped her. She inhaled deeply, but this only caused her to take in more of the thrilling scent of leather and man. Her fingers threaded through his coarse hair as she allowed a small moan to escape. The pleasure she felt grew, and soon it became overwhelming, intoxicating and almost unbearable. Suddenly she wanted his mouth on hers once again. Tugging at his hair, she urged him to come back up.

  “Please,” she cried even though she didn’t know what it was that she desired.

  But Thom knew. He responded to the desperation in her voice, and moved to capture her lips in one smooth motion, his hunger barely contained. A flush of scorching heat blazed along her skin, the intensity and power of it making her gasp. As her mouth parted, he pushed his tongue into the opening, eagerly exploring every inch of her. And her hunger awakened as she savored the smoky hint of whisky on his tongue. She could hear panting and moans, and belatedly realized that it was she who made the sounds. Her breasts felt heavy and achy while her nipples were taut. A liquid fire also burned between her legs. Instinctively she wanted to get closer to him, to feel his arousal against her flesh. Her body already knew what it desperately wanted, and it wanted Thom.

  His hand went to her leg, pulling the fabric of her gown up to her waist. She squeezed her eyes shut as she allowed all the sensations to come at once — the relentless yearning that swirled within her core
, his rough, hot palm gliding across her thigh, and the cool air that brushed across her bared skin. She didn’t want to think. Every feeling that Thom aroused in her brought about more and more pleasure, and she found herself kissing him back with equal ardor.

  She wanted the exhilarating feelings to continue forever, but then the sound of Makolm’s cheerful whistling pierced through her cloud of desire.

  Her eyes flew open. For a split second she and Thom stared at each other, as they both realized the jeopardy that they were in. In the next instant, Thom slackened his grip, and allowed her to slide down the length of his body.

  When she was steady and her feet were firmly on the ground, she adjusted her gown. Taking a shaky breath, she stepped back, and turned around in time to see Makolm entering the campsite.

  “I caught some rabbits.” He raised his arm in the air, showing off the game. “I tell ye. We’re going tae feast tonight!”

  Chapter 13

  The scent of roasted meat lingered in the air. As Makolm promised, they ate well. The scholar’s slender build masked his abilities as a hunter. But while he and the lass were both helpful in their own ways, Thom was glad that they would soon be gone from his life.

  A movement caught the side of Thom’s eye, and when he shifted, he saw Mairead. Again. It annoyed him that he couldn’t get her out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. Earlier, he had allowed his control to slip, and he almost did something that he would regret. But everywhere he looked, she was there. Logic told him to ignore her, but he couldn’t resist watching her. At the moment the lass sat on a flat rock. A portion of her long hair cascaded over her slender shoulders. One elbow was bent, and she rested her chin on the base of her palm, unaware that anyone observed her. Most women with her fair looks flaunted it. But Mairead was different. There were smudges of dirt along one side of her cheek, and her kirtle was little more than rags, however none of these blemishes detracted from her natural beauty. Throughout their journey he tried his best to overlook her allure, but as the days turned into nights, he found it impossible to ignore her loveliness. On several occasions, he found his regard settling on to her, and each time he was forced to tear his gaze away. She was too tempting by far. If they were in a different circumstance, and if she wasn’t his friend’s sister, then he wouldn’t have minded making love to her. The kiss they shared hours ago was proof of the passion and desire contained in her lush body. His cock started to awaken at the hot memory. But he knew that it was foolish to think along those lines. If only he had more whisky to dull his senses, he could then forget about how desirable she was. Sadly he had already finished the flask of alcohol. Staring straight ahead, he did his best to ignore the throbbing ache underneath his kilt.

  “’Twas my fault that ye were taken captive and Thom was injured,” she said, her soft words cutting into his thoughts. Thom blinked and zeroed his focus on the pretty lass. She turned her head, giving him a view of her delicate profile. Even at this angle, he could sense her somber mood. She fixed her eyes on the fire, watching as the fat that had dropped off the evening’s meal continued to hiss in the embers. They spoke in hushed tones, but they were unaware that he could hear every word they said.

  “If I had stayed home as Thom suggested, then neither of ye would have been hurt,” she said, her voice filled with anguish.

  “It wasnae your fault, lass,” Makolm said, pausing in the act of shifting a burning log with a stick.

  “But ye were both maimed!” She peered miserably into the fire. “And then Thom started bleeding again… What if he never recovers from his wound?”

  “The yarrow powder has sufficiently healed him.” Makolm lifted his stick and leaned it against a stone. “His initial fall from his horse was due tae the excessive loss of blood. He should have told us about his injury, and all this could have been avoided.”

  “I’m awake, sae ye can stop talking about me,” Thom said, interrupting them before they resumed talking about the incident in Greenbrae village. He hated to be reminded of the unfortunate event. At that period his priority was to keep Mairead safe. In hindsight, it was a mistake not to address the cut. He pushed himself to a standing position. “I only have a scratch.”

  “Well, that scratch on your arm still bleeds,” Mairead pointed out.

  “He’ll heal,” Makolm assured her. “What we need tae be concerned about is how we’ll prevent future attacks on your person.”

  “How do ye propose that?” Thom asked.

  “Clearly the lass’ beauty tempts men. The question is how do we stop this temptation?” Makolm picked up a rock and rolled it in his palm, frowning as he pondered the dilemma. After a short while his movements abruptly ceased. “I have an idea.” He dropped the rock. Turning to them, his eyes were bright with excitement. “The men willnae be tempted if Mairead is in a disguise.”

  “In a disguise?” she repeated, her tone perplexed.

  “The problem is that ye are a bonny lass, and ye draw too much attention tae yourself.” He took off his hat and crushed it in his hand. Tilting his head, he studied her with a critical eye. “We’ll just tuck your hair in this cap, and dress ye up as a lad. This way, ye will attract less notice, and we willnae have tae deal with this kind of trouble again.”

  “I agree with Makolm. She can wear my kilt.” Both of them turned to Thom, and watched him with a mixture of wariness and astonishment. Likely they thought that he would challenge the scholar’s plan. But Thom was willing to sacrifice his kilt, and allow Mairead to wear it. If she dressed as a male, he might even forget the searing kiss they shared earlier, or how good her soft body felt molded against his.

  “Are ye nae wearing your kilt?” Makolm’s brows knitted in confusion as he eyed the plaid that Thom wore.

  “I have another one in my saddlebag. If it will help disguise the lass, then she can make use of it.”

  “That’s generous of ye,” Mairead said.

  Thom got up and went to his saddlebag to retrieve the plaid and an extra belt.

  Handing her the objects, she took it and held them awkwardly in her hands. “I’ve watched my brothers fold their plaids, however I’ve never done it myself.”

  “I’ll pleat it for ye while ye undress.” Makolm stepped forward and took the items from her. The two men turned their backs to allow her privacy.

  “I’m finished,” Mairead said a few minutes later. She had taken off her kirtle and arisaid, and stood only in her leine. The shirt was similar to the one Thom wore underneath his kilt, although it was longer and fell to her ankle. While the design of the gown was modest, it did little to hide her generous curves. Her breasts were high, and while he tried not to notice, he saw the shadow of her nipples through the thin fabric. He glanced away, the intriguing sight starting to take his thoughts down a dangerous slope.

  “This willnae do,” Makolm said, frowning. “I’ll have tae trim it. Would ye mind?”

  She shook her head.

  Taking her dagger, Makolm slit through the linen slightly above her knees. Then taking the torn section, he ripped the gown, leaving her shapely calves bare. He then set the plaid on the ground, and began to pleat it. Once he was finished with the task, he slipped the belt underneath the tartan.

  “Ye will have tae lay down on the plaid, lass,” he said, indicating to the careful setup on the ground.

  “Take that one side, and fold it over your body.” She did as she was instructed. “Guid, now fasten the belt around your waist and then stand up.”

  “She’ll also need tae clasp the excess fabric tae her shoulder.” Thom took out the circular brooch from his sporran and tossed it to Makolm.

  The scholar attached the brooch onto the plaid. Soon the great kilt enveloped her body, concealing all traces of her feminine form. Makolm then gathered her thick hair, twisting it until the mass rested on top of her head. Taking the hat, he secured it over the gleaming mass. He turned her around, inspecting his handiwork.

  “There’s something missing.” His brows drew
together in concentration. “Och, I ken what tae do.” He bent down and scooped earth from the ground and smeared more dirt on her forehead and cheeks. “That’s better,” he said, grinning. “Ye now look like a proper lad.”

  Mairead twirled around, and the smile on Makolm’s face faded. “We have tae work on getting ye tae move like a lad.”

  “But how is it different from moving like a lass?” she asked.

  “Trust me, there’s a lot of difference,” he laughed. “Watch me; I’ll demonstrate.” He walked in a straight line.

  “I fail tae see the difference.”

  Thom let out an amused grunt. “What he means tae tell ye is that ye shouldnae roll your hips when ye walk,” he said. “Instead ye should swagger a wee bit since laddies are apt tae do this.”

  “That’s right,” Makolm nodded his head eagerly. “Tae be a man, ye have tae stand, talk, sit, and breathe like one.”

  “That disnae tell me much,” she said.

  Makolm placed his hands to his hips and shook his head in frustration. He started to turn back to her when his regard fell on Thom. Suddenly he grinned. “Take a look at our friend there,” he said, gesturing to the messenger. “He’s a guid example tae watch. Notice how he casually leans back, and how his legs fall apart. Even though he’s at rest, there’s bold masculinity and power in his mannerism. Ye would do well tae emulate him.”

  “All right.” Mairead flattened her lips, determined to try her best. If putting on a disguise was the optimal course of action, then she needed to do it. Sitting down on the ground, she attempted to mirror Thom’s demeanor.