Christmas in the Highlands: Anthology with 2 Stories

by Madelyn Hill

  “Thank you,” he said when she was done torturing him. He maneuvered onto his back and tried to catch his breath. His strength was gone.

  “‘Tisn’t me you need to thank, lad.” She grinned and winked. “Gather his morning meal.”

  The lass left the chamber and quickly returned with porridge.

  He swatted at Brae’s hand when she tried to feed him. “How long?”

  The older woman frowned. “For what?” She waved away the serving lass.

  He swallowed, his throat still parched. “I feel like I’ve been here a fortnight.”

  She laughed. “Nay, just over five days.”

  “Five days.” He struggled to rise, despite the pain and fatigue. What a blasted fool he was. He’d never been abed this long, even with worse injuries.

  Brae set a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. “Stay in bed.”

  “You’ve tended over me enough.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “Twasn’t me, lad.”

  He narrowed his gaze as he stood, then reached for the wall to steady himself. After he caught his breath, Cam demanded, “Who?”

  “Och, lad,” she said with an exasperated look on her face. “Use the mind God gave you.”

  Was it Fiona, whispering stories of the youth as she bathed his forehead with cool water? Was it her soft touch and even softer curves he’d felt?

  “Aye,” Brae said when he widened his eyes. “The lass nearly wore herself out tending over you. Wouldn’t rest until Malcolm came and yelled the rafters down.”

  She’d nursed him back to health. The woman whose stomach churned at the sight of blood. And while she tended the elders, sickness wasn’t something she favored helping with. “I must go to her.”

  The auld woman stood before him with her arms crossed over her chest. “You need to rest.”

  “But—”

  She held up her hand. “Cease vexing me, lad. I’ll send for her.”

  Once she left the chamber, Cam sat on the edge of his bed. Fiona had tended him? The dulcet tone of her voice still resonated in his mind. ‘Twas as if an angel had shared the most beautiful of stories as his body healed and the pain had begun to lessen. It almost seemed the heat of her touch remained. Or was it merely his imagination wishing it were so?

  He grinned at the thought of Fiona sitting at his side, tending him. How he longed for someone to take care of, who would in turn care for him. A wife. A lover. The mother of his future bairns.

  Children with her bewitching green eyes and that grin, half vexed and half humored. Lads and lasses who worked hard and were determined. Aye, determined to drive him mad, he imagined.

  With a quick shake of his head, Cam rubbed his stubbly chin and looked at the door.

  Waiting for her to enter.

  Waiting for the woman he loved.

  Chapter 9

  Mal filled a glass with wine, took a sip and then handed it to Rossalyn. The glance between them made Fiona’s heart ache for such a love, a connection.

  “Come, Fiona,” Mal said. “Drink some wine. Enjoy, for we will be celebrating Christmas soon.” He wiggled his brows. “And our Cam is on the mend.”

  Cheers rang out and she glanced wistfully at the tree festooned with candles and balls of mistletoe.

  Aye, Christmas.

  Och, she didn’t understand what was bothering her. ‘Twas as if something was missing.

  Or someone.

  A wide-eyed serving girl rushed over. “You must come, Fiona,” she said with a panicky voice.

  She stood, nearly knocking the table from the dais. “Is he . . . is—”

  The lass pulled at her arm. “I ken naught. Lillian told me Brae said you must come. Now.”

  Fiona raced to his chamber, bumping into anyone who stood in her path. The pounding of her heart was deafening in her own ears. Please God, she prayed. She stumbled to a stop at the door, gripping her hands together. Painful breaths rushed from her mouth as she tried to gulp in air. She couldn’t swallow past the tears clogging her throat. She’d never said the words. Never told him after she’d been so cruel.

  “‘Tis time you’ve come,” Brae said as she approached from down the hall. Her drawn face was too serious and fear gripped Fiona’s heart once again.

  Tears filled her eyes. “Is he—is he—?”

  “Och, lass.” The auld woman patted her arm. “Go and see him.”

  Shoving the door open, dread had Fiona dragging her feet as she approached his bed. No amount of might could make her eyes look further. She closed them tightly.

  “Fiona?”

  Her eyes flew open as her gaze snapped to the bed. There lay Cam, propped up against pillows, his chest bare, sporting bruises and bandages.

  “Cam!” She launched herself into his arms.

  His strong arms wrapped around her, held her tight. She inhaled deeply and smiled.

  Aye, home.

  Fiona pulled back and looked at the man. A good man. One who helped all without question. A man who’d let the spoiled lass of her youth win, just to see her joy. “Am I hurting you?”

  He grinned and his eyes flashed with a devilish gleam. “Nay.”

  Her heart soared.

  “Mayhap a wee bit.” He moved over in the small bed and she perched on the end.

  “I’m sorry!”

  As he smoothed her hair from her face, she whispered, “I thought . . . I thought you’d . . . I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Nay, my love. I am on the mend because of you. Brae said you stayed with me the entire time.”

  She ducked her gaze. “Aye.”

  “Why? Why, Fiona?” He spoke quietly with wonder and a trace of humor in his tone.

  “I love you,” she blurted.

  Cam laughed. “I ken.”

  She drew back with a pout. Cam bent to her and kissed her temple. “Nay, do not be vexed.” He brushed her hair from her brow. “I kenned you loved me when you insisted on nursing me through the night.” His smiled wavered. “‘Twas dear, you ken. And when I woke, there was something in my mind, memories of a lass sleeping beside me.”

  Her skin flushed. She looked into his eyes. “You remembered?”

  Cam kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye. And Fiona, I never want to spend a night without you at my side.”

  “Cam,” she whispered.

  “Be mine, Fiona.”

  Tears welled. “Aye.”

  He cupped her face with his strong hands. Hands she knew would keep them steady as they wed, welcomed bairns, and grew old together.

  He pulled her close, kissed her. Heat raced through her as she gazed at him. Tiny lines fanned around his smiling eyes. Falling into the love shining from within him, Fiona pulled him closer and slanted her mouth against his.

  He growled and rolled her onto her back. Without parting their lips, Cam smoothed his hand over her shoulder, along her side. She shivered at the pleasure his touch wrought. Her heart pounded with anticipation and excitement.

  “Cam, your injuries.”

  Desire darkened his gaze and tensed the line of his jaw. “‘Twould hurt more if you stopped.”

  Cam continued to explore her body with his strong hands. The rough calluses on his fingers pressed through the worn linen of her shirt. Heat pooled deep within her, filling her with such stark desire, it felt as if she’d surely expire from such pleasurable feelings.

  “Ah, Fiona,” Cam whispered against her mouth. “I have dreamed of this for so long.”

  He slipped her liene over her shoulder, exposing her breast. She blushed beneath his steady gaze.

  “You are so beautiful.” He moved and winced.

  “Cam, you’ll hurt yourself.” She touched the bandage along his shoul
der, then let her hand fall.

  His grin was sensual and wicked. “‘Twould take an army to stop me.”

  She laughed, marveling how his smile and steady gaze made her feel as if she were loved. Emotion overwhelmed her, sensations charging through her body. All because of this man. Once again she laid a hand on his shoulder, carefully slipped off the bandage, and peered at the jagged stitching. Reddish and puckered, but healing nonetheless.

  “I’m fine, lass.”

  Her brow quirked. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  A flash of a sensual grin, then Cam rose over her, kissed along her jaw, down her neck and hovered at the cleft between her breasts.

  She arched and moaned as he attended to her body.

  “Aye, lass. Do you like my touch?”

  His hands trailed to her breasts, cupping the weight of them.

  She whispered, “Aye.”

  “Lovely,” he murmured against her skin.

  She wiggled as his whiskers tickled the sensitive flesh. He started to slip off her skirt. Panic flared for a moment, then banked when he continued to whisper to her.

  “I love you.” He cupped her chin. “Always ken how much I love you.”

  The sincerity of his tone and the way he looked at her—as if he longed to devour her one minute and cradle her in his arms forever—had her helping him push her skirt aside.

  “Are you certain?” he asked, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling as he moved them over her body.

  She reached up and touched his face. “Aye.” She wanted him with a fierceness which surprised her. Never had she felt such need and longing for him to be hers. It surprised her nearly as much as it delighted her that she’d finally made the right decision when it came to the man she loved.

  He tossed her skirt off the bed. Cam smoothed his hands down her stomach, over her hips. She gasped as he kissed her mound. He glanced up and winked. Then pain flared in his eyes as he shifted and rose over her.

  “We can wait until you are well.” Just as she said the words, she wished he’d chide her for thinking of stopping.

  “Nay!” he growled as he rid himself of the short britches Brae had put on him.

  There he stood with nary a stitch of clothing. His wounds marked him angrily, but she could still admire the fine man he was. Broad of shoulder, muscle bound arms and legs with deep planes of toned muscles. A lean waist and hips. And . . . and his manhood, ramrod straight.

  Lines bracketed his mouth and he winced as he returned to the bed. He climbed over her like a wild cat stalking its prey. A sheen of sweat coated his skin.

  “You’re overworking yourself,” she admonished. She dragged her finger along his shoulder and over his arm, admiring the hardness of his muscles and the dips and valleys between them.

  Cam chuckled and rested his forehead against hers. “Nay, ‘tis my desire for you.”

  She grinned, then glanced down at him. Oh, dear. Without thinking of it, she frowned.

  “Not to worry, lass. I’ll go easy.”

  Even though a heated blush rose over her chest and face, those words filled her, made her ache for him, need him with an urgency she didn’t ken how to describe. All she knew was that heat seeped from her, liquid heat.

  She splayed her palm over his chest, moved it to cover his heart. Thump, thump—it beat in tandem with hers. I’m yours, it seemed to say. A predatory claim urged her to arch up and kiss him. She wanted him, wanted him to be hers only. She moved her mouth over his, softly, then more insistently. He slid his tongue along her lips, tracing them. A shiver of pleasure raced down her spine. When he parted his lips against hers, a heady sensation overcame her.

  She pulled him closer, down upon her body. Och, the weight of him, the hard planes of his muscles against her, heated her like the huge fire after harvest.

  Slowly he eased into her. Fiona stiffened. He nuzzled her neck and whispered, “I love you, Fiona.” As he moved, she shifted. After a few moments of his gentle administrations, tendrils of pleasure began to roar through her blood. She lifted her hips, wanting him closer, deeper.

  The heat of him surrounded her. She sighed as he eased in and out. She held him tight against her, loving how his hard muscles seemed to yield against her skin. As if they were melding into one.

  “What are you doing to me?” she moaned as pressure and pleasure built.

  “Wait, my love, and you will see.” He suckled her peaked nipples, drawing them deep into his hot, moist mouth.

  She cried out; gripped his shoulders. Wave after wave rumbled through her. She gasped, trying to hold on, cling to the shattering pleasure exploding within her.

  “Let it come, Fiona. Let it come.” He sheathed himself to the hilt, arching his neck as he growled his release.

  He collapsed beside her, their chests heaving, her body still singing.

  “I am yours, Cam.”

  Epilogue

  She took his breath away. Fiona, his bride, his wife-to-be, walked toward him on the eve of Christmas. Her red hair was twined about her head with white flowers tucked within the fiery strands. ‘Twas an angel gliding toward him. An angel dressed in a gown of green, the clan plaid draped along her shoulder.

  She made Cam prouder than he’d ever been.

  Her cheeks stained red as he held her gaze. Her lovely eyes shimmered with tears, he kenned from happiness.

  How had it happened, the miracle of her love? All of his hopes and dreams, coming toward him, holding a bouquet wrapped with ribbons. Just as Fiona was to him, a gift wrapped with beautiful ribbons.

  He reached for her, his arm outstretched for her to clasp his hand and come forward to be his wife.

  Once her fingers were safely cradled within his own, Cam pulled her tight against his side and vowed to never let her go.

  “You are lovely,” he whispered before the priest started the ceremony.

  “As are you,” came her witty retort.

  Cam threw his head back and laughed. God, his heart was full and he kenned the right woman for him was at his side.

  As the priest said the words, all he could think about was Fiona, Fiona, Fiona.

  “You may kiss your bride.”

  The clan roared.

  Cam lifted Fiona into his arms and strode from the clan kirk, headed toward the keep.

  Clansmen laughed and cheered. “That’s a lad, Cam. Show her who’s master.”

  A woman swatted at him as they passed. “Let the poor lass eat. She’ll need her strength with a lad such as you.”

  More laughter and ribald jokes.

  She ducked her head against his doublet. “Cam, we need to attend the feast,” she muttered with a mix of eagerness and mortification.

  Her green eyes never left his and in those stunning depths he saw love and desire.

  He saw his future.

  “Nay, Fiona.” He paused so he could kiss her full lips. “All I need is to make you mine by Christmas.”

  About The Author

  Madelyn Hill has always loved the written word. From the time she could read and all through her school years, she'd sneak books into her textbooks during school in order to devoured books daily. At the age of 10 she proclaimed she wanted to be a writer. After being a "closet" writer for several years, she sent her manuscripts to publishers and is now published with Soul Mate Publishing. And she couldn't be happier! A resident of Western New York, she moved from one Rochester to another Rochester to be with the love of her life. They now have 3 children and keep busy cooking, watching sports, and of course reading.

  Authors love to hear from readers!

  Please connect with Madelyn

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/madelyn.hill.94

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMaddyHill

  Websit
e: www.madelynhill.com

  Other books by Madelyn Hill

  Wolf’s Castle (2014) - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KWO4B4K

  For The Love Of A Gypsy (2015) - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VG98NWQ

  Heather In The Mist (2015) - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B015EFRB6G

  Highland Hope Book 1 of the Wild Thistle Trilogy (2016) - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I06XNX6