The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

by Trisha Telep

“Ewan, ’tis too deep. Where—” Her frightened cries faded when Connor and Robbie’s heads popped up from beneath the water, laughing as they swam back to him.

  Ewan raised a brow in Isobel’s direction. She rolled her eyes and cupped her hand to shoot a spray of water at him. “You coulda told me they swim as well as the fishes.”

  “Throw mam, da, throw her in.”

  Isobel’s eyes widened and she held up her hands, shaking her head. “Nay, Ewan Mackenzie, doona even think aboot it.”

  He prowled towards her and she took several quick steps back. “You did splash me, my wee wife, ’tis only fair.” The bairns cheered him on.

  She gasped. Stumbling to get away from him, her feet slipped out from under her and she fell backwards. She pulled herself from beneath the water, sputtering as she did. Glaring up at him as he tried to contain his laughter, she grumbled, “’Tis no’ funny.”

  He helped her to her feet. “Aye, ’twas.” He pushed the wet curls from her face and kissed her, swallowing her startled gasp. “I missed you, Isobel,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I missed you, too,” she said shyly, looking up at him through the cover of her water-spiked lashes.

  “Come.” He tugged on her hand. “I promise, I’ll no’ throw you in.”

  “Nay, play with Robbie and Connor. I’ll set out the food I brought. Are you hungry?”

  “Aye, verra hungry.” If he could go by the flush staining her cheeks, his wife knew he didn’t refer to food.

  After an hour of cavorting with his sons, Ewan carried an exhausted Robbie under one arm and an equally tired Connor under the other. Depositing them on the blanket Isobel had spread out beneath the chestnut tree, he was disappointed to find her chemise had dried and no longer clung to her curves. Isobel watched in wide-eyed wonder as he and the lads polished off the food. While they ate, she filled Ewan in on what had taken place at Leod in his absence. He laughed at her disgruntled retelling of her nana and his grandda’s burgeoning romance. She smoothed Robbie’s hair from his face where he lay curled up beside her sound asleep. “It looks like we’ve bored the bairns with our chatter.” She smiled, tipping her chin at Connor who’d fallen asleep beside Ewan.

  “More like I wore them out,” Ewan said, stroking Connor’s silky curls from his cheek.

  “They’re happy to have you home safe. They were worried aboot you.”

  “Were—” Ewan stopped, his attention drawn to the shaking leaves of the branches just down from where they sat. A woman giggled and Isobel leaned forward, her brow furrowed.

  From behind the bush, his grandda ran naked for the loch – tugging Isobel’s equally naked nana along with him.

  Ewan cursed and his grandda turned around.

  “Sweet Mary Mother of God.” Isobel groaned and lay back on the blanket, covering her eyes.

  “Bloody hell, grandda, get in the water. Both of you,” Ewan yelled. “That’s it, I’m havin’ the banns read and the two of you will be wed in a fortnight.”

  The bairns sat up, rubbing their eyes. Connor looked out over the loch. “Can I go swimmin’ with grandda and nana?”

  “Nay!” Ewan said at the same time as his wife.

  Settling both lads on his steed, Ewan took the reins in one hand, his wife’s hand in the other. He leaned towards her. “You ken, Isobel, our grandparents spend more time alone than we do and they appear to be havin’ a grand time doin’ so. Mayhap ’tis time we did the same.”

  Her cheeks pinked and she nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Ewan brought her slender hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her soft palm. He winked at her. “Your da is tired, lads. I think we’ll have an early night,” he said, yawning.

  “We had a nap, da. Mam says when we have a nap we can stay up late,” Connor told him earnestly.

  “Did you say that?”

  “Aye, I’m afraid I did,” she said, laughing at his frustrated groan.

  Isobel sat on the edge of the bed then lay down to stare up at the canopy. Five minutes later, she sighed and rolled off the bed to pace the stone floor. She didn’t understand why Ewan had yet to come to their chambers; he’d seemed as anxious to be alone with her as she was to be with him. She smiled at the memory of his warm, teasing manner during the evening meal. It was a smile that hadn’t left her face since returning from the loch. For the first time since Ewan had returned from France, it appeared she would finally have a husband who would love her as much as she loved him. Her worries that her nana’s second sight had failed after being expended on Isobel’s sisters had been for naught.

  At the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the corridor, she hurried to the bed and slid beneath the covers. She calmed the nervous excitement in her belly with the knowledge this was not the first time she and her husband had made love. The thought would have been somewhat more comforting if she could recall the event. The door opened and the candle on the table beside the bed flickered. At the sight of the sensual smile creasing her husband’s beautiful face as he strode into the room, her nervousness was replaced with heated anticipation.

  “Grandda needed help wordin’ his missive to your father,” he said as he pulled his tunic over his head, the muscles in his arms flexing with the movement. “For certain he has a harder time arrangin’ his own marriage than he does mine.”

  Isobel’s eyes looked from his sun-bronzed arms to his face, searching for some sign he retained any anger at the way their marriage had come about.

  He raised a brow. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’.”

  His gaze softened and he sat beside her, the feather-stuffed mattress dipping under his weight. He took her hand in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Are you nervous?”

  She shook her head. “Nay.”

  “That’s good to hear,” he said, kissing her hand before he released it. He bent over and removed his boots. When his hand went to his trews, Isobel quickly leaned over and blew out the candle.

  Ewan’s deep laugh filled their chambers. “I thought you said you were no’ nervous?”

  “Mayhap a wee bit,” she admitted, scooting over when he climbed in beside her.

  “Next time doona blow the candle out, angel. I want to see your beautiful body,” he said as he drew her sheer nightgown over her head. His low growl of appreciation drew an aroused shiver from her and he folded her into his powerful embrace. She snuggled against him, his long, hard length jerking against her belly. He nudged her face from his chest with his chin. “I hope you were no’ plannin’ on goin’ to sleep just yet,” he said, his strong white teeth flashing in the darkened room.

  “Nay,” she said a little breathlessly.

  “Good,” he murmured against her lips before he claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing them closer still. He angled his head, slanting his lips over hers, deepening the kiss. His calloused palms smoothed over her back to her bottom and he pressed her tight against him, rocking his hips. Isobel moaned at the heated sensation building between her thighs. Ewan took advantage and swept his tongue past her parted lips to delve deep inside her mouth. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his and he groaned, kneading her bottom. His exploring tongue grew more insistent and his manhood swelled, growing harder and longer. Her eyes rounded, intimidated by his size.

  As though he sensed her dismay, he broke the kiss and held her away from him to look down at her. His eyes glinted with amusement. “Doona worry, you’ll no’ have pain this time, only pleasure.”

  “I suppose ’tis a good thing I canna remember the first time,” she said as she trailed her fingers through the crisp hairs on his chest, fascinated by his feel of his hard muscles flexing beneath her palm.

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Aye, mayhap ’tis. I wouldna wish to cause you pain, Isobel.” He gently nudged her to her back.

  She frowned. “Are you sure it will … fit?”

  He choked on a laugh. “Ay
e, verra sure, my bonny wife.” Watching her, he slid his palm over her belly to the damp curls covering her mound. “Your skin is soft, so smooth,” he murmured. His warm breath caressed her cheek as he skimmed his hand over her inner thighs, nudging her legs apart. She inhaled sharply as he touched her slick folds, spreading her wide.

  “So hot, so wet,” he said as his thick finger probed her inner passage. She gasped, wreathing against his hand. His lips burned a heated path down her neck to her chest. His tongue rasped then laved her breasts before he drew her straining nipple into the heat of his mouth. The hard suction of his lips caused her belly to clench in response and she moaned, growing frantic with desire. She clutched the bedcovers, arching her back to press her breast to his demanding mouth. “Ewan, please,” she cried out, not sure what she wanted him to do but needing him to do something. It was as though she was caught in a whirlpool of sensation that only he could release.

  “Christ, Isobel, I was a fool no’ to come to you sooner.”

  “Aye, aye you were,” she groaned.

  His laugh came out a harsh rasp. “I should make you suffer for that but I ken I canna last much longer.”

  “I am sufferin’, Ewan. Please,’’ she begged, “do somethin’.”

  He kissed her and she could feel him smile against her lips. His tongue delved inside her mouth as his powerful fingers probed inside her moist heat. She closed her lips over his tongue and sucked him deep. He groaned, thrusting his hot, hard erection against her thigh, mimicking the movement of his fingers inside her with his tongue.

  He eased his fingers from her and, without breaking their kiss, pulled his body over her, holding his weight above her with his hands. She wrapped her fingers around the rippling muscles in his arms. The thick head of his manhood nudged her opening and she stiffened. He broke the kiss. “Easy, love,” he said and slid his hand between them. He stroked her tight nub with practiced fingers, driving her over the edge. She bucked against him and then he thrust inside her. Isobel cried out. Her nails dug into his arms and he froze above her, his shocked gaze jerking to hers. She bit her lip and blinked hard to keep the tears from flooding her eyes.

  Ewan cursed and carefully eased from her body. His breathing ragged, he rolled to his back and placed his forearm over his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didna think it was supposed to hurt. You said …”

  He lifted his arm from his face and got up from the bed, his movements awkward as he pulled on his trews. “You have nothin’ to apologise for, Isobel. It hurt because you were still innocent.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I doona understand, I thought—”

  “Aye, we both did because that’s what he wanted us to think. I’m goin’ to kill the meddlin’ old bastard.” Ewan flung open the door and slammed out of the room.

  Isobel scrambled off the bed and grabbed her nightshift, afraid this time Ewan truly meant to kill Roderick. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry. As she tugged the chemise over her hips, she heard Ewan yelling at his grandda. “Admit it, you set it up to stop me from gainin’ the annulment I wanted. You knew …”

  The last of Ewan’s condemning words faded as Isobel darted out of the room and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction. She didn’t know where she was going only that she had to get away from him. As soon as he discovered she was still innocent, he’d realized what his grandda had done and he’d been furious – furious at the deception that had stolen his chance to be rid of her. She’d been a fool to think he’d come to love her. He’d simply decided to make the best of a situation he couldn’t change.

  Isobel entered her nana’s chambers, certain Roderick had not acted alone. She choked out a bitter laugh at finding the room empty. Mayhap her nana had seen the wrong Mackenzie with the wrong Forbes. Mayhap it was Roderick who was Olivia’s true love. A moonbeam cut across the room, the Forbes heart stone glowing in the bright swath of light. Isobel strode to the table and angrily closed her fingers around the rock, knowing instantly what she had to do. She would not let another Forbes lass suffer her fate. Waste years pining for a man she thought was her true love, only to discover he would never love her in return.

  She stifled a broken sob with her hand and ran blindly from the room, down the staircase to the entryway. Opening the door to the keep, she stepped outside into the mist. She ran across the courtyard.

  “Isobel, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doin’?” Ewan’s voice cut through the dense fog.

  “Doona you come one step closer, Ewan Mackenzie.” She groaned when he stepped through the mist into the moonlit courtyard.

  His gaze searched hers and he released a shocked breath. “’Tis you. ’Twas you all along.”

  “Nay, I had nothin’ to do with it. ’Twas your grandda and my nana’s fault you—”

  He shook his head, looking bemused. “’Twas no’ what I meant. You’re the lass from the Burnetts’ moors.”

  “Aye, ’twas me,” she said with a brittle laugh. “The foolish lass waitin’ for her true love to ride through the mist, only it was you and you didna want me then and you doona want me now.”

  He took a step towards her. “I did want you, Isobel. You were too young that first time. I told you I would come back for you.”

  “But you never did.”

  “The second time I tried. I went after you and managed to knock myself out on a branch.” He smiled a crooked boyish grin. “I searched for you all the next day and—”

  “Your betrothal to Lorna Sinclair was announced that night. I was there.” She barely managed to get the words out, her throat painfully tight as she remembered her devastation upon hearing the announcement.

  “Aye, it was,” he said quietly. “But I’ve found you now, Isobel, and you’re my wife.”

  “You doona want me. I heard you yellin’ at Roderick. You would have had our marriage annulled if he hadna tricked you.”

  “Aye, and in truth I should have thanked him for doin’ so, but I was angry I’d hurt you. I would have taken my time had I kent you were still innocent.” He brought his hand to her face. “So are you tellin’ me that you’ve been waitin’ for me all this time, that I’m your true love?”

  She snorted her disgust. “Aye and I’m goin’ to throw this heart stone in the loch on the morrow so no other lass has to suffer.”

  He frowned. “Why? We’re together now.”

  “Aye, but you doona love me.”

  His look softened and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I do, Isobel. I doona ken how much you’ve heard aboot my marriage to Lorna, but ’twas no’ a happy one. She made my life and that of my sons miserable, ’tis why it took me a little longer to trust you with my heart than it should have. But I do trust you, Isobel,” He said, smiling down at her as he swept her into his arms. “Now, why doona I take you inside and show you just how verra much I love you.”

  Isobel’s breath caught in her throat. Ewan’s love for her was reflected in his eyes. She fought back tears of joy and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “I’ve waited a verra long time for you, Ewan Mackenzie. You have a lot of years to make up for.” Her voice was husky, overwhelmed with the emotion that clogged her throat.

  Laughter rumbled in Ewan’s chest. “I’ll spend my life makin’ it up to you, my bonny wife.”

  Isobel released a contented sigh, certain she’d never been happier than at this moment. “And you, my bonny highlander, were well worth waitin’ for. I love you, Ewan and I love Robbie and Connor, too.” A thought occurred to her and she frowned.

  Ewan looked down at her. “What is it?”

  “I’m thinkin’ mayhap things worked out as they were meant to. Even though it wasna easy to wait so long for you, if you hadna married Lorna, we wouldna have Robbie and Connor.”

  He touched his forehead to hers. “Do you ken, Isobel, I doona think I could love you more than I do at this moment.”

  She kissed him and he tightened his arms around her, deepening the kiss until he
had her breathless with desire. “Mayhap we should go inside now,” she panted against his lips.

  “Aye,” he said gruffly, pushing open the door to the keep. Her nana hurried towards them. “Isobel, do ye have the heart stone?”

  Isobel’s brow furrowed. “Aye,” she said, opening her palm. Olivia plucked the stone from her hand and marched out the door. Roderick, wearing only his plaid, came to stand beside them, scratching his head. “Do ye ken why Livie wants me to go lookin’ for her in the mist, henny?”

  “I suggest you get out there, grandda. If you doona, someone else may claim her before you do,” Ewan said with a grin.

  “I’m comin’, Livie, my henny,” Roderick called out.

  As Ewan walked up the stairs with Isobel in his arms, he said, “You ken they’ll be livin’ with us, doona you?”

  “Aye, doona worry, I’ll no leave you because of it. Besides, we can always send them to visit my da.” Isobel laughed. Her patience was finally at an end.

  The Rebel

  Julianne MacLean

  On the field of Sherrifmuir, six miles northeast of Stirling Castle, November 13, 1715

  At the sound of the bagpipes and the roaring command of his chief, Alex MacLean drew his sword and broke into a run, charging up the north face of the hill.

  A wild frenzy of bloodlust exploded in his veins and fuelled his body with savage strength and determination, as he and his fellow Jacobite clansmen advanced upon Argyll’s left flank. Their lines collided in a heavy clash of bodies and weaponry, and suddenly he was thrashing about in a red sea of chaos. Men shouted and lunged, shot each other at close range, they severed limbs and hacked each other to pieces. Blood splattered on to his face as he spun around and swung his sword at one soldier, then another. Adrenaline fired his instincts. The fury was blinding. His muscles strained with every controlled thrust and strike.

  Keenly aware of all that was happening around him, he raised his targe to encumber the piercing point of a bayonet. Dropping to one knee, he dirked the offending redcoat in the belly.