The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

by Trisha Telep

  The firelight reflected in the deep green of his eyes, and she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, wondering how she could be carrying on in such a way with a man who was her enemy and captor.

  “A Highlander killed my brother,” she quickly said, her tone growing serious. “So please do not look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want to carry me back to that bed and do something savage with me.”

  He chuckled. “Clearly you’ve been entertaining some wayward thoughts this evening, lassie – but I must ask ye to treat me with some respect. I have no intention of becoming a slave to your lusty urges. I simply won’t have it.”

  Yet again, she laughed. “You bashed me over the head today! So I quite assure you, I have no lusty urges whatsoever. Not a single one.”

  “Then why do ye keep bringing it up?”

  She should have been offended. She should have stood up, slapped his face, and retired to the other room, but something held her rather spellbound. Even dressed in the tartan uniform of her enemy – the weapons a grim reminder of this Highlander’s potential ferocity and the death of her brother – he aroused her senses and sent a fever into her blood. It was the sheer might of his brawn, she supposed, and the bewildering fact that he had saved her life today, even after she tried to kill him.

  “Why did you help me?” she asked. “You could have just left me there to die.”

  For a moment he regarded her in the quiet hush of the night, while the flames danced wildly in the hearth. Then at last he spoke. “Because ye were the most beautiful creature I ever laid eyes on.”

  Excitement pooled deliciously in her belly, just as the door flew open and two bearded Highlanders burst into the room with muskets cocked and aimed at her head. Elizabeth leapt to her feet. She knocked over her chair as she backed up against the far wall.

  Slowly and calmly, Alex rose to his feet and turned to face them.

  “Lower yer weapons,” he said, holding his hands out to ease the sudden tension in the room. “She’s not armed. She’s just hungry, that’s all.”

  “She can starve, for all I care,” the taller one said.

  “Aye,” the other added. “It’s worse than we thought, Alex. The battle was not a triumph.”

  “What do ye mean, it was not a triumph?” he replied. “I saw the English officers order the retreat. We chased them all the way back to Dunblane.”

  “Aye, we crushed them with our right flank, but our left flank broke. Argyll’s cavalry drove hundreds into the River Allen. Many drowned, and he is calling it a victory for King George.”

  Without lowering his weapon, the taller one flicked his hair out of his face. “Mar is withdrawing to Perth, and in the morning, despite our victory, Argyll will find himself master of the field.”

  Alex bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All this killing, all these weeks of marching through bogs and icy pellets of rain … What was it for? We are still without a king, without a parliament. Without freedom.”

  Elizabeth dared not speak – not while the other two Scots were fuming with ire, and still held loaded muskets aimed at her nose.

  “Did she tell ye anything?” the tall one asked, eyeing her dangerously down the long barrel of his weapon.

  Alex looked at her. “She told me enough, and I’ve determined she’s not a threat to us.”

  “I doona believe that. Did ye ask her about the dispatch?”

  Hot flames of panic burst through Elizabeth’s core. “Explain yourself, sir,” she demanded. “What dispatch? I know nothing of what you speak.”

  Alex regarded her with a look of regret. “I was going to ask ye about it, lass, as soon as yer belly was full. Come here.”

  He waved a hand for her to approach the table, then signalled for the other Scotsman to hand over a small, flat parchment.

  “We found this in a secret compartment in the pocket of your coat,” he explained in a low voice. “Do ye know of it?”

  She took it from him and read the contents. “This is a note to Argyll, explaining that a detachment of rebels are on their way to Dumferline. It recommends that he send his cavalry to trounce it.”

  Alex nodded. “Did your brother deliver this information?”

  She glanced up. “How should I know?”

  “So you are telling me that you knew nothing of it.” He slid her a look, encouraging her to nod in agreement.

  “Of course I knew nothing. I stole this uniform off his back after he was killed.”

  “But why did ye do that, lass?” the tall one asked. “Did ye mean to do some spying on yer own?”

  “Of course not,” she retorted. “I only wanted to fight.”

  He scowled at her. “That’s a strange hankerin’ for a woman. How can we be sure ye are telling the truth?”

  “She is,” Alex insisted. “I told ye I interrogated her already, and I am willing to stake my life on it. She’s not a spy.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes locked with his, and though she did not understand why he was defending her, she was grateful for it.

  He turned his attention back to the other clansmen. “Lower yer guns now lads, and fill yer bellies. Tomorrow you’ll ride to Perth and find out what Mar intends to do next.”

  Reluctantly, they released the hammers on their weapons and moved closer to the fire.

  “What about the woman?” the shorter one quietly asked. “What will ye do with her tonight?”

  Alex locked gazes with her again. His green eyes roamed over her figure, and her heart hammered wildly against her ribcage.

  “I have not decided yet,” he replied.

  The flickering light from a single candle infused the room with a warm, golden glow, while Elizabeth pulled the covers up to her chin.

  “Sleep well, lass,” Alex said, as he came to stand over the bed. “I’ll not let any harm come to ye on this night.”

  She could hear the others on the opposite side of the curtain, speaking in low tones while they ate their supper.

  “Why are you being so kind to me?” she whispered. “After what happened between us this morning …”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “We met on a battlefield, on opposite sides of a war. I cannot fault ye for fighting against me. I fought hard against ye in return.”

  She laid her hand on her bruised cheek. “You certainly did.”

  He regarded her for a long, quiet moment while her thoughts grew heavy in her mind. “I’m sorry that I hurt ye,” he said. “I would take it back if I could.”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Such as?”

  The candlelight reflected in his eyes like tiny sparks of fire. “I believe ye have suffered enough, lass.”

  She thought of her brother suddenly, and how she had tried to talk him out of signing up to fight in this war, but she had not been able to persuade him. And so, she had followed instead.

  “Ye are remembering yer brother,” Alex whispered.

  Her gaze flew up. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I can see it in yer eyes.”

  A strange, beguiling comfort seemed to settle over her, thanks to this Highlander’s reassuring presence. Perhaps it was his intuition, and his clear insight into her grief. Or perhaps it was his strength as a warrior, for she believed, with every breath in her body, that he would protect her tonight.

  “Sometimes I feel as if the world has come to an end.” She studied the strong contours of his face, and the line of his shoulders beneath the tartan. “Do you understand? Have you ever lost someone?”

  “Aye, I have. A brother, like yours. He was too young to fight, but he was stubborn and insisted on following me, so I let him. I thought I could protect him, but since then, I have come to realize that God has his own plans. All we can do is keep living the life we are meant to live, and push through the pain.”

  Elizabeth considered the wisdom in his words. “It takes courage to
do that.”

  “Aye, and ye are very brave. Ye proved that this morning, so I am confident ye will survive this.”

  Elizabeth shifted on the bed. “But I have no family except for my uncle, and he is a stranger to me. I am alone.”

  “I predict that will soon change,” he said. “One day, ye will meet a good man, marry him, make lots of babies, and all of this will be nothing but a distant memory.” He tugged at the coverlet and arranged it snugly over her shoulders. “Go to sleep now, lass. I will wake ye in the morning.”

  With that, he rose from the bed and exited the room, leaving Elizabeth alone to contemplate the unexpected sense of calm she felt, and her amazing good fortune at having chosen this particular Highlander to attack on the battlefield that morning.

  * * *

  Elizabeth woke to the sound of panicked, angry voices, and a door swinging open, banging against the outside wall.

  Heart racing with alarm, she tossed the covers aside, leapt out of bed, and swept through the curtain to the front room. Alex was standing outside with his pistol trained on yet another clansman, mounted high in a saddle. The gargantuan grey warhorse stomped around skittishly.

  “Is that her?” the stranger asked, pointing his knife at Elizabeth, who skidded to a halt just behind Alex.

  “Aye,” he replied, “but it’s no concern of yours, Angus MacDonald. I’ll thank ye to be on yer way.”

  The rider wore his tartan up over his head like a hood. She could see his breath in the frosty chill of the morning.

  “I heard ye were keeping a spy here,” he growled, “and that she charmed ye into letting her live. Give her to me, Alex, and I’ll take her to Perth. They’ll know what to do with her.”

  “I’ll do no such thing, Angus. The lady is under my protection. Go home now, and forget about her.”

  The hooded Highlander eyed her with sinister intent. “She’s no lady if she’s carrying dispatches to Argyll.”

  “She had nothing to do with that,” Alex told him. “It’s a stolen uniform she wears.”

  The Highlander scowled down at Alex, then turned his menacing blue eyes to Elizabeth. He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “I can see why ye were so enchanted. She’s a beauty to be sure, even in that uniform. Why don’t ye let me come inside where we can talk about this. I’d like to see for myself how amiable she can be.”

  Alex cocked his pistol and took a persuasive step forward. “Ride out of here now, Angus, or I’ll shoot ye through the heart.”

  The mounted Highlander raised both hands in the air. “Calm yourself, friend. I’ll not intrude upon yer territory. If ye’ve already claimed her for yourself …”

  “I’ve claimed nothing, nor will you, not as long as I live and breathe. Be on your way now.”

  Angus studied him with cool eyes. “Yer too much like yer father,” he said in a low, gruff voice. “Swiftly conquered by a pretty face.”

  He clicked his tongue and walked his horse away from the cottage. A moment later, he disappeared into the forest like a phantom, and Elizabeth let out a tight breath.

  “I take it he was a friend of yours?”

  “No’ a friend,” Alex replied. “He’s a ruthless warrior with a heart made of ice.” He swung around and eyed her with intensity. “Put your coat on, lass, and gather up yer weapons. We need to leave here. Now.”

  “Why? Will he return?”

  “I can’t be sure, but if he knows of your presence here, others might have learned of it, too. I canna promise you’ll be safe. I must take ye to Edinburgh and deliver ye to your uncle.”

  Elizabeth needed no further bidding. She hurried to don her brother’s red coat.

  For the whole of the morning, they rode together on horseback through deep forests and steep-sided glens, making their way steadily south towards Edinburgh. At noon, they stopped to rest in a private glade and eat a small lunch of oatcakes and cheese, while the horse nibbled on sweet green grasses and drank from a shallow burn.

  While they sat side-by-side on a fallen log, they spoke of many things – the politics of the rebellion, their families, the death of Elizabeth’s parents. She was pleased to learn that Alex’s mother and father still lived, and were as passionately in love as they had been on their wedding day. Alex was the eldest of nine children, and he adored all his siblings. He had lost only one – the younger brother who had followed him into danger.

  It seemed impossible to imagine that a person could be so blessed during this time of war and rebellion. There was an abundance of love in Alex’s life. He was very lucky, for there was no such abundance in hers.

  That night, under the light of the full moon, Alex and Elizabeth reached a crofter’s cottage on the edge of a fast flowing river, a few miles southeast of Falkirk. A black-and-white sheepdog barked at them as they emerged from the wood and crossed the meadow, but his tail began to wag when they were greeted a few moments later by their hosts in the stable yard – trusted friends from Alexander’s youth, a couple recently married and expecting their first child in the spring. Their names were Mary and Scott MacGregor.

  Alex embraced them fondly and introduced Elizabeth, assuring them that her soldier’s uniform was not a reason for concern. They seemed to trust him completely, and invited Elizabeth, without hesitation, into their home.

  A short time later, they were all gathered around the table before the fire, enjoying a hearty supper of rabbit stew and dumplings. Alex arranged for a trade with the MacEwens: Elizabeth’s uniform for a plain homespun skirt, a light shift, and stays. By the end of the evening, she could have passed for any typical Scottish lassie, born and bred in the Highlands. As long as she kept her mouth shut, no one would ever have guessed that she was born in England, and had crossed the Scottish border a few short weeks ago as a nurse with the British army – carrying a dark cloud of vengeance in her heart.

  “Will we reach Edinburgh tomorrow?” Elizabeth asked in a quiet whisper, as Alex approached to say goodnight. He would sleep in the stable, while she would enjoy a soft pallet by the fire.

  “Aye, he replied. “We will reach your uncle’s shop by late afternoon.”

  “But I don’t know where it is, exactly.”

  He chuckled. “How many book shops can there be in Edinburgh, lassie? I would guess only one or two.”

  In the glow of the firelight, his eyes shone with vitality, and his hair fell in thick, shimmering waves on to his broad muscular shoulders. She felt rather intoxicated by his chivalry. How remarkable, that they had met on a battlefield only two days before and had tried to cut each other in half. It seemed impossible to imagine – for in all the unforgettable moments since, Alexander MacLean had revealed himself to be a gentleman in every way. She had never felt more safe and protected.

  Suddenly she realized that everything she’d ever believed about Scotland and its savage breed of Highland warriors meant nothing to her now. All she saw before her was a courageous and decent man who loved his family and wished to live honourably.

  A man who sent a heady rush of desire and yearning into her blood.

  She gazed wondrously at the beautiful pewter brooch that was pinned to the tartan at his shoulder, and reached out to touch it. How would she ever say goodbye to him tomorrow? She was not ready for that.

  “Sleep well,” he said, then leaned forwards to kiss her lightly on the lips.

  The startling sensation of his mouth upon hers compelled her forwards, and what began as a tender kiss goodnight exploded into a powerful rush of unexpected passion. Her lips parted, and he responded by sweeping his tongue into her mouth, sending ripples of pleasure straight down to her toes. His hand slid around to the small of her back and he tugged her closer, roughly, crushing her breasts up against the solid wall of his chest as he groaned deeply and devoured her mouth with his own.

  Gripping the fabric of his shirt in both fists, she held tight, fearing that her knees might buckle under the dizzying onslaught of her emotions. She had never been kissed like this befor
e, and she had no idea how to manage it.

  Quickly, he brought the kiss to an exquisite finish and took a step away from her. They stared at each other in dazed bewilderment. Heaven help her. She did not know what to say. There were no words.

  “That was … unexpected,” he whispered.

  Her heart began to race. What was happening between them? She was losing sight of all propriety, and wanted to pull him closer and drag him down to the floor. She wanted him to feel the weight of him on top of her. She wanted it with a primal madness she could not begin to comprehend.

  Swallowing uneasily, she loosened her grip on his shirt, and dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “No need to apologise, lass. Yer lips were sweeter than anything I’ve tasted in years.”

  She blushed and dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “I’ve never met a woman quite like you before,” he said, “and for that reason, I must leave ye now, because ye look too pretty in that frock, and ye smell good, too. I fear that if I doona back away now, I may do something far worse than just kiss ye goodnight.”

  Elizabeth shivered with excitement and longing. “Would that be so terrible?”

  His eyes smiled at her, then he toyed with the hair over her ear, sending delightful shivers of desire across her flesh. She turned her cheek into the warmth of his wrist and let her eyes fall closed. All the hardships of the world seemed to float away like dust on a summer breeze, as she breathed in the musky scent of his skin …

  “I really must go now,” he whispered in his deep Scottish brogue.

  She did not try to stop him, for what she loved most about him was his integrity, and she did not wish to tempt him into doing something he might later regret.

  “Goodnight,” she said.

  He paused at the door and spoke in a quiet, husky rumble. “Good night, Elizabeth.”

  She let out a soft sigh of besotted rapture, and then, to her hazy disappointment, he was gone.

  A moment later, while still greatly aroused from their intimate encounter, Elizabeth settled down on the soft pallet by the fire, pulled the woollen blanket up to her shoulders, and watched the flames dance in the grate for quite some time before she finally managed to fall asleep.