The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

by Trisha Telep

  Niall’s strange behaviour had been well known throughout the family. But no one had thought he would switch his cruelty from animals to people.

  “Jean is a curious one,” Keith said, breaking into Braden’s thoughts. “She will want to know why she is garbing us in such clothing.”

  Braden exhaled long and slow. “Doona worry. I will tell her nothing.”

  “You may not have to. She’s a smart one, she is. She is likely to figure it all out.”

  Braden hadn’t considered that. “Even if she does, it makes no difference. She willna be with us.”

  Keith crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced. “I’ve followed you wherever you’ve led me, Braden, but I want you to know this plan of yours is daft.”

  “And likely to get us all killed. Aye, my friend, I ken.”

  Keith left the tent to carry out his orders. Braden returned his attention the map of the castle and the surrounding area. He knew the land better than anyone. There were places where those loyal to him could gain a great advantage, and places where he knew he could ambush Niall’s men.

  So many things had to go right for the plan to work. The most important was getting into the castle.

  When he finally raised his head it was to see two trenchers on the table in front of him. One of cheese, bread and cold meat from the noon meal, and the second still steaming with haggis.

  Braden’s stomach demanded food. He sat and devoured both trenchers before reaching for the bottle of ale. He needed to stretch his legs and back, needed to see the faces of those who trusted him to defeat Niall.

  He set aside the empty bottle of ale and rose to exit his tent. The sun was all but set in the horizon, casting vivid pinks and purples over half the sky, while the blanket of night was pulled over the other half.

  Several fires dotted the camp, casting faces in orange glows. Many sharpened their swords and dirks as they spoke in low tones. Others checked their horses.

  The night before a battle was one of quiet conversations as each man prepared for what could be the last hours of his life.

  Braden made a loop of the camp, stopping to speak to his men along the way. He wanted to find Jean. He might not be able to hold her or kiss her as his own, but he could watch over her.

  His gaze sought out her dark locks and beautiful figure. When he found her folding one of her newly sewn cloaks, an unusual calm settled over him. Her mere presence in his camp had given him the tranquillity he had sought since he had lost everything to Niall.

  It wasn’t just her beauty, but her strength that drew him.

  She set the cloak atop a pile of others and straightened. Her eyes lifted to the sky, and then she turned her head to him.

  Braden knew he should walk away, knew he needed to leave her. But he couldn’t. He wanted Jean with a need that both alarmed him and gave him courage.

  He strode to her, ignoring those who called his name. He didn’t stop until he stood in front of her. No words were spoken as their eyes sought each other.

  Desire, hot and powerful, pulsed between them. It was too intense to ignore, too potent to withstand. And too vibrant to walk away from.

  His fingers slid over her arm to her hand before he led her to his tent.

  Five

  Jean willingly followed Braden to his tent. Once inside, he halted and turned to her. He reached for her arms and pulled her towards him.

  She lost herself in the longing, the hunger she saw in his smouldering blue eyes.

  Her hands rose and settled on his abdomen. She could feel the ripple of muscle beneath her hand through his saffron shirt. They were so close the heat from his body wrapped around her, cocooning her.

  Beckoning her.

  He shifted closer so their bodies touched, melded. Jean moved her hands up Braden’s chest to his shoulders until her fingers threaded with the cool strands of his brown hair.

  Braden lowered his head, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Jean’s breath locked inside her. Her stomach fluttered as she eagerly awaited his kiss.

  The first brush of his lips stole her breath.

  She melted against him as his kiss became more insistent. A moan, deep and hungry, rose from Braden when she returned the kiss.

  His tongue licked her lips before sweeping between them and teasing her own tongue. He plundered her lips, besieged her mind.

  Jean’s fingers dug into his shoulders as she fought to keep her legs beneath her. His mouth slanted over hers, kissing her deeply. And thoroughly.

  Passion flared hot and true inside her, filling her veins, and settled in the pit of her stomach. Each stroke of his tongue wound her desire tighter, heavier.

  Braden kissed Jean with all the passion, all the longing he possessed. It began as a gentle kiss, one to coax and entice. But a single taste of her and he forgot everything but raw, unabashed hunger.

  It was a kiss to lay his claim.

  His arms tightened about her, bringing her closer, locking her shapely body firmly along his length. He felt her soft touch as her fingers plunged into his hair.

  Braden’s mind told him to be cautious, to not allow himself to be pulled under by the overwhelming need for her. But the temptation was too great.

  He fell headlong into the desire. He plunged in and forgot all reason.

  Nothing mattered but Jean. And the flare of pleasure that pounded in his veins.

  Braden tasted her unleashed passion and craved more. He wanted all of her, everything she had to offer.

  Another satisfied moan tore from him as Jean pressed against him, as if she too sought to get closer. Whatever control Braden had thought to hold on to vanished in that moment.

  She was his.

  With one arm holding her, he reached between them and cupped her breast. Her fingers tightened at his neck, a heartbeat before she arched into his hand.

  Jean forgot to breathe as Braden’s hand seduced her with every caress, every stroke. Her breasts swelled and ached, her nipples hardened seeking more of his touch.

  Braden’s tongue trust against hers as his fingers found her sensitive peak through her gown and teased her.

  Passion grew, tightened within her. She knew there was no turning away from such wondrous desire. Turning away never even entered her mind.

  She wanted to touch his skin, to feel the heat of his flesh against her. As soon as she tugged on his shirt, Braden reached for her skirts.

  The kiss ended as, one by one, items of clothing were removed hastily. Desire escalated with the removal of each garment. Until they stood naked together.

  Jean sucked in a ragged, broken breath as Braden dragged her against him. His body was hot and so very hard. She had little time to look her fill before Braden claimed her mouth once more. His hands were urgent, needy, as they roamed.

  She sighed into his kiss and let her hands travel over the muscled expanse of his chest at her leisure, learning him – until Braden’s lips travelled down her neck and his mouth closed over her nipple. She cried out, seeking more, wanting more. Always more.

  They tumbled to the ground, skin to skin. Their limbs tangled as their hands learned and discovered. Seeking, seizing. Urgent and commanding. With each touch, each sigh, the desire that bound them grew tighter, stronger. Undeniable.

  Jean moaned when he moved on top her, nudging her legs apart with his knees. She arched her back, his name upon her lips, when his fingers found her and stroked between her thighs.

  Her body burned with need and pleasure that mixed and balled in her stomach. She lifted her hips, seeking more of the heady bliss. Her desire spiked and coalesced as he teased her body until she was mindless with need.

  She tugged at him, needing him on her so she could feel his weight. She wanted to be closer to him.

  Braden lay over her, his thighs set between hers. He held still for one heartbeat, two … and he stared down at her. His bright blue gaze held her mesmerized with his dark intensity.

  Then he kissed her. Their lips locked, tongue meeting ton
gue. He set his hips, and with one powerful thrust, slid inside her. Jean stilled as the shaft of pain sliced through her. It ate away at the pleasure, threatened to consume her. All the while Braden kissed her. Hot and urgent. Needy. Hungrily. He withdrew and plunged again. Deeper. Harder.

  Her entire being centred on Braden and the desire that wound tighter and tighter, higher and higher within her. They burned, the pleasure burning them in a tide neither could restrain.

  Braden didn’t try to deny the longing in his heart, didn’t try to reject the all-consuming impulse to take Jean and be damned of the consequences.

  No amount of rationalizing had been able to turn him away from the hunger for Jean that clawed at him. It was a craving sunk deep, all the way to his soul.

  He rejoiced as he pinned her beneath him, her lush curves cushioning him. Every moan and cry of pleasure that fell from her lips pushed him to take her higher.

  She shifted, her legs rising to wrap around his waist. He sank deeper into her, her hot sheath holding him tight.

  Jean rocked beneath him as he plunged faster, harder. Their ragged breaths filled the tent as sweat beaded their skin. Her body began to tense as her eyes grew heavy.

  Braden felt the tension in her rise. Her fingers gripped his arms, her nails digging into his skin. She was close, so very close.

  He needed to see her climax, to see her surrender to the desire that had taken both of them. It pushed him, roared in his blood. Demanded that she succumb.

  She gave a soft cry as she shattered.

  Braden gloried in the joy etched over her face and his name on her lips. Still convulsing around him, Braden couldn’t hold back his own orgasm. He thrust once, twice and then gave into the pleasure with a roar.

  The climax was intense, heady as it swept him along. He had never felt anything so primitive, so mind-melting. He collapsed on top of her. Her arms encircled him, holding him in an embrace of contentment, of peace.

  After a moment, he used his elbows to lift himself a little so he could look down at her. She smiled and smoothed a lock of hair that fell over his forehead.

  He cupped the side of her head with each hand and lost himself in her amber eyes. “I fear I willna ever let you go now.”

  “Good. I’m right where I want to be.”

  Her words made his chest constrict. For the first time in two years he wanted to think about his future. With Jean by his side.

  “You are mine now,” he vowed, just before his lips descended upon hers.

  Six

  Jean wrapped her arms around herself as she stood outside Braden’s tent and watched everyone readying for the coming battle.

  Sometime during the night a horse and small cart had been brought to the camp. Braden, Keith, Rory and Colin all stood around it, deep in conversation.

  Braden suddenly lifted his head. Their gazes collided. They had spent the few remaining hours of the night talking and making love.

  She feared for Braden and his plan. He had told her very little, but it hadn’t taken her long to deduce he feared there was a spy in his camp. The only one who knew the entire plan was Braden. Everyone else just knew their parts.

  Jean watched as Mary settled one of the cloaks around her shoulders. Jean had told Braden she wanted to help, but he had refused, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was to stay in the camp.

  She swallowed past the lump of dread that filled her throat. Mary said something to Keith before walking away with hurried steps. A fearful glance over her shoulder told Jean all she needed to know.

  Jean didn’t hesitate as she lifted her skirts and moved between two tents so Braden wouldn’t see her. She found Mary standing behind one of the other tents, tears coursing down her face.

  “I canna do it,” Mary said when she saw Jean. “I’m scared.”

  Jean looked around to make sure no one was near. “Give me the cloak and gown.”

  Mary blinked. “Milady?”

  “Hurry,” Jean said as she began to pull off her own clothing.

  She had little time to get the crude gown and cloak in place and return to the cart before Braden and the others grew suspicious.

  Once the coarse brown gown was in place and the cloak around her shoulders, Jean lifted the hood over her head. “Take my gown and return to Braden’s tent,” she told Mary. “If they find you before everyone has left, they’ll bring you.”

  Mary nodded and grabbed Jean’s gown before rushing away. Jean released a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She made her way to the cart.

  “Did you get what you needed?” Keith asked.

  Jean nodded her head.

  “Good,” Braden said. “Let’s get going.”

  Keith helped Jean into the cart as Braden lifted a panel in the floor and slipped inside to lay flat across the length of the cart. Colin covered Braden once he was stretched out on his back.

  “I’m sorry you couldna find Jean to say farewell once more,” Colin said.

  Braden grimaced. “Just make sure you doona tear the stitches of your wound lest she have your head.”

  Colin laughed and settled his back against the seat where Jean was. “You’ve made yourself clear, Braden. No fighting for me. I’m just here to make sure this ruse works.”

  Jean shuddered, a shadow of foreboding racing down her spine.

  Keith climbed up next to her and slapped the reigns for the horse to go. “Doona worry, Mary. Just remember. Once we reach the castle, stay out of the way.”

  “I still say we shouldna bring her,” Colin said.

  “It’s part of the ruse,” Braden’s voice said from below the floor of the cart. “Niall willna believe two men, one wounded, and the other with a woman, will attempt to breech his walls for an attack.”

  Keith snorted. “Proves what a fool he is.”

  Jean kept her face forward. They were still close enough to the camp that they could stop and send her back. Not only did she want to help Braden, but she wouldn’t allow Mary to put everyone’s life in danger because she was scared.

  “You haven’t said much,” Keith whispered as he leaned towards her.

  Jean shrugged her shoulders.

  “I ken you’re scared, lass, but you will be safe. Braden, and the rest of us, have sworn to it.”

  Jean covered her mouth with her hand and coughed. “I know,” she squeaked out.

  There was a moment of silence where she could feel Keith’s gaze. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he would hear it.

  Strong fingers grabbed her chin and forced her head around. Jean put her finger to her lips and shook her head in the hope Keith would keep silent.

  “Shite,” he murmured as he dropped his arm. “Braden is going to skin me alive.”

  Jean scooted closer so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Nay. Mary couldn’t do it, and I wouldn’t have her endangering any of you.”

  “Braden was clear,” Keith grumbled. “You werena to be involved.”

  “He need never know. As soon as we’re inside the castle gates I will hide.”

  A muscle in Keith’s jaw ticked. “This isna a good idea.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  Jean met Keith’s challenging gaze until he let out a long breath and scrunched his face.

  She sat back, relieved that she had won. It would be well after midday before they reached MacAlister Castle, and the further away from the camp they travelled, the more Jean couldn’t shake her uneasy feeling.

  For better or worse she was now part of Braden’s attack.

  Another bead of sweat travelled down Braden’s brow and into his hair. He didn’t especially like small spaces, and being confined below the cart’s floor left little room to manoeuvre.

  Or to breathe.

  Braden couldn’t even lift his arm to wipe the sweat that dripped into his eyes. He blinked rapidly to stop the stinging, but it did no good.

  For all his discomfort, he wouldn’t complain if his plan worked. If Niall was stopped then a few hours of
suffering would be well worth it.

  He bit back a grunt as one of the cart’s wheel fell into a deep rut, jarring him. His mind needed to be on the upcoming battle, but all he could think about was Jean.

  And their night together.

  It had been … soul-stirring. Moving. Exciting. Glorious.

  The dawn had come all too soon. It had taken everything Braden had to leave her behind. At least at the camp she would be safe from Niall and any danger.

  “Not much longer,” Colin said to him as he leaned towards the cart floor.

  Braden didn’t bother to answer. There had been little to no conversation since their departure from the camp. It was just as well though.

  He inhaled deeply and focused his mind on his plan. Everything hinged on whether they got through the castle gates. From there, once Braden was out of the cart and inside the castle, Colin would send the signal for the other men.

  Braden smiled, expectation and exhilaration taking hold of him. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword at his side. He itched to feel the familiar weight of the blade as it sliced through the air, as it embedded in Niall’s body.

  He closed his eyes, his elaborate plan floating through his mind. His father would tell him he was overreaching, and he would be correct. His father had always been right.

  But in this instance, Braden had no choice.

  He’d been fighting Niall for two years. Two long, brutal years of innocent deaths and violence that never stopped.

  Now he had Jean. She’d already been in Niall’s hands once. Braden knew she wouldn’t survive a second time. If somehow Braden failed and Niall discovered what Jean meant to him … Braden couldn’t even finish the thought.

  The cart began to slow, and then stopped when someone shouted for them to halt.

  Braden held his breath.

  “State your business,” a loud voice demanded.

  Braden paid no attention to Keith’s explanation as more guards came around the back of the cart and began to question Colin.

  There was a grunt as one of the guards grabbed Colin’s wounded leg and tore at the bindings to ensure that Colin was indeed injured.

  A few words later and Keith clucked to the horse.