Highland Redemption

by Lori Ann Bailey

  “And something else is going on. This business with the raids, ’tis no’ just happening to Camerons. The MacLeans are falling victim to it as well, and they think the MacDonalds are behind it.”

  “Sounds like when the MacDonald arrives, we have more to discuss than just his niece.” Lachlan rubbed his chin and leaned in.

  Alan frowned. “There is no way Alastair is behind the raids on the MacLeans.”

  He nodded as Alan continued to defend his uncle. “I questioned Skye, and she believes him a staunch Royalist and Catholic.”

  “I’ve been telling ye all along. The MacDonald is no Covenanter.” Alan shook his head.

  “I’m starting to believe that true, but until we are certain, I willnae let Skye go with him. If he’s starting a war, I dinnae want her anywhere near the man.”

  Lachlan interjected, “I’ve kenned Alastair a long time and dinnae think he would want to cause conflict. I was under the impression he wanted to form alliances. But until we are sure, keep yer eyes on her.”

  “That’s no’ the worst. The bandits who attacked us said Argyll wanted Skye and was offering a reward for her capture or death.”

  “What would Argyll want with her?”

  “I dinnae ken. Do ye have some extra men ye can put around the cottage? I havenae seen anything, but I cannae be certain we arenae being watched.”

  “Done.” Lachlan nodded. “The violence has escalated. We went to the village to retrieve Robbie this morning.”

  Robbie spoke for the first time. “I had gone to confession and was on my way back to Kentillie when a group of men rushed into the village with an injured boy.”

  Despite the several inches in height he’d gained in only the last few months, Robbie had a way of blending into the background and making one forget he was there. He seemed to go to confession a little too often for one who practiced with a sword like he would one day have to face down the devil himself. The boy had been raised by a priest, yet Brodie couldn’t help but think the lad held secrets darker and more terrifying than his own. Maybe that was why Alan and Lachlan kept a close watch on him.

  With a newly acquired deeper voice, Robbie shook his head and blew out a breath before he began again. “The boy had been beaten and left for dead, but somehow managed to crawl out of the house to seek help. ’Twas the son of the blacksmith’s apprentice and his wife.”

  Alan’s jaw tightened. “The lad’s only about ten summers. ’Twas their only child.”

  Swallowing, Robbie shook his head as storm clouds raged in his gaze. “The boy’s parents didnae survive.”

  “Did the lad tell ye what happened?” Closing his eyes, Brodie prayed the boy would not blame himself for what had happened, as he somehow knew Robbie blamed himself for the death of his previous guardian.

  “Nae, he is in nae shape to talk.” Robbie’s eyes darkened further.

  Lachlan continued, “We went to the village to bring the lad up to Coira, but I think Maggie should take a look at him, too.” His head dipped toward Skye. “As soon as I see Maggie to the sickroom, I’ll send a messenger to make sure yer letter made it through the snow to the MacDonald, and we’ll put some guards around yer house until Skye’s safe.”

  Scraping his chair across the floor, Lachlan rose to leave. Robbie followed, Alan trailing them, concern etched on his features. Skye’s cousin had been an orphan, his parents dying in a fire when Alan was young. Maybe worry over the lad’s condition explained why Alan had been so harsh with Brodie about Skye.

  Returning his gaze to her, he attempted to shake the tensions that were plaguing the clan as he stood to walk toward the ladies. Elspeth handed Donella’s babe to him to hold, and he took the little bundle and smiled down at him.

  “Greetings, wee one,” he said as he made little cooing noises and its tiny hand clasped his finger.

  Smiling, he glanced over to see Skye had gone pale. Her eyes had glossed over with ghosts he couldn’t name, and she seemed to be looking straight through him. He turned to look, but there was no one behind him. She staggered and almost fell over.

  “Skye,” Elspeth said as she steadied her with a sure hand.

  “I am so sorry. I think ’tis all too overwhelming. I need to step outside for some air.” She left before any of the ladies could protest. Their gazes followed her with concern as she made her way out the door.

  He carefully placed the babe back in Donella’s arms then hurried after her.

  He found her slumped over on a bench just outside the door. She was a picture of sadness and loss that twisted his gut.

  Easing down beside her, he reached out and rubbed her back. She flinched at first, but then softened to his touch as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  “Skye,” he whispered. When she didn’t respond, he gently took her chin in his hand. “Look at me,” he said with more force. “What has happened, love?”

  She bit her lip and gave him the weakest smile he’d ever seen. “I lost…” Tears streamed down her face. “Our babe. I was with child when I left. It didnae survive.” She hiccupped.

  He sat frozen. She had been pregnant with his bairn, and the babe hadn’t survived. But he’d come to Skye to get her not long after she’d left, and they had only been together a few times before then.

  Why would her uncle have refused him? Why did the arse not force him to take her as his wife? Instead, the man had him beaten and sent him away. If he had tried again, would the MacDonald have let him claim her, knowing she had carried his bairn? Would things have been different if he’d gone back for her one more time?

  “What?” was the only response he could muster. He pulled her onto his lap and sheltered her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She took a determined breath. Her face was right in front of his, but she appeared to be somewhere else when she started speaking in a resigned voice. The tone belied the pain he had just seen in her eyes.

  “Just before my birthday.” She blinked then resumed her unfocused stare. “My back hurt so badly. It felt like someone had stabbed me with a knife and twisted. Then there was so much blood. I had just realized I carried yer babe, and I was happy. That must be why Uncle had ye beaten. I lost the babe before ye arrived. I was so alone, and I hadnae told anyone, but the healer figured it out.”

  “It happens. ’Twas no’ yer doing.”

  “I cried for days, and the healer told my uncle what had happened. He had already arranged for me to wed a MacLeod, but my state threatened the union, and he must have blamed ye.”

  The beating he’d endured at the MacDonald’s command made sense now. He was surprised the man hadn’t had him killed.

  “I saw ye with Donella’s babe, and it made me think of what we should have had.”

  He drew her close and buried his head in her hair at the way his life had been taken from him—Darach, Skye, and now their child. To hell with his pride, he wanted to roar his fury. For her, for him, for the baby they’d lost and the life they should have had. To know she’d gone through that without him to hold her tore at him with sharp talons of regret.

  He’d give anything to take the hurt away from her, to turn back time and change everything. He would have found a way to get to her, if he’d only known.

  They embraced and consoled each other for what felt like hours, then he finally pulled back. “There was nothing ye could have done.”

  “Mayhap if I hadn’t left. I was so alone. I barely kenned my cousins and uncle at the time.”

  “Nae, dinnae even think it. Ye ken that is why my brothers are so much older than me. My mother lost three babes. ’Twas no’ ye.”

  “The MacLeod no longer wanted me when he found out.” The admission left him cold and bitter. The man couldn’t have ever met her, because no man on earth would be so stupid as to let her get away. “It’s one of the reasons I cannae stay. Ye deserve a family, and I willnae be able to give ye what ye need. And, ye were always gone. I cannae be alone again.”

  He ached. He wanted to say it didn’t
matter, that he didn’t need a family as long as he had her, but he couldn’t. He wanted to say if she stayed she’d never be alone again, but he was the Raven.

  “Come. ’Tis cold. Let’s tell Donella ye are tired from the strain of caring for me the last few days and go back to the house.”

  …

  Skye woke to the most delicious tingles pulsating through her humming nerves. Skilled fingertips danced across her belly, circling her abdomen and teasing her ribs. She opened her eyes to see Brodie’s sensual dark gaze focused on her. She started to protest and sit up, but the hand on her flattened and held her in place.

  “Brodie,” she tried to object, but his name escaped in a throaty whisper that was anything but stern.

  He gave her a devilish grin. “I just want to touch ye, love.”

  His fingers glided up to her ribs. It tickled but at the same time sent shivers racing through her. At some point during the night, her shift had slid up around her waist and his hand had glided under it.

  “I only want to see yer pleasure.” He leaned over her, his mouth so close to her neck that warm air teased her tender skin and set every part of her body ablaze.

  Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips then bit down on the lower one, swallowing the protest she meant to utter. Mesmerizing eyes watched her so intently she might go up in flames from the intensity of the desire as he willed her to give in.

  His fingers dipped lower to graze the curls at the apex of her legs. His hand slid down and back up, and she moved into his touch. Fire danced in her core as he played with her hair, gliding around the base then slightly pulling and teasing the curly strands.

  She gasped as one side of his mouth tilted upward in a wry, knowing grin that melted her insides and captivated her gaze. His hand dipped farther, trailing down her thigh, leaving tingles of need in its wake. Grasping her knee, his hand pulled her legs apart and pinned the one closest to him between his warm, demanding thighs, spreading her and giving him access to that most intimate part of her.

  Suddenly, his lips were on her nape, sending sinfully delicious spirals of desire to her core. She groaned and involuntarily tilted into him. His teeth bit down, and his soft lips ringed flesh as he sucked just where her neck met her shoulder. A primal groan of pure need escaped her lips at the feeling.

  His fingers started working again, running up and down her thigh as he continued to worship her neck with his mouth. The overwhelming sensations were driving her mad with desire, and her core heated as moisture pooled in her most private of parts. One finger trailed slowly up her slick folds to skim across her clitoris, and he groaned.

  His head slanted up to her ear, and his warm breath heated her blood as he whispered, “Ye are so wet for me, love.”

  Before she could think about what he had said or how to react, his finger had sunk back into her folds, trailing up and down as he teased her swollen nub with each stroke. His gaze pinned her with such need, she almost drowned in it.

  One thick finger plunged into her tight sheath, and she squirmed at the delicious invasion. Her breath caught and she froze, but his tongue swept around hers again, and she was lost. Returning the kiss, she was barely aware that her hips rose up to beg for more.

  Stroking the inside of her channel with slow, deliberate fervor, his ministrations almost pulled her under. Drawing back, he inserted a second finger that filled her until she thought she would burst. She felt a contraction in her core as the pressure of his thrusting fingers drew her closer to the edge.

  His thumb started circling her nub as the plunging deepened and changed to a deliciously deliberate pace. His head tilted back to gaze at her, and she was caught in the intensity. His eyes were primitive as they studied her, claiming her with a dark, primal desire she knew must be reflected in her own eyes.

  Her fists tightened on the bedding as a coiling tension raced through her, taking her to the apex, ready to burst. She broke as tremors raced through her body.

  “Brodie,” she gasped as her head tilted back but her eyes stayed fixed on his as her muscles tightened and clenched around his fingers. Cries of pleasure escaped her lips as she panted with the release. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.

  Her sheath was still spasming when his mouth returned to hers, hungry and needy, taking her cries of pleasure and demanding her soul.

  It felt so right. She gave. She kissed him back with all the need, desire, and love she had kept hidden away. She could not deny he had conquered her. Again. She was lost to him. Lost, and her heart soared at the completion. Lost, and it scared her.

  Withdrawing his hand, he tossed his arm over her and drew her closer to his side. Still trembling from the aftershocks, she lay there in his embrace. His erection was pressed up to her thigh as his leg remained coiled around hers, but he made no move to further their connection. He only held her. She felt cherished, as if she were the only woman in the world.

  She shifted, climbing on top of him and when he entered her, they made love slowly, savoring each second as if they could make up for all the time they’d missed.

  After they were sated, they lay together, glowing and relaxed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so complete. Brodie knew the truth about the babe and didn’t appear to be angry or disgusted with her, and there was a closeness between them that had been missing before.

  It was like the pieces to her broken heart had been put back together. But she would be a MacPherson soon, and he would go back to living here in her home without her.

  Snuggling deeper into the space between Brodie’s chest and arm as his fingers slowly danced up and down her arm was heavenly. She had almost fallen asleep when he spoke.

  “What do ye think the MacDonald will do when he catches up to us?”

  “He will thank ye for saving me from my captors, although he might be a bit angry ye didnae take me back to Stirling right away.”

  She felt her mouth turn up as she thought of the uncle who had gone out of his way to make her happy. After they arrived at Cairntay, he had said she reminded him of a caged bird who had lost her music. And she had been, for a while, pinned in by pain that kept her from thinking about returning home. Since the broken betrothal, he’d not asked anything of her until now. She’d finally moved on, throwing herself into the kitchens and her family, determining that she would never find herself alone when she needed someone again. That was why she had to marry Collin—he lived in a large castle full of family and friends. Even if she told him she loved another, and he released her from their betrothal, she couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t end up alone in this house waiting for Brodie to come home. She would never be able to take the loneliness.

  Brodie broke into her thoughts. “I dinnae believe he will be so pleased to find ye here with me. He has years of anger built up towards me. Or mayhap he didnae mean it when he said, ‘If I see yer face again, I will tear ye apart with my own hands.’”

  He laughed it off, but a bone deep shiver ran through her as she recalled the last man her uncle had made that threat to, the very man that hunted her now—the Earl of Argyll.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sun peeking through the curtains to signal the new day, birds chirping in the tree just outside the bedroom window, pulled Skye from a peaceful sleep. Stretching, she glanced over to see Brodie awake, but his gaze was fastened on the window, not her, his forehead creased with worry. His muscles were tense, and his boyish charm had been replaced by the steadfast resolve of a warrior.

  She stiffened. “Do ye see something outside?”

  “Nae. All looks well. We should just keep our guard up.” But his casually dismissive tone made the hair on her arms stand up, and she surmised that something had raised his suspicions and he was attempting to soften her concern. He was not the kind to bring up an unfounded fear.

  “Ross has no’ yet made an appearance. He doesnae give in easily, especially if I am involved. We have a bit of a history. But what worries me more are Argyll’s orders.”

&n
bsp; “Did ye talk to Lachlan? Had he seen them or heard anything?” She was surprised at how easily the man who had kidnapped her in Stirling and the Covenanter earl had slipped from her mind. She had been so focused on Brodie being ill, and then on savoring every moment they had left together, that she’d pushed all else to the back of her mind.

  “Nae, he has not. But that doesnae mean the threats arenae nearby. Ross is a crafty bastard, and Argyll has men everywhere.” The lines on Brodie’s brow deepened.

  “Mayhap they gave up and went home. It’s been too cold to skulk around looking for me.”

  “I heard some odd noises last night. ’Twas probably nothing, but we should be vigilant. Lachlan has assigned men to keep watch over the house until the MacDonald arrives, but ye can never be too careful. Do ye have a dog on the Isle of Skye? They sense danger before people can.”

  “Nae, dogs are too much work. Truthfully, I have always wanted a cat.” Despite the sincerity to her words, she couldn’t help but smile inwardly at what she knew his reaction would be.

  He scowled, and a satisfied smirk spread across her lips. Brodie had never liked cats. Once when they had been at Donella’s, Skye had picked up a wee baby kitten and tried to get him to hold it. He had backed from the room and disappeared. Since then, she’d teased him about his aversion to the small animals that she found warm and comforting.

  “What do ye want one of those creatures for? Their claws are vicious, and they smell.” He shuddered and she laughed.

  “The wee things are irresistible.”

  “Ye are irresistible.” He rolled on top of her and tickled her. She laughed, and her bare body rubbed against his, reigniting the fire for him that burned deep and hot.

  …

  After spending the morning visiting with Brodie’s mother and father, Skye found herself sprawled on the floor of his parent’s stables inspecting a new litter of puppies. She giggled as a scruffy little collie with deep soulful eyes jumped into her lap. The others rolled and tumbled as they played and yapped. Nipping at each other, they rustled the hay, kicking up a slightly earthy mildew smell.