The Fearless Highlander (Highland Defender Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

  Drawing her hands over her mouth Charlotte gasped. “Hugh. How did we end up on the bed?”

  “I think we must have floated,” he whispered.

  Pushing herself up, she brushed the tangles of hair from her face. The woman could not possibly look more ravishing. Her mere gesture set his ballocks afire. “But we mustn’t remain here.”

  “Why should we not?” Trying to regain a modicum of control, he rolled to his side and toyed with the lace on the front of her shift. “Are you still aiming to marry the surgeon?”

  “No.”

  He slid his lips to her ear. “Then marry me, lass.”

  “Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, help me. I’ve craved that since the moment we met. But goodness knows Papa would never grant his approval.”

  Yes, the colonel would need convincing for certain. “If I ravished you, it would leave him with little choice,” Hugh said with a cocky grin, though deep in his heart he meant every word.

  Charlotte eased back onto the pillows and combed her fingers through her untamed locks. “If you did, every dragoon in the king’s army would be out for your blood.”

  He inched toward her, drew his arm across her waist, and nuzzled into her neck. “But I want you more than life itself.”

  She smoothed her fingers behind his neck and pulled him until their chests touched with the slightest bit of friction. “We mustn’t.” She closed her eyes with a wee brush of her fevered lips across his. “W-why are you so entirely irresistible?”

  “’Tis the same question I’ve been asking myself since I opened my eyes and saw your bonny face in the surgery.”

  Must his every sultry word weaken her little remaining resolve? Charlotte couldn’t understand why the man in her arms summoned an insatiable appetite so powerful, she could think of nothing but him—think of no other place she’d rather be than lying on her back, watching his devilishly enticing face. She should have been angry and outraged when he spirited into her chamber like a rogue—yes indeed, his behavior was nothing short of what she would expect from a rascal. In a moment of sanity she tilted up her chin. “I should send you away.” Her naughty fingers moved down to the top button of his doublet and released it.

  “Is that what you want?” Goodness, the rumble of his voice poured over her like honey.

  “Mm hm.” She released the next button.

  His warm breath tickled her neck. “But I’m not ready to leave yet.”

  When the last button popped open, she shoved the coat from his shoulders. Raising up, Hugh shrugged out of the doublet then slid back down beside her.

  Blocking the needling thoughts of impropriety from her mind, Charlotte rolled to her side and faced him, placing her palm atop his saffron shirt. By the saints, how could a flesh-and-blood man be hewn from pure marble? Her breath became shallow as her fingers meandered over his taut chest. She wanted to feel every ridge of him, every sinew. Her tongue slipped across her lips. The coarse mahogany curls of hair peeping through his neckline made her hands tremble—her insides ignite with a fire that burned from her lips to her breasts to that unspeakable place she must never mention.

  Biting her bottom lip, Charlotte pulled the leather thong, desperately wanting to see more of him. Hugh’s breathing grew labored as she spread the laces and slid her hand inside his neckline. Her fingers brushed powerful flesh she suddenly had to taste, just as he had tasted her breast. Timidly at first, she slid down and pressed her lips to him, then trailed kisses along the solid chest until met with a tight bud of rose. As he had done to her, she swirled her tongue around it, shocked to have him harden with her kiss.

  “Mm,” he groaned.

  The sound of his deep voice rumbling in his chest increased the yearning inside Charlotte’s body until she feared she might burst. Inching toward him, she slid her arms around Hugh’s waist, desperately needing more, but having no idea what.

  As if able to read her thoughts, he tilted her chin up and covered her mouth with a fervent caress of his lips. How on earth a man as hard and powerful as this Highlander could be so incredibly gentle, she couldn’t fathom. Casting aside all doubts, Charlotte melted into his chest as he pulled her breasts against him. Every inch of her skin alive with desire, she followed his lead—she met each new caress with one for him, wanting him to feel the same churning need building up inside as the desire consumed her mind, body and soul.

  Hugh breathlessly ended the kiss, holding his hardness flush against her. Lord in heaven, his every movement took her higher until she thought she might shatter if the intensity grew more.

  “Och.” He sucked in deep breath. “If we keep on this way, I’ll not be able to hold back.”

  She blinked, suddenly aware of exactly what he meant. Yes, yes, yes, she wanted him so much…but then retained enough good sense to shift her hips away from the rock-hard column jutting against her. “Am I tempting you?”

  “Ever so much, lass.” His eyes darkened with a devilish grin. “You’re enough to drive a man to utter, insatiable, gripping insanity.”

  She gasped. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Mo leannan.” Before she could utter another word, he rolled Charlotte onto her back diving into a delicious, head-muddling kiss. “What I mean is…if we do not slow our pace, I doubt I’ll be able to keep myself from ravishing you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  With a jolt, Charlotte sat up and crossed her arms over her breasts. “I cannot allow you to ravish me.” No matter how much she wanted Hugh’s hands on her, his kisses, his deep growls expressing his love, she must resist.

  She must.

  Her gaze darted around the chamber. She held her palm up to him. “There are too many things that yet must be done. I’ve tried to tell Doctor Munro my feelings for him run no deeper than friendship, yet he has not accepted my refusal.” Charlotte leaned forward, placing her forehead in her palm. “And I must speak to Papa.” Heaven only knew what his reaction would be.

  Hugh slid up beside her, placing his hand in the small of her back. His hand was ever so warm and tender. Curses, how could Charlotte ever be able to explain how she felt to her father? Everything she’d been brought up to believe shouted the physician was the better match, but her heart could not be ignored. For once in Charlotte’s life, her heart won the battle between love and reason.

  Hugh leaned on his elbow, looking more tempting than sweets at the market. “I should be the one to speak to the colonel and ask for your hand. I shall do so on the morrow.”

  “Oh no. I’m afraid that would invite an uproar of monstrous proportions.” She vehemently shook her head. “I must face Papa first, help him grow accustomed to the idea, else you might not make it out of the fort alive.”

  Hugh chuckled, toying with the tie at her waist. “You think I cannot hold my own with your da?”

  “’Tisn’t that.”

  “Aye?”

  She clutched her fist to her chest. “’Tis the army of five hundred dragoons you’d have to fight through before you reached Fort William’s gates.”

  Hugh slid his finger from her waist up between her breasts where he lingered for a moment. His lips parted, his eyes so dark they appeared almost dangerous. Then with a devilish grin, he caught a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger as his tongue slipped out and moistened his bottom lip. “Well then you must make haste, for I cannot wait much longer for you, mo leannan.”

  Lord in heaven, his low growl reignited the heat boiling in the depths of her most sacred place and out through the tips of her breasts. Following his lead, her tongue tapped her top lip as her gaze again dipped to the dark locks curling in the opening of his shirt. She ached to run her fingers through them once more. “I shall do so at my first opportunity on the morrow, and then I’ll send word to you via Farley.”

  “If you believe that is best.” Rising up, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Charlotte loved it when he did that. Softer than lamb’s wool, his kisses made her heart swell with unabashed joy. Who would have thoug
ht that she’d find true love in the most remote part of Britain? And here she’d been planning to return to London. At least Papa should be happy to be released from supporting her, and in turn she would live close enough to Fort William to see him often.

  A dong rang out through the chamber. Bless it, if only they had more time. There were so many things she wanted to say—to ask him about Glencoe. Charlotte held her breath and looked to Hugh. “It is time.”

  The clock struck again.

  Hugh threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape and kissed her while the clock sounded twice more. “Och, I do not want this eve to end.”

  “Nor do I.” Charlotte cupped his cheek, savoring the masculine scent of spice and leather that only Hugh possessed. She counted three more tolls while she melted into his delicious kiss. With a sigh, she sat up. “You must make haste.”

  One more odious dong pealed from the mantel clock. Her heart stopped as she gaped at the ticking timepiece, blinking to ensure her ears and now her eyes hadn’t deceived her. “Oh my heavens, ’tis eight! How did we miss the seven o’clock tolls?”

  “Mayhap we were a wee bit preoccupied.” Hugh raked his eyes down her body, his eyes turning black as coal while they blazed with mischief.

  But this was no time to throw all caution out the window. Looking at Hugh only served to make her completely forget her priorities. With a sharp inhale, Charlotte swung her legs over the side of the bed and paced, wringing her hands. “How on earth can you jest at a time like this? The gates are closed. You.” She pointed in the direction of the gatehouse. “Are locked within for the entire night—the very thing Emma warned against.”

  Hugh scooted off the bed and strode to Charlotte. “Forgive me.” He grasped her hands. “I did not hear the clock toll the seventh hour either.”

  “How could we have missed it?”

  His accursed gaze meandered to the bed. “I was a bit too wrapped up in wooing a bonny lass to be distracted by anything else.”

  She tugged her hands away and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Now what will we do?”

  He chewed his bottom lip, one eyebrow cocked up. “What about the key you used for the postern gate?” Lord his devilish grin set Charlotte’s insides aflutter. “You spirited me out once, why could you not do it again?”

  “Because Papa was out looking for you, which made it easy for me to slip into his study and borrow his key.”

  “Blast.” Hugh held up a finger. “I don’t suppose you could slip down and borrow it again?”

  “Not unless you want me to take a chance on rousing him.” She cringed. “Lord, we must keep our voices down,” she whispered.

  Hugh nodded and pulled her into his embrace. Charlotte’s head swooned. Why the devil did that have to happen every time he wrapped his arms around her?

  “You needn’t worry about me, mo leannan. I can find a corner in which to sleep outside.”

  She rested her head against his chest, her fingers slipping up to those intoxicating curls just above his neckline. She was powerless to leave them be. Oh yes, such a virile man, yet his hair was softer than silk. “You cannot be serious. ’Tis freezing out there.”

  He moaned a bit and slid his palm up and down her spine. “I can take care of myself.”

  “While I worry into a dither?” Charlotte’s gaze slipped to the bed…they’d just been there in each other’s arms—and it was the most exhilarating experience of her life. Why did this eve have to end now? Why must he go when the gates were already closed? “I think no…”

  A growl rumbled through his throat as Hugh smothered her objection with a kiss. Not a feathery, titillating kiss, but a joining of the mouths that staked his claim. Charlotte held on, digging her fingers into his back as he plied her with deep churnings of his tongue, his hard body flush against hers, rubbing side to side, ever so slowly, ever so erotically. She clung to him as if her very life depended on it, trying to match his fervor, his every lick, his every little suck.

  Taking a quick breath, she regarded him. “Am I in danger of losing my virtue, sir?”

  He gazed upon her with a heavy-lidded stare. “Aye, lass.” He cleared his throat and looked to the ceiling. “I mean nay. I aim to do this right, Miss Hill. But I fully intend to enjoy your company until you boot my Highland arse out of your bedchamber.” Grasping her shoulders, he stepped back, panning his gaze down to her breasts while his tongue again slipped to the corner of his mouth. Lord, he was too desirable for words. Did he have any idea what looking at her like that did to her insides?

  Charlotte glanced down at her disgraceful state of undress and gasped. She’d forgotten she wore only her shift on top. Thank the stars her skirts remained safely tied around her waist. “I’ve no idea why I become so audacious and bold whenever I am in your arms, sir.” Goodness, the thought of Doctor Munro seeing her in such a state tied her stomach in knots. But for some reason, she felt not a thread of humiliation with Hugh MacIain’s eyes upon her.

  “Och, lassie, I cannot deny how much I’m drawn to you.” He kissed her cheek, then inhaled deeply. “I cannot breathe in enough of your scent.” With a low chuckle he kissed the other. “Merely pressing my lips to your succulent flesh makes me hunger for more.”

  Such passionate words—mercy—and such liberties taken should make Charlotte force him out the door, but the searing heat deep inside forbade her from doing such a thing. She ran her middle finger over his shirt collar as gooseflesh rose across her skin. No more powerful, breath-stopping emotion had she ever felt. Truly, they were meant to be together forever.

  Charlotte still had enough presence of mind to pose one question. “You will not change your mind…ah…about us?” She brushed her fingers over the coarse stubble on his chin as if touching for reassurance. Indeed, he was real.

  The look on his face grew ever so serious, making him look all the more desirable. Taking her hand between his palms, he dropped to one knee. “Och, Charlotte, I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on your bonny face. If you’ll have me, I cannot think of any other lass in all the world with whom I’d rather grow old. Please, m’lady. Though I now live in a Highland longhouse, I can build you a fine manse with a thousand-foot fortress to surround you. I swear on my life you will never go without or know hunger. You shall have the finest gowns, and horses, a coach to take you to see your da.”

  Charlotte had never heard such a declaration of love uttered, and from a man on bended knee. All of her wildest imaginings were coming true. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice hoarse, his eyes focused on her as if she were the only woman in the entire world.

  “Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. “You have my solemn promise there is no other man I would be content to wed.”

  Hugh tugged her into his arms, pressing his cheek to her abdomen. “I must be the happiest man in all of Scotland.”

  Her heart fluttered with elation. “We are the happiest couple.”

  Rising to his feet, Hugh picked her up and twirled in her in a circle. “I can scarcely wait to break the news to Ma. She’ll love you. I ken she will.”

  Charlotte squealed as her feet flew out and soared through the air.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  Hugh set her down, his eyes wide. “Are we not supposed to keep quiet?”

  She covered her mouth. “Quickly,” she whispered. “Under the bed!”

  He knit his eyebrows. “Mayhap now’s the time to face him?”

  “Lord, no!” She shoved him. “Do as I say. Hurry!”

  Thank goodness Hugh didn’t try to argue. After he scooted beneath the drapes of the coverlet, Charlotte faced the door, clutching her hands to her chest while Papa’s footsteps grew nearer.

  A knock came. “Charlotte?”

  “Yes?” Curses, her voice shot up too high.

  “Did I hear voices?”

  She threw the latch and opened the door, peeking her head around it. “I
was dancing and…and singing.” She cringed. “Apologies if I was carrying on a bit.”

  Papa frowned looking past her—straight toward the blasted bed. “’Tis late. I suggest you take your rest.”

  “Yes, Papa. Straight away.” She kept her body flat against the door lest he notice she hadn’t changed into her nightdress. “Sleep well.”

  She started to close the door when he stopped its momentum. Her heart nearly stopped as she peered at him, unable to keep her eyes from popping wide.

  Papa smiled, patting her cheek. “Oh, to be young and spry. Good night, my dear.”

  When Charlotte closed the door, latched it and let out a long exhale, Hugh felt like the biggest rake who’d ever walked the earth. Hell, he loved Charlotte. She wasn’t like any of the other women he’d wooed. In no way did he want to do anything to jeopardize things between them. The fact that she was Colonel Hill’s daughter made their situation precarious enough. Hell, Charlotte was right to shove him under the bed. If the governor had discovered Hugh in her bedchamber, it would have been over and the colonel would have strung him up by his cods before dawn.

  Charlotte waited until the footsteps faded before she turned and held out her hands.

  Hugh slid out from under the bed and brushed himself off. “I should go.”

  Her breath caught as her gaze slipped down and focused on the unbound laces of his shirt. “Must you?”

  “Aye.” The word stuck in the back of his throat. The love of his life stood an arm’s length away, and he was going to leave her virtue intact and spirit down the servant’s stairs? Christ, if he’d had a severe blow to his head, he would have understood, but no, he was behaving like a lovesick simpleton. He was a reiver. A man who always took what he wanted and damned the consequences.

  God’s bones, Charlotte swished her saucy hips as she stepped toward him. “You cannot possibly leave now. My father would hear you.” She reached her arms around his neck and raised her pouty lips.

  Oh, Lord in heaven, there he was trying to be chivalrous and she had to turn that pert little mouth up to his, begging to be kissed? With a feral growl, he drew her in with a kiss to match all kisses he’d ever experienced. Och aye, the lass learned fast as she pressed her breasts against his chest—lusciously soft pillows of succulent flesh molded to him, flush against his chest, breaking down his every shred of defense. He could have slipped outside the door—could have done the right thing if she hadn’t been so bloody forward. Damn her, if the wickedly soft breasts weren’t enough, she now pushed her mons against his cock.