Lusting for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  The Magistrate nodded, and took a seat once more. “Three days then. Use them wisely.”

  Gregor wanted to tell the Magistrate to go to hell, but he knew when he was beaten. At least for now.

  “Aye, fine. Three days. But ye let Morgana out of yer dungeon and let her stay with me.”

  “Absolutely not,” Fordun hissed. “They’ll escape!”

  Gregor shook his head. “Yer honor I swear it. Ye can post any guards up that ye like to keep watch over us. I daenae trust this man to be left alone with her. We will stay for the trial. I am that certain ye will find her innocent.”

  The Magistrate, clearly getting irritate with the conversation, huffed in agitation.

  “Bugger it all,” he grumbled, slamming his hand on the desk. “Fine. Ye may take yer betrothed and yer men to the Red Hound Tavern. My brother owns it and will have eyes on you like a hawk, Laird Henwen, so I suggest ye keep yer word.”

  “I swear on me life!” he exclaimed, his heart feeling joy for the first time in days. He couldn’t believe that the Magistrate had actually said yes! Even if it was a small victory, it was still a victory.

  “Very well, Laird Henwen I will take that,” the Magistrate replied dryly. “If anything happens to Morgana and she just magically disappears, it is your body that will be tied to the pyre in her place. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye, I dae” he replied immediately. “I will gladly take her place. But I swear to ye, we will find evidence to prove her innocence. And I will take her home, and she will become Lady Reid of Henwen.”

  “How utterly romantic,” the Magistrate replied. He looked over to Fordun, clearly done with the conversation. “Fordun, you and I have a conversation to finish. Laird Henwen, please allow the guard who brought you in to take you to retrieve your betrothed. Now go. I’ll see you in three days.”

  Chapter 29

  Gregor was not prepared to see Morgana in the state that she was in. When he was taken down to the dungeon, his uncle had laid a hand on his forearm and warned him of what he might see. But he hadn’t expected this.

  Morgana’s beautiful fire red hair was now matted in dirty brown locks. Her dress had all but been turned into rags from the travel and abuse, and large tears could be seen in the skirt, sleeves, and up near her bosom. Dirt was smeared all over her hands and face, and she refused to lift her head up.

  Pain and anger twisted in him so violently that he thought for a moment he was going to be ill. His hands began to wring the bars tightly, and he wished it was Fordun’s neck between his palms and not the iron. In that moment he made a vow to bestow on him every ounce of pain he put into Morgana measure for measure.

  He turned to the jailer, hatred burning in his eyes and in a deadly fashion he whispered, “Open the bloody door. Now.”

  The jailer moved quickly to do as he was told, but even when he stepped into her cell Morgana wouldn’t raise her head. Gone was the beautiful light of hope that had once radiated from her, and in its place was a quiet acceptance of her fate.

  “Morgana,” he rasped, his voice full of emotion.

  Morgana’s head immediately shot up, as if not believing her ears, and looked at Gregor as if he were a ghost. She looked at them for a long time, her eyes moving from him to the open door to Jamie and then back to him again. It was as if she didn’t believe they were real.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” he whispered, going to her. In less than two strides he crossed the space between and crushed her to him. Her body felt thin and weak, as if she barely had enough strength to stand on her own.

  “We’re getting ye out of here,” he promised, squeezing her tighter.

  “Gregor,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t believe you are here.”

  The broken sob that came from her lips next was enough to take Gregor to his knees. The moment he had her safe, he wanted to lock the doors of the Magistrate’s Office and cover the entire building in tar before setting it on fire.

  “Of course I’m here, he soothed, “I’m going to get ye out of this mess once and for all,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “Come on, Luv.” He took the olive-green cape that Jamie had acquired for her and draped it around her shoulders. He fastened it under her chin and drew the hood up over her face so no one could see her.

  When Morgana tried to walk out of the dungeon by his side, her legs buckled immediately, and she stumbled and fell heavily into Gregor’s side. In one swift motion he had her swept up in his arms and was carrying her up the steps and to the main door. Around them, people were staring openly, but made no move to stop him.

  As he exited a half-dozen English guards followed him. With Gregor in his noble apparel carrying Morgana and the guards following him, it was rather easy for a crowd to draw around them to watch them walk from the Magistrate’s Office to the Red Hound Tavern. By the time they had reached it, nearly everyone outside had stopped what they were doing to watch the curious parade.

  At the tavern Jamie had gone ahead and secured their rooms. To Gregor’s relief, the guards didn’t try to attempt to weasel themselves into their room when they reached it, but instead posted themselves outside their door.

  Gregor opened the door and immediately out bounded Zeus, going straight into Morgana’s arms. She cried for joy as they were reunited, and Gregor helped them move into the room so they could have privacy. Zeus whined like a pup who had missed its mother as he rubbed his giant head over Morgana’s abdomen and on her forehead.

  His giant tongue wet his mistress’ face, catching her tears as she kept her arms thrown around him. Through her sobs she thanked Gregor for protecting Zeus, and for bringing him to her.

  “Yer his mother,” he responded, looking down at them fondly. “He was just as ready to come save ye as I was.”

  He waited patiently until the two finished their joyous reunion. Only when he was sure that Zeus wasn’t going to attack him for grabbing at her did he pull her onto her feet and pull the cape away to look her over.

  Angry purple and blue bruises covered her arms, bloomed on her right cheek, and strung around her neck. Nearly a dozen small but deep cuts had been made across her collar bone, and she had a cut on her left eyebrow and on the left side of her lips.

  “I’ll murder him,” he seethed, cupping Morgana’s face. “I swear it to ye lass, I’ll make him pay for that he’s done to ye.”

  “I just can’t believe you’re here,” Morgana said in awe, shaking her head. “You came for me.”

  “Of course I did!” Gregor exclaimed, his eyes vehemently searching hers. It was clear she was still in shock, and he couldn’t blame her.

  “I love ye, lass. I’m sorry I didnae say it before but I dae. I love ye with all me heart and I’ll be damned if I let anyone take ye away from me. I’m taking ye home, I’m marrying ye if ye’ll have me, and ye will never have step foot into England again if ye daenae want to.”

  For the first time in over a week Morgana smiled in pure happiness. Gregor had not said it before, but she had felt his love for her in the last few weeks that they had shared together. She knew that to hear those words would take time and patience, and now that they were said aloud she reveled in the reality of them, if only for a short time.

  “I love you too,” she confessed, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her hands tangled in his shirt and she pulled herself closer to him, her mouth leaving kisses over the fabric as he cradled her head there.

  They stood like that for several moments, simply taking one another in again before her sadness started to return. A marriage to Gregor would have been a dream come true. She had fallen in love with Scotland as much as she’d fallen in love with him, and wanted nothing more than to go home.

  But Fordun had her now, and she knew better than to think that he would just let her go. Her odds of leaving the city alive were slim to none, but, she thought, at least she wasn’t going to have to die alone. If there was one thing she could be thankful for, it was knowin
g that she wouldn’t be alone as the fire consumed her.

  “I would have loved to be your wife,” she told him, smiling through her tears.

  “Ye will,” Gregor promised, not letting her go.

  A knock came from the door then, and Jamie abruptly came in followed by three guards who brought a wooden tub in and two bar maids carrying large, steaming buckets full of water. Behind them came another barmaid carrying a tray laden with food and pitchers of wine and water.

  “Och, thank heaven yer alright,” Jamie greeted, walking straight to over to the couple. Gregor let her go just in time for Jamie to take his place, and she felt herself being crushed into yet another bear hug.

  “Daenae ye worry lass,” he told her, giving her a paternal kiss on the forehead. “Gregor and I will get yer little arse right out of this situation, just ye wait and see.”

  He turned from the couple and headed back toward the door. “Right then, ye English spectators, give them their privacy will ye’s?” The guards shuffled out quietly, intimidated by the large Scotsman barking orders at them. It brought Morgana satisfaction to see them scared, and she hoped Jamie wouldn’t be too easy on them.

  The last one shut the door behind him, leaving the two their privacy. Morgana looked longingly over at the steaming water in the bath. It had been too long since she’d bathed, and hot water would do her good. Gregor must have sensed her wanting, and offered to give her privacy to bathe.

  “No,” she pleaded, catching his hand with both of hers. “Please don’t go.”

  “I dinnae want to,” he replied earnestly, pulling her back into his arms. “I kent ye wanted to be alone, if only for a bit.” He kissed her forehead lovingly, and pulled her back just enough so he could frame her face with his hands and look into her eyes.

  “Let’s get ye cleaned, aye? I bet ye’ll feel a million times better after a nice bath.”

  A short time later Morgana was scrubbing the filth away from her body while Gregor told her what happened at the Magistrate’s Office. She was surprised when she heard that there were rumors spreading among the countryside about Fordun’s cruelty.

  According to Gregor, the man had been going from village to village searching for her and killing whomever had helped or looked like her. The facts chilled her to the bone, with guilt rising up in her like a giant wave, ready to crash over and destroy her.

  She had only wanted to live, to be who she was and be appreciated for it. Instead, she’d brought a wake of death everywhere she went. It was no wonder everyone thought her a witch.

  “Easy, lass,” Gregor warned softly, stilling her hand.

  Morgana looked down, and noticed that the part of her arm that she’d been scrubbing was bright red and agitated. Calmly, Gregor reached into the tub, took the sponge out of her hands, and began to lather it again.

  “I’ll never get away from him,” she whispered as Gregor began to wash her back. “Even if he dies. What he has done in my name will never be alright.”

  “He is a mere man, Morgana,” Gregor soothed, lathering the soap up once more to wash her hair. “He will die, and the Devil will have him finally. All bad men pay for their crimes.”

  His fingers worked into her hair, releasing pressure from her head and making her feel more relaxed. Tiredly, she leaned back into Gregor’s hands and closed her eyes, reveling in the way he massaged over her scalp and untangled the strands of matted hair so gently.

  Gregor took his time, separating each strand as he washed her hair clean. Never had someone been so gentle with her before, and the nurture he gave her brought strange tears to her eyes.

  Her mind transported her back to Henwen then, to the night before the ball and all of the trouble came back to her. She thought of the large bath hall and how she and Gregor had shared a playful moment before the chaos. How she wished she could go back to that night.

  If she had known then what she knew now, she would have handled the night differently. Zeus would have never left her side. She would have hidden a dagger in her dress. She would have done everything she could to get ahead of Fordun and stop him once and for all.

  “We have to find proof that Fordun isn’t a true member of the church,” she told him, opening her eyes.

  “Aye,” he agreed concentrating on his work. “I just have to figure out how.”

  Morgana studied his face as he continued detangling her hair, and it made her heart jump. He was being so gentle, so thorough with making sure she was clean. Although they had only been apart for seven days, Morgana realized she had terribly missed being able to look upon the Laird’s devilishly-handsome face.

  Her gaze traced over him, memorizing every line. She had seen his face every time she had closed her eyes, but there was nothing that could compare to seeing him here and now. Love and appreciation for him flowed out of her heart, and she knew then that despite the destruction Fordun had caused, she had finally found her true love.

  As he cared for her, Morgana began to feel her body grow warm and tingly. Desire laced up through her core, her nipples taut, making her squirm. She wanted to forget about the danger that lurked right outside their door, for only a little while, and be with Gregor as his betrothed again.

  When he finished rinsing her hair, Gregor took her hands in his to help her stand on her feet. She stood before him, completely nude before he wrapped a towel around her and began to rub her dry. As he did so, she thought of the kindness Fordun’s one guard had showed her, and an idea began to blossom.

  “I think I may know of a way,” she shared, taking a step closer to him.

  “Ye do? Tell me!”

  “I will…” Morgana promised, her lips going to his neck. Immediately heat laced through her as she heard his breath hitch in his throat, “after,” she begged, offering her lips up to his.

  A sound of pleasure rumbled from Gregor’s throat before he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss, and he was pulling her soaked body out of the tub and into his arms. Morgana clung to his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as her leg hitched up over his hip.

  Gregor took them backwards until the back of his knees hit the frame of the bed. Once there, he eased them down onto the thick, feather-stuffed mattress. With her legs straddling his waist, Morgana began to move her naked body sensually atop him as his hands moved to explore her.

  Morgana let out the softest moan as Gregor’s fingers wondered everywhere, making her skin sing with every brush of his fingertips. For days she had been terrified that she would never get to feel her beloved again. It had haunted her dreams worse than the visions of Fordun did, and nearly broke her heart.

  Tears were threatening to choke her and make her stop, but she pushed them deep down and gave every single part of herself in that moment to Gregor. Together they pulled off his clothes, dragging the garments away and tossing them to the floor.

  Since their trip to the beach Gregor had seemed rather insistent on tasting her petals any time they made love, and sometimes even when they didn’t. It was a pleasure she loved to share with him immensely. But as he tried to roll her onto her back, Morgana rose up to her knees and in one swift, powerful motion, brought herself down onto Gregor’s throbbing member.

  They both gasped in ecstasy as she slid down atop him. Together they began to move, their hips grinding into one another in perfect tandem, creating their own heaven. Morgana felt the stress, the fear, and the pain from the last week all be driven far away from her, from them.

  This was what true love was, Morgana realized as they moved in perfect tandem. With Gregor, there was no fear, no doubt of any kind. There was just simply desire, love, and passion. Emotions she had never encountered before meeting him and ones she desperately wanted to keep ahold of if her days were numbered.

  From her angle atop him, Morgana controlled their pace as Gregor stared up at her in admiration. Within minutes, their heated lovemaking brought her first release, and it crashed down on her like a tidal wave. Her thighs quivered and she gaspe
d Gregor’s name as it overtook her.

  Exhausted from the ecstasy, Morgana laid herself over Gregor’s chest, nuzzling there as he took over the pace by gripping her bottom with both hands. With her moans for him slipping into his ear, it was not long at all that Gregor finished as well.

  “By the saints,” Gregor groaned, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He peppered kisses over her hair, down her forehead, and over her cheeks.

  “I’ve missed ye, lass. Ye have no idea how terrified I was that I wouldnae be able to do this again.”

  Morgana nuzzled further into Gregor’s arms, her mouth leaving kisses all over his chest.

  “I think I might,” she whispered, running the tip of her nose along the line of his neck. The two fell into deep conversation about what they were going to do, how they were going to survive, and how after all of it was finally going to be over, they would be married.