Lusting for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  When he finally reached an inn, The Green Dragon, his arm ached from supporting the weight of her unconscious body. She had not stirred the entire time, but he hadn’t dared to stop long enough to check if she was still breathing. He hauled her off the horse, barking at a lad in front of the inn to see to the horses as he carried her inside.

  The common room of the inn was raucous with the sounds of men who were well into their cups, but the sight of Laird Braewood, with a limp and bloodied woman draped across his arms, sent the room into sudden stillness. For a moment, no one spoke or moved at all, seeming to wait for some indication from the Laird what they were expected to do.

  “Someone fetch this lass a doctor,” Kentigern barked, effectively breaking the spell that had fallen over the men. Men scrambled, the crowd broke through the confusion, and the innkeeper approached Kentigern.

  “Come and lay her down in one of the empty rooms. Follow me quickly now.” The innkeeper was a short man, nearly as wide as he was tall, wearing a grease-stiffened apron that brushed the floor as he walked. Kentigern followed him up a narrow staircase to an upper room that was clearly left empty in the case of a wealthier patron visiting the dim little inn.

  The room was expansive, with not enough furniture to fill it. In the middle of the room was a large bed with a heavy curtain around it. The curtain was thrust aside by the innkeeper; then the portly man hurried about the room to touch the candle he carried to the oil lamps scattered about.

  Kentigern placed the woman down on the bed carefully. She was so limp, so damnably pale. Her yellow hair stuck to her forehead. Tenderly, he brushed a strand behind her ear.

  “Hot water,” Kentigern ordered.

  The innkeeper muttered in affirmation and hurried out of the room. Kentigern listened as he lumbered down the creaky steps. Nervously, he placed his ear to her chest again.

  “Come on, lass. Let me ken ye ‘re livin’ still,” he whispered.

  Her faint heartbeat reassured him. As he listened to it, his earlobe caught against something metallic. Leaning up again, he caught sight of a thin silver chain around her neck. He fingered the chain, pulling up on the pendant that had been nestled in the bodice of her gown.

  It was an odd little medallion bearing the impression of the goddess Diana, with her arm outstretched and her bow drawn. The jewelry was not flashy, but it was no pewter bauble either. It shone silver on a chain so delicately wrought that he hadn’t seen it until that moment.

  When the innkeeper reappeared, Kentigern hurriedly tucked the pendant back into her bodice. He did it furtively as if he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been looking there, though that worry was ridiculous. There was nothing improper about trying to find a clue as to her identity.

  The innkeeper had brought a young lass with him. She was of the same body type as he, and though her face was bonnie for its plumpness, it was plain to see that she was the innkeeper’s daughter. She carried in her capable arms a basin filled with steaming water. The innkeeper had several cloths draped over his arm.

  “My daughter will help to get the lass out of her wet clothes and into something dry,” he explained. The daughter put the basin of hot water next to the bed while her father busied himself with starting a fire in the hearth on the other side of the room.

  “If you please, sir,” the daughter said, her voice softer than it would appear by her stocky looks.

  “Right, of course.” Kentigern moved out of the way reluctantly and turned his back on the bed. Damp rustling sounds were heard as the unknown lass was stripped of her sodden clothes.

  Kentigern’s heart raced, still imagining his own sister in this situation, helpless and unconscious and being stripped down by strangers. Still, it was necessary. The lass had no warmth left in her, and she needed, first of all, to be dry.

  When the innkeeper’s daughter appeared in his line of sight with a heavy bundle of wet clothes, he returned to the bedside of the stranger. As the innkeeper and his daughter lay out the woman’s clothing over the backs of chairs in front of the fire, Kentigern dipped a clean cloth into the hot water. Carefully, he began to dab at the angry gash across her forehead.

  The wetness of the ground had kept the wound bleeding, but since she had been under his cloak, it had begun to dry out and scab over. He gritted his teeth as he inspected the wound. He had seen his fair share of injuries both on the battlefield and in tavern brawls, but he was no doctor. He knew how touchy head wounds could be, sometimes appearing much worse than they were, sometimes much more serious.

  “She’s black and blue all over,” the innkeeper’s daughter said tentatively. “That gash ain’t the last of her troubles.”

  “Found her in a ditch nae far from her mare. Thrown, it appeared.”

  “Ach. Poor dear.”

  “The doctor may nae arrive for an hour or so yet,” the innkeeper supplied.

  “I’ll stay with her. And thank you.”

  “It’s the least we could do,” the daughter answered. “We’ll send up a hot meal for ye.”

  Kentigern nodded dismissively, his stomach sour with worry. He hadn’t thought of food since finding the lass, but he would take the offered food anyway, recognizing the hospitality as a gesture of concern. When the innkeeper and his daughter left, the room fell into silence.

  Other than the crackling of the fire, Kentigern had nothing but his own troubled mind to keep him company. Not knowing why he did it, he pulled the pendant out from the oversized but clean nightgown the girl had dressed her in. It was the only clue he had as to who this girl was.

  He continued to dab at the wound on her forehead until all of the crackled blood had been gently washed away, and the state of the wound could be assessed more clearly. She would have a scar for the rest of her life, but it didn’t appear that her skull had been cracked.

  Unfortunately, Kentigern knew that an intact skull didn’t say much to the health of the brain inside. She had been unconscious for a long time. Too long.

  He tucked the heavy blankets tighter around her slight body. Her lips were still dishearteningly colorless.

  “Poor lass. All alone. So cold…” he muttered inanely to himself.

  He fussed over her uselessly until a soft knock came on the door. Hoping it was the doctor, he was disappointed by the sight of the innkeeper with a tray of food. He instructed the man to leave it by the fire, and there it was ignored.

  The lass stirred. Ever so slightly. In fact, he would not have noticed it if he weren't watching her like a hawk. Her finger flexed for a moment, then relaxed again, and her eyelids crinkled slightly.

  “Lass?” he whimpered, grasping her slight shoulder gently. “Can ye hear me?”

  She sighed, her brow furrowing.

  “Look at me, lass. Can ye open yer eyes?” He shook her shoulder as softly as he could.

  One eyelid cracked slightly. She peeked at him from under her lashes, then seemed to fall back asleep. Kentigern released the breath he’d been holding, encouraged by even this small indication that she was conscious.

  When the doctor arrived, he was quick to explain how he’d found her, and that she’d stirred enough to look at him, even if only briefly. The doctor, a rail-thin man whose eyes were milky with age, nodded calmly and wasted no time in examining her.

  As the doctor looked her over, pulling down the covers to inspect her body, Kentigern face grew hot, and he turned away. Why this should make him feel so indignant, he didn’t know, other than to feel that it was wrong somehow.

  “Miss, can you hear me?” the doctor said, and Kentigern whirled around.

  The girl was blinking up at the doctor. Her eyes were bright green and bewildered.

  “What’s happened? I…I hurt,” she whimpered, her voice soft as a babe’s.

  “You’ve taken a fall,” the doctor explained calmly.

  “A fall…?” she whispered.

  “What’s that?” The doctor asked, not understanding her mumbling.

  Kentigern rushed to the
bedside, kneeling down next to the girl’s head.

  “Where am I?” The girl’s eyes fluttered shut again, and she turned her head away from the men.

  “Ye ‘re in Sourlies, lass. At the Green Dragon. Everything’s fine,” Kentigern said, loudly enough to be heard through the din of her pain, but with as much tenderness in his voice as he could muster.

  “What’s yer name? Where are yer kin?” The doctor asked, shaking her again in a way that made Kentigern reach out to grasp the man’s wrist angrily. He was being too rough with the girl.

  “…name?” Her voice was fading, and with that, she lost consciousness again.

  “She’s suffered a twisted ankle and possibly a rib or two,” the doctor diagnosed calmly, removing his spectacles and wiping them methodically with a handkerchief. “But that’s the least of our concern. It’s impossible to tell how serious the knock to her head will turn out to be until she comes around enough to talk. I’ve left my nurse with my last patient. Can you be trusted to keep a close watch on her?”

  “Aye, of course. I’ll nae be going anywhere.”

  The doctor nodded again and began to dress and brace her twisted ankle. The girl whimpered quietly as he straightened the joint, making Kentigern’s heart clench in sympathy.

  “When she comes to, find out who she is. A nice lass like this must have family out there in a frenzy looking for her,” the doctor continued.

  “Of course.”

  “Send for me when she’s awake. Until then, keep her warm.”

  Kentigern nodded, and with that, the doctor left again. Kentigern resumed his vigil over the girl, pulling a chair next to the bed and settling in. Her pale hands rested placidly at her sides over the covers, and his instinct told him to take her hand in his own and warm her slender fingers, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want her to wake up frightened to have a strange man touching her, even just on the hand.

  He folded his hands in his lap, feeling useless and not at all comforted by the visit from the doctor.

  Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of the story.

  https://amzn.to/2n6TY6n

  Thank you very much!

  Also by Lydia Kendall

  Thank you for reading Lusting for the Highlander!

  I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean the world to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!

  Some other best sellers of mine:

  Highlander’s Wicked Seduction

  Highlander's Cursed Bride

  The Highlander’s Iron Lady

  Daring the Highlander

  Disciplined by the Highlander

  Torn Between Two Highlanders

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  Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full Amazon Book Catalogue HERE.

  Thank you for helping me doing what I love!

  Lydia Kendall

  About the Author

  Lydia Kendall has always been passionate about medieval romance. Having traveled to the Scottish Highlands several times as a young girl, she has always been drawn to their unparalleled beauty and history. A history that inspired stories of love and passion, mixed with tradition in the most appealing way for every hopeless romantic - much like herself.

  Born in Denver, Colorado, Lydia Kendall has a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing, and over the last decade she has been writing non-stop for several clients - that is until she decided to start publishing her own work. When she isn’t writing, Lydia loves spending her time on the beautiful outdoors with her loving husband and baby daughter.

  Follow Lydia on this sensational journey of hot highlanders, bonny lassies and fierce passion...and find sheer pleasure in the magnificent world of the Scottish countryside - one that will sweep you off your feet and keep you begging for more!