Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy)

by May McGoldrick

  Kenna felt a jolt deep in her belly; she read hunger in that face. Flustered by the way her treacherous body responded to him, she still could not bring herself to push him away.

  “Was that air enough for you?” His voice was low and washed over her like silk.

  Her gaze flitted upward toward the top of the cliff.

  “And you say I’m crazy? You’re absolutely out of your mind.” Her hands encircled his thick neck. She wanted to strangle him. “Your life might not have any value, but mine does, and I have no death wish. But more important, know this. I successfully escaped from you in this world; I have no desire to have you follow me into the—”

  He crushed her lips beneath his, silencing her. Kenna’s hands fisted and wedged between them. But her cheating body wouldn’t muster the strength to push him away. It had been so long since she felt that delicious spark she’d only ever felt with him. Shock waves shuddered through her. His strong body pressed against her own. She wanted to be even closer. With an inaudible sigh, Kenna gave in, leaning into him, into the kiss. Her hands clenched his shirt as she welcomed the feel of those hard lips.

  She knew the moment a sense of urgency seized him. His hands wrapped tighter around her, one clutching at her back, the other cupping her bottom. The pressure of his lips increased and Kenna melted deeper into the kiss. His tongue was soft and hard and she instinctively opened to him when he started sampling, tasting, learning the texture of her mouth. And her tongue responded to his, tentatively at first, but becoming bolder by the moment as his taste, his scent, the pressure of his body dazed her mind. She had never experienced this kind of heat, the raw desire growing within her.

  His breath was ragged when he abruptly ended the kiss. He stared into her eyes, and she burned with embarrassment for she couldn’t hide how much she’d enjoyed what had just happened.

  Taking her hand, he swam to the edge of the rocky pool.

  Nothing more was said. So what was she feeling? Disappointment that he’d ended it too soon? Confusion over her body’s reaction? Embarrassment because of her response? Her anger was gone. Kenna’s mind churned to make sense of what just happened, to get a grip on her whirling emotions. He didn’t like her. She hated him. Why would he kiss her? Why did she respond that way?

  Alexander climbed onto the rocks, pulling her up behind him. She forced back a gasp of pain as her ankle refused to support her weight. The dress, soaked with cold seawater, sagged on her body. Looking down, she was mortified to find that the linen blouse was molded to her breasts, her nipples poking through the cloth. Pulling the dress up the best she could, she followed him, trying not to limp. The rocks were wet and slippery and he caught her around the waist as she slipped. Alexander half carried her to a stony stretch of beach.

  Just as they reached it, Kenna was surprised to see four riders, leading two additional horses, appear at the far end of the beach. Her cousin Emily was one of the riders, and her horse’s bridle was held by James Macpherson. She sent Kenna a despairing look.

  “The abbot and Diarmad are on their way to see the MacDougall,” James told them. “We should get on the road, as well.”

  Kenna stood in the cold sand, staring at them and shivering. Darkness was only a couple of hours away.

  “Now?” she demanded. “You have no right to endanger Emily’s safety . . .”

  Whatever else she was going to say withered on her lips as Alexander stripped off his shirt and walked to his horse.

  His waist was narrow, his shoulders wide. His skin was bronzed from the sun. Kenna watched the muscles ripple across his powerful back and suddenly felt warmer. He wrung out his shirt and pulled it back on.

  One of their men dismounted and brought a horse to Kenna, ready to help her. She shook her head and stepped back.

  “Nay, I am not going anywhere.”

  “You heard James,” Alexander said, climbing onto his horse. “We’re getting on the road. Now.”

  “I cannot travel like this,” she said. “My dress is soaked. I have no shoes. I need to change my clothes.”

  “You missed your chance for all that.” He tossed her a tartan blanket. “You can fashion an arisaidh of sorts from this, I imagine.”

  It was the same plaid that Alexander wore. She threw it back at him. “You’ll never see me wearing that. I want a dry dress.”

  “Take yours off. I’ll wring it out for you.”

  She sputtered and then stared at him in disbelief.

  Alexander motioned to the others. “Go on, all of you. We’ll catch up.”

  Emily sent her a desperate look over her shoulder as they rode off.

  The evening sun broke through a cloud. Beams of light framed the man and the massive charger. But Kenna would not allow herself to be intimidated by the two beasts.

  He grabbed her mare’s bridle.

  “I’m cold, truly,” she said. The wet blouse felt like a sheet of ice against her flesh.

  Alexander’s gaze strayed from her face to her breasts. He reached down for her. “I know how to warm you. You’ll ride on my lap.”

  She reached for her belt and was happy to find she still had her dagger after the fall. She took it out and flashed it at him.

  “You ever try to hold me that close again,” Kenna threatened, climbing onto the mare, “and you’ll have more holes in you than a tinker’s vow.”

  Chapter 4

  Would you have me speak after my custom,

  as being a professed tyrant to their sex?

  Alexander wished his horse could match the speed of Kenna’s tongue.

  She cursed. She complained. She called him all sorts of names. She repeated how brilliant it would be once she was back at Glosters Priory, so she never had to lay eyes on him again.

  He would have believed her if it were not for their kiss. He’d surprised her, and her response had been enthusiastic, in spite of herself. It killed him to end it so abruptly. But he had his answer.

  Alexander led their group. Kenna and Emily rode behind him. James and their two men brought up the rear. They were still on MacDougall land, so they could not stop at an inn or at any crofter’s cottage where Emily might be recognized, either. The full moon had risen over the distant Trossachs. The temperature continued to drop and the air was downright cold. He was relieved that Kenna had accepted a blanket from James when they’d caught up to them. He wanted her to learn a lesson for acting so foolishly, but he didn’t want her catching her death.

  Kenna spurred her horse ahead until they were riding abreast. “Why the devil are you moving so fast? We can’t keep pace.”

  A moment before, she had been complaining that he’d been going so slow that they were in imminent danger of being attacked by lame bandits who might be lurking about on foot.

  “Slow. Fast. Climbing a tower wall. Kenna MacKay, I don’t believe you could ever have any difficulty keeping pace with me.” And that includes in bed making love, he added silently.

  His compliment silenced her for a couple of moments, and he took the opportunity to study her. The blanket was partially draped over her head and wrapped around her shoulders. But most of her curls were dancing in the wind, as free as her spirit.

  The day had been a long one for Kenna and Emily. Diarmad told him how he and his men had followed the two and their escorts from Craignock Castle through the countryside and how, at a crofter’s cottage, Kenna had delivered a bairn and most likely saved the mother’s life.

  She was obstinate and independent to a fault. But Alexander was impressed all the same. Of all the women he knew, there were none who could go through that and a kidnapping and an escape attempt and a long ride in a torn wet dress looking like hell and still keep their head up and ride beside him like royalty. None but his mother, Fiona Drummond Macpherson. He’d heard plenty of stories from his father. Alexander wondered if the two women had any idea how close in spirit they were.

  “We’re hungry and thirsty,” Kenna said finally. “We should stop.”

  “
I know a place not too far from here where we’ll set up camp for the night. We’ll eat then.”

  She looked around at the rolling heath of gorse and scrub pine. Below them, a river disappeared into a forest of tall pine. “I don’t want to be sleeping out with wild animals. We should ride straight to Oban.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “I don’t care what you want or don’t want, wife. Have you forgotten that you’re the prisoner here?”

  “Nay, ogre. I’ve forgotten nothing. And your lack of consideration for anyone but yourself makes me think of strangling you with my bare hands.”

  “I like the sound of that. Do your worst, lass.”

  “Really?”

  “The last time you tried to strangle me, you ended up kissing me. So I won’t object.”

  Her eyes flashed like the blade of a dirk in the light of the moon. He remembered the weapon that she kept at her belt. She reined in and rode with her cousin for a few moments, but he was happy when she came up beside him again.

  “Emily wishes to ride straight to Oban, too,” Kenna pressed.

  “We’re staying overnight in the forest.”

  “Consider her reputation, blackguard.”

  Alexander slowed the pace of his charger and glanced over his shoulder at the other woman. “We need to stop soon. This darkness can hide many dangers.”

  “There’s no worse outlaw out here than you,” Kenna needled him. “Show some courage, Alexander. I’ll protect you.”

  “I’ve heard enough. We’re stopping now.”

  Turning down the hill, Alexander led them into a wooded glen beside the river. He dismounted on a flat area covered with soft pine needles. He could hear the burbling water through the gloom.

  Everyone had climbed down from their horses but Kenna. She was leaning down and speaking to Emily. It was not hard to read her thoughts. In a moment she would be taking off into the night. He approached them and took hold of the mare’s bridle.

  “I’m warning you, lass.”

  “Warning me?”

  “Aye, that I am. I’ll be coming after you if you make a break for it. And I’ll be catching you. And then there will only be the two of us in these dark woods.”

  “You cannot scare me.”

  “The sky will be our blanket, wife. The soft earth, our pillow.” He let the suggestive words linger between them. “Would you like me to explain more?”

  “I don’t care to hear any more of your dreams. And so you know, it’s a nightmare, to my thinking. Nay, I’m going nowhere.”

  It wasn’t his imagination. Her voice had thickened.

  “Climb down, Kenna.”

  “I’m tired of you ordering me about. I’ll get down when I’m ready.” She tried unsuccessfully to jerk the mare’s bridle out of his grasp.

  Alexander saw Emily’s jaw drop open, looking from one to the other.

  “Emily, will you be kind enough to help my brother with the food we brought from the abbey? I need a moment alone with my loving wife.”

  The young woman nodded and hurried off.

  “Don’t take orders from him, cousin,” Kenna called after her.

  “Would you like me to help you down, lass?”

  Still holding the horse’s bridle, Alexander reached for Kenna’s ankle. Her cry of pain was totally unexpected.

  “What have you done?” He felt her calf and ran his hand down the silky skin to the swollen ankle. She winced again but didn’t cry out.

  “Nothing.”

  “It was that mad climb down from the tower window.”

  “You shook me loose from the rope. It was your fault.”

  Alexander would have liked to argue who was at fault, but he guessed that would take all night. “Let me help you down.”

  “Nay, villain. Go away. I can manage by myself.”

  She threw off the blanket and swung her leg over to the other side of the mare. She was sliding off when Alexander came around and caught her by the waist, helping her land gently on both feet.

  “Let go of me. I tell you I don’t need your help.”

  She took a step and winced.

  He swept her up into his arms, holding her against his chest. Her mouth was so close. He stared at her lips. He wanted to taste her again.

  “Both ankles or one?”

  “One,” she whispered. “Put me down. I can walk perfectly well.”

  James had already started a fire. Emily had a blanket spread next to it. Alexander carried the squirming bundle and deposited her there. He crouched down and reached for her leg. She pushed the skirts over it.

  “Leave me alone. I’ll see to it myself.”

  “Not till I make sure it’s not broken.” He reached for her leg again.

  She tried to kick him with her good foot.

  “Why must everything be a struggle with you?” He leaned across her lap and took hold of her leg. She punched him in the back. He pulled the skirt up and in the light of the fire saw the dark bruise on the ankle and the side of her foot. There was no blood, no protruding bones. He touched her shin above the ankle. “Does this hurt?”

  “I’m a healer. I know what’s wrong, what to do. I don’t need your help,” she growled at him.

  “Does this hurt?” he asked again, pressing his fingers along the bone again.

  “It does not.”

  “How about now?” He gently flexed her toes.

  “So you think you’re a physician now?”

  “Answer me.”

  “Nay, it doesn’t hurt. And I’m able to put my weight on it. My ankle is tender, but nothing is broken.”

  She had beautiful feet. Dirty, but beautiful just the same. “I need to wrap it.”

  “You don’t need to do anything. I told you I can see to it myself.”

  She squirmed, trying to push him away from her lap. Alexander looked up and found James and Emily looking at them as if they were watching a pair of jesters. He let the hellion have her way and stood up.

  “Will she allow you to wrap her leg?” he asked Emily.

  “I believe she will.”

  “It must be tight.” Alexander walked away to the line of surrounding pines. Touching her foot, wrestling with her on the blanket, and he was aroused. On the surface he may have been arguing with her. But in truth, he couldn’t stop from imagining the pleasure there would be in stripping her of her wet clothes, washing her feet, her legs, every inch of her.

  The problem was that he hadn’t had a woman since their damned wedding. And the mistress of the French ambassador didn’t count. He couldn’t remember.

  He’d ended up in the wrong bed that first night, but he had sworn to be true to her. And he meant it. Kenna might have run away from him, but they were still married.

  Alexander walked into the woods, trying to focus his thoughts on his ships, his plans for the clan, lectures from his father on everything from hunting to horses.

  Anything but her.

  He thought of his duty as master of the Macpherson fleet. Every month, Spanish ships were returning from the New World bulging with silver and gold. They were sweet fruit waiting to be picked, and he had been picking them. His brother James was following another path. Like their uncle Ambrose Macpherson, James had chosen to pursue the life of a diplomat. Colin, the youngest, was overseeing with his wife, Tess, the Lindsay clan affairs, but he was also ready to take charge of the Macpherson fleet when Alexander succeeded his father.

  In the days prior to his marriage to Kenna, Alexander’s father had reminded him that it was time to assume the mantle as the next Macpherson laird. He would have done it already if Kenna had stayed. But when she left, he had asked his father to wait while he figured out what needed to be done.

  An annulment was one answer. They had influence enough with the bishop. But six months ago, he couldn’t do it. And he couldn’t do it last month, though he made Kenna believe that he’d requested it. It was a matter of loose ends, unanswered questions, wounded pride, and Macpherson and MacKay clan welf
are. Walking away from this marriage meant defeat. He wasn’t ready then. He wasn’t ready now.

  Insane as it might seem, he still had hope. They might still make a marriage work.

  Alexander found himself standing at the river’s edge. With the heavy rains of the previous four days, it was a raging torrent. Branches and timber raced by, carried by the speeding current.

  If someone fell in . . .

  If someone who was a good swimmer decided to run away . . .

  Kenna could be halfway back to Craignock Castle by the time anyone realized she was missing. Alexander marched back to where they’d made camp. Perhaps a time would come when he’d stop worrying if his wife was going to run away or not. But tonight was not it.

  Six horses stood tethered at the edge of the clearing. One of his men was looking after them. Alexander knew another would be keeping watch in the darkness. Everything seemed peaceful around the fire. James and Emily sat with their backs to him, speaking quietly. Kenna, sitting against a tree, had a blanket wrapped around her. Her foot was now wrapped in strips of cloth. She watched him suspiciously as he approached.

  “Do you need to go anywhere, do anything?”

  She looked up, pretending all innocence. “Go where? Do what?”

  “You know.” He motioned to where he’d walked from. “Do you need to relieve yourself, woman?”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “When I’m ready, I’ll go.”

  “If you need to go tonight, you’ll do it now.”

  She glared at him. “What are you about?

  He crouched down, looking into her eyes. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind. Walking into the woods? Disappearing?”

  “Without Emily? Without a horse? Limping on a bad ankle?”

  “An abbey tower couldn’t hold you.”

  “In that case . . .” She smiled, peering around him at the woods. “I believe you should stay awake all night and worry about it.”

  “I’m not worrying about it,” he said.

  “Good. Then go away. You’re blocking the heat of the fire.”

  Alexander walked back to his horse and retrieved a length of braided rawhide. No one, including James, said anything when he returned to Kenna a moment later.