The Munro Clan Highlander Collection (The Munro Clan Highlander Romances)

by Marilyn Stonecross

Ramsey ground his teeth. No good can come of this. She was still decently covered by the cloak, so he did not have the temptation of her body to lure him in. “My lady,” he said, “I will see you home.”

  “There you are,” a new voice interrupted them. Ramsey spun around and came face-to-face with Logan, who held up his hands. “God’s blood, man, do relax. I saw you ride up, but…” Logan’s words trailed off as he spotted Sabrina behind Ramsey. “Oh. This is not a good time?”

  “Yer timing is impeccable, brother, as always,” Ramsey grated. “I was about to see the lady home.”

  Logan raised an eyebrow. “But ye just got here!”

  “Logan…”

  “Logan, a pleasure to see you again,” Sabrina said, bowing her head slightly to the younger man. Logan took it in stride, hiding his grin.

  “The pleasure is mine, Sabrina. Will ye join us for a tankard?”

  “That tavern is hardly a place for a lady to be seen,” Ramsey objected.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Logan said. “She’s covered. No one knows her.”

  It was Sabrina who made the final decision, extending her arm to Logan. After a moment of puzzlement, he accepted it, flinging a look at Ramsey over his shoulder.

  “Logan, I would be honored if you would escort me,” Sabrina said.

  They strolled out, leaving Ramsey seething in the barn.

  That woman is going to be the death of me…

  ***

  Sabrina had never been inside a proper tavern before, and marveled at its smoky interior and the low ceilings. The tables had notches in them where men had shoved knives, and the women were all rather inadequately dressed, considering the weather.

  She suspected she wanted nothing to do with the general occupants of this particular tavern, but the Munro lads had carved out a small swath of territory in a dark corner, and she joined them happily, even partaking in a small tankard of ale.

  “Never seen a lady drink in a place like this,” Alec remarked. Of them all, he’d changed the least; he still spoke frequently out of turn, and seemed to care little for what anyone else thought. He lacked Ramsey’s hardened edges and Logan’s knowing smirk, and Sabrina wagered he attracted plenty of lasses on his own.

  “It’s not bad,” she said, although she could tell quite well the stuff was dreadful.

  Ramsey stalked in a few moments later, his displeasure at her presence quite evident. He sat down at their table silently, brushing off the barmaid that tried to offer him meat and then mead. Sabrina hid a smile.

  Alec didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Well, so ye did show up with the lovely lady. We wondered how long it would take.”

  Ramsey switched his dark stare to his brother. “Ye are incorrect. I did not show up with her. She followed me.”

  Alec glanced at Sabrina. She shrugged. “He’s right in that respect. But he would not speak to me at the keep.”

  “We are not going over this in front of them.”

  Logan and Alec looked at each other, then at Ramsey. “Oh, please do,” Logan said. “It would be a most interesting addition to the evening.”

  “Yes,” Alec said, “it would indeed. Please. Enlighten us. What troubles you, laird and lady?”

  Sabrina hid her smile behind her tankard. The ale might be of poor quality, but it made for a convenient barricade. She had missed Alec and Logan as well, though Ramsey had occupied the bulk of her attention as a girl. Put together, the three lads made a rather fetching distraction.

  “Have ye obtained the weapons?” Ramsey asked.

  Alec sighed, slouching back along his bench. “O’course we did, brother o’mine. A few more days and we’ll be in fine shape.”

  “They’ll be delivered to the keep, just as we promised,” Logan added.

  Sabrina looked to Ramsey in alarm. “Weapons?”

  “The Gunns still present a threat,” he said, not looking at her. “They’ve been quiet a good long while, but that means they’re planning.”

  “Yet my uncle asks you for help? Does he not know your troubles in the north?”

  Ramsey finally gazed upon her. “I do not know if he hears the extent of them. Nevertheless, I shall send some men to help.”

  Logan snickered. “I wonder why.”

  Alec jabbed him in the ribs. “Logan, there’s two lovely lasses o’er by the fire that might benefit from Munro company. What say we pay them a visit?”

  “I’m comfortable,” Logan objected.

  “Now.” Alec practically hauled Logan away from them and to the girls, who looked up with some surprise when the two hulking Highlanders appeared next to them.

  Sabrina watched the interaction go on for a moment, quietly astonished by the women’s relative lack of concern. “They are friendly to Highlanders here?”

  Ramsey shrugged, lazily casting his gaze over the tavern. “Friendly enough. We’ve never given them trouble. I suppose they think us near enough to neighbors.”

  “Why are they buying weapons from Treadwell?”

  Ramsey sighed. “Do ye promise not to hurl something at me head if I tell ye?”

  “No.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The Gunns have been quiet, true enough, but I fear their intentions. We need weapons…”

  “And why are you sending men to my uncle, if you are so dearly in need of weapons?”

  “He is an old friend, and he took me in. I will help him as I can.”

  Sabrina nodded, setting her tankard aside. “And these men you cannot spare? What if the Gunns attack?”

  “What if your uncle’s enemies attack? He cannot hire mercenaries. So I help as I can.” He looked away. “I will not have ye harmed.”

  She could have sworn there was true affection in those words, and genuine worry for her well-being. But he was watching his brothers and the girls in the corner, and nothing she did could make her look at him.

  “Am I why you returned, Ramsey? Is it me?”

  He stood up and extended his hand, and she saw no choice but to take it. “Ye know it is,” he said. “Come along, Sabrina. Your uncle will have me head if he finds you missing.”

  ***

  He walked her to her chambers.

  “Ye must not keep trying this, Sabrina,” he said quietly as they reached her doorway. “For both our sakes.”

  She pushed the door open and went inside. After a moment, she heard it close softly behind her, and knew he had followed her inside.

  “Should you be in here?” she asked, trying very hard to keep her voice steady.

  “No.”

  “Then perhaps you should leave.”

  He laughed softly. “Ye followed me all the way to Treadwell, lass. Do ye really want me to leave?”

  He crossed the room swiftly, pulling her into his arms and claiming her mouth with his. She instinctively tried to pull away—how dare he do this now!—but felt his arms drape around her, pulling her closer. Her hands slid up between them, running across the broad expanse of his chest.

  “Bloody hell, Sabrina,” he mumbled, picking her up and carrying her the last few strides to her bed. She was rather unceremoniously tossed down, and then his weight came crashing down on her, pinning her beneath his bulk.

  “You said you didn’t want to do this,” she gasped between kisses.

  “I said no such thing…I said we must not…” He pushed the fabric of her bodice down, kissing the tops of her breasts. “But we are here now, and so…”

  Somehow her clothing came off; it may have been delicately unlaced, or completely ripped aside. She saw his trousers and tunic go flying, heard the heavy clank as his sword hit the stone floor.

  Then his body was pressing against her again, his flesh touching hers, his mouth traveling the planes of her skin. She dug her fingers into his long dark hair, obediently opening her legs when he slipped one hand between them.

  His fingers wandered over that delicate place, and she sucked in her breath when he moved his mouth there. “Easy, lass,” he murmured, “nothing to fea
r yet…”

  Yet? Her hands grew tight around the furs she lay on. Ramsey’s tongue darted in and out of her as his fingers caressed her thighs and lower legs.

  A most peculiar sensation began building inside her, not unpleasant, but almost…

  She whimpered softly when he pulled away. “Don’t stop?”

  He loomed back over her, his hair nearly brushing her face. “If ye wish me to leave, say so,” he commanded.

  Sabrina shook her head.

  She felt him lift one of her legs up and aside, and then he nestled between them. He slipped into her so seamlessly she scarcely felt the pain, only a slight, sharp ache accompanied by a spreading heat in her core.

  Ramsey moved slowly at first, bracing his hands on either side of her head.

  Sabrina looped her arms around him, smoothing her hands alongside his flanks. She caught his mouth, let her tongue slide between his lips.

  He rocked on her faster, driving her back against the furs. The heat took root, blossomed, and nearly consumed her, driving her to the edge of reason, the end of all she knew.

  “Ramsey!” she cried out, the sensations washing over her.

  “Let it come, love,” he crooned, “let it come…”

  And it did come, carrying her away in a wonderful, wonderful river of love and lust and everything she had ever wondered about what could happen between them.

  Ramsey shuddered above her a moment later, spilling into her with one final thrust. He sagged against her, his head nestling into the crook of her neck.

  She lay there for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts. Sanity seemed a distant memory, as did the manners she’d been brought up with in her uncle’s home.

  Well-bred ladies do not simply allow handsome Highlanders to take them to bed…

  Ramsey rolled off her, and Sabrina gratefully took in a deep breath. Lord, but he was heavy—all muscle and strength.

  “We should not have done that,” he said.

  She turned her head to stare at him. “I beg your pardon? You wanted to…”

  “Aye, and ye’ll not tell yer uncle, if you wish to see me alive by morning.”

  Mystified by his sudden coldness, she sat up, reaching for a fur to wrap around herself. “Why did you even come to me?”

  “To sample once what I knew I could not have,” he said wearily. “Sabrina, I know ye will not understand…”

  “No! No, I don’t bloody understand, and I’ll thank you to leave.” She spat the words out, then had to watch him get up and hurriedly dress. “Why did you even—why would you try to—Lord above, Ramsey…”

  “Ye needn’t say anything,” he said, picking up his swordbelt. “I’m a bloody fool is all, and I…you must forgive my idiocy. I’ll leave on the morrow, and you’ll not need to see me again.”

  Sabrina felt heat rising to her cheeks. It’s not supposed to end this way. We should at least lie together, talking, I should not be watching him flee!

  But flee he did, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he left.

  Sabrina put her head into her hands and wept.

  ***

  Ramsey tried desperately to pretend all was well when he greeted Ernald de Montfort the next morning.

  “Have your brothers gathered what they needed from Treadwell?” Ernald inquired as they paused to speak in the great hall. The man looked outfitted to go hawking.

  “They have,” Ramsey said. His head hurt, and while he was inclined to blame the poor ale he’d consumed the night before, he strongly suspected it was connected to Sabrina. I am a bloody fool. She deserves far better. “If all is well, I thought I’d return to Scotland today…”

  “Today?” Ernald looked most disappointed. “I thought we’d at least have you through the sennight. You don’t wish to stay?”

  “I have duties at home, my lord.” Yes, duties…and the brazen temptation of your niece will be my undoing if I stay.

  But he could hardly tell Ernald that.

  The older man nodded, signaling to a handful of servants. “Well, Ramsey, don’t leave before I can bid you a proper farewell. And do say goodbye to Sabrina; she was so excited that you were coming, I fear she may take your absence quite hard…”

  He walked off, muttering to himself.

  Ramsey could think of nothing worse than confronting Sabrina. If she didn’t throw something at him, she’d scream at him; he’d awakened her ire the night before, and to do that to her—to steal her innocence, to take her to bed…

  Inexcusable. It was beneath him, and beneath her.

  She wanted it, though, he reminded himself. She did not protest. She wanted it then, just as she wanted it years ago…

  Was it so very wrong?

  Ramsey shook his head and retreated to the guest table. A cup of hot tea might do him good.

  ***

  The next day, Sabrina tried to find some solace by visiting her favorite pond.

  She felt peculiar; slightly sore, still swamped by unfamiliar emotions and sensations that she did not quite understand. Was this heartbreak? She’d known sorrow before, but not this terrible crushing ache in her chest.

  Did Ramsey feel the same?

  Unlikely…he got what he wanted. He’d lain with her and walked away. All women warned one another of men like that, men who would take their ease and just depart, but Ramsey…

  Stupid, Sabrina. Just stupid.

  She slapped the surface of the pond.

  Footsteps crunched on the grass, and she lifted her head. When she saw the figure appear behind her through the rippled water, her heart leapt at the realization that it was a man. Was it Ramsey?

  She turned quickly and the smile fell from her face. Ramsey hadn’t come for her.

  “Lord Archer,” she said slowly. “What are you doing here?”

  Archer was the closest de Montfort neighbor, and had often made his interest in Sabrina obvious. Just as obvious, however, had been her adamant determination to never become Lady Archer or any other relationship to the man he might imagine. He made her skin crawl, from his snake-like eyes to the shocking lack of hair in the center of his head at such a relatively young age. Gideon Archer was an opportunist–charming when he had to be, cruel when it suited him.

  Alarmed at his sudden presence, Sabrina stood quickly and wobbled back on her heels. Two men emerged from behind Archer and quickly came toward her as the man spoke.

  “I’m done playing games with your uncle, Sabrina,” he said, moving forward. “I no longer feel the need to ask his permission to marry you. He owes me enough money that all I need to do is alert the Sheriff and he’d spend the rest of his years in a London prison. Do you really think he’d find your life worth his own?”

  The smile on Archer’s face bared his pointed yellow teeth. One of his henchmen snatched her wrists behind her back while the other used a rough piece of rope to bind them together.

  Archer stepped closer and ran a long, bony finger from the skin on Sabrina’s collarbone down across the exposed curves of her breasts, pushing against the tight fabric of her bodice. She jerked and pushed backwards against the man holding her. He smelled like garlic and ale, and she wasn’t sure who was more revolting—the man holding her or the man touching her.

  With a rough jerk, Archer ripped the fabric of Sabrina’s gown off her shoulders, nearly exposing her completely to him. With her hands bound, there was little she could do, and to thrash even more would mean the dress would fall from her breasts and expose her to three lecherous men.

  Archer, guaranteeing she was immobile, dipped his pointy face into her neck and inhaled. Shocked at first, Sabrina did not immediately react. But when his snake-like tongue touched her skin and ran all the way from her sensitive collarbone down to the very fabric that stood between her and humiliation—or worse—she nearly retched.

  Her struggles only seemed to arouse Archer more. With barely contained enthusiasm, he ordered the men to pin Sabrina to the ground.

  The second her feet were off the
ground, Archer clumsily began shoving her skirts toward her waist. The second she realized his intentions, Sabrina let out a shriek of terror that roused the birds from their perches high in the trees.

  The man on her right shoulder, the greasy fellow who smelled like onions, looked worried.

  “Sire,” he said. “Perhaps we ought to get out of here. We’ll be hanged if we’re caught in the act.”

  Archer frowned, but finally relented.