Heart of the Highlands: The Wolf (Protectors of the Crown Book 2)

by April Holthaus

  “Nay. Of course no’,” Fallon was quick to respond.

  Daven let out a sharp breath.

  “Thank the saints.”

  A few of the men chuckled.

  “Could ye imagine Daven, a father?” one of them laughed aloud.

  Fallon’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment when she noticed that all eyes were on them. Everyone’s, except for Rylan’s. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Not wanting to witness Fallon run into the arms of another man, Rylan returned to the horses.

  Is he mine? The nerve of that bastard!

  Grabbing the reins, Rylan led his horse away from the group. Within a few moments, he heard footsteps running after him. Stopping in his tracks, he turned.

  The sight of Fallon running toward him angered him further. Daven was now the second man who had touched her, claimed her, and he began to wonder how many more had shared her bed.

  Rylan was angry with himself as well. For the first time in a long time, he had allowed the walls around his heart to come down. How foolish he had been to believe that a lass like her could ever want a man like him. How could a rabbit ever love a wolf?

  It was better this way, Rylan told himself. She would be better off finding a man who could dedicate his life to her. He was not the man she deserved. He was just a bastard. He would always be just a bastard.

  “Where are ye going?”

  “Home!” he replied harshly.

  “And ye were goin’ to just leave wit’ out saying goodbye?”

  “Ye could have told me!”

  “Told ye what exactly?”

  “That the love of yer life was Daven MacLachlan.”

  “He is no’ the love of my life. And he was supposed to be dead. Besides, how was I supposed to know that ye knew of him? Why are ye angry?” she asked.

  “It does no’ matter. Tis best I just leave. I am a Protector of the Crown, and have sworn my life to the King to serve justice. It’s where I belong.”

  “Bollocks! Ye talk of justice and honor, but ye know nothing of their meaning. Everything ye have said is just empty words masked behind a cloak of secrets and lies. Ye dare stand before me and claim ye are an honest mon, but that is no’ what I see. I see a mon buried so deep wit’ in himself that ye dinna let anyone in. Why? Why do ye allow me to get so close just to push me away? What is it that ye are so afraid of?”

  “Why do ye care? Ye have the love of yer life back.”

  “I dinna care about him. I care about ye!”

  “As I told ye from the start…I have no interest in ye,” he said walking away from her.

  Rylan’s sharp words cut through her like a hot knife slicing through butter. She had no words to respond. He had ripped the words right from her. Her hands shook from sadness and anger. Her chest felt as if a pile of bricks were crushing her ribs. She wanted to run after him. To yell. To scream. But he left her standing there, frozen. She had never felt more unwanted than just now.

  He could not have possibly meant what he said. Could he? Fallon did not quite know how to process the emotions beginning to emerge. After feeling so comfortable around him, she suddenly could not stand being near him.

  Biting back her tears, she watched as Rylan mounted his horse and kick it into a fast sprint. After everything they had shared, it was as if their time together meant nothing, as if she meant nothing.

  Foolish girl. Stupid foolish girl. I should have never allowed myself to fall in love.

  Damn him.

  Chapter 22

  Rylan slammed back another tankard of ale, trying to diffuse his anger. Nothing helped.

  “I’ll have another,” he slurred, heavily gazing at the blurry bartender.

  Rylan had left his travel companions and ridden to the outskirts of the nearest village to their camp. After an hour had passed, he anticipated they would arrive soon, though he preferred the company of his drink over the company of others.

  “I think ye need to sleep it off, my friend,” the bartender calmly advised.

  “I will say when I’ve had enough!” Rylan growled and stood from his seat.

  Wobbling slightly in place, he plopped back down in his chair. Finishing the last sip of his drink, Rylan heard the door to the tavern swing open.

  “What the bloody hell is the matter wit’ ye? Gettin’ all hell-bent o’er a lass. Had I no’ known any better, I’d say ye were in love wit’ her,” Daven said as he marched over to Rylan, as if he owned the place.

  “Back down Daven or this will no’ end well fer ye.”

  “Oh, piss off. The only reason ye be angry wit’ me is because ye know I speak the truth.”

  Like an enraged dragon, fire burned in his veins, provoking the beast within. Swinging his fist, Rylan lunged forward, knocking Daven to the ground. The two men fought like brothers as they wrestled on the floor, knocking over bar stools and tabletops. Groups of drunkards circled around them, chanting as the bartender tried to contain them.

  “Ye hurt her,” Rylan growled as he pushed and shoved Daven to the ground like a wild boar.

  “I know I did. But it was for the best.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Rylan hollered, his fists pummeling away at Daven’s face and stomach.

  Daven spit blood on the ground, and forced Rylan off him.

  “Truce, Brother!” Daven pleaded, holding his hand to his chest.

  With sore knuckles and a busted lip, Rylan stopped his pursuit. The crowd began to filter out as the fight came to an abrupt end. Both men crawled across the floor and sat, their backs pressed against the wood paneled walls, trying to catch their breaths.

  “We were young, and I ne’er had any intentions of marrying her,” Daven explained, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I dinna love her. No’ the way she did me. She was a good lass. Too good fer me. It would have been wrong of me to stay.”

  “I am no arguing wit’ ye about that! Ye are a bloody bastard, ye know that, dinna ye?”

  “Aye, that I may be, but I had the honor to leave. I joined the King’s guard. I fought for our country. Say I would have married her. I would have left her abandoned or widowed. ‘Twas better that I left. Had I left a bastard inside her belly, perhaps I would have stayed had she given me a son, but I had given my life to the realm.”

  Rylan admitted he would have done the same. He had already made that choice. Staying now would only hurt and confuse her. He could not love her any more than Daven could. Both men, loyal to a fault to the Scottish crown, had given their oath to father no children and marry no woman. They were not vows of sacrifice required by the King, but by their own right. Sword for sword. Blood for blood - their creed and oath to the Protectors of the Crown.

  Only one Protector had ever taken a wife and that was Ian. Ian MacKay, leader of the Protectors and the Laird Rylan served under had married Keira Sinclair, a foolish decision, but in retrospect, he had chosen wisely. Keira was the daughter of Laird Sinclair, and as ruler of the northern isles, now served as sovereign over the lands her father once owned before his premature death. Rylan, however, even after the many weeks he spent with the newly wedded couple, could still not determine whether his Laird married her out of spite or love.

  “What would ye have expected me to do?” Daven asked. “Settle down wit’ the first woman I put my cock into? Ye would have done the same.”

  Rylan was about to respond to Daven’s boorish, egotistical comment, but quickly nipped his lip as Fallon entered the tavern. His eyes followed her as she majestically walked to the table. Her hips swayed like a bell, forcing him to look away before she hypnotized him further. Even now, his cock began to stiffen though the rest of him felt as limp as a weeping flower.

  Fallon sat down at the table in front of them. She folded her hands and gently placed them on her lap. With her lips pursed and brows narrowed, she shook her head.

  “Two grown men, sitting on the floor, yer clothes a mess, and blood dripping from yer lips. Tis quite a sight,” she lectured as if they were two yo
ung lads about to get a tongue-lashing from their mother. “Yer silence is quite deafening I’m afraid. I can only imagine what topics ye were discussing before I arrived,” she remarked, her voice sharp and stern as a queen’s.

  “Apologies, my lady. Rylan and I were just discussing…” Daven began to say.

  “I know very well what ye two were discussing and I would prefer not to be the subject of public conversation.”

  Daven politely bowed his head in response, but Rylan was not a man of silence.

  “Well, my humble lady, if ye are so inclined to know, ye have just missed a rather interesting tale about our dear laddie here…and his cock.”

  Rylan’s brazen outburst caused both Daven’s and Fallon’s jaws to fall open.

  “Ye are a no-good drunk, Rylan Arnett!” Fallon stated.

  “No’ drunk enough it seems.”

  Rylan stood and bid them good night as he quickly exited the tavern. He’d had enough of this conversation. Fallon caught up to him walking down the pathway to his room.

  “Oh no ye don’t. Ye do no’ get that honor, Sir, to walk away again!” Fallon spat.

  “What do ye know of my honor; a woman who has no honor herself?” he replied, his lip curled in disgust.

  Fallon’s eyes darkened. Lifting her hand, she slapped Rylan across his face. The sting bit his cheek, but his eyes kept firm on hers. She began lifting her hand to strike a second time, but Rylan caught her wrist in mid-air.

  Thrusting her against the door to his room, he pressed his groin against hers and captured her mouth in a hard kiss. Forcing his tongue inside her mouth, Rylan felt her body lose its fight and begin to surrender. It was a battle he knew he had won. Rylan’s groin hardened in angst to be deep inside of her. It was a man’s pain, for which there was only one cure.

  His lips pressed to hers, Rylan lifted her into the air and kicked the door open with his foot. Carrying her into the room, he locked the door behind him. He walked toward the bed and set Fallon down on her feet. Grabbing her waist, Rylan spun her around so her backside faced him. His hands slid down her sides as he nuzzled the back of her neck. A soft moan escaped her lips.

  Slowly, he bent her over, causing her hands to fall upon the bed. Rubbing along her backside, he tossed her skirt upward. With a gentle hand, he pulled on the tufts of her hair, while the other made its way to the small nub at the apex of her thighs. Touching her folds, his fingers eagerly slipped inside. Fallon whimpered at the invasion.

  Rylan’s fingers moved and stretched inside of her. Fallon’s moans became small cries of want and need that he was more than happy to fulfill. In every way, he was going to bed her like whore, but worship her body like a goddess.

  Fallon’s chest tightened as he ran his fingers down her arm, reached the tips of her fingers, and laced them with his own. Her palms began to sweat as he caressed her backside, causing a dull ache to burn between her thighs. She wanted his touch, needed it. She felt consumed and allowed herself to surrender to him completely.

  Fallon grasped the bed sheets, moaning in both pain and pleasure. She had been so angry with Rylan, but he knew how to feed those flames and ignite new ones. Whether this night would continue into tomorrow, only a prophet could predict. Fallon tried, with every fiber of her being, not to fall in love with the roughish Highlander, but it came without warning like a flood following a storm.

  “I love ye,” she whispered aloud.

  With those words, Rylan stopped. How could she love him? As much as he wanted her, he just could not bring himself to do it. He felt ashamed for nearly dishonoring her the way he had intended. Fallon was not some everyday whore. She was…perfect.

  Fallon brought a sense of calmness to his storm. She understood him in ways no one else had. It wasn’t the knowledge of truth but purely understanding. She didn’t pity him, but empathized with him. Since the moment they’d met, Rylan had not understood the connection they had until now. And though he never would have believed it before, he believed now that there was someone out there meant for only him, and that woman was right in front of him.

  Rylan was rude, crabby, and a hard man to love, but she still wanted him. She loved him, even with his faults. Fallon was like an angel walking among men, and he was the devil walking alongside her. Rylan knew at that very moment there was nothing he would not do for her. He would protect her with his life, and would give his life freely for her.

  “What is the matter?” she turned and asked.

  “Nothing. We should get some sleep. Tis late,” he said, crawling up onto the bed, waiting for her to follow.

  “Where is Braeden?” he asked.

  “He fell asleep in Aldy’s…I mean yer father, Aldrich’s, room.”

  “Good. Come,” he said, motioning her onto the bed.

  Fallon crawled up onto the bed and laid next to Rylan. Nestling her in his arms, Rylan feathered his fingers through the long locks of her hair, allowing the soft tendrils of hair to fall upon her shoulder.

  Three words. It was all it took for Rylan to surrender. Instead of making love as he intended, he held her close. They laid for a long while without speaking. But even if Rylan had the words, what would he say?

  Fallon did not understand why he had stopped and wondered if she had done something wrong. Pressing her forehead to his, Fallon closed her eyes and listened to the thunderous beat of his heart. This was more than a mere physical attraction between them. Had it been that simple, it would have been easy to walk away. Nevertheless, the pull she felt was like the hunger of a starving man. It became a need.

  Fallon could feel the impenetrable walls around her heart, that she had spent years building, beginning to crumble brick by brick. She’d sworn she would never love again, but somehow Rylan lit a flame that sparked a great fire. He had shown her a passion she never knew existed. It was a desire, an addiction that had bewitched her. His voice, his smell, everything about him weakened her resolve. Was this how it felt when a searching soul found its mate?

  Rylan was not exactly the type of man she wanted, but he quickly became everything she needed. Though he had nothing to offer her, she felt safe giving him her heart completely. Over the past few days, Rylan had changed. She had also changed and it made her realize that a stone heart could be softened after all.

  Fallon did not want to think about what tomorrow would bring. She only wanted to be here, in this moment, where nothing else mattered and no one else existed but the two of them.

  Chapter 23

  It was a new day, a new beginning, and everything seemed more clear. Stretching her arms wide, Fallon awoke with a smile. Last night, she had fallen asleep in Rylan’s arms, but this morning she woke to an empty bed. She had not heard him leave. Though their night was innocent, she could not have imagined a better one.

  Dressing quickly, Fallon went to the inn to search for Braeden. As she stepped inside the dining hall, she found Rylan’s party sitting at a large table near the back.

  “Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully.

  Rylan’s eyes locked on hers. Standing up, he moved to her side.

  “I must speak wit’ ye,” he said in a serious tone.

  Nodding her head, Fallon followed him across the room and outside the tavern.

  “I have been thinking about this all night, and I think tis best that ye and Braeden return to the Highlands with me. Ye are no’ safe at that small farm of yers. It is out in the middle of nowhere and ye have no real protection. The idea of ye returning is absurd.”

  “It is my home, Rylan. And I will no’ allow anyone to take it from me. I thought ye understood.”

  “Fallon, listen to me. Ye are just a woman. Do ye really think ye have any right to that land? Ye once told me that the Blackwells governed the land. Now that Nathanial is dead, do ye honestly believe ye will be offered the same protection? They took yer son away, Fallon. What do ye think will happen the next time they come? Open yer eyes, ye daft woman. I am trying to help ye. I am trying to keep ye safe.”


  “Nay, ye just want me to run away. It may be easy for ye to hide from yer troubles, but I will no’ cower behind mine. I will no’ be driven from my home! And that is final. If ye do no’ wish to accompany me, then I ask that ye allow one of yer guards to take me home.”

  “I cannae keep ye safe there.”

  “Tis no’ yer responsibility to keep me safe. I belong there Rylan, and ye belong wit’ yer family. Tis just the way it is. Let us no’ ruin what happened last night and call it what it was. A beautiful night together under the stars. But the sun has risen, and it’s time for me to go home. I will go pack my things. I understand if ye wish to no’ escort me yerself,” she said walking away from him.

  Biting back her tears, Fallon returned to the room. As she closed the door behind her, she fell onto the bed and wept. For a single moment, she had allowed herself to dream about being with Rylan, but the reality was, they were just two passing souls crossing paths. They could never be together, for where would they live? She did not belong in the Highlands any more than Rylan belonged on her farm. Asking him to retire his sword for a pitchfork was not something Rylan was likely to accept. He was a proud man and a man of honor. He lived by his sword and it would be selfish of her to think otherwise. Fallon loved him, but she also loved him enough not to hold him back.

  It was infuriating being unable to convince her to return to the Highlands, but she left him no choice. It was mid-morning when Rylan and two of his men decided to escort Fallon and her son back home. Rylan could feel the animosity between them. Returning her home felt as if he was bringing her into a blind battle with an unknown enemy. He was forced to leave her unprotected, but he could not fight for someone who will not even fight for themselves. Fallon’s stubbornness aggravated him beyond all realms of possibility. There was a part of him that wanted to say to hell with her, and another part of him that wanted to tie her up, toss her over the back of his horse, and force her to return with him, but he could not do it. Cage a songbird, and the bird would lose the will to sing.