Highlander's Tempting Stranger: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Ann Marie Scott

  So he held back.

  Rather than taking her hand in his and tugging her roughly against him, Lachlan was gentle with her. His arm slipped around her slender waist, and he pulled her closer with ease so that she was pressed against his chest. One of his hands slid up from the small of her back, tracing the subtle curve of her spine before coming to rest between her shoulder blades.

  Lachlan took one of her hands and brought it to rest on his shoulder, taking a moment to admire her in the light of the fire. He already knew she was beautiful—it was hard for any sane man to ignore that fact—but until this point, Lachlan had never truly appreciated her beauty.

  Her hair was drying in the warmth of the fire, and the fine, flyaway hairs had curled into perfect ringlets around her hairline and ears. Her skin was like fine porcelain that he had seen once in the city—perfectly smooth, as though she had been carved out of stone by one of the great sculptors.

  And just as he would have handled a priceless work of art, Lachlan was careful with her when he kissed her again. His hands were calloused and rough when they cupped her face, but even so, his touch was featherlight. When he leaned in to kiss her again, his lips were warm against hers, and Maura felt herself melt against him willingly.

  Lachlan coaxed her lips apart with his own, deepening the kiss. Her lips were impossibly soft against his, and with each kiss they shared, Lachlan found himself growing more and more desperate. He needed more.

  Maura was thinking the same thing. Where her hands had lightly rested on his broad shoulders at first, she was now desperately clinging to the damp fabric of his shirt, tugging on it as if she was trying to pull it off him. The kisses that had started out so chaste and innocent were now anything but, and neither one cared.

  She was desperate and wild, like a woman dying of thirst who had seen her first body of water in days. When Lachlan pressed up against her a little more forcefully, she gave into him and let him push her onto her back.

  The stone floor was cold and unforgiving against her skin, but Maura couldn’t find it within herself to care. All that mattered was Lachlan—his hands on her hips as he lowered himself to meet her, his lips against hers, the sound of his breath in her ear.

  Her fingers tangled into his hair desperately, tugging on the auburn strands so hard that it must have hurt him. Even if it did, he made no sound of complaint; instead, it only seemed to spur him on. His lips left hers and traced an invisible pattern from her jaw down to her neck. It was there, nestled in the junction between her shoulder and her throat, that he found the spot that made her cry out in surprise.

  Maura had never felt like this before. Every nerve seemed like it was alight, and as she writhed there on the floor beneath Lachlan, only one thought permeated through her haze of bliss: she could have died there and then and would have been happy.

  It was short-lived, though.

  Lachlan’s hands had left her hips and were roaming further down to the skirt of her dress. His hand closed around the fabric, bunching it up in his fist, and he was starting to pull it up when they heard a noise at the door. It wasn’t the noise of rain lashing against the roof, nor was it the sound of distant thunder.

  There was someone out there.

  9

  The two sprang apart at the sound of the door creaking, and by the time it opened, they were far apart from each other. A tall figure appeared in the doorway, dripping wet from the rain outside. He was wearing a long cloak with the hood pulled over his face to try and protect it from the rain, and as he stepped inside and closed the door, he shook himself dramatically. Droplets of water went flying indiscriminately, and even more flew about the place when he whipped the cloak off with a flair.

  “Gah!” the man cried. “The heavens are openin’ oot there for sure!”

  Though not as tall as Lachlan, he was a tall man, and when he stooped low to greet them, Maura got a good look at his face in the firelight. He looked to be in his mid or late fifties. His hair was a steely grey, and the wiry beard that hung from his cheeks was a similar shade.

  “Pardon the interruption,” he said, taking the space in front of the hearth beside Lachlan, who noticeably shuffled away from him. “Ah simply had to get away from that storm. ’Twas raging like none other.”

  “Aye,” Lachan grunted, eyeing the man somewhat suspiciously. “We had the same problem.”

  “Abhainn MacDonald’s ma name.” The stranger beamed at the two of them and held out a hand for Lachlan to shake. He accepted it, although it was with some hesitation. “And might ah ask yer names?”

  “Lachlan. An’ the lass is Maura.”

  “A pleasure to meet ye, missy.” Abhainn bowed his head to her in greeting, and she mirrored him in kind. “At least the storm wasnae for naught. I was blessed with seein’ a beautiful face tonight.”

  Abhainn had little with him; just the cloak and a bag he had left by the door when he had entered, so there wasn’t much that either one could deduce about him.

  “May ah ask what two young souls such as yerselves might be doing oot here on a night like tonight?” Abhainn asked, warming his hands by the fire. “’Tis a wretched storm.”

  “Headed to Dunoon,” Lachlan muttered. It was obvious that he did not trust this stranger. He had shifted so that Maura was almost completely hidden from Abhainn, and when he spoke, it was barely more than a word at a time. However, his cold demeanor went unnoticed by Abhainn, who clapped his hands together merrily.

  “Och, fantastic news! As am ah, my friend! Can ah ask what yer plannin’ on finding in Dunoon?”

  “Ye ask a lot of questions,” Lachlan pointed out. Again, the iciness of his tone was ignored, and Abhainn simply laughed.

  “Aye, ah suppose ah do. It’s just ma nature.”

  In an attempt to ease Lachlan’s nerves around this stranger, Maura interrupted them. “Might we know what yer plannin’ on finding in Dunoon yerself, sir?”

  “My girl, of course! I forgot my manners in that bastard storm. Ah’m headed to Dunoon to find maself patients. The sick, the weary, the old—any’ll do.”

  Maura perked up at the words, and even Lachlan leaned forward in interest. “Ye’re a healer?”

  “Aye.” Abhainn nodded solemnly. “An’ ah have been one for as long as ah can remember too. Am a damn fine one, if ah say so maself.”

  “Do ye have a patient waitin’?” Lachlan asked, his past wariness of the man now long gone. He exchanged a quick, hopeful glance with Maura, and she knew they were thinking of the same thing. Was it possible that this man who’d appeared out of nowhere would be able to help them?

  “Ach, no.” Abhainn shook his head, shuffling a little closer to the fire. “But there’s always souls in need of a helping hand, ye know that? Ah’ll be sure to find a poor injured soul in Dunoon, don’t ye worry.”

  “We were travelin’ to Dunoon so we could find ourselves a healer,” Maura blurted out on a whim, unable to contain herself in front of the man. Her admission took him by surprise, and he stared at her for a moment, blinking rapidly.

  “Well, my!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together again. “What a happy stroke of luck for me to stumble upon the two of ye! Why are ye looking for a healer, though?”

  Lachlan seemed hesitant to answer him with the details of their problem, but Maura did not care about being cautious. If this man was indeed a healer, then there was a chance he could help her mother. “It’s me maw, sir. She’s been taken ill, and we cannae rouse her.”

  “Ah, I see.” Abhainn nodded slowly. “Ah, ye poor wee lamb. Look at ye out here in the cold and the dark, in search of a healer for yer ma. Ye must be worried somethin’ awful, hm?”

  “Yes sir, I am.” Maura nodded frantically. “She started sleeping much longer last week. At first, it was only that she’d rise much later, and she’d fall asleep much sooner than normal, but today me brother and I couldnae wake her, no matter how hard we tried. She just moaned and whimpered at me, but she wouldn’t wake, nae properly.”


  Abhainn fell silent at her words, taking his time to process them slowly. He stared into the depths of the fire that still burned brightly in front of them, and as he thought, he reached up with one hand to scratch at his chin absentmindedly.

  “That must’ve been hard, ye poor wee thing,” he said finally, turning his gaze back to Maura. It was strange to feel such sympathy from a man she had only just met, but Maura found his gaze so completely comforting that she could not question it. Instead, she nodded in agreement.

  “It was, sir.”

  “Where’s yer ma now?”

  Maura told him where the Inn could be found, and for a few seconds, he returned to simply staring into the fire pensively. Then, without warning, he cried out so loudly that Maura jumped, and even Lachlan looked taken by surprise.

  “My dear wee girl, of course ah’ll help yer mother as best ah can!”

  Maura and Lachlan exchanged wary glances while the older man went back to toasting his hands in the warmth of the fire. Abhainn, this mysterious healer who had shown up just when they needed him, was undoubtedly a curious man. However, they were both careful not to express that thought aloud, for fear of offending him.

  Instead of voicing their true opinions of the man, they both thanked him for his help and generosity, and decided to try and get some sleep. They would be looking at a long and exhausting day ahead of them tomorrow.

  10

  When Maura woke, it was to Lachlan shaking her shoulder gently. She was lying on the floor of the bothy, curled up into a ball beneath her cloak next to the extinguished remnants of the fire from the night before. As she woke slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes, she was acutely aware of the ache in her muscles from sleeping on the cold floor, and so she stretched out slowly, groaning.

  “Good morning,” she mumbled, still not yet fully awake.

  “An’ a fine one it is too!” Abhainn called from over by the window. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, peering out across the hillside as if he was looking for something. He turned back to face them, beaming. “Did ye sleep well?”

  Maura winced as she sat up, rubbing the back of her neck, which ached from the awkward position in which she had spent the night. “I cannae say that I did, sir.”

  “Ah, a mighty shame.” Abhainn sighed, shaking his head as though the news was a genuine tragedy to him. “Ah, well, ye’ll be back in yer own bed in no time, lass. That’ll be somethin’ for ye.”

  “We’d best get moving as soon as possible,” Lachlan told her quietly. “Don’t want to leave the wee ones for too long.”

  She could not argue with that point. The thought of leaving Angus and Isobel alone for even a moment longer made Maura feel sick to her stomach, and in that moment, all she wanted to do was gather them in her arms and tell them everything was going to work out just fine.

  She could not do that, though. All she had in their place was Lachlan, who helped her to her feet with a tight-lipped smile. Maura noticed that he did not hold her gaze the way he normally did, instead dropping it to the floor between them or focusing on a spot just above her head. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was because of the kiss. Was he thinking about it too?

  Maura had thought of the kiss as she’d drifted off to sleep beside the fire the night before. She’d thought of the warmth of his lips as they’d kissed, the touch of his hands against her body when he’d held her close. In the cold light of the morning after, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had thought of the same things as he had fallen asleep.

  Although the two of them seemed to feel incredibly awkward around each other as they made the return journey to the Inn, it went largely unnoticed by their new healer friend. Abhainn seemed perfectly content to fill the long, awkward pauses between the two of them, talking at length about his journeys or the work he had done. He was so engrossed in these stories that he failed to see the way Maura would look over at Lachan but look away as soon as he glanced at her or the way the same thing would happen with the roles reversed.

  They returned to the Inn before the afternoon, and before they were even fully through the door, they were immediately set upon by Angus and Isobel. The young children clutched on to Maura’s skirts desperately, hugging her tightly as though she’d been gone a month rather than a night.

  While Abhainn worked, she sent the two of them outside to play. It was easier to handle all of this if the children were not under her skirt tails, tripping her up and getting under her feet. So she sent them outside, and soon they were busying themselves with bothering poor Gairdh in the stable. As worried as she was for the beast, she was in no mood to check up on them properly.

  She was too worried about Edna and what may have caused this episode. Somewhere in his rambling stories, Abhainn had said the most likely cause was stress, but that was before he had examined her. Was the reason something more serious, or was it simply stress?

  Her mother led a stressful life; there was no denying that. Maura knew her mother was often exhausted and overworked, and the constant looming threat of debt collectors over her head did not improve matters. With the added stress of raising two young children, Maura was surprised something like this had not happened sooner.

  To add to those pressures, there was the matter of the engagement—or the non-engagement, as the case was. As much as Maura was opposed to the idea of marrying Malcolm Campbell, and finding herself as nothing more than one of his philanthropic causes rather than a real wife, she understood her mother’s position.

  To her, this union was the fastest way to improve their lives. Angus and Isobel would not have to grow up the same way as Maura did—constantly worrying about the threat of the debt collectors and worrying about the next meal. To her, this was simply what daughters did for their families.

  So it was no wonder that the argument had affected her in this way. To Edna, the argument had not just been a matter of Maura not wanting to marry. It had been a matter of Maura turning her back on her family, turning away from her duty as a diligent daughter. Was that the added stress that had pushed Edna over the edge into this state? Was this Maura’s fault, all caused by her foolish pride?

  At that moment, Lachlan walked into the kitchen. The two of them stood there in silence, both equally as uncomfortable as the other. It was obvious they were both thinking about the same thing; their minds were back in that bothy, with the rain lashing against the roof and the fire crackling beside them.

  “He’s with yer mother?” Lachlan asked.

  Maura nodded, lowering her gaze to the floor. “Aye.”

  “The bairns are in the stables with Gairdh. They seem nae worse fer wear.”

  “That’s good.”

  An uncomfortable silence hung between them after that. It was the same silence that had hung over them in the bothy earlier that morning—heavy and awkward, and far too long. Eventually, Lachlan cleared his throat.

  “There’s work to be done. An’ I can get to it if ye’d like.”

  It was true that there was work to be done around the Inn. With Edna still unwell, they would have to take over looking after the business in order to make sure things would run smoothly. However, as Lachlan turned on his heel and all but ran out of the room, it occurred to Maura that she had not told him exactly what needed to be done. He had just run out blindly, likely to avoid the awkwardness of the kitchen.

  She sighed loudly, slumping back against the kitchen table. As if her life was not complicated enough by the matter of the proposal, her mother falling ill, and the constant threats of debt collectors—now she had another problem. Handling the Inn in the wake of her mother’s illness was going to be made significantly more difficult if Lachlan was going to be avoiding her.

  Thankfully, the healer appeared at the foot of the stairs only a few minutes later, and she did not have time to dwell on the matter of Lachlan. He approached her quietly, pulling his tartan around his shoulders.

  “How is my mother, sir?” Maura asked, making sure to keep he
r voice low. Abhainn’s features pulled into a frown, and he pursed his lips into a thin line.

  “Ye said this is nae the first time something like this has happened. Is that right, my dear?”

  “That’s right. When my father left us.”

  “Mmh…” he murmured, nodding slowly as though he was starting to understand something. “Aye, ah did think so.”

  “Do ye know what caused this?”

  “Yer ma…she has a weak heart. If she gets too stressed or upset, it’ll likely make it worse for her.”

  Maura felt a horrible sinking sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. So that settled the matter. This turn was her fault, caused by the fight they’d had and the fright she’d given her mother by running off into the hills.

  “Is there somethin’ ye can give her, sir?”

  He shook his head. “Nay. Anythin’ I give her now may get her on her feet for a day or two, but it won’t heal her. Nay, if ye want my advice, wee lass? Ye should let her rest awhile, get all her strength back. Do what ye can to make her life a little easier, and she should feel better.”

  Maura bowed her head. “I can’t thank ye enough, sir. I can only apologize that we don’t have the money t’pay ye for yer troubles, in coming all this way.”

  “Ach, nonsense.” He waved his hand as if trying to bat away her concerns. “It’s of nay concern t’me. Ah’m just glad I could help. And as fer payment…this is a Inn, no?”

  “Aye sir, it is.”

  “Then, I think a fine bottle of whiskey’ll serve as a payment for ma services.” He grinned, clapping his hands together. “Somethin’ t’keep me warm on ma way to Dunoon.”

  “Of course.” Maura nodded to him and went to fetch him a bottle. She could only count herself lucky that he hadn’t asked her for more. It was the least she could do to bring him one of the dust-covered bottles that sat at the back of the storage—one of the more expensive kinds that were never bought nor drunk. He accepted it gladly as payment for his work and left Maura with another reminder to take care of her mother.