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

by Ann Marie Scott

  A week wore on with no sign of Malcolm making another appearance at the Inn, and Maura felt herself begin to relax just a little. Malcolm’s absence, paired with the fact that Lachlan had not mentioned the topic of her marriage or his plan since their conversation, had lulled Maura into a false sense of security. She began to feel as though there was light peeking through the clouds above, like a storm was clearing overhead.

  It was wrong of her to become so arrogant and sure of herself.

  It had been almost eight whole days since her mother’s first outing with Isobel and Angus, and with the weather as nice as it was, Edna had once again decided to take the children for a walk. Maura offered to stay behind at the Inn and take care of her chores, excusing it as her duty as the eldest child. In reality, though, she was staying behind to look out for Lachlan and mind him if he ever came up against Malcolm again.

  With Lachlan making some repairs to the furniture in the house, Maura busied herself downstairs with the washing. It wasn’t one of her favorite jobs, but she found it therapeutic to scrub the sheets clean with her hands, which was why she was so glad to have it as a chore for the day. She could take her anger out on those defenseless sheets, all but tearing them apart.

  In the early afternoon, with the sun high in the sky, Maura carried the sheets out to hang them in the open air. The line was already up and waiting to be filled at the back of the Inn, past the stables that housed Gairdh. Maura passed by the great beast without much thought, patting his nose gently.

  “Ye’re always such a handsome lad, aren’t ye, Gairdh?” she cooed affectionately, before walking off towards the backyard where she could hang her sheets.

  It was a gorgeous day outside, and a part of Maura felt a little bitter that she had to stay back at the house and look out for Lachlan. She would much rather have gone walking with her family, spending the afternoon chasing Angus through fields of tall grass while he shrieked with laughter. But instead, she was stuck at home doing chores and looking out for any potential victims of Lachlan’s rage.

  “There she is, my lovely bride-to-be!”

  The sound of Malcolm’s voice close behind her pulled Maura from her thoughts sharply, and she near enough screamed. She had grown so used to the quiet of the day that his sudden appearance gave her an immense fright. She turned on the spot to see him approaching with his arms flung wide, almost as though he was about to hug her.

  Blind panic gripped Maura at the sight of Malcolm coming towards her. She had no idea where Lachlan was. Had he seen Malcolm approach the Inn? Had he heard the sound of his horse, or even worse, the sound of his voice?

  “Mr. Campbell!’ she gasped. “Ye startled me!”

  “I thought I would surprise ye an’ come to talk about our nuptials,” he suggested, smiling at her. As she stood there only a few feet from him, Maura noticed something very unsettling about the smile that sent a shiver down her spine—the smile that stretched his lips so wide did not meet his eyes. They were still just as cold and unfeeling as normal.

  “How lovely!” Maura tried to mask her shock and concern as she peered around him, looking out for any sign of Lachlan. “Though, it’s such a lovely day. Why don’t we walk and discuss them?”

  Malcolm looking up at the sky, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Aye, it is a wonderful day. What say ye? A walk along the loch?”

  Maura tossed down the sheet she had been preparing to hang. She could peg it up later, she decided. Her priority needed to be to get Malcolm as far from the Inn as possible, before Lachlan spotted him.

  Unfortunately, as fast as she was, Maura simply wasn’t fast enough. Just as they approached the stable that ran alongside the Inn, where Gairdh was still housed, they heard a familiar voice from behind them.

  “So here ye are, ye bastard.”

  Maura went cold at the sound of Lachlan’s voice, and she turned to see him behind her in the short grass, holding a blade in his right hand. This is it, she thought. After all of the agony she had gone through to come to the point where she accepted Malcolm’s marriage proposal, it was all about to be for nothing.

  Lachlan hefted the blade in his hand as though testing the weight. He only vaguely registered Maura’s presence as he approached them slowly, eyeing Malcolm up and down.

  “Draw yer sword,” he ordered, motioning to the sword that Malcolm kept on his person at all times. Few knew the reason why he had adopted this particular habit, but it had started after Lachlan’s first visit to his home. Today, it was going to be used.

  “Stand aside, Maura,” Malcolm grunted to her, unsheathing his sword in one swift motion. “Ach, I should’ave had this bastard killed the moment I saw him here.”

  “An’ ah should have killed ye that night ah went to yer house,” Lachlan sneered back. The regret for not doing that still weighed heavily on him, like a chain of guilt around his neck. Today, though, with his sword in hand, he could finally right that wrong.

  Maura stumbled backward a few paces until her back was almost against the wall of the Inn. She could hardly believe her eyes as she watched the two men approach each other, their swords drawn and ready to fight.

  “Are ye ready to die, Campbell?” Lachlan spat. The raven-haired man simply chuckled and then lunged without warning.

  He was a fast opponent, there was no denying that. He’d managed to disarm many an intruder to his home before, and those in town regarded him as a fine fighter. But Lachlan was bigger and stronger, and with every strike of their swords together, he pushed Malcolm back.

  Maura’s mouth hung open in a silent scream as she watched, unable to move from her place. She wanted nothing more than to get in the middle of this awful fight, but she knew that she could not. She knew that if she got too close, she would risk being hurt herself.

  Lachlan dodged a swipe from Malcolm’s blade, but the tip only just missed his skin. It sliced the sleeve of his shirt open, allowing it to blow in the breeze as the two men moved around. It was like they were partners in the most dangerous dance, moving together in perfect sync.

  But this was no dance, and everyone knew that. This was a fight to the death—a fight in which two men struggled relentlessly, and only one would come out the victor.

  Lachlan was the stronger of the two, so it was no big surprise that he managed to force Malcolm to the floor, using the tip of his sword to pin him against the ground. Malcolm’s sword clattered to the floor and skidded away from his body towards Gairdh’s stable, and then as the echo of metal on stone faded, the two men were left staring at each other.

  “I came to kill ye once already,” Lachlan warned, his hand at the hilt of his sword. “An’ ever since that night, I’ve dreamed of running ye through with ma sword.”

  Malcolm flinched at the memory of that evening. Lachlan had left him with the physical scar that reminded him just how close he had come to death, but the memory of it haunted his dreams late at night as well. It had taken a long time for him to stop dreaming of the man with hair like fire and the blade of his sword. Malcolm had no intention of allowing those dreams to return, nor did he wish for another scar to match the first.

  “The first day ah saw ye…” Lachlan began slowly, his voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “Ah saw ye here, with Maura. An’ in that moment, I regretted not finishin’ the job that night. I wanted nothin’ more than to take my sword and run it right here…”

  He paused, and slowly dragged the edge of his sword through the air mere inches from Malcolm’s throat, miming what he wanted to do more than anything else in the world. “But to kill a man—even a man such as yerself—in front of a girl like this would have been a crime in itself. So ah waited because ah thought that there would be a time where ah could see ye on yer knees like this, just ye and I.”

  It was the truth. The first day that the two had met again, in front of the Inn, Lachlan had been nearly as shocked as Malcolm at the sight of a familiar face. He’d pictured acting out all manner of sins with his sword, and takin
g the revenge he was so desperate for.

  But he had not.

  He had resisted that urge, as strong as it was, because of Maura. Because of her, he had controlled himself and promised that there would be another chance to take his revenge. He had told himself to wait, to bide his time.

  And now, he had that chance. He was holding Malcolm Campbell’s life in his hands and had the power to crush it into dust without much effort. All it would take was one swift moment, and the job would be done. His family would be avenged, and he could finally be at peace. That urge was still there, bubbling beneath the surface.

  He held the blade aloft, tightening his grip on the handle as he steadied himself, ready to deliver the final deadly blow to the man who had cost him damn near everything that he had ever held dear.

  18

  The blade never came crashing down on Malcolm’s throat.

  Maura had closed her eyes tightly, hiding her face in the hopes that she would be able to stop herself from seeing streaks of crimson blood. Malcolm had shut his eyes, too. He’d watched the blade carefully, and he had seen the fierce determination in Lachlan’s eyes, knowing well enough that this was the end for him.

  When there was no blow to his throat, he opened his eyes again slowly, peeking at Lachlan through his lashes. Behind Lachlan, Maura dared to peer through her fingertips at the two men, waiting for Lachlan to do what he had dreamed of for so long.

  The man himself was frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. He could not bring his sword down against Malcolm’s throat, but at the same time, he was struggling to lower it peacefully. This man—no, this pale imitation of a man—was still alive and breathing not from good fortune but because of Maura and her family. Because of them, Lachlan had been forced to see something that he would rather have ignored forever—Malcolm Campbell was worth more to him alive than he was dead.

  If Lachlan were to kill him right there, his problems would be solved. There would be no more men after his head, and there would be no looming threat of marriage to whisk Maura away from him. But their problems would not be solved. Her family would still be in poverty, barely scraping enough money to pay off the debt collectors who were frequently at the door. Their lives would be no better, no easier.

  So because of that, Lachlan lowered his blade slowly. The move took Malcolm by surprise, and he stared up in confusion. “If ye’re planning to kill me, then just do so.”

  “I won’t kill ye,” Lachlan spat out. The words tasted awful in his mouth, and it felt almost like a betrayal of his dead family, but he knew it was the right choice to make. “Today, ah’ll grant ye mercy.”

  Many men in his position might have just accepted that blindly and would have been overjoyed by the news. But Malcolm Campbell was not most men. He was smarter and far more calculating. And he knew there would be some kind of condition to this.

  “Why?”

  “Because today is the day ye wipe the debt of this family.” Lachlan crouched in front of the man, resting his elbow on his knee. At this distance, the urge to simply finish the job in a matter of seconds was almost overwhelming, but he pushed it down. “Today, ye pay them their dues, and the sum ye owed ma sister, and ye never show yer face here again.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Lachlan’s lips pulled back into a cruel smile. Oh, how he wished Malcolm would refuse to pay off the debts of the family. Then he would be of no use to them, and Lachlan would have been able to do with him as he pleased.

  “Then they’ll ne’er find yer body.”

  Malcolm’s eyed widened with fear for a moment as he realized the truth behind Lachlan’s words. He was a man who hated to give up what he felt belonged to him—whether that was money or a bride-to-be—but he valued his own life more than either of those. He understood that he had been forced into a corner by Lachlan.

  “Well, it doesnae sound like I have much of a choice, does it?” he said bitterly. “Ye’ve put me in an impossible position.”

  “There are still two choices,” Lachlan reminded him gleefully.

  Malcolm scowled up at him for a few moments. “The money. I’ll pay them off.”

  “A fine choice.” Lachlan stood up and sheathed his sword again. A part of him still hoped to use it, but deep down, he was glad to have secured the money for Maura and her family. “But remember, if ye go back on yer promise, I’ll find ye.”

  “How could I forget?” Malcolm struggled to his feet, wiping mud from his hands as he stood upright. Despite his rough exterior, deep down, Lachlan had the heart of a gentleman—and had it been any other man in front of him, he likely would have helped him to his feet. When it came to Malcolm Campbell, though, he was more than happy to watch him struggle. “I’ll have the money in a day.”

  “Good man.”

  Malcolm looked over Lachlan’s shoulder to Maura, who had remained motionless a few feet away from the fight. Although she had wanted desperately to run from it and hide from the fighting, she had found herself unable to move. Her feet had rooted her in place—whether from fear or morbid curiosity, she did not know—and she had been forced to watch the whole scene unfold.

  “This is the man ye place yer faith in?” Malcolm called, pointing to Lachlan. “This brute? That’s the man ye’d trust the safety of yer family with?”

  Lachlan followed his gaze to look at Maura. With everything that they had been through together, he was almost certain of the answer she would give. That didn’t stop the little voice of uncertainty at the back of his head, though.

  Maura looked from Malcolm to Lachlan, and he saw a change come over her expression. Her eyes, blown wide with shock and fear, softened almost immediately, and the corner of her mouth twitched as if she were about to smile.

  “Aye,” she said finally. “That’s the man.”

  Hearing those words from her lips felt better than Lachlan could ever have imagined. He had never felt this way about a woman before. He had never felt so desperate to hear words of affirmation from her, and so that simple sentence filled him with more joy than he thought possible. It was as though his heart had swelled in his chest, and all he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms.

  Malcolm, of course, was far less impressed by her admission. His lip curled into a sneer at the words, and he shook his head slowly. “Ye’re setting yerself for a life o’ misery at his hands, young lass. Ye mark my words.”

  “I’ll be nay worse than yer first bride,” Maura responded coldly, taking both men by surprise. She was taken aback by the venom in her words—never before had she spoken in that tone to another person. The words had come from somewhere deep inside her, and she had said them without thinking. But it was the truth, and everyone knew it.

  Malcolm huffed out a heavy breath. Obviously, he wanted to challenge her, but with Lachlan stood between them, he did not dare. So he simply gathered up his leather gloves from where he had dropped them and walked off without another word.

  They watched his retreating back as he disappeared around the front of the Inn, and once he was out of sight, Lachlan turned to look at her with a broad smile, which Maura returned.

  “It’s done,” he said, extending a hand for her to take. She joined him, slipping her hand into his much larger one, and as they stood there side by side, she clung on to it as though he was an anchor for her.

  “It’s really over,” she whispered as the realization sank in. Malcolm Campbell, from this day onwards, would be nothing more than an unpleasant memory. He would not be the husband she hated, nor would he be the father of her children.

  At that thought, her hand drifted towards her belly—a move she was not consciously aware of. She had had the sickness again that morning, which made it the third time that week, and she was due her monthly bleed, which had not come. That very morning, Maura had figured out that she was most likely carrying Lachlan’s child with her.

  The knowledge that she was with child did not scare her in the way she had always thought it would. She had heard horror
stories of young unwed mothers and what they had to face; those stories were always used as a cautionary tale to scare her into remaining pure. Perhaps if the father had been any other man, Maura might have felt the guilt, shame, and fear that she was supposed to. But as the father was Lachlan, she could not feel that. She could not feel guilty for this growing life; it was a sign of their love, a sign of her devotion to him.

  So when she took Lachlan’s hand and placed it over her stomach, she was not afraid of his reaction. She did not fear that he would pull away from her or run. How could she fear that given everything she had seen from him?

  Lachlan looked down at their clasped hands, which lay across her belly so lightly, and Maura watched as the confusion on his face gave way to understanding, and then a broad grin broke out across his face. He met her gaze, beaming at her.

  “Are ye—?”

  “Aye.” She nodded. “Ah’m with child.”

  A laugh that Maura had never heard from him before escaped his lips; it was a sound of pure joy that came from deep within him. He gathered her up into his arms, pulling her against him as he pressed a joyful kiss to her lips. “Oh, my darlin’! A wee bairn?”

  The fight was forgotten now. Neither one of them could think of Malcolm Campbell, or his threats, or even his money. At that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the only thing that mattered was each other...and the wee baby they would soon share.

  When one of Malcolm’s men arrived with the money to wipe their debts—and a little extra to placate Lachlan—Edna was taken aback. At first, she’d mistaken it as a dowry for her daughter, and she was ecstatic. But then Lachlan and Maura had the task of sitting her down and explaining the whole affair to her—well, most of the affair.

  They told her the details they felt she needed to know. They told her of Lachlan’s sister and Malcolm’s first bride. They told her of the fight between the two men and explained that this money was no dowry for her hand in marriage.