Highland Hero

by Hannah Howell

  “Are ye certain he didnae hurt ye?” he asked.

  “Aye. There will be a few bruises, and I feared he was going to pull all my hair out, but naught else,” she replied.

  “I must think of how to deal with the fool, but I think I need to wait a wee while ’ere I do. I am still of a mind to just kill him.”

  “For a few moments there, if I had had a knife, I would have done it myself.” She leaned forward and kissed his chest.

  “Rosebud?”

  She smiled against his skin, for he had come perilously close to squeaking. “Do ye ken what I thought when I realized that I could nay win a fight with the fool?”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Nay. What did ye think?”

  “That he was going to make my first time with a mon something out of a nightmare, and I dearly wished I had done it with ye first.”

  “Oh, hell.”

  Rose found herself on her back on the ground again, but this time the position pleased her. In that moment of fearing that Geordie would succeed in raping her, she had come to a decision. She might not fully trust the passion Adair felt for her, occasionally questioning its cause, but she knew he wanted her. And she wanted him. Now that she knew how easily she could become the victim of a man, could have lust forced upon her, she chose to take control. There was no doubt in her mind that making love with Adair would pleasure her.

  When he kissed her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and fully returned his kiss. Heat pulsed through her body. Hunger for his touch made her shift beneath his weight. Rose blushed as he removed her clothes but did nothing to stop him.

  “Ah, Rosebud, ye are so cursed beautiful,” he muttered as he tossed aside the last of her clothes and looked her over from head to toe.

  “I am a wee lass,” she whispered, her eyes widening as he began to tear off his clothes. There was an awful lot of Adair Dundas.

  “Wee but perfect.”

  She gasped with pleasure when he returned to her arms, their flesh touching. That delight was quickly surpassed by the feel of his hands and lips against her skin. Rose lost all concern about Adair’s size. She tried to return as many of his caresses as she could and soon had only one clear thought. She wanted him, needed him.

  “I will try nay to hurt ye,” he rasped as he shifted his body and prepared to possess her.

  “I ken it must hurt some the first time. Ah, but the ache I feel now must be nearly as bad.”

  “There will be nay turning back, my love.”

  “Hush.” She kissed him. “I am yours. Here. Now. Do ye really wish to pause and discuss the rights and wrongs of it all?”

  “Nay.”

  Rose bit back a cry when he joined their bodies. The pain was sharp but fleeting. For a little while she allowed Adair to soothe her with soft words and stirring caresses, but then her need grew too strong for play. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and arched her body, shuddering with delight as he went deeper within her. Then he began to move, each graceful thrust of his body enflaming her, but she quickly decided she did not want grace and gentleness.

  Adair groaned as Rose moved her slim, long-fingered hands over his body. He was fighting to go slowly, to not frighten her with the ferocity of his desire and need. Then she caressed his backside, grasped it in her tiny hands, and made it very clear that she was feeling no less fierce than he was. He released his control, giving in to the wild passion thrumming through his veins. When Rose cried out in release, her movements becoming somewhat wild, he held her close and let her take him with her.

  It was a long time before Adair found the strength or will to move out of Rose’s arms. He wet his shirt in the river and cleaned them both off. Her blushes amused him even as her silence began to worry him.

  His own silence was probably not helping to ease the awkwardness of the situation. There was so much he wanted to say, yet there was still a lot standing between them. He wanted her as his wife, at his side night and day. He needed that. Yet he did not want magic at Duncairn, and Rose showed no sign of giving it up. Adair feared that, if he spoke of their future now, before they had settled that problem, he was telling her that it was already settled. The last thing he wanted was misunderstandings following them to the altar.

  “Rosebud . . .” he began as she stood up and finished dressing.

  “Ye dinnae need to give me sweet lies and promises, Adair,” she murmured.

  When he had not spoken of love or a future for them after the haze of passion faded, Rose had decided she would offer no hint of her feelings either. Since she had felt so profoundly moved by their lovemaking, knew that he was the mate of her body, heart, and soul, it was painful not to hear or see that he felt the same. It was, however, a sad fact of life that men did not have to feel much emotion at all to indulge in lovemaking. She had her pride and she would not chance humbling herself before a man who saw it all as little more than a moment of delight on a fine summer’s day.

  He stood up and went to put his shirt away in his saddle pack. “I have ne’er been good with sweet words, lass,” he admitted as he walked back to her side, leading his horse.

  “I begin to think many a mon isnae.”

  “Weel, ye need nay worry about sweet words from any other mon,” he grumbled as she started to walk toward Rose Cottage and he fell into step at her side.

  “Nay, I suppose not. I have reached the age of one and twenty and ne’er heard one. I doubt there will be a sudden swarming of men ready and eager to whisper flatteries in my ears in the next few weeks.”

  “Rose, ye are mine.”

  “Am I? Is that how ye see it?”

  “Aye.”

  This was going all wrong, he thought. Yet even hearing her speak of unknown and yet unseen men wooing her stirred his jealousy until it was difficult to think. One thing he was sure of, and that was that Rose was his. When she gave herself to him by the river, that merely sealed the bond between them. It annoyed him that she did not seem to feel that way.

  “I see. And are ye mine?”

  “Aye.” That much, at least, he could confess to. Whatever else passed between them, he was hers, did not want any other woman, and, he suspected, never would.

  “Fair enough.” Rose took him by the hand. “We seem to have trouble agreeing on so many things, ’tis nice to ken we think alike in this matter.”

  “I would like to think we could agree on many another thing if we but set our minds to it.”

  “Mayhap. It shall depend upon how much of the matter concerned is one of reason or one of emotion.” She frowned as she realized Meg had returned and was standing in front of the cottage talking excitedly to Mary and Master Iain. “I hope naught has happened to Lame Jamie.” She had barely finished speaking when she had to nearly run, for Adair had begun to trot toward her home.

  “Oh, Rose,” Meg cried as she ran forward to hug her. “Ye will ne’er guess what has happened. I ran home to see my father and Anne was standing at the door.”

  “Anne was?”

  “Aye, I think her mother may have said one thing too many when she was scolding her. Weel, she looked at me and I looked at her, and I gave her some of the blackberries I had brought home for my father. Then I told her to cease standing there like a post and do something ’ere her mother chased her down.”

  Rose heard Iain and Adair choke back a laugh. “That is what ye think is helpful?”

  “It worked. So did the blackberries. She ceased to tremble, looked me in the eye, and said I needed a mother’s guidance. I said that might be true, and was I looking at one who thought she could do the job? Then she got a wee bit cowardly again.” Meg shook her head.

  “But ye set her aright, did ye?” asked Adair.

  “I did, laird. Told her the best thing to do was just say what she had to say, because this was the second time she had slipped her mother’s noose and it was sure to be tightened after this until she couldnae say a word. Almost had to rap on the door for her.”

  “Anne did fina
lly rap on the door, did she?” asked Rose.

  “Aye, after a few more blackberries,” replied Meg. “Then she stared at my father and my father stared at her, and I was getting sorely bored. So I told Anne that if she didnae have the wit to speak, why didnae she just kiss him? Thought she might swoon right there, but my father had more wit. He kissed her. I left them alone for a wee while.”

  “Verra wise,” murmured Adair, but everyone except a grinning Iain ignored him.

  “Weel, they eventually recalled that there was a child standing about outside. I think the singing told them.” She grinned when Iain and Adair laughed aloud. “So ’tis settled. Ye are all invited to a wedding. ’Twill be in two days’ time. My father feels that is about as long as he will be able to deal with Mistress Kerr trying to get her daughter back.”

  “Anne didnae go home?” asked Rose.

  “Nay. She didnae want to, and I think my father is verra happy that she is staying away from her mother.” Meg winked at Rose. “Especially since there is only my bed and his bed, and Anne isnae sleeping with me. So, will ye come?”

  “Aye,” said Mary and kissed Meg’s cheek. “And we shall bring as much food as we can carry.”

  “And some of our mead for the bride and groom,” said Rose.

  “Tell your father me and my lads will be there,” said Iain.

  “And I shall be certain to tell everyone at Duncairn. I will contribute the ale.” Adair covertly patted Rose on the backside, then mounted his horse and held out his hand to Meg. “Come with me, lass. I will take ye home.”

  “I have ne’er ridden a horse before,” said Meg as she nimbly swung up behind him. “I will see ye at the wedding,” she called as Adair nudged his horse into a slow trot.

  By the time Rose got over the shock of Adair’s rather intimate touch and turned to face her aunt, Iain was already gone. “I ne’er thought Anne would act so quickly.”

  “I think Meg has the right of it. That fool Joan said one nasty thing too many. Since the thought of leaving was already in the lass’s head, the poison didnae pass o’er her as it used to. I wouldnae be surprised if it was something unkind about Meg’s father.” Meg suddenly looked closely at her niece. “Ye are looking a bit rough, lass.”

  As she and her aunt went into the cottage, Rose told her about Geordie’s attack. A part of her ached to share the news that she and Adair had become lovers. It would be good to be able to discuss it with an older woman, one who had known a man.

  For the moment, however, Rose realized she wished to hold the secret close. When she did finally talk about it, all the doubts and questions she had would undoubtedly come out. For a little while she wanted to remember that moment on the soft grass by the river through the haze of desire and love, untarnished by reality. The time to face the consequences of it all would come soon enough.

  Chapter 9

  “A fine wedding,” Mary said as she and Rose stepped into the cottage.

  “I cannae believe Mistress Kerr would be so cruel as to refuse to attend her own daughter’s wedding,” muttered Rose as she moved to light the fire. “Ye would think she would be happy for Anne. ’Tis nay as if Jamie is some poor, ragged stable lad.”

  “He isnae the laird.” Mary poured each of them a goblet of sweet cider and, after handing Rose hers, sat down in a chair in front of the fire. “But Joan wasnae far away. Nay, nor was that fool Geordie. He is verra lucky his punishment was so light.”

  Rose grimaced as she sat down in the other chair set before the fire. Geordie had gotten fifteen lashes, and the whip had been readily wielded by his enraged father. Considering the rage Adair had been in, it was a merciful punishment. She had just never liked whippings.

  “Where was Mistress Kerr?” asked Rose.

  “Near.”

  “Aunt?”

  “Have it your way. She was but ’round the corner, sitting in front of the alehouse with Geordie. In truth, by the time we left there was near a dozen people with them.”

  “Oh, dear. She has blamed all of this on me, hasnae she?”

  “Loudly and repeatedly. ’Tis why I decided we should leave sooner than I might have wished to.”

  “I noticed ye were having a fine time with Master Iain.” Rose almost laughed when her aunt blushed.

  “He is a fine figure of a mon and I am nay in my grave yet.”

  “Far from it, I pray.” Rose frowned, felt the tickle of fear, and took a long drink of cider to quell it. “Do ye think there may be trouble?”

  “I cannae be sure, lass. This cursed gift of mine can be an uncertain thing. I feel as if there will be, but mixed in those feelings of warnings are ones of happiness. All I can think is that mayhap there will be trouble, but it willnae cost us so verra much. And somewhere in the mess, a few problems will be solved or hurts eased.”

  “I think it might be wise to prepare for trouble. Ye heard Mistress Kerr spouting her poison and saw a fair crowd gathering to listen. ’Tis a strong warning right there. I would rather be ready for trouble and have the threat fade away than nay be ready and have the threat catch us unprepared.”

  Mary nodded. “Wise. As soon as we have finished our cider, we will go out and set the water buckets around.”

  “Aye.” Rose shook her head. “Someone should sew that woman’s lips together.” She managed a tired smile when her aunt laughed. “Anne did look bonnie, didnae she?”

  “Aye, and Jamie looked verra happy, too. Meg is happy because her father is, and I think she likes Anne. It will be fine. She will soon have all the brothers and sisters she could want.”

  “I ken how Meg feels. I often wished for brothers or sisters. My mother wanted no other mon after my father died, however.”

  “Some people love only the once. Like ye. Like that stubborn lad Adair.”

  “Ye do ken he is the laird, dinnae ye?” Rose drawled.

  Mary grinned and winked as she stood up. “I ken it. I tease the lad, ’tis all, and I ken he really doesnae mind. Nay sure he e’en realizes I do it.” She took Rose by the hand and tugged her to her feet. “Come. We will set the buckets around and then we can get some sleep. It has been a long busy day.”

  Rose set the last of her buckets, brimming with water, next to her mother’s apple tree. She grimaced as she stood up and tried to rub away a pinch of pain in her back. It was more work than she had wanted to do after tiring herself out at the wedding, and with all the cooking she had done in the days before it. She tried to ease her temper by telling herself that, if no trouble came their way this night, watering the garden in the morning would be a great deal easier, as the water had already been drawn from the well. Then she tensed, a sound she dreaded cutting through the quiet of the night.

  “Ah, me, here the fools come,” muttered Mary as she joined Rose. “Let us meet them at the gate.”

  Following her aunt, Rose winced at the sound of the angry voices. She stood beside her aunt just inside the gate and sadly watched two dozen people stride up. Mistress Kerr marched at the fore like some conquering hero. Rose idly wished she was a more violent person, for there was a woman she would sorely like to beat into the mud. Then she caught sight of Geordie at her cottage door.

  “Ye get away from my house, ye bastard,” she yelled.

  “Aye, lass, there be the way. Keep a firm grip on your temper,” drawled Mary, but she grinned when Rose sent her a look of apology. “In truth, say and do as ye please, lass. ’Twill make no difference to this lot of fools. Most of them are weel soaked in ale and wouldnae ken reason if it fell on them.”

  “Witch!” screamed Joan Kerr. “Ye ensorcelled my only child and turned her against me.”

  “Do ye really think one needs magic to turn anyone against ye, ye nasty old woman?” snapped Mary.

  “Verra calm, Aunt,” murmured Rose, but she fixed her gaze on Mistress Kerr. “Ye wouldnae let her choose the mon she wanted. If Anne has left ye, ’tis nay anyone’s fault but your own.”

  “She should heed what I say, nay ye, n
ay him, and nay her,” Joan said, pointing at Mary. “And I ken weel that ye poisoned her mind and heart against me with the food ye grow in there. Weel, we have let the tools of the devil sit secure inside those walls for far too long.”

  Even as several men came forward to pound at her gates, Rose saw three of her cats come racing out of her house. Fear for her pets distracted her enough that the gates were pushed open, nearly knocking her to the ground. Her aunt pounded on the two men who tried to get inside the garden with a thick cudgel, but one boy holding a torch slipped by her.

  Cursing, Rose hurried after the boy, catching him just as he tried to set her mother’s tree alight. She used the bucket of water there to dampen down both him and the tree. Grabbing him by the ear, she dragged him back to the gates, where her aunt stood, cudgel in hand. Rose pushed the boy back outside, wondering how long it would take Mistress Kerr’s drunken followers to realize that, even though she and her aunt could give a lot of them some hard bruises, they could not stop them from pushing their way in.

  “Oh, dear,” murmured Mary. “Some of them look like they might actually be trying to think.”

  “Now that could cause us trouble,” agreed Rose, then frowned as three of her cats ran into the garden and under her and her aunt’s skirts.

  “If they do rush us and get by, just set your mind to putting out any fires they may start. Me and the others will take care of pounding some sense into these heads.”

  Before Rose could ask what others, Joan Kerr glared at her. “That witch stole my child as surely as if she had dragged her to an altar to sacrifice her. Are ye all going to just leave her safe here until she comes after your children?”

  “I fear that may have been a good prod on that bitch’s part,” grumbled Mary.

  “Are ye saying I should prepare for the real fight?”

  Mary took Rose’s hand in hers and held her cudgel more firmly in the other. “Aye. Ye might try your hand at a wee bit of praying as weel.”

  “Laird!”