Highland Rising (The House of Pendray Book 4)

by Anna Markland

  “Gray didna just rescue me from the fire. He saved me from two men who had rape on their minds. Knocked one out with a pan.”

  Katrin chuckled. “That’s a good mon ye have for a husband. Take care of him.”

  “I intend to,” she replied. “I’ll miss ye and yer family.”

  Gray’s feelings were mixed as he watched the tearful embrace. They’d formed a bond with the Lowlanders. In different circumstances…but then it seemed Scots were always at each other’s throats. Still, they couldn’t take their mounts on a small boat. “Can ye make a home for Galahad and Bluebell?” he asked.

  She eyed him up and down, then the animals. “If ye’ve no further need,” she replied.

  As he’d expected, she didn’t ask the reason a young couple would give up their animals so easily.

  Margaret joined them. Faith bent to hug each of her bairns. A happy vision robbed him of breath—Faith round and heavy with his son.

  However, this wasn’t the time to be planning the future. They were in a precarious position, dependent on Fergus for rescue and surrounded by the angry folk of Rothesay.

  Mission Accomplished

  They waited three days. The beginning of June brought warm sunshine and cloudless skies. The mainland of Ayrshire, a scant six miles distant, seemed close enough to touch. When Fergus finally arrived, Faith was almost sorry to leave Bute. Early in the morning, they watched three government frigates sail past, along with several smaller boats, all headed north. “They’ll likely blockade Loch Riddon so the earl has no access to the sea,” Gray explained. “Fergus must have got the message through.”

  One of the smaller boats left the convoy and headed towards Bute. “Here he comes,” Giles observed.

  Faith turned to survey the ruined castle one last time. Gray’s efforts to help the islanders salvage what they could had softened their anger. He’d returned to the tent each evening reeking of smoke, his face endearingly smudged. She derived great pleasure from cleansing him with a wet linen and a contented grin showed his enjoyment of her ministrations.

  Giles had assisted with gathering herbs for treating burns and had in turn been bombarded with local remedies for his cough. True to his nature, he resolved to remember every detail of each “cure” and write it down once he was back home in order to determine which ingredients had helped his ailment.

  Enraged by the destructive behavior of Argyll’s troops, the people nevertheless acknowledged Faith’s kinship with Richard Cameron, whom they clearly regarded as a martyr to the Presbyterian cause.

  They’d evidently squirreled away food, and the trio enjoyed some of their best meals since leaving Kilmer.

  Gray carried her to Fergus’ boat bobbing in the shallows. If any of the local folks thought it odd they were now sailing away with government troops, no mention was made of it.

  “They’re resilient,” she said as they neared the mainland an hour later.

  “Islanders have to be,” Fergus replied. “Conflicts come and go. They just carry on.”

  “I’d like to return here,” she confided to Gray. “When the Rising’s over.”

  “Aye,” he replied. “’Twould be a good place for…”

  He stopped abruptly and looked into her eyes. “But we canna make plans yet, Faith. Be patient with me.”

  She smiled, striving to control the volcano of impatience bubbling inside. Patience might as well be her middle name. Ironically, her mother had once told her she was supposed to be christened Patience, but Michael Cameron had decided the name wasn’t godly enough.

  She had always put the wishes of others before her own, but it was clear she and Gray were soul mates. They’d worked well together as a team in difficult circumstances. What was holding him back? The Rising had scant chance of success.

  Perhaps he was worried she wouldn’t want to return to Edinburgh with him.

  Gray only half listened to Fergus Stanley’s report about the frigates, but he perked up his ears at the mention of Cochrane. “He made it to Greenock?”

  “Aye,” Fergus acknowledged. “Routed a small troop of militia, but he retreated after failing to attract recruits.”

  Gray tamped down his irritation. Greenock was a hamlet with one row of thatched cottages, but it galled that Cochrane had made inroads. “Probably on his way to join Argyll.”

  “They can only go north now, given the blockade. I doot he wants to tangle with three armed frigates. There’s word Rumbold has taken Glendaruel.”

  “Makes sense. It’s at the head of the loch. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pushes on from there.”

  Fergus grinned. “Aye. Straight into Atholl’s clutches.”

  The calm waters allowed them to reach Ardrossan without difficulty. Gray lifted Faith over the gunwale. “Our adventure is over,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “I’ll miss Bluebell.”

  He sensed there was much more she wanted to say, as did he. Their mission had given them the chance to get to know each other. They’d weathered many difficulties and remained friends. Faith had turned out to be much more than a woman he was attracted to. She was courageous, smart, hardy and resourceful. People took to her easily. She’d never once complained, and clearly loved taking care of him.

  But now they faced a return to normal life. In Kilmer they couldn’t sleep together in a tent. Cramped, uncomfortable and frustrating as it had been with Giles between them, he would miss having her close at night.

  If Quinn was still at Kilmer, there’d be questions to answer, reports to give. Gray would be expected to return to his post in Edinburgh, and to Meaghan, though he and the Guthrie lass could never marry now.

  Sarah would harangue him about Giles’ health, although the clever lad seemed to be well on the way to recovering.

  Munro, Garnet and Jewel would pester them with probing questions.

  And Faith—she was sure to endure never-ending nagging from Esther and Rachel; there’d inevitably be insinuations about the tent, despite the fact nothing untoward had happened.

  Faith had adapted well and seemingly enjoyed the unpredictable life of a spy, except for the near-rape.

  He still broke out in a sweat every time he thought of what might have occurred had he not arrived in time to clobber the brute. Her determination to defend herself against two brawny and intoxicated Highlanders was admirable.

  Would she want to return to Edinburgh with him?

  Did he want to leave Kilmer?

  Did he want Faith for wife?

  He gritted his teeth, remembering the long nights of longing to hold her in his arms—so near yet so far. “Crivvens, aye,” he muttered.

  But Argyll and his army still had to be dealt with. The earl was a threat to Kilmer as long as he was at large.

  Fergus had provided a mount for each of them. Faith wished he hadn’t been so efficient. She’d have preferred to ride behind Gray, clinging to him for what might be the last time.

  As she expected, he called a halt when the turrets and chimneys of Kilmer came into view, but she wondered what thoughts were running through his head.

  “We’ve still a small troop stationed here,” Fergus informed them. “But the marquess feels the danger has passed. My orders are to withdraw the men and ride north.”

  Gray nodded, standing in the stirrups when there was movement at the main entryway of the manor and someone waved. “They’ve seen us.”

  The cautious and self-effacing Faith who’d left Kilmer scant weeks ago would have kept silent, despite her excitement at returning to the only home where she’d felt safe and known she was loved.

  Her patience snapped. She too stood in the stirrups and waved, then urged her gelding to a gallop, whooping at the top of her lungs.

  Good To Be Home

  Gray’s emotions were mixed as he watched Faith careen across the meadow on a mount she’d ridden for only a few hours—obviously a capable horsewoman. Clearly, the dangers of the mission had unleashed aspects of her character she’d kept well hidden. He
supposed it was to be expected that years of living under the Camerons’ oppressive roof would have resulted in the suppression of deeper, more vital passions. Perhaps she was more like Maggie than any of them suspected.

  Playing the role of spy had unearthed buried treasure. However, therein lay his dilemma. Would their feelings for each other burn as brightly now they were returning to a normal life in Kilmer?

  There’d been a certain amount of friction about the relationship before they left, thanks to his immature handling of the situation with Meaghan Guthrie. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Quinn if his superior was still in Ayrshire.

  Giles had also ridden off in the direction of the manor house. The lad had proven to be a resilient and resourceful young man. Munro would justifiably take great pride in his foster son’s exploits.

  Gray recognized he too had matured considerably since the last time he’d come home to Kilmer, just scant weeks ago. Faith deserved a lot of the credit for that.

  The sight of his ancestral home filled his heart with peace. His family would be overjoyed to see him returned safe and sound. He urged his horse to a gallop, glad that Faith had wanted to hurry into their family’s welcoming embrace.

  It was good to be home.

  Faith reined to a halt in a cloud of dust and nigh on leapt from the saddle into Garnet’s waiting arms. The stable boy who grasped the halter had difficulty calming the horse. “Ye’ve got the beast all excited,” her foster father chided as she clung to him.

  “I’m so glad to be home,” she replied giddily.

  “Was it that bad?”

  She stepped away, afraid she’d given the wrong impression. “Nay, ’twas an adventure.”

  He eyed her curiously, but Maggie chose that moment to rush into her embrace. “I’ve missed ye terribly,” she said with more than a hint of censure. Faith could well imagine her little sister’s feelings of isolation with Esther and Rachel. To her surprise, they too embraced her, shedding what appeared to be genuine tears of relief.

  Gray and Giles arrived and soon everyone was kissing and hugging and welcoming them back.

  She couldn’t see Quinn Guthrie in the throng, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t inside.

  The house itself basked in the glow of the late afternoon June sunshine. She inhaled deeply, knowing without a shadow of a doubt this place was where she belonged, these people were her family—most of them adopted, but family nevertheless. And they would want to know every last detail of what had happened in the Isles.

  She glanced at Gray at the very moment he turned to look at her. They exchanged a brief smile and a nod that confirmed they’d done nothing to be ashamed of. Indeed, they’d sacrificed a great deal and taken dangerous risks for their country and its misbegotten king.

  The circumstances had forced her to exhibit courage and forbearance she didn’t know she had, and she was proud of her contribution to the mission. It gave her hope that Gray apparently was too.

  The celebrations moved indoors and soon everyone was caught up in bathing and eating and preparing for bed.

  It was as if nothing had changed, but as she curled up in the clean linens of her comfortable bed, she missed Gray’s comforting presence. The earl and countess had insisted the morrow would be soon enough for the tale of their adventures to be told, but Faith knew the morrow would make it clear to the family that nothing was the same as before. She could never go back to being the lass who hid in the shadows of the Cameron family legacy and worshipped Gray from afar.

  If the people she loved thought to stand in the way of her becoming Mrs. Gray Pendray…

  Gray lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’d slept in this chamber since childhood and often thought of it fondly while a lodger in Quinn’s Edinburgh house. Now the room felt cavernous, the big bed lonely.

  He and Faith had never touched in the cramped tent, never slept side by side, yet he missed her nearness.

  Four years ago, he’d been flattered but somewhat embarrassed by her fawning over him on the journey home from Edinburgh. Now, he craved the way she made him feel like a courageous and desirable man. She brought out the best in him, though remembering their closeness sent his body off in an entirely carnal direction.

  Sleep proved elusive. He sat up on the edge of the bed and grabbed the bolster. If he held it to his body, perhaps…

  The chamber the Cameron girls shared was further down the hall. He was contemplating the foolhardiness of such a risky excursion when a light tapping drew his attention to the door and sent gooseflesh marching up his spine.

  Unfamiliar Territory

  Faith was nervous someone might happen along the corridor. The man she loved slept inside the chamber. As she opened the door and stepped over the threshold, she hoped and prayed Gray wanted her as much as she craved him.

  She tensed when the door closed behind her, the muffled thud echoing like thunder in the high-ceilinged chamber. A lone candle lantern flickered on a bedside table. She narrowed her eyes against the gloom, hesitant to wake him, until she realized he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Leaning back against the wood of the door, she braced herself for his censure. She’d put his reputation in danger, as well as her own.

  “I couldna sleep either,” he rasped. “I was busy devising a plan for coming to yer bed without waking yer sisters.”

  The tension in her bones trickled away, though his words made her knees tremble. “That would be a more perilous mission than infiltrating Argyll’s army.”

  “Aye, ye’ve saved me from a fate worse than death.”

  Doubt plagued her. He seemed determined to stay where he was, clutching a pillow, yet her own feet refused to move.

  “Ye must forgive me, Faith,” he whispered finally. “At home, in my own bed, I dinna normally wear a nightshirt, and I’m afeared…”

  Her heart struck up a deafening tattoo in her ears that drowned out his voice. She swallowed hard, her first thought that his habit of sleeping naked made her worries about undressing him seem silly. “I’ve never slept naked,” she confessed. “Mama used to say ’tis something only harlots do.”

  He rose and came towards her. “Ye’re nay a harlot, Faith, just a woman who wants a mon. I’m honored to be that mon. Will ye sleep naked with me?”

  They stood inches apart. She couldn’t decide which impulse to surrender to first—tear the pillow from his grasp or whip the nightdress off over her head.

  Gray floundered in unfamiliar territory. He’d kissed and cuddled lasses, even given in occasionally to the temptation to touch intimate places. Now, he was swimming in unchartered seas, trying to keep his head above the water as desire swamped him.

  In Argyll, they’d been obliged to keep Giles between them, but there was no need for the pillow in this chamber where she belonged. He wanted Faith to see him—all of him, including his rampant need of her. He inhaled deeply, dropped the bolster and spread his arms wide.

  Her mouth fell open as she raked her gaze over him from head to toe. “Ye’re a beautifully made mon,” she whispered.

  Resisting the powerful urge to strut around the chamber crowing like a rooster, he scooped her up and carried her to his bed. Her long chestnut hair was still damp. The aroma of Castile soap invaded his senses. She must have enjoyed bathing after weeks of primitive conditions.

  The vision of Faith luxuriating in the tub caused his arousal to spike, and he struggled to hold on to his control as he gazed at her lying on his bed.

  “I’m a little afraid,” she confessed, her eyes fixed on his chest.

  “I want ye, darling lass, but we can give each other pleasure and I swear ye’ll leave here still a maiden.”

  He took her nod as permission to undress her, though he doubted she fully understood his meaning. “Sit up and I’ll help ye with yer nightgown.”

  Gray peeled off Faith’s nightshift and they sat side by side on the edge of the bed. She had long held the opinion her breasts had grown too big. In the course of
their clandestine activities, she’d noticed other men beside Gray eyeing her chest with obvious appreciation. The hunger in his eyes as he cupped her breasts chased away any lingering doubts she may have harbored about her female form.

  She arched her back, suddenly proud of her womanly shape, moaning involuntarily when he brushed his thumbs over pouting nipples. What he’d said about pleasure was starting to make sense. Desire spiraled from a very private place into her womb. Each touch of his thumb sang inside her as if he was playing a musical instrument.

  He eased her down onto the mattress, spread his length next to her and gathered her into his arms. Neither spoke as their naked bodies melted together, thighs to thighs, belly to belly, breasts to chest. Faith had never understood her father’s rantings about mystical experiences, but she felt closer to God in Gray’s arms than she’d ever felt. His gentle touch proved he cared. The hard male arousal pressed against her belly was evidence he desired her. She was loved—deeply.

  She silently vowed that in the years ahead she would do her utmost to make sure Gray knew he was equally loved.

  She drifted on a cloud of bliss as he slowly stroked her bottom, arms, and hips—the backs of her knees proved to be particularly appreciative of his touch—but her nipples clamored for attention.

  He seemed to sense her need, but every suckling tug at her breasts caused a deeper hunger. His kiss silenced screams of elation when his fingers wandered to her most intimate place and the world exploded. Letting him breathe for her, she suckled his tongue like a hungry bairn, craving a fulfillment that was partly satisfied when his finger slid inside. She soared and fell, soared and fell again amid an ever changing pattern of radiant colors and ecstatic emotions.