Highland Temptations: Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Adams, Aileen

  “It was not a chance.”

  “It was. If I had not been able to strike that final blow…” The very thought brought a tightness to his chest, as if a hand squeezed his heart.

  She seemed to study his hand, her eyes downcast. It was when her chin quivered and her lips pressed together in a thin line that he knew she struggled to conceal her emotions. “We need never speak of it. I would rather not remember the day if ‘tis all the same to you.”

  “The day ye saved my life?”

  “The day I nearly lost you.”

  “Och, Shana.” Yes, he enjoyed calling her Shana. It suited her. “Shana, my heart’s own, ye need never fear over losing me. I would never leave ye alone for long. I would haunt ye as ye haunted me.”

  She burst out laughing, smacking his shoulder with the hand not already grasping one of his. “Do not make jokes!”

  He grabbed her wrist, now holding onto both of her hands, and jerked her toward him until she was all but stretched out across his chest. “I say this in earnest,” he whispered, now very aware of her nearness. Her warmth, her scent, her softness. The blessed weight of her on top of him. “Shana Invermore, I would haunt ye all the rest of your days, for I would be unwilling to ever leave ye. I would remain at your side and come to ye at night and tell ye of my undying love for ye. If that was the only way I could be with ye, I would do it, for it would be better than spending an eternity without ye.”

  She nearly stopped breathing, her body going completely still. “You love me?”

  “Och, I do. Most desperately, it would seem. As foolish as it might sound—”

  “Nay, nay! It does not sound foolish at all. Not at all.”

  He chuckled. “Ye aren’t bothered by it, then? My love for ye?”

  She shook her head with a wry smile. “Not a bit, for I love you as well. You are the reason I begged the women to release me. I only thought of you. Your life. I knew Stuart would want you dead for taking me away. You would be the one he came for, and only you. I could not allow it, for I could not live without you now.”

  He strained upward, catching her mouth before she could speak further. He needed only to taste her sweetness, to savor her softness and take solace in the fact that she loved him. She was his and always would be.

  Burying his hand in her hair, he held her head in place while he kissed her. Passion bubbled up to the surface in spite of the pain and the exhaustion plaguing every part of his body. He groaned when her palms touched his bare chest, his skin sizzling as though it had been touched by a flame.

  “Enough,” she whispered, breaking away with a breathless gasp. “Enough for now. You need to rest.”

  Rest be damned. He knew what he needed. “I need ye, Shana.”

  Trembling fingers stroked the side of his face, taking care to avoid the bruises which still throbbed painfully. “I need you doubly so. But you must rest, or else your wounds might open.”

  Her swollen, flushed mouth quirked up in a smile. “I seem to recall you ordering me to take care of my wounds. Do you remember?”

  He chuckled, and felt the stitching in his side straining, as though to remind him of the truth in her warning. “Aye. It feels like another life.”

  “That it does.”

  It might as well have been another life. They might as well have been two different people. Now, when he gazed upon her, he saw nothing but love and perhaps the hope of a future—the sort of future they had both only dreamed of, but neither had dared hope for.

  Perhaps it was that thought which sent a question spilling from his lips before he could help it. A question which seemed as natural as breathing. And once he’d voiced it, he felt no regret. This was meant to be.

  “Will ye marry me, Shana Invermore?”

  28

  “I knew it would turn out this way.”

  Shana chuckled at her friend’s knowing tone. “You did, eh?”

  Davina nodded as she finished tucking the last of the white heather into the bouquet which Shana held. “Aye. I knew the two of ye were a pair. I told Rufus as much after ye left the farm—ask him for yourself, if ye dinna believe me.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I knew ye were meant to be together. It was clear.”

  “No matter how unlikely?”

  Davina stepped back, hands on her hips. They seemed to frame her growing belly, the reminder of the life inside her. “Do ye believe it was likely that Rufus and I wed? Why, we were the most unlikely pairing ye could ever imagine. There are still days in which I ask myself just how it happened.”

  “And I suppose you could not imagine living without him?”

  “Ye suppose correctly, which I’m sure is how ye feel for your man.” Davina adjusted the crown of heather nestled in Shana’s curls and brushed her hands over the full silk skirts of her gown.

  The gown had been a gift from Richard, made of the finest gray silk embroidered about the edges in silver. A generous gift, no doubt, especially seeing as how he’d already promised them a house outside the castle walls.

  “’Tis time for ye to start your family,” he’d announced the night before at a feast held in William’s honor. The guard had made quite a night of it, empty cask after cask of ale in toasting the bride and groom.

  Shana blushed at the memory of the rousing chorus of cheers and whistles which had accompanied this announcement, but Richard’s heart and intentions were pure. He wished to see his friend, his brother, begin a new life. While he would still serve as captain of the guard and likely would continue to do so until the day he could no longer manage it, he would live privately with his wife.

  In their home.

  A home. Finally, a home! Somewhere to begin a real life. Sleeping in a bed, waking up every morning beneath the same roof.

  In the arms of the same man.

  It was a testament to how beloved Richard was among his tenants that none of them seemed to mind very much that Shana’s mother was not of their kind. They’d been nothing but gracious, a few of them even going so far as to offer their assistance in cleaning and freshening the little stone cottage which had not been used in many years.

  “They’ve heard what a brave, true woman ye are,” William had explained when she’d expressed surprise at this. “They know ye to be good, as I do. How could they want anything but the best for us?”

  She could imagine them wanting anything but the best, though she’d held her tongue. He still did not quite understand the difficulties she’d endured and he never would—certainly, he might sympathize and even wish evil upon the heads of the men and woman who’d been unjust, but he would never truly understand how she would always question the intentions of those around her.

  In time, this might very well change. She prayed it would.

  “I believe the time has come.” Davina kissed Shana on both cheeks. “Ye look radiant. The most beautiful bride. William might need Rufus and Richard to keep him on his feet when he sees ye.”

  “If either of them is in any condition to do so, after the way they enjoyed themselves last night.” How any of the men had managed to rouse themselves that morning was beyond her understanding. She’d heard them laughing and shouting into the wee hours of the morning.

  “It might surprise ye just how well a Highlander can hold his drink,” Davina winked just before turning away to open the bedchamber door.

  This was it. The moment she’d waited for all the long weeks since William asked her to be his wife. She’d accepted in a heartbeat, the question not really a question at all. Naturally, she would marry him. She would have no other as long as she lived whether he wanted her or not.

  Lucky for them both, he did.

  Davina led the way down the corridor and down the stairs, with Shana taking pains not to trip over her gown. She’d never worn anything so fine and wondered whether she was worthy of it. A lass who’d lived until recently in a tent, always moving from one place to another, barely surviving at times.

  Here she was, in t
he keep of a great castle, about to wed a brave, fine man while wearing silk.

  The great hall was lit with candles and torches, a sumptuous feast already laid out on the long tables running along both sides of the room. Space had been cleared in the center for the dancing which would take place later.

  And for the ceremony, which would take place now.

  Each member of the guard stood in wait, along with the women of the house and many of the tenants. The room was stuffed to all but overflowing, and the sight of so many smiles was more dazzling than the sun. They accepted her. They were glad for her.

  Part of her still wished to run and hide from them.

  She searched for William. She needed him. He drove her fear away, he always had.

  There he was, at the end of the room, stepping forward with Richard and Rufus behind him. He could have broken her heart, he was so grand. Tall, strapping, hair neatly tied back, wearing a new kilt and tunic. She was proud of him, proud to know he was hers.

  But what of her? Was she worthy of him? Of this?

  The look of pure joy which spread over his handsome face told her what she needed to know. He found her worthy of her finery. In his eyes, she was worthy of all of this grandness and much more.

  Shana Invermore took the final steps toward her soon-to-be husband. When she placed her hand in his, she left the past behind in favor of the future.

  Shana Blackheath would never know a day without love, safety, friendship.

  That was as good a place to begin a new life as any.

  Keep reading for the next Highland Temptations story!

  A Highlander’s Reiver

  Book Three of the Highland Temptations Series!

  * * *

  Captivity was only the beginning...

  When a Highland lass is the orphaned charge of an uncle who leads ne’er-do-wells and thieves she has no choice but to stay and steal. No choice because leaving would mean abandoning her little brother. She’s told him not to follow her when she’s out reiving cattle from other clans. It’s just her luck he would choose to follow her on the night she’s captured.

  Drew MacIntosh never imagined he’d become the guardian of his sister’s twin toddlers. He’s a fighter. He’s not father material. Especially not to bairns as young as these two. And now he’s added to his burdens by apprehending a captivating reiver of a lass. One with a burden of her own, it would seem.

  How is he supposed to turn the lass over to Rufus so she can pay for her crimes when it would mean her brother would be left in the hands of brigands and cattle raiders?

  Life was so much simpler when he was soldiering and fighting.

  1

  Drew MacIntosh was not certain of many things in life. He never had been. No man would ever have made the mistake of referring to him as a grand thinker.

  Nay, he was a man of action. A man who tended to allow his fists and his determination to do the talking for him. Many was the ill-fated fellow who’d found himself at the receiving end of Drew MacIntosh’s temper.

  Men who’d underestimated him due to his stature, thinking him a soft target. Thinking it would be mere child’s play to make a mockery of him.

  He’d been the one to make a mockery of them, until his reputation had grown large enough that fewer and fewer dared test him.

  And it had grown quite dull, truly, once the men of Inverness and Avoch had grown accustomed to him and knew it was senseless to challenge him. If he were back to roaming the Highlands, it would be another matter. There would be all manner of challengers.

  Rather than the challengers who stood before him at that very moment. Challengers even smaller than himself, yet somehow more fearsome than any he’d ever encountered.

  “What are the two of ye on about?” he asked, sighing as he sank into a crouch “Do ye not know the pigpen is no place for one as wee as yourself?”

  A pair of large, dark eyes—so dark they were nearly black—stared up at him. Blinked. Then stared again.

  “And what of the mud all over hands and knees? I suppose ye expect me to believe ye merely tripped and fell just beside the fence, rather than trying to shimmy beneath it as I know ye did?”

  More staring.

  “Answer me, ye wee devil.” He placed his hands on a pair of small shoulders. “Ye know ‘tis better to tell the truth. I know yer mam taught ye that much.”

  A gulp. “H-how do ye know?” a small, trembling voice asked.

  “Because that was what our mam always taught us, and yer mam liked to cudgel me about the head whenever she caught me telling an untruth. Now. What were ye doing out here, young Owen MacKenzie?”

  The four-year-old whose shoulders he held gulped once more. “I wanted to see the wee piggies.”

  The sow had birthed a large litter not a week earlier, and the curious lad had been determined to see them up-close ever since.

  “And how many times did I tell ye? Ye are not to venture inside the pen, Owen. ‘Tis for yer own good. Any animal will take great offense to a human coming close to their wee ones. They dinna know ye mean no harm. They want to protect, which means that sow might bite ye.” He pointed to her, lying on her side in a pool of fresh, cool mud while her litter fed.

  He held up his nephew’s mud-covered hand, the small fingers wiggling. “Would ye take kindly to the loss of one of these? Perhaps all of them?”

  Owen’s eyes filled with tears, and instantly Drew’s heart softened. While he knew from his own experience as a lad that fear of consequence was often the best way to get through to a bairn, he hated seeing his nephew tear up this way.

  But he would hate far worse the result of the wee devil getting into the pigpen and angering a new mother. This added steel to his heart and his backbone.

  “I want ye to promise you’ll never venture beneath that fence again. Do ye understand me?”

  He nodded.

  “I need to hear ye say it, lad. Do ye promise to never, ever do this again? Not ever?”

  “Aye.” Owen nodded again, black curls bouncing as he did.

  “All right, then.” He patted the lad’s backside. “Now, we’ll need to get ye washed.” As if he had the time. He was possessed of half a mind to dunk the lad in the stream running behind the house. Why not teach him a few more lessons?

  “Ye dinna see me havin’ to talk this way to Moira this way, do ye? She obeys when I tell her what she ought and ought not be doing.”

  “Moira is a lassie,” Owen grumbled.

  Drew couldn’t help but smile, though he did his best to hide it behind a harrumph. “Moira is a good lassie who minds her uncle, as ye ought to do. If I catch ye breaking yer promise to me, lad, it’ll be the strap for ye.”

  Och, the strap. How many times had he felt the sting on his backside? And how resentful he’d been. Now, as a grown man, he understood how necessary those punishments were. He’d done some terrible things. Wicked things, just because he could.

  And it might have gotten him hurt. Badly. Killed, perhaps. Climbing the tallest tree on his family’s land and tumbling out. He might have broken his neck along with an arm.

  Even then, he’d received the strap. Because it might have been much worse.

  He now understood why his father had behaved so, just as the man had told him at the time. One day, ye shall understand the reason why ye need to be punished. One day, ye shall have a bairn of yer own, and ye shall know why I did this.

  It had all come true exactly as he’d foretold, except for one bit. Owen was not his own bairn, nor was Moira. He’d never met them until the day they arrived at Rufus MacIntosh’s farm, along with word of his sister’s death, and that of her husband.

  As the last living sibling of either parent, the wee bairns came to him. Four years old, wondering where their mam and da had gone to and when they would come back.

  And Drew with no understanding of how to raise children.

  “Davina will be in an awful temper when she learns ye made filthy the tunic she only just sewed for ye,�
�� he grumbled as he stripped the mud-caked garment from the lad. “And ye know how poorly she’s been feeling as of late.”

  “Will she be angry?”

  Would she? Drew found it doubtful, especially since she had many more important things weighing on her mind. Such as the bairn growing inside her and the way it caused her to lose nearly every scrap of food which crossed her lips.

  Rufus was beside himself with worry for her, and when Drew was honest with himself, he could admit he shared that dread. It did not seem fitting for a woman in her condition to hold down so little. Rather than growing plump, she’d seemed to shrink. There were hollows beneath her eyes and a pale, gray pallor to her complexion. She spent most of her time in bed, doing what she could from there.

  Old Innis, the wife of one of the men who had served the MacIntosh family when Rufus’s father was alive, had taken to spending a great deal of time about the house, gardens and such. She prepared broths for Davina, tended to meals for the men and tidied the place up.

  Yet she could only do so much, and they were nothing more than a group of men who had little experience caring for a home and those depending upon it. They might be able to care for themselves out in the wild, for instance, riding for days on end and doing their eating and sleeping beside a campfire.

  Somehow, the intricacies of a home were beyond their ken.

  Drew soaked the tunic and ran it through the running water until it seemed the coarse homespun was as clean as could be. He spread it out to dry over flat rocks by the water’s edge and kept watch over his nephew as he washed away layers of mud.

  The wee lad was a good sort, to be certain. Bridget had done a fine job of raising both of the twins to be polite, to show respect to their elders. He could not doubt she’d been a bit of a taskmaster with them both. Young Moira already knew how to sweep a hearth and scour a cooking pot, all at the tender age of four winters.