The Highlander's Brave Baroness (Blood 0f Duncliffe Series Book 10)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “How am I going to sleep, knowing she’s next door?”

  He sat down on the bed, feeling weary. He could hear somebody moving about in the room next door, the sounds of furniture being pulled and pushed into place. He imagined her making a makeshift bed for herself, taking off her gown, slipping into it in her underclothes.

  What he wouldn’t give, to be in there at this moment! He imagined his own hands stroking her skin, imagined himself beside her in the bed. His whole body tensed with wanting.

  “Stop it, lad. Take a walk, or get some rest.”

  He slipped to the door and slid out. Looking around, he saw nobody, only an empty corridor. He followed it to a small wooden door and out into the garden. The monks were in the chapel – he could hear the chant of prayers, sonorous and strangely comforting, from the hall. He was safe here, for the moment. He found himself wandering into the orchard. It was evening now, the dusk blue and fragrant. He leaned against the fence, breathing fresh air.

  “Adeline, lass,” he said aloud. “I dinnae what happened to ye in the past, but I know that I wish I could ha’ done something to change it.”

  He wished he could tell her how he felt, tell her what a fool the baron must have been.

  “It’s a dream, lad,” he told himself sadly. Adeline wasn’t interested.

  Yet, she had smiled at him, he recalled. She hadn’t been angry, when she left.

  She confused him so! He shook his head, wishing, not for the first time, that he had somebody to talk to about this. He recalled his conversation with Tam.

  She trusts you. I trust you.

  “Och,” he said aloud. “Ye shouldn’t trust me.”

  Brenna had trusted him, and she had died, while he was too helpless to save her. His men had died, while he couldn’t help them, cut off from the reserves. Now Lady Adeline trusted him, and he couldn’t even stop the baron from finding them!

  “I’m just useless, foolish, helpless…”

  Not even good enough for my own family! The insults ran through and through his mind, just as they had when his uncle first said them. He was useless, a disgrace.

  “Brenna?” he said aloud. “Brenna. I should have followed you years ago. Why am I here?”

  He waited, as he always did, for her answer. He heard nothing. Only a nightingale, somewhere high in a tree, calling to the night. Haunting and lovely, the melody tore a way through his heart. It reminded him of Brenna’s singing.

  Shaking his head, he left the garden. This was getting him nowhere. He hurried back to bedchamber. The monks were just coming out of the chapel as he hurried past, and he just made it into the guest quarters before they filled the garden. He pulled the door shut behind him.

  Sinking down on the bed, he covered his face with his hands. He still felt terrible. He hadn’t expected his sorrow to catch up with him here and now, of all things, but it did. He felt a tear sneak down his cheek and he stifled a sob.

  “Stop it,” he told himself in a frenetic whisper. “She’ll hear.”

  He tensed. He could hear something, too. If he listened carefully, it became clear what it was. It was sobbing. Coming from next door. Without thinking about it, he stood and went into the hallway.

  “Milady?” he called, knocking on the doorway. “Milady? Let me in?”

  He tensed as the sobbing stopped, abruptly. He thought she was angry with him. He thought he’d upset her. He was about to go away when a soft sound made him turn back to the doorway. The door had opened, and Adeline had appeared.

  “Alexander?” she said.

  “Milady!”

  “Just…come in here, will you?” she sniffed. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  ANOTHER WORLD

  Adeline sat down on the bed. The room was filled with disused linen and other things, the air dusty and close. She heard the door shut with a click and looked up, hardly believing what she had just done.

  “Alexander?” she whispered.

  She was about to tell him to go, to say she didn’t mean it, not really. He took her hands in his.

  “What is it, lass?”

  Adeline couldn’t help it, then. In all the years of marriage to Camden, and then, in the last few days, nobody had ever spoken to her with such tenderness, such concern.

  “I…Oh, Alexander,” she sobbed. “I just…I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  “I ken,” he said gently. He moved and she thought he was going to let go, but then he sat down beside her, the bed creaking under his weight. “I ken.”

  “I just…sometimes I wonder why I’m still here! I’m a nuisance, I know. Tam would be better off without me. My uncle…he said that I jeopardize my son’s future, behaving like I do…” she sobbed anew, the hurt still heavy on her soul.

  She sobbed a bit more, hearing his gentle words in her ear.

  “I know,” he was saying. “Och, lass. I ken. Weep. It’ll do ye good tae let it out.”

  Adeline sobbed in a way she had never cried in all her life. Not when her father and mother passed away, not in those cold bleak years after her husband died and she was all alone with Tam to care for. She cried all the tears she had never cried then, sobbing until she thought she was cried out. She sat up, then sniffed.

  “Sorry,” she said, sniffing again. “You must think me an utter fool.” She had never exposed her feelings so before anyone.

  He took her hands again, gripping them gently. “Lass, I know. I know what it is, to feel loss. And pain. And I never cried about them either. I would never think you were a fool.”

  She blinked. Her eyes were sore with crying and her throat hurt. “Really?”

  He nodded. “When Brenna died, I thought I’d never stop crying. And then I started drinking.”

  “Really?” She asked again. She had never thought he’d be so honest with her. He was a fascinating man, she realized – someone who had lived through all sorts of things and rarely spoke of them.

  “Aye,” he said. He had a strange expression on his face, almost a half-smile. “I was a real fool, I was,” he said. “Drank my inheritance away. My uncle said I was good for nothing. Reckon he was right.”

  “No!” Adeline almost shouted it, surprising him, and herself.

  “Milady?”

  “No,” she said gently. “That simply isn’t true. You are a good man. A fine man. You are good for many things.”

  It was his turn to look surprised. He frowned. “Really?” he asked.

  He sounded so amazed that she had to grin.

  “Really,” she said. “Och, lad,” she added, repeating the broad Highland phrases which he so himself favored. “How can you not know what a remarkable person you are?”

  He was silent for a long while. So much so that she wondered what had happened. She gently rested a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and she withdrew it, gently.

  “Don’t,” he said softly.

  She laid her hand on her knee, feeling stung.

  “Fine,” she said. “I should probably leave, too.” She stood, and he stood, too. She was at the door when his fingers tightened on her wrist.

  “Why are you going?” he said.

  She twisted her wrist, forcing him to break his grip. She looked at her toes, not wanting to meet his eye.

  “I shouldn’t have called you here. You clearly find me repellent.”

  “Lass?” he frowned now, face a picture of worry. “Repellent? How…”

  “You couldn’t even bear me to touch you.” Her voice was tight. She felt shame.

  “Lass?” he started laughing. “Lass, you really think…how can you think that?”

  “Well, you told me not to touch you.” She frowned up at him, feeling confused. What did he think she was going to say?

  “Only because it’s too hard to feel your touch on me and not kiss you.”

  She looked at him.

  His eyes were warm and level, holding hers. He was tense, but it was a strange tension, one that spoke of actions held in. It felt like her whole bo
dy had ignited, a fire starting in her toes and spreading, slow and warm, up to her cheeks.

  “Really?” she said.

  He grinned.

  His hand moved and rested on her shoulder. He drew her towards him.

  She pressed close and her arms went around him as his lips rested on hers. Tenderly, his tongue parted her lips and his arms drew her against his lean chest.

  Adeline sighed. Her body was melting, aching, longing. She drew him tight towards her and as his lips moved on hers she pressed into him, feeling a need for him that felt stronger than anything she had ever felt in her life.

  His kiss deepened. She heard him growl in his throat.

  “Adeline,” he whispered.

  She stroked his hair. His arms were tight around her and she took a step back. He pushed back gently, guiding her to the bed.

  She felt her body lean back and then he was on top of her, lying together on the soft mattress. His hands were in her hair and his eyes on hers, their intensity burning in the dark. His body was heavy on hers and she craved its weight, longing to feel him inside her.

  His hands were stroking her neck, her shoulders, her chest. He moved down her body, and she closed her eyes, feeling them stroke her breasts. It felt as if she was melting under his touch.

  “Milady,” he whispered, urgently.

  “Stop being so formal,” she teased, stroking his hair. “I would really prefer Adeline.”

  He raised a brow. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Adeline,” he whispered into her ear. “Adeline.”

  She sighed and lay back as he shifted his weight so that his knee moved in between hers. His body was tight with muscle and she ran her hands down his back, feeling the bulge of muscles down his spine. She shivered, though it was not cold.

  He was undoing the neck of her gown now, hands working at the buttons, unfastening them one at a time. She closed her eyes and felt his fingers stroke the nape of her neck. It was strangely exciting. Her lower body had all but melted now and she lay there, a mass of longing, unable to think or breathe or move.

  He undid the next button, and then the next, turning her so that he could unfasten them systematically. With each unfastening, the cool air touched her skin a little more. She closed her eyes and waited until he reached her lower back. He reached in, and his hand found her waist. Gently, he drew her back, pulling her out of the gown.

  She twisted round, and the dress parted, letting her slide out of it. Unlike many women of her status, she wore a single petticoat and stays over it, no more. He saw her and gasped.

  She smiled. His eyes were feeding on her body, and she felt a twinge of pride. She knew she looked good – she had ridden and walked every day since she was a girl, and her body was muscled and firm, graceful and shapely. He looked at her and she felt her skin warm with his admiration.

  “You are remarkable,” he whispered.

  She blushed. “You are flattering.”

  “Lass,” he whispered. “I’m not. You really are.”

  She giggled. It was clear that he meant it. It wasn’t in him to dissemble. He reached out and touched her shoulder. She closed her eyes as he pressed it, gently working the petticoat down her arm.

  “It comes undone,” she whispered, as he gently turned her over, searching for the knot at the back of her neck that would loosen the ensemble.

  “Here,” he whispered, and then he was dragging the petticoat down her body, hands reaching for her even as he undid the laces of her corset. When it parted, he slid the whole garment down her body, then turned her over, reaching for her breasts.

  As he kissed them, she closed her eyes, knowing that she had never felt anything like this before. His touch was tender and caring, but at the same time searing with a passion that made her want him so badly.

  He kissed lower, and she felt his hands stroke her waist, her hips, her leg. She sighed as he gently parted her thighs, reaching between them. As his finger stroked her there, she thought she might die of longing.

  “Alexander…” she whispered.

  “I want you, lass,” he said. His voice was tight. “I really do.”

  “I want you.”

  “Truly?” he sounded surprised.

  She grinned. “Truly.”

  He looked down at his body, as if only now aware he still wore clothes. He grinned back, apologetically.

  “Give me a minute.”

  She chuckled, and nodded. “Hurry up,” she advised.

  They both laughed as he undid his shirt and belt and then dragged down his trousers. He slid into bed beside her.

  “It’s cold,” he said.

  “It is,” she agreed, reaching for him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body to his. He felt cold, and strong, and wonderful. She pressed closer, and felt a surge of longing.

  He must have felt it too, for he drew her into his embrace. He kissed her, fiercely, and she could feel his knee parting her legs. She closed her eyes and moved below him.

  He entered her and she cried out, almost unable to believe how wondrous it felt. Her whole body was in bliss, each part of it seeming to chorus in wonder as he withdrew and pushed in again, harder this time. She cried out again and he repeated the motion, groaning as he did.

  They moved together, and she felt her body start to melt under him, the strange tickling wonderful sensation building and building, gripping her with each thrust until she could barely bear it anymore, barely think, barely exist…

  She cried out, her own voice foreign in her ears. She felt as if she’d melted, as if her whole body had disappeared, leaving only a delicious warmth.

  He was still thrusting, groaning. He moved over her again and again, and then, as if he could barely control it anymore, he grunted and shuddered. Then, crying out incoherently, he collapsed.

  She rolled over and lay beside him. He was panting, still, his whole body clearly recovering from the exertion. She touched his shoulder, feeling the perspiration there. Her own body was damp with it, and it felt as if she’d run a long way. Wonderful.

  She rolled closer and he wrapped an arm around her. He drew her against him and she felt herself falling slowly into a delicious fog of restful oblivion.

  It must have been a while that she slept, for when she opened her eyes again, the room was dark. She could feel the close warmth of Alexander lying beside her. The sweet drowsy feeling in her body reminded her, should she have forgotten, of the wonderful time they had just spent.

  “You’re all hunched over,” she whispered to him, reaching for the cushion, propping it under his head.

  He rolled over, half-awake. He reached for her and she smiled and rolled closer so that she could lie in his arms. As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt drowsily wonderful.

  “Adeline,” he whispered. He kissed her. She could see tears in his eyes.

  “Alexander,” she said gently.

  He drew her against him, holding her tight. She held him back and knew that nothing would be the same and that she would never feel that lonely again.

  A CHOICE

  Alexander rolled over, feeling warmth pressed against his right flank. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring at a face framed with dark curls. He stared at her.

  Rest wiped lines of care from her face, making her seem ageless, her cheek soft and warm, full lips slightly parted. She was a beautiful woman, he thought for the hundredth time. Strong, lovely and beautiful. He reached out to gently touch that cloud of curls.

  She sighed, and stirred in her sleep. Not wanting to wake her, he gently withdrew his hand. He watched her, admiring the full moist lips, the straight nose, the way her hair curled round her forehead, tucked behind one ear.

  She’s so lovely.

  He resisted the urge to stroke her cheek, not wanting to disturb the scene. He wanted to just lie here, unmoving, for the rest of eternity. He recalled how it had felt to be inside her, to be with her, in such a way. He felt himself smile.


  If I lay here forever, we wouldn’t be doing anything. That would be no good at all, since he wanted to do everything together – talk, walk, sleep, dance. Make love.

  “Och, lad.”

  He could find it in himself to be angry at himself. What was he thinking of? She was far too high above him for any real arrangement. He should be content with this – the most unexpected and wonderful thing he had ever imagined, ever.

  She stirred and blinked. He tensed, almost willing her to stay asleep. If she slept, the night wasn’t over. If she stayed sleeping, here beside him, she was his just a little more.

  “Hello,” she said.

  He smiled. Awake, those dark green-tinged eyes open on the world, she was stunning. He gently reached for her, stroking her shoulder.

  “Hello.”

  She beamed. Stretched in a way that made his loins ache again. He rolled over, uncomfortably aware that he was unclothed, and his longing would be obvious.

  “A fine morning.”

  He felt her take his breath away. Propped up on the pillow, dressed only in her hair, she was even more beautiful than he’d noticed the previous day. He reached for her, stroking her shoulder gently. She smiled and put her hand on his hand.

  “You slept well?”

  He chuckled. “I can’t even tell you how well I slept,” he said, stretching in spite of himself. “I was so deeply asleep I wasn’t aware.”

  She laughed. “Good point. If I sleep so lightly that I know when and for how long I slept, it isn’t really worth asking if I slept well, is it?”

  He smiled. “Well, I can’t agree more. I slept so well I’m surprised I woke.”

  “Don’t say that,” she chided gently.

  “Sorry.”

  He held her gaze. She was so lovely. He found himself stroking her hair, gently drawing her down towards him for a kiss. He felt like a fool. He shouldn’t be, but he was. He was in love.

  “Milady?”

  “Alexander McRade, do stop it,” Adeline said, teasing. “You wouldn’t like it, if I called you Mr. McRade every time, would you?”