The Bruce's Angel (The Highland Angels Book 0)

by Caroline Lee

  And suddenly, she wasn’t numb. Nay, instead, a certainty filled her, pouring down from the top of her head, through her chest and her limbs, and settling deep within her, the warmth of her core now pressing against his hips. She pushed herself up on her toes, thrusting that warmth, that ache, against the hard length of him.

  “Mayhap ye should ask me first then, Liam?”

  His grin faded slowly, his gaze turning serious. Against her cheek, his thumb began making small circles. “Have ye forgiven me for abandoning ye then? I meant what I said that day on the Queen’s ship, Char. I love ye, and have never stopped.”

  He hadn’t abandoned her. Her pain over the last year could be laid directly at her father’s feet. Ignoring the pain and betrayal from her own father, which threatened to overwhelm her, she instead focused on Liam’s words and grinned and wriggled her hips against him.

  “Ye’re no’ at fault, my heart. And I wouldnae have been heartbroken, had I no’ still loved ye so much.”

  He sucked in a breath, and she knew she’d been a fool to keep from declaring her love for him remained just as strong and as true as ever.

  “Aye, Liam. I love ye.”

  “Thank God,” he growled, right before his lips crashed down upon hers.

  Chapter 10

  The Queen had sent him to fetch Charlotte, knowing she’d be waiting, worried and afraid, for her royal audience. Aye, even now, Liam’s liege and his sworn lord were waiting for him to bring Charlotte to them. Robert and Elizabeth were ready to discuss her future.

  Their future.

  And Liam couldn’t make himself care, not with Charlotte finally—finally!—in his arms again.

  She tasted just as perfect as he remembered, for all that their kiss on the birlinn had left him wanting. She tasted of summer afternoons and moonlit nights.

  She tasted of his future and joy and forever.

  “Thank God,” he groaned again, his arm joining his other around her middle, so he could lift her tighter against him.

  And when she moaned in response, as her arms snaked up from his chest to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer, he was lost. Liam was too busy focusing on the feel of her lips under his, to recognize anything more than the fact they had somehow ended up on the bed. Instead of plying her with the romance she deserved, he’d instead toppled over and pulled her atop him. But when he felt her lips lift in a grin against his, he returned a rakish smile of his own.

  One of her legs straddled his, the center of her being nestled exactly where he wanted it. His cock was already hard, straining against his kilt, and when she shifted against him, it gave another jump.

  With a whimper, she pulled away from him, long enough to run one hand down his neck to his chest. Feeling her palm against his nipple was all he needed.

  He used one hand to tug her closer so she fell against him, and his other began to hike her skirts up.

  Why in damnation was she wearing such a bulky gown? Once they were married, she’d wear only linen and—

  His determined planning swiftly left his mind as she moaned and lowered her head, her neck and shoulder thrusting toward his lips. Stretching up, he was able to mark the smooth skin of her neck with his mouth, at the same moment his questing fingers finally found her firm arse.

  The noise she made was somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and as he squeezed her rear end, she began to rock against him.

  “Liam,” she panted. “Please.”

  Dimly, he remembered his duty, and thought it miraculous, considering how much of his blood was currently flowing between his legs instead of his brain. “The Queen—” he began, but bit off the reminder with a groan, as Charlotte reached between them to grasp his erection through his kilt.

  “She pardoned me for treason, Liam,” Charlotte managed, as she scrambled to one side, yanking her skirts up and out of the way as she fumbled for his kilt. “She’ll pardon me for being a few moments late.”

  “Moments, lass?” he growled, as he rolled, pushing her into the mattress as he went. “Ye think that’s all this will take?”

  And damn her, but her grin was impish when she looked up at him with those passion-dark eyes and swollen lips. “This time, ye’ll have to just make it quick, love,” she commanded.

  And he was lost. “Aye, my lady.”

  She was already wet for him, as he’d known she would be. And as he dragged a finger across her core, she arched under him, and mewled under his ministrations.

  He grasped hold of his cock, already thick with anticipation, and pressed it against her entrance, then paused there, knowing it’d been a year since he’d last sunk into her, and knowing she’d been violated since that time.

  “Char?”

  He wasn’t sure if he was asking permission or forgiveness or what, but she took the decision out of his hands when she shifted beneath him, opening herself further, and pushing her heated core up around his cock.

  They both sucked in a breath, then moaned simultaneously, as he sheathed himself deep within her.

  “God, Char,” he growled, dropping his forehead to hers.

  “Donae stop now,” she commanded, pushing at him as she wriggled her hips, forcing him even deeper. “I cannae— Liam!” She cried out with a moan, and he was all too happy to accommodate her.

  He pulled out just slightly, before sinking home once more, and the noise she made was desperate.

  “Now, Liam!”

  He was chuckling as he pulled out once more, farther still. “Will ye always be this demanding, love?”

  Her fingers gripped his shoulders now, as if she could control his movements. “Only if ye persist in treating me gently— Aye!” she cried as he took her hints and thrust into her tightness. “Like that! Again!”

  It might’ve been funny, but he couldn’t find the humor, not when she was moaning beneath him. Instead, his fingers crept to the place where they were joined, and his thumb circled the little pearl of her pleasure as he plunged into her. She cried out again, with joy this time, and he damn near spilled at that very moment.

  It wasn’t long before he felt her tightening around him, the once-familiar sensation tugging directly at the ache behind his bollocks, pulling him deeper into the center of her. She arched again, pressing her curls against his hand, and her knees—God Almighty, still tangled in that fancy gown—clamped on either side of his hips.

  “Liam!” As her head fell back against the mattress, her breasts pushed toward him, and he wished he could taste them as well. But only a few seconds later, her inner muscles began their rhythmic spasms, accompanied by her own rocking and chants of, “I love you, I love you,” and he ached to join her.

  A few more thrusts, and he did, spilling against her womb and praying it would mean a future for both of them.

  Had it only been a few minutes between their kiss at the door and now, lying tangled in their finery on her bed, their breaths mingling with panting and kisses and promises?

  “I love you,” he whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to the corner of her lips as he rolled to one side, pulling her into his arms as he went.

  Her eyes were closed, and she smiled, but didn’t answer. She didn’t have too; he would always remember her chanted declaration as he’d made love to her. She loved him, and it was enough.

  Almost.

  “Char,” he prompted gently. “Marry me.”

  Her eyes still closed, she hummed. “Was that a command, or a request?”

  “A request, ye daft woman.” He blew out a breath, half in frustration, half in laughter. “Ye have nae idea how it felt, hearing what that bastard did to ye. I wanted to track him down and rip open his heart.”

  “Will ye?”

  Her question took him off guard, and after a moment, she opened her eyes and met his.

  “Will ye take me with ye, when ye do?”

  He tightened his hold on her, knowing he could never let her go. “I cannae kill the bastard if my liege forbids it.”

  “But if ye
could?” Her fingers skimmed his jaw, before resting against the hollow at the base of his throat.

  “I would. I will keep ye safe, Char.” He swallowed. “If ye’ll have me.”

  Her smile was a little sad. “Ye cannae keep me anything, Liam, any more than I could keep ye.”

  She was right.

  He lifted her hand and pressed it against his heart. “Then let us keep one another. Together. Marry me?”

  “That sounds lovely. Whatever the Queen has in mind for us, we’ll stand by one another?”

  “Aye. As God intended.”

  This time, she giggled a bit as her lips lifted, and she rolled away from him. “Then aye, Liam, I’d be thrilled to marry ye.” She pushed herself to her knees. “I’ve wanted ye for my husband since we met, and I’m only sorry it took us so long to get here.”

  His own grin was rueful, as he pushed himself upright as well. “If ye’re busy keeping me as a husband, I’ll keep ye as a wife, and we’ll do our best to put this last year behind us.”

  “Ye mean yer abandonment?”

  She was teasing him, so he teased right back. “Aye,” he said solemnly, “and yer foray into piracy and treason.”

  “Then I accept yer suit, Liam Bruce, and will be proud to be yer wife, come what may.”

  He clambered off the bed, then reached out a hand toward her. “Come what may?”

  She took his forearm and allowed him to pull her to stand beside him. “I wonder what the King and Queen—no’ to mention my father—will have to say about our union.”

  “Ah, that.” He was grinning as he flicked her braid over her shoulder. “Let us make ourselves presentable once more and go meet with our lieges. I think they have something to tell us ye’ll find acceptable.”

  She was grinning when she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “I love ye.”

  And he knew his heart was full.

  Chapter 11

  Her heart should’ve been pounding, the worries and fears should’ve been crowding out all other thoughts in her head. But as Charlotte stood, hand-in-hand, with Liam in the small antechamber, while they waited for approval to approach the royal couple, all she felt was…peace.

  She was at peace, and it was thanks to the man standing beside her.

  Beside her, not in front of her.

  They’d go through life like this, the two of them, standing side by side.

  And it was that knowledge which had brought her this peace. Well, that, and the magnificent climax she’d just experienced.

  When Liam squeezed her hand, she glanced in his direction. From the twinkle in his eyes, and the smirk on his lips, she knew he was having—and feeling—the exact same thoughts as she was.

  Thank Heavens he remembered how to lace me back up!

  Charlotte was almost certain no one would be able to look at the two of them and guess what they’d been doing only a few minutes ago.

  “She’s a good woman, Char,” Liam whispered. “And a good queen. She’s offered ye a pardon, and I think the two of ye—”

  Charlotte never got to hear what he thought, because at that moment, the guard beckoned them forward, and Liam tugged her into motion.

  The King and Queen had a grand chamber where they sat on their thrones and passed judgment. But this solar was much smaller, much more intimate.

  Charlotte glanced at the large hearth, the colorful tapestries, and the table laden with fruits and cheeses, and decided she would have preferred this chamber as well, were she the queen.

  The woman in question was seated in a fine tall-backed chair, her hands clasped on her lap, and her expression composed. The King, her husband, seemed to be ignoring them all, his grey-salted head bent over a scroll by the window. They were alone in the room, save for three of the Queen’s ladies, two of whom were sitting on a bench, bent over embroidery hoops.

  “Lady Charlotte MacLeod.” Queen Elizabeth’s voice rang with command.

  Liam squeezed her hand once, and Charlotte pulled away to sink into a deep curtsey before the Queen. “Aye, Yer Majesty. As ordered.”

  When she rose, Elizabeth was frowning, her regal head cocked to one side thoughtfully. “You do not seem concerned to be ordered before your liege lord.”

  Charlotte glanced at the King, who was still ignoring them, then back to the Queen. “Liam assures me ye see the honor in my actions, even if they were unorthodox. I trust him.”

  When she shrugged, the other woman’s brows rose.

  “And did Liam tell you aught else?”

  It was Liam himself who answered, stepping up beside Charlotte and taking her hand once more. “Aye, Yer Majesty. My betrothed kens yer offer of a pardon is conditioned on her taking a position at yer court.”

  A position at court.

  Would she be one of Elizabeth’s ladies, relegated to sitting on a bench, perfecting her stitches, like those women over there?

  It would be a boring existence, but better than a traitor’s death, and at least she’d be with Liam. His role as guard to the Queen meant she’d be able to see him often, and they’d be able to hold one another each evening.

  Aye, sitting about embroidering wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured her future with her love, but if that’s what it took to marry him and keep her head atop her shoulders where it belonged, she’d do it.

  Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to their clasped hands, and her English-tinted voice grew speculative. “ ’Tis that all your betrothed knows?”

  It was Charlotte’s turn to frown.

  The Queen didn’t trust Liam?

  She was about to stand up for him, when he cleared his throat.

  She whirled to face him, her hand tightening around his, as he shifted his weight. He didn’t look at her, but kept his attention on the Queen, when he said, “Aye, Yer Majesty.”

  Now Charlotte’s heart began to pound.

  What hadn’t he told her?

  “Did she agree in order to save her head, Liam?” the Queen asked, her tone low and dangerous.

  Charlotte hated the fact that particular tone was directed at the man she loved. “Agree to what?” she snapped, as she moved to press her shoulder against his. Side by side. “What are ye accusing Liam of?”

  Queen Elizabeth’s eyes turned cold as she glared at Charlotte. Beside her, Liam sighed.

  He turned to face Charlotte, tugging her to look up at him. “Char,” he said quietly, “Elizabeth plans to order us to marry. An alliance with the Bruces—and the King’s kinsman—would appease yer father, who will be clamoring to have ye back, once he learns of MacDonald’s death.”

  Order us to marry.

  Charlotte frowned.

  Was that why he’d offered for her?

  Nay, he’d said long ago he wanted her for a wife. But still…

  “And ye kenned her plan?”

  Liam’s nod was quick, decisive. “Aye, and I kenned ye’d balk if it was a command. I had to woo ye.”

  “Woo?” She frowned, not liking the implication.

  But when he lifted her hand, their fingers still entwined, she flushed slightly, remembering how he’d been inside her when he’d asked her to become his wife.

  As he brushed his lips across the back of her hand, he hummed low, and she felt that same delicious warmth spread through her.

  “Aye,” he murmured. “I had to convince ye I wanted to marry ye, and that ye wanted to marry me, before it was part of yer pardon.”

  “Ye do still, right?” she whispered, hating how weak she sounded.

  His blue eyes bore into hers. “Always, my love.”

  When the Queen cleared her throat haughtily, they both turned, and Charlotte frowned.

  “Ye think I would agree to marry a man just to save my head, Yer Majesty? Luckily, I didnae have to make that decision. I’d marry Liam in any circumstance ye threw me in. I love him.”

  His fingers tightened around hers, lending her strength. She straightened, lifting her chin, and met the Queen’s glare bold
ly.

  It was Elizabeth who looked away first, blowing out a breath and relaxing back against the chair, as she glanced at her husband. “ ’Tis glad I am to hear that, Lady Charlotte. I’ve heard Liam speak of you as his angel, and I would hate to think you were anything less.”

  Charlotte snorted softly.

  An angel?

  Angels were pure and guileless and perfect.

  Beside her, Liam chuckled softly. “An avenging angel, mayhap. When I saw ye coming at me with that blade…”

  From his place by the window, Robert glanced at them all, his smile subdued, but his eyes twinkling merrily, proving he’d been listening all along.

  “Angels come in many forms. Some we recognize, others we do not. Some we need, some we fear.” Placing her hands on the arms of the chair, the Queen pushed herself to her feet. “Are you ready to hear your fate, Lady Charlotte MacLeod?”

  With Liam’s hand in hers, Charlotte knew she could face anything. She nodded.

  The Queen’s voice became regal, imperious. “You are crafty and intelligent, Charlotte. You approached the matter of the traitor in an unorthodox way, mayhap, but one guaranteed to gain our royal attention.”

  Nodding, Robert moved to stand beside his wife, the scroll clapped in his hands behind his back. He didn’t speak, but waited for Elizabeth to continue.

  “You’ve proven a knowledge of the martial arts, and of the home arts as well. And you’ve proven your ability to think quickly, to plan. I have need of someone like you.”

  Her lips tugging into a frown, Charlotte glanced at the Bruce.

  Robert shook his head. “My cousin Liam has agreed to stay here at Scone, to continue leading my Guard and protect my lady wife. I have my men, Lady Charlotte.”

  “And I have my women,” his wife finished. “Robert has spies and agents and bodyguards all over Scotland, but they are all men. I envision something…more.”

  When she nodded to the three women, Charlotte truly studied them for the first time.

  The youngest sat straight, her gown a modest green, her hands folded atop her embroidery, watching the proceedings from beneath lowered lashes. She seemed young, but was paying very close attention to everything going on around her. The look of piercing intelligence belied her youthful appearance.