Highland Rake

by Terry Spear

  He loved the way her fingers stroked his skin. Though her touch was tentative at first, he was certain as they grew to know each other better, she would trust her instincts more. He was having a devil of a time taking this slowly as much as he wanted to conquer and possess her, but he had to be careful so that she would enjoy the experience the first time and be all the more willing to want him again, because he knew one time would only lead to craving her more.

  She looked startled when he began to pull out of her.

  He pushed into her again, feeling her tense. He kissed her mouth and that made her relax as she was caught up in kissing him back, her tongue swiping over his, dueling, turning him on. As if she was so glad he was not done with pleasuring her, she wanted to show just how much so.

  He began to pick up the pace, easing into her and out, and in again, until he was thrusting as if it would kill him if he didn't.

  She wrapped her legs around his, her hands clasping his belt, and he swore the next time they made love, they'd both be naked. Although he couldn't deny seeing her breasts bared, the chemise clinging to her waist, while the rest of her was naked, had him burning hot with desire, too. Clothed or not, the woman had his devout attention.

  She smelled of lavender, mint, and sweet woman, her body soft and willing, her skin sweetly decadent.

  He thrust into her faster, so close to reaching the peak that when he came, he felt as though a bonfire had been lit inside him he was so hot. She moaned his name with such pleasure that he couldn't help but smile. He cherished his sweet wife.

  When he finished, he rolled off her, got to his feet, and she looked alarmed that he was leaving her. But he quickly dispensed of his belt and plaid. Her gaze quickly shifted to that male part of him that even at her perusal had him beginning to harden again.

  He pulled her chemise down her hips and tossed it on the floor. Then he climbed onto the mattress with her, yanked the fur covers over them and nestled with her.

  "I thought you were leaving," she said, kissing his chest, still sounding concerned.

  Had she thought he was such a rake that he'd leave his bride after lying with her and rut with some other wench? He sighed. He would have to prove he had no desire to do thus with some other woman.

  "'Tis my chamber, lass," he said. "But I wouldna leave you for the world. Even if fighting broke out between my men and yours."

  "The Cameron men are your people also, now," she said, snuggling against him.

  "Aye." Though he did not feel the sentiment.

  It might take years before he could earn their camaraderie. Dougald had to admit that his believing in the lass's ability to speak with those who had not quite departed this world and were in a state of limbo might relieve her uncle's mind somewhat, if he worried what a husband might do to her who believed she was possessed. The other matter of Dougald seeking another wench's bed? Staying in Alana's was the only way to prove to her uncle that Dougald wasn't about to stray.

  Chapter 17

  Barely aware of snuggling with Dougald as she drifted off to sleep, Alana found herself in the woods again, her reoccurring nightmare that she never recalled upon waking, but remembered every detail upon falling asleep.

  She heard whispers. "Her horse is over there. She has to be nearby."

  More hushed voices. "What if she didna ride with her da this time on the hunt?"

  "He said she was coming. She always goes on the hunt with her da. 'Tis her horse. She is hiding."

  "He willna like it if we return without her."

  The voices faded into the distance. The tromping of boots walking through leaves and stepping on twigs moved away. Her heart thumped fast. Her blood pounded in her ears. Her nose twitched, tickled, the urgent compulsion to sneeze as she breathed in the moldy leaves, causing her to feel panic.

  She darned not move. Dared not unsettle the blanket of leaves hiding her. What if one of the men was still standing nearby, watching, waiting while the others travelled farther away? Then as soon as she stirred, he'd pounce on her.

  Forever, it seemed, she waited. Then horses ran through the woods, and the MacNeill men spoke with one another some distance from her hiding place.

  That's when she heard the man standing near her shift his position, moving closer. Felt his boot brush her arm. Thought she was going to die right then and there.

  The MacNeill found something, Angus said. Tears flooded her eyes. They found…her men? Her da?

  Alana sobbed, waking herself.

  "Alana." Dougald pulled her tighter into his arms. "Shh, lass, you are safe with me. Shh."

  She snuggled with him, waking enough to remember she had a husband and he was Dougald and everything else fled from her thoughts.

  ***

  As soon as Laird Alroy Cameron reached James MacNeill's stronghold, he studied the four towers rising up to the black night, torches lighting the massive entryway, the portcullis down, the gates shut, the massive gray stone walls thick and tall enough to keep out any rabid invader. He thought the structure impressive by even his own standards.

  His military advisor, Bran, waited alongside him. "We have never been here to fight. Seems strange to be sitting outside the MacNeill stronghold with no intention of killing them. If she isna within, then what?"

  "We will move on."

  His men were restless behind him and were just as weary of traveling. He was certain the suggestion did not sit well with them.

  He looked up at the two men watching them from the wall walk, the numbers increasing to five within minutes as the alarm was sounded as men hollered out, passing the word along.

  "'Tis Laird Cameron seeking a word with MacNeill concerning my niece, Alana. I need to speak with him at once. We come in peace."

  A guard on the wall walk called down in a gruff manner, "I will send word to Laird MacNeill, Laird Cameron." Then he disappeared from the curtain wall.

  Five more men monitored Cameron and his men from the top of the wall walk as he waited for the word to reach James. Attempting not to appear annoyed with any delay, he was anxious about his niece, praying she was safely within.

  "They will want to disarm us," Bran said, sounding like he did not care for the idea.

  "We have been their rivals for years. It would be prudent for them to be cautious. They would expect the same if they came to our keep in the middle of the night with this many armed men."

  He knew it would take considerable time for the guard to reach the keep and from there to wake James and for him to dress and then ready a force of men. Because in no way would he meet the Cameron unprepared. He half expected James to tell his men to speak on his behalf and not be bothered to see his enemy at this hour, that the gate would not be opened to a group of armed men in the middle of the night.

  When the gates were unexpectedly opened, Cameron was more than a little startled. He was greeted by a number of armed men. That part he had expected. One of the men led the group, his hard jaw covered in black stubble, his black hair hanging loosely about his shoulders as if he'd just been awakened and hurried out of bed.

  "My laird, I am Eanruig, Laird James MacNeill's advisor," the man said, his face tan, making it appear he spent a considerable time outdoors. He bowed his head in greeting. "He bade me welcome you inside. Your men must hand over their weapons, however. They can stay in the barracks for the rest of the eve. James will meet you in the great hall. I am to escort you there."

  "My niece?" Cameron asked quickly. If she was not here, he had no reason to stay. Though if he did not find her here, he would welcome James's men to help search for her, if they would.

  "She is sleeping in a chamber, my laird. Forgive me. I should have already said so," Eanruig said.

  "She is well?"

  "Aye, my laird."

  "Take me to see James, then." Cameron motioned to his men to go with James's men.

  Bran seemed a little reluctant, then dipped his head to Cameron in acquiesce and gathered their men as if he was in charge of the batt
le plan when James's men were instead.

  "I am Fergus MacNeill," one of the men said. "We will take your weapons." As soon as the MacNeill men gathered up Cameron's men's swords and dirks, Fergus said, "Come, this way."

  Seeing that his men were being taken care of, Cameron followed Eanruig. When they reached the keep, servants quickly opened the door. Inside, Eanruig led him to a table in the great hall near the fire in the stone hearth, the smoky, tarry fragrance of peat -- the compressed and partly fossilized loam of sphagnum moss and heather—burning blue, warming his tired body, and a servant quickly deposited a tankard of ale.

  After sitting, but before he could take a swig of the ale, Cameron saw James stalk into the great hall, and he rose to greet the laird. Cameron couldn't help but admire the man for responding so quickly to his arrival. But not only that, that he would actually see him and not send just Eanruig or someone else in his stead. Cameron felt more optimistic concerning the situation for the first time since he'd learned his niece had disappeared.

  The man was impressive in stature, dark-haired and eyed, his shoulders straight, his bearing saying he was a man used to being in command. He did not smile, but was all business. Which was to be expected, considering the troubles they'd had with one another in the past.

  "My niece, Lady Alana, I wish to see her," Cameron said, without further ado. He had to see her for himself, to know that she was indeed well. He'd been worried sick about her ever since he'd returned home and discovered she'd left the castle grounds.

  "Aye. She was sleeping, but a maid is helping her to dress and will bring her down shortly. We must discuss another matter. Please, have a seat," James said, motioning to the chair.

  He should have known the lass would take longer to prepare herself to meet him. Cameron sat then and drank deeply of the ale, his throat dry. But then he sat up taller, unable to hide his wary expression. "What other matter?"

  "How the lady came to be on our lands. I believe she was to have left as soon as you journeyed on your way, except somehow she didna receive the word for three days."

  "I dinna understand." MacNeill wasn't making any sense.

  "She was told the shepherdess, Odara, who lives near the border between our lands, was ill."

  Cameron narrowed his eyes at James, feeling his temper rise. That was not the story he had received from Turi. What in God's wounds was going on?

  "My brother was warned at about the same time that a raiding party from your clan had crossed the border," James continued.

  Cameron opened his mouth to refute the claim, but James held up a hand to stay him. "We believe it was a ruse. That someone wanted my brother to find the lass crossing the border and bring her safely here."

  "Why did she navigate the stream? Seeing to the shepherdess's health would not have caused her to cross into your lands."

  "Odara claimed she was with child, a Rob MacNeill's child, and that the man had a sick niece. Lady Anice went to find him and give him the news of the bairn and see to the niece's health. She said that you wished another man to wed the shepherdess instead."

  Cameron would not deny that one of his men had wished to wed the shepherdess and Cameron had been agreeable because the man's reasoning was sound. Cameron didn't like that Odara lived all by herself near the MacNeill lands. Since no one had offered for her, Cameron thought the lass would be pleased that Gilleasbuig had wanted her.

  But Cameron couldn't believe what he was hearing. The shepherdess had been with a MacNeill? And now she had been in on this plot to send his niece across the stream bordering the MacNeill and Cameron lands? "Who told my niece that the shepherdess had been ill?"

  "A girl in Cook's employ by the name of Pelly."

  Cameron opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. How many more had been involved in this insidious plot?

  "Dougald and his men made all haste to bring Lady Alana back here for her own safety," James said.

  "Dougald MacNeill?" Unable to keep the scowl off his face, Cameron snorted. "He is as bad as my nephew was when it comes to lasses."

  Ignoring his comment, James said, "Why would someone from your clan want the lady brought here? Was it because of the marriage arrangement you were seeking for her? Someone who felt she wouldna be safe if she were a MacDonald bride?"

  "How did you know?" Cameron asked, furious with his people for letting the word reach the MacNeill's ears.

  "'Tis of little import. Because of the circumstances that my brother found himself in, that is he could not leave the lass where she was, defenseless and far from home, nor could he have safely taken her across your lands without alarming your people, he had only one choice—bring her here. Since she had no maid, though he and my men had been completely honorable with her at all times, he wed the lass early this morn to ensure she would not be disparaged under any account."

  Cameron just stared at James, his blood running cold. He couldn't believe it. All his plans upset in a single conversation with his enemy. He had considered that Hoel MacDonald might be angered that Alana had been with the MacNeill men without chaperone, that he might even wish delaying the marriage to ensure she was not breeding. But he never thought one of his MacNeill enemies would marry his niece.

  He growled. He'd had no problem with her marrying Hoel. The man agreed to live with them, and if the clan approved of him, eventually he would be chief. But Dougald?

  "Dougald MacNeill?" Cameron said. The man would never settle down with one woman, ever. He would break his niece's heart.

  "Aye."

  "You have forced this on them? I canna imagine Dougald settling down."

  "They are both pleased. Neither the lass nor my brother were coerced into this."

  Cameron rubbed his bearded chin, trying to concentrate on the real issue now at hand. "I dinna want my niece living here."

  "She will live where her husband resides," James said.

  Cameron pondered that further. He had no choice. He didn't know if his people would accept Dougald, but he wanted his niece home where he could still care for her and ensure her husband was good to her.

  "I want her under my roof."

  James didn't say anything.

  "Dougald must agree to this. I wanted my niece to have an heir and her husband would be clan chief should the clan vote for him to take over when I am ready to step down."

  "My brother will be agreeable."

  "My people may no' be. We have fought for many years—your people and mine."

  "Aye. Mayhap 'tis time to set aside our grievances and provide a unified front against our enemies. Someone, it appears to me, wanted the lass to come here. Why? To avoid an arranged marriage to Hoel MacDonald? Why did you no' want her to marry her first betrothed? MacIverson?"

  Cameron glowered at James. "'Tis none of your concern."

  "Was he involved in the killing of her da? Did she see any of the men who killed her father and his men? Mayhap someone knows 'tis MacDonald who had her father and his men murdered. And here is another thing to consider, why was her brother murdered?"

  Cameron narrowed his eyes. "You canna believe this had anything to do with Alana."

  "Mayhap no, but what if it did? What if whosoever sent her away from your castle did so to protect her? We have no quarrel with you in any of this—your nephew's death, Alana's father's death—but Dougald will do everything in his power to protect the lass should anyone wish her harm."

  Cameron knew all of the MacNeill brothers had fought during the Crusades. Dougald had been a capable leader of men. But Cameron still didn't trust him as far as the lasses were concerned. "Aye, if Dougald takes his vows seriously with regard to my niece, then we will somehow live with this arrangement."

  Cameron wasn't certain even if Dougald did live up to Cameron's expectations as a good husband, whether Cameron's people would want to kill the MacNeill over the past grievances between the two clans.

  "And I will attempt to ensure my people dinna kill him," Cameron added for good measure.
r />   James toasted Cameron with a small smile. "To the uniting of our clans."

  Chapter 18

  A sharp rap on the door startled Dougald awake, but before he could unwrap himself from Alana’s warm body to see to the matter, Angus opened the door a wee bit, and said, "Alana’s uncle is here. James told me to send word for two maids to assist the lass with dressing. They will be here soon."

  "Aye, thank you, Angus." Dougald hurried off the bed.

  "James is speaking with Laird Cameron first. You can bring the lady down after that."

  Dougald lit a candle, then threw on his tunic, glancing back at the bed. Alana was naked, but mostly buried under the covers, her cheeks red in the soft candlelight's glow as she tried to burrow further so his brother wouldn't see any part of her.

  "Good luck, brother." Angus closed the door, his footfalls fading down the corridor.

  The notion was just sinking in that marrying Alana and having the sweet lady for his wife meant taking on her uncle and moreover her clan as Dougald would have to live among her people, if the Cameron wished it. They might well not like it.

  Dougald handed Alana her chemise.

  He had been so tired when Alana had awakened him from a sound sleep earlier as she'd had a nightmare, he wondered if talking about it might help. "You had a nightmare," he said, gently, as he pulled on his boots.

  Alana didn't say anything as she slipped her chemise over her head.

  "Do you remember it?"

  She shook her head.

  "You were crying."

  Appearing surprised, she looked up at him.

  "You… dinna remember it?"

  "Nay. If I dream, I never remember it upon waking."

  He hadn't considered it before now, but if she had dreamed about her da's murder, mayhap she recalled some of what happened that day in the woods. Mayhap if he'd asked her at the time when she was just waking, she would recall it. Next time, he would give it a try.