The Highlander's Excellent Adventure

by Shana Galen

  “That’s it,” he said. “Show me what you like.”

  She moved again, the friction delicious. He gripped her hips as she rocked over him, his face a mask of restraint. And then the pleasure was spiraling through her, coiling up through her belly and radiating out to every limb. She cried out and gripped his shoulders as he thrust into her, deepening her own pleasure. They crashed over the edge together, clinging tightly to each other to steady themselves in the storm.

  Afterward, when she lay in Stratford’s arms, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She looked up at his handsome face, his tousled blond hair and heavy-lidded eyes. “Thank you for coming after me,” she said. “I think the truth is, I wanted someone to come find me.”

  “I’ll always find you,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.

  “You’ll never need to. I plan to stay right by your side.”

  “Good.” He turned and kissed her. “That’s right where I want you, my love.”

  INES

  Ines watched Mr. Fortescue start up the stairs after Emmeline and gave Duncan a meaningful look. He smiled and leaned close. “Ye take the stairs over there—”

  “Oh, no.” Catarina moved behind them. “You are staying right here, irmã.” She pointed to the empty seat beside Duncan, where Fortescue had been seated. “Move over.”

  Duncan sighed with resignation and moved. Ines steeled herself for a lecture, but Catarina smiled at her. “Are you happy?” she asked in Portuguese.

  Ines smiled. “Sim. Very happy. I love him, Catarina. He is a good man,” she answered in their native tongue.

  “He is not the man I would have chosen for you.”

  “Senhor Podmore will find some other unfortunate woman to bore.”

  “He already has.”

  Ines raised a brow.

  “He has been courting the daughter of a renowned saddle maker.”

  “Saddles and coaches. They sound perfect for each other.”

  “They do, yes.” Catarina’s smile faltered. “Is that why you ran away?” she asked. “Because I wanted you to consider Mr. Podmore?”

  Ines grabbed her sister’s hands, concerned at the look of guilt on Catarina’s pretty face. “Não, não. Well, partly? I told you I was merely hiding, and then the coach started to move.”

  “I did not believe that story.”

  Ines squeezed her hands. “It is true. But the reason I did not want to come back? I did not want to meet any more Mr. Podmores. I wanted a Duncan Murray.”

  Catarina glanced at him. “But you have always wanted love and romance, and he is so...”

  At that moment, Duncan drained his wine glass, slammed it on the table, and signaled for another. All to the cheers of the men nearby.

  “Scottish.”

  Ines watched Duncan who winked at her. “I like that he is Scottish. I like this country. It is wild and free.”

  “You really will not come back to London with us?”

  Ines looked about the old keep of the castle and thought about the loch, the sea, and the mountains beyond. “We will come and visit.”

  “What about our lace shop?”

  Ines cocked her head. “That was always your dream, Catarina. I enjoy making lace, but I always made what you showed me. And perhaps I can show some of the women here how to make it. We can sell to some of the shops in Edinburgh.”

  Catarina’s brows lifted. “Expansion of Catarina lace?”

  Ines smiled. “I can see the excitement in your eyes already.”

  Catarina laughed and then her expression turned serious. “I want you to be happy, Ines. I feel responsible for you. You were only fourteen when you ran away with me.”

  “And you have been a mother and father to me,” Ines said. “But now I am all grown up, and you should go live your own life. Visiting me regularly, of course!”

  “Of course.” Catarina hugged her, and Ines rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. Her sister always smelled of home to her, and Ines had to sniff to hold back tears. “You are crying, irmã.”

  “Because I am happy,” Ines said. Catarina gave her a look, and Ines conceded, “And I will miss you not bossing me around every day.”

  “Then you must come to London often so I can keep in practice.”

  “I will.”

  “And you,” Catarina said, switching to English as she turned on Duncan. “If you do not make my sister very happy, I will come for you.”

  Duncan scooted back in his chair. “I promise she’ll nae have a moment’s complaint.”

  “Good. And do not even think of sneaking away. I want to hear all about your travels. I hear you allowed her to be abducted by bandits.”

  Ines buried her face in her hands.

  She had thought once the breakfast was over, she and Duncan would have time together, but then they had to bid farewell to the guests who were travelling home that day. Emmeline and Fortescue had not been seen again, so the task fell to Ines and Duncan. And then there were gifts to open and sort and the duke wanted to speak to his nephew privately. By the time their parley was over, it was time for dinner. Emmeline and her new husband did reappear for the meal, and they looked very happy. Ines and Duncan could only stare at each other across the table.

  Finally, after more toasts than Ines could count, the ladies adjourned to the drawing room while the men had their whisky. Both Emmeline and Ines protested they were exhausted and ready to retire. The ladies hurried up the stairs, giggling and then at the landing stopped to embrace.

  “You’ll have to come visit us,” Emmeline said. “You’re like a sister to me now.”

  “And you will have to come and visit us.”

  “We will.” Emmeline squeezed Ines’s shoulders.

  “Did you speak to Senhor Fortescue about Senhor Pope?”

  Emmeline pulled back. “Are you still worried about him? Even after he shot your husband?”

  “He apologized.”

  “Before he threatened to do it again!” Emmeline put an arm around Ines’s shoulders and paused outside the door to the bedchamber she and Duncan had been given. “Stratford has promised to make inquiries and to speak to Mr. Pope’s father, Lord Beaufort, if necessary.”

  “Thank you.”

  Emmeline looked as though she would say something else, but she simply whispered, “Write to me,” then scurried toward her room. Ines watched her go and then saw the reason for her abrupt departure. Lady Charlotte was approaching.

  Ines straightened her shoulders.

  “Have you been inside yet?” Lady Charlotte asked, gesturing to the closed door of the bed chamber.

  “Not yet.”

  “Allow me then.” Duncan’s mother opened the door and held out a hand for Ines to enter. Ines stepped inside and took a breath. The room was huge with a hearth almost as big as she boasting a roaring fire. The curtains to a window were still open, and Ines was drawn to the view of the mountains with the pink of the setting sun behind them. Then she could not help but peek at the bed. It was monstrous in size, with heavy blue velvet curtains hanging about it.

  “That bed is famous.” Lady Charlotte motioned to it. “’Tis said King James VI slept in that bed.”

  Ines had no idea who that was, but she tried to look impressed. She motioned to the lace cuffs she had noticed Lady Charlotte wore earlier. “They look well on you,” she said.

  Lady Charlotte looked at them and then back at Ines. “They are the finest lace I have ever owned. Thank you, and I am sorry for the way I treated you when you first arrived. And after you first arrived. Duncan can be so impulsive, and I had to be sure he really cared for you. I thought I could bait him into revealing his feelings if I—” She sighed. “Well, I should have known he would do things his way.”

  Ines put a hand on her arm. “We will start over, sim?”

  “Yes.” Awkwardly, she gave Ines a stiff hug. Ines pulled her close and hugged her harder until Lady Charlotte laughed. “We will start over.”

&n
bsp; Ines pulled back. “Good. And now can you help me take this dress off? I have a wedding night ahead of me.”

  Lady Charlotte looked surprised at being asked to play lady’s maid, but she complied. When she left, Ines poured two glasses of wine from the bottle on the table by the bed, slipped off the robe and then the nightrail she wore and climbed naked into the big bed. She did not think she would have to wait long for Duncan to arrive.

  She was right.

  DUNCAN

  His mother stepped out of the bridal chamber just as Duncan was reaching to open it. He stared at her in confusion. Had he the wrong chamber? And then he gave his mother a wary look. “Ye didnae kill her, did ye? This is nae time tae play Lady MacBeth.”

  She glowered at him as only she could. “I did not kill her. I helped her take her clothes off.”

  Duncan reached for the door handle again.

  “Wait.”

  He stilled and gave his mother a long-suffering look.

  “I want to tell you something.”

  Duncan nodded. “Ye love me.”

  “I love you.”

  “Yer happy I have come home.”

  “I am happy you have come home. To stay,” she added.

  “Tae stay. Which gives us plenty of time tae talk tomorrow.” He reached for the door again.

  “Wait.”

  Duncan heaved a sigh.

  “I never blamed you, you know? For your father’s death.”

  Duncan stiffened involuntarily. The topic still brought a lance of pain through his heart.

  His mother gave him a sad smile. “The men who killed him bear the responsibility. Not you. Never you, sweet boy. I knew you felt responsible, and I should have said something to you. But I had my own pain, and I suppose I was not a very good mother for not taking yours on as well.”

  Duncan put a hand on her shoulder. “Ye protected me and yer family. Ye raised the three of us on yer own. Ye were a verra good mother.”

  “And I intend to be an even better grandmother.”

  Duncan smiled. “Then I’d best open that door.” But before he did, he bent and kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, aye?”

  “Aye,” she said with a smile.

  Duncan opened the door and stepped into the room. The curtains had been closed and the fire banked low enough to give warmth but not overly heat the room. He looked about but did not see Ines. What had his mother done to her?

  The bedcurtains moved, and he spotted the glasses of wine next to the bed. “Wife?” he called.

  “Come find me,” she said. “Naked.”

  He let out a breath, half laugh half groan. Moving toward her, and stripping off his clothing as he went, he was naked when he parted the curtains and looked down. Propped on one elbow, she too was naked. She looked up at him, her eyes taking him in appreciatively. “Come here, husband, and ravish me.”

  “Ravish ye?”

  “Is that not what you say in Scotland?”

  “I dinnae ken what other men say, but I plan to love ye, lass.”

  She held out her arms and he went to her, pulling her warm body against him. “I plan tae love ye tonight.” He kissed her lips. “Then again tonight.” His hand stroked her hips and cupped her bottom. “Then again tonight.” He gave her a light slap when she laughed. Then he pulled back and looked down at her, her face so lovely in the flickering firelight.

  “I’ll love ye all the days of my life.”

  “And I you.” She lifted her lips to kiss him, and his mouth met hers. The kiss was searing, and he pressed her legs apart, eager to be inside her.

  “There is just one thing,” she said.

  Duncan who had already found her sex, warm and wet for him, blew out a breath. “Anything, lass.”

  “You must promise to throw me over your shoulder and carry me to bed again.”

  He looked up at her. “Ye like that, do ye?”

  She nodded. “I like it when you are wild and unpredictable and—oh, yes, when you do that.” She caught her breath.

  “Then hold on, love, because one thing I can promise ye is more of that.” He kissed her. “And this.” He pulled her closer. “And...”

  But she took his mouth and for a long time no words were needed. He showed her how much he loved her, would always love her—passionate, exciting, and dangerous to the end.

  About Shana Galen

  SHANA GALEN IS THREE-time Rita award nominee and the bestselling author of passionate Regency romps. Kirkus said of her books: "The road to happily-ever-after is intense, conflicted, suspenseful and fun." RT Bookreviews described her writing as “lighthearted yet poignant, humorous yet touching." She taught English at the middle and high school level for eleven years. Most of those years were spent working in Houston's inner city. Now she writes full time, surrounded by three cats and one spoiled dog. She's married and has a daughter who is most definitely a romance heroine in the making.

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  Read the first book in the Survivor series to feature Ines, Duncan, Benedict, and Catarina—The Claiming of the Shrew. Read an excerpt below, then get your copy!

  SHE WAS BARELY INSIDE the doors of the hotel, when Juan Carlos stepped out from behind the chair where he’d been lurking. His face blushed red with anger and his mustache quivered with impatience. “You are late,” he said in Spanish. He took her arm then abruptly dropped it, looking down at his damp hands. “What happened to you?” His gaze flew to her face. “You look like a street rat.”

  “I was caught in the storm,” she answered in his language. She continued walking, heading for the staircase. “If you do not mind, I would like to change before I catch cold.” She lifted the hem of her heavy skirts.

  His dark eyes dropped to her valise. “Did he sign the papers?”

  “No,” she said simply. “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean, not yet?” He followed her up the staircase. “You said this would be simple.”

  “It will be simple, but it will also take more than a quarter hour. Benedict Draven is not the sort of man who acts without thinking.”

  “Then he will sign tomorrow?” They reached the landing and she turned in the direction of the room she shared with Ines.

  “He said he would call on me here the day after tomorrow.”

  Juan Carlos made a sound of disgust. Catarina paused outside her room. “Do not fret, senhor. You will have control of my business soon enough.”

  “Nonsense,” he said, reddening further. “I think only of your happiness and your marriage to my son.”

  She gave him a hard look. “You think only of your own finances.”

  “I am helping you, my dear.”

  “I hardly consider blackmail a charitable endeavor. Buenos noches.”

  She opened the door and Ines was immediately before her. Her younger sister had obviously been waiting on the other side and had probably heard the conversation with Juan Carlos. That was no matter. Ines knew all of her secrets, scant as they were.

  “It seemed you were away forever. Oh!” Ines immediately began unbuttoning Catarina’s spencer. She was relieved as her own hands were too cold to manage. “You are wet to the bone.” She tugged the spencer off and turned Catarina around to begin unfastening her dress. Catarina felt as though she were the younger sister, though she was eight years older than Ines, who was barely eighteen.

  “The weather is very bad.” Catarina stepped out of her gown and Ines started on her stays. “Cold and damp and wet.”

  “I miss home.” By home Ines meant Portugal, not Barcelona, where the two had lived for the past three years.

  “I do too.” But not as much as she would have thought. Catarina had liked the bustling city of Barcelona, and she found much in London to like as well. She might have wished to see the sun a bit more often than she had since arriving in England, but this was the lan
d of knights and round tables. She found it enchanting. “Did Tigrino eat?”

  “A little. He still hides under the bed and swats at the chamber maids’ feet when they walk by.” That sounded like her ill-tempered cat.

  “I can do the rest,” Catarina said when Ines had loosened her stays. “Would you send for hot water?”

  While Ines rang for footmen to bring hot water for a bath, Catarina stripped out of her wet stockings and chemise and wrapped a large blanket around her shivering body. She stood near the fire until she could feel her fingers and toes again.

  “I am guessing your husband did not sign or Juan Carlos would have sounded happier.”

  “I only spoke with Benedict Draven briefly,” Catarina said. “I waited for him at his home, but he did not return alone.” She gave her sister a meaningful look.

  Ines furrowed her brow. “Why should that matter?”

  Catarina wondered if she had ever been so innocent. “He had a woman with him.”

  “His wife?”

  Catarina had never even considered that possibility. Thankfully so. “No. He claims she is not his lover.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Catarina shrugged. She had no reason not to believe her husband. To her knowledge, he had never lied to her before. He had always treated her with dignity, honor, and respect. “I lost my temper.”

  “Oh.”

  Her sister’s tone was one of horror.

  “It was not so bad.”

  Ines pursed her lips, looking dubious.

  “We argued in the rain and—”

  “And then he kissed you!”

  Catarina rolled her eyes. Ines was in love with love. She supposed that was why her father had tried to marry the girl when she’d been fourteen. If Catarina hadn’t convinced her sister to run away with her, the girl would have a house full of babies by now, like four of her other sisters did. Perhaps five were married by now as Beatriz was sixteen already. Ines had been the only one of her six sisters who was anything like Catarina, though to be fair Joana had been only six when Catarina had left home and her personality still developing. But like all the others, Joana had shown signs of being shy and obedient and utterly subservient. It was difficult to be otherwise when one’s father was a tyrant who demanded submission and subservience from the women in his household.