Claimed By The Highlander (The Highlands Warring Clan Mactaggarts Book 1)

by Anne Morrison

  “All right, Can I see?”

  She stared at him.

  Reade sighed.

  “Please. If you are uncomfortable, if that turns out to be a problem, it can keep us from getting to Dun Warring as quickly as we should be able to do so.”

  Something about his words made her look even more nervous, and slowly, she pulled up her shift. Her legs were long and pale, so shapely that he was stunned by a sudden impulse to run his hands over them. He reined that impulse in quickly, because it was an embarrassment to his self-control as a man, and instead focused on the chafed and reddened skin inside her thighs.

  “That looks like it hurts,” he commented, but she only looked away. She looked ashamed of something that she could not help at all, and Reade checked his anger at whatever people had made her feel that way.

  “All right, it looks like it could be worse. I'm going to apply some of the cream to those spots, too, so will you lie back?”

  He expected some kind of resistance, but after a moment, biting her lip, Elizabeth lay back on the grass. She must have been in a lot of pain if she was doing so without protest. He moved slowly, making sure that he didn't tug her shift back any more than he absolutely needed so, and he rubbed the cream into her sore flesh as gently and as carefully as he could.

  He was so intent on being a decent man that it took him a moment to register the soft sound that Elizabeth made deep in her throat. Then she made it again, and he glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her dark eyelashes impossibly dark fans on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted and a light flush on her cheeks.

  Well, at least I'm not doing anything wrong...

  Reade kept his fingers gentle on her skin, little more than a feather's fall, and he watched, his own breath catching, as she stirred underneath his hands. Somehow, she was making him feel the pleasure she was feeling, the soreness dissipated by the astringent cream, and underneath it, the heat of skin against skin...

  Reade shook his head and stood up suddenly, yanking her shift down as if a priest had caught him at it. He felt a surge of guilt go through him, and he took a step back from Elizabeth, not meeting her eyes.

  “That should be all you need. Tell me if it gets too sore again. We'll have you up on Finnian most of the day, and that will help as well.”

  He turned abruptly toward his bags, getting them ready to leave. The guilt was sharp and aching. She was an abused girl who didn't know that a bit of pleasure could be incredibly seductive. He was a full-grown man, and he should know better. He tried to focus on the guilt, because if he didn't, then he would be thinking of the sweetness of her skin, her kissable lips, and what else he might have done while her skirts were pulled up to her hips.

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  chapter 10

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  Elizabeth was dreading climbing back up on the saddle, but this time, Reade padded it with his folded cloak before lifting her gently upon the stocky gelding.

  “Are you sure about this? You'll get quite tired walking, too.”

  “Most of the time, I didn't even have a horse. I marched then, and I could do it now. Don't fash yourself, lass.”

  It occurred to her that the farther north they went, the more his words loosened, his speech losing the crispness and the sharp consonants of the South.

  I wonder if he was born up here. I wonder if this is going home for him. Or if he still even has a home somewhere.

  She knew that it was good that they were not poking at each other's pasts. It was too easy to imagine a blank-shield soldier abandoning her when he realized that saving her put him in direct opposition to the Earl of Sussex. He might even decide that it was a better idea to ransom her back than to help her get where he was going, whatever the reward might be. She didn't want to imagine Reade doing those things, and so it was better that she didn't have the chance to slip up.

  Despite that, however, she found herself almost painfully curious about the man she had hired. What tragedy had forced him from the North? He was right when he said that blank-shield soldiers had a certain reputation, and it wasn't one he seemed to want to share.

  She certainly knew that he was a fighter. It was inescapable after he had rescued her and after what had happened at the inn. He was good enough to be a mercenary, and it was true enough that there were plenty of them in the Lowlands now, after an uneasy truce had been called between England and Scotland.

  Perhaps he is ashamed for fighting for pay. What was he before all that?

  She sighed and put the thoughts from her mind. It was no use to wonder, and it might even be dangerous if he saw what she was at and decided to return the favor. Even as she decided not to think about it, she looked down to see him glancing up at her.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “You, of course,” Reade said with a grin. “There's nothing else to look at on this stretch of road besides Finnian, after all.”

  “But why are you looking at me?”

  “Can it not be because you are lovely?”

  “You are teasing again, and I confess that I do not care for it.”

  “That's fine, because I wasn't teasing. But I was also wondering what you think life might be like in Dun Warring.”

  She blinked.

  “What do you mean? I expect it will be... life as it is everywhere else.”

  “Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Dun Warring is well into the Highlands, and that's as different from Ayr and Glasgow as cheese is from chalk. What kind of work do you expect to do?”

  “Oh. Well. What I did before, I suppose. Floors and windows and dusting and such. If I am lucky, perhaps I can find a lady who is want of a maid, someone to do her hair for her...”

  Reade laughed, and Elizabeth sat a little straighter in the saddle. He might have said that he wasn't making fun of her, and it was true that there was no malice in his voice, but she hardly liked to be reminded that her experience in the world was so limited.

  “Oh, they're going to find you a treat.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “You're in the North, my lass. A woman who needs a girl to help her do her hair would be laughed straight out of the town, or if she weren't, she'd be spoken about as if she were putting on airs. I hope your scrubbing is better than your ability to light a fire, because they'll need you to work and work hard.”

  “You're making it sound as if they'll make me sleep in a cow byre.”

  “They ought not. You belong in the house, but if you were a man of all work, it would make sense, wouldn't it? Then you'd be closer to the animals you must tend.”

  Elizabeth couldn't help making a face.

  Reade laughed at her.

  "So delicate! Are you sure you weren't a fine lady instead of a maid?"

  She knew that he was only teasing, but the words struck so close to home that she couldn't stop a small panic from boiling up in her belly.

  "You needn't make fun! I did plenty of work; it was just different."

  "Aye? And what kind of work did you do when you were at home?"

  She bit her lip, because though she was counted a very good daughter to her parents, the work that she was commended for had nothing to do with what their servants had done. Somehow, she had gotten away with being utterly incompetent with the fire, but she had no idea how long that luck might hold out.

  "Well, I did a great deal of work in Ayr, but it was often under the direction of the lady of the house. There was always sewing to do, of course, both patching tears and pretty embroidery, and I ran errands. I taught the children their letters, and I helped keep the household books."

  She had done all of that, but she knew that doing a thing because her mother asked her to do so was different from being in someone else's employ and doing it for a wage. She glanced down at Reade again, hoping that that would satisfy him, but now he was looking at her in shock.

  "You know how to read?"

  "Why... yes." />
  Elizabeth felt her belly sink somewhere in the vicinity of her shoes. Not even many of her friends could read or write. They could scribe their own names, maybe a few letters more, but it wasn’t reckoned important for most girls, let alone girls of low birth.

  Reade shook his head.

  "Your mistress must be sorry to lose you."

  "I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

  "If you were keeping household accounts, that means she must have trusted you a great deal."

  "I suppose."

  Reade looked slightly chagrined.

  "I'm sorry, lass. We resolved to speak nothing more about the past, and yet here we are again. I should not have pried."

  "Does that mean I get to learn something more about you?"

  She wasn't sure why she had asked that, but Reade looked thoughtful.

  "As you like. What do you want to know?"

  "What do you miss about home?"

  The moment the words were out of her mouth, Elizabeth could hear how very daft they sounded. it was too much, too personal, far too odd. Instead of laughing at her, Reade smiled, and for just an instant, she saw something so sweet and lovely steal across his face that her breath was taken away.

  That was how he would look when he was in love, she thought, as if all the world was right, and all of creation sang with pleasure.

  "Home. Now there's a pretty puzzle, isn't it? All right. What I miss the most is rising with the sun and hearing the keep all around me waking up with me. All around me are people who know me, and who I know and care about. The day may be hard, or it might be sweet, but it is a day we will share, all our work going for one goal, all our care and all our pleasures one."

  The way he spoke made her heart ache, but Reade looked a little startled at what he had said, almost shocked. He offered nothing else and aware of a strange tension in the air that rose up between them, she asked no more.

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  chapter 11

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  Reade didn't know what the matter was with this strange Lowlander girl. At first glance, she was nothing more than another pretty face. Then when he looked a little closer, there was a spirit there that he wasn't sure he had ever run into before, and a sweetness that could make his heart melt.

  That would have been fine. Reade had been infatuated before, had certainly felt his share of lust, but this was all of that and more.

  There was a moment on the road where he might have told her anything, and the fact that she could somehow make him speak the truth without a single real bit of pressure, made something in him deeply uneasy.

  It is only that I have been away from home too long. It isn't good for a man to go so very long without being known to his kith and his kin. I haven't been truly myself for months.

  And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he shouldn't be himself with this girl.

  They were only going to be on the road together for a short while. She should have no idea of who he was or what he was doing, and if she knew, it would only endanger them both.

  They continued in silence until the sun started to set, and he found them a place to bed down for the night.

  This time, he watched in amusement as she defiantly gathered the wood exactly as he had taught her, building their fire with care.

  "That's a good job," he commented.

  She looked at him, as if uncertain how to take it.

  "I can learn anything if only someone teaches me."

  "Good. That'll take you a long way in the North, farther than helping some poor woman with her own hair or pretty embroidery."

  "I hope so. I... I want to be of use."

  She sat down with a sigh, and Reade's sharp eyes caught her stiff posture and her soft grunt of pain as she did so.

  "How are your feet and your thighs?"

  "The feet are much better. Perhaps I will be able to walk tomorrow."

  "That's not very likely. I am glad the moss helped, but you ought not walk until your feet are healed. And your thighs?"

  For a second, he thought that he would have to chivy the truth from her as well, but she lowered her eyes.

  "Still hurt."

  Reade smiled at the sulkiness in her tone. It reminded him of how he and Aidan had never wanted to admit that they were hurt because it would mean having to end their play.

  "Lie back, and I'll look after it. Wasn't I as gentle as sunlight this morning?"

  "You were."

  She lay back on his cloak, which was spread on the ground to give them some kind of protection from the rocks and the dirt.

  This morning, Reade had been distracted by her pain and panicked by wounds that he had never suspected. Tonight, by the flickering light of the campfire, with the awareness that he was going to be sleeping next to her all night… Well. it was different.

  Her feet did look better, he saw to his relief, and then he pushed her skirts up, moving as slowly and as gently as he had promised. He called himself every kind of fool and lecher, but it didn't change the fact that her revealed legs were every bit as beautiful as he remembered, her skin rising up with goosebumps as it was revealed.

  The cream slid against her abraded flesh, which did look better, but then, almost without realizing he was doing it, he continued to stroke her legs, running his hands from her ankles to a point just above her knees. He could feel the muscles there, lean as a running dog's but strong, felt them tense for a moment under his grasp until she relaxed with a sigh.

  "Oh, that feels good," she murmured, and when he glanced up, her eyes had fluttered shut, her face relaxed at the relief from pain. It changed the way she looked, made her seem, not younger, but sweeter and vulnerable. Elizabeth had a bright and vivid spirit, and it was still there, only less crackling now, less inclined to jump away.

  How often does she get to relax like this? How long has she been tense and afraid where she used to work in Ayr?

  With that thought in mind, it was easy to let his hands wander over her legs, gliding down to the fine arch of her foot and then along the outside of her thighs. She squirmed when his touch was too light, so he increased the pressure with each pass. Soon she was as limp as a strand of seaweed on the ground in front of him, her hands opening and closing gently when he touched a place that was particularly sore.

  Reade, who spent so much of his time wary and fighting for his life, could feel himself fall into a trance that he wasn't sure he had ever felt with a woman before. There was no one threatening them tonight, no one trying to kill him or hurt her. There was only him and Elizabeth, under the clouded sky, his touch and her skin, his need for her and her pliant sweetness under his hands. He happened to glance up just as she opened her eyes, and he froze.

  There was something wild there, something primal and pure and inviting. It reached a hand into his chest and squeezed hard, and in that moment, he could read her mind just as he could read the track of a rabbit in the snow.

  She wanted him. She would let him do whatever he liked, and his heart started to beat faster.

  Elizabeth, at the same time, seemed to realize the same thing, and a tide of fear washed over her, drowning the sweetness and making her scamper backward, her skirts falling down over her legs.

  "Reade!"

  "Elizabeth, I'm sorry, I was..."

  "It... it doesn't matter. It's fine. It was nothing."

  "It wasn't nothing, Elizabeth..."

  "It was! It was! I'm... not like that, Reade."

  He scowled. "Not like—"

  "Not like whatever girl it was you went to go see our last night in Glasgow!"

  For a moment, he had no idea what in the blazes she was talking about, and then he remembered.

  "Elizabeth..."

  "Please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I couldn't. I can't."

  The last shreds of desire that they had kindled died as he heard how miserable she sounded. The sound of her sadness tugged at his heart and he sat back on the ground, show
ing her that he would not touch her again until she wanted him to. Perhaps the trouble was that she still wanted it.

  "Lass, you did nothing wrong..."

  "I shouldn't. I just shouldn't. That's not who I am. That's not what I am."

  Reade sighed.

  "It was only touching, lass. No harm at all to it."

  "Let's not talk about it any longer, Reade. All right? I just don't want to think about it."

  Against his better judgment, Reade nodded. He knew that girls from the Lowlands were often more twisted up about something a Highland girl would think of as a bit of play and nothing more, but there was something deeper going on here.

  He wondered uneasily if his touch had reminded her of what her master in Ayr had tried to do, and he felt a little sick. Touching her felt amazing, but if she hadn't enjoyed it, that pleasure turned to ashes in his belly.

  Whatever it was, however, he wasn't going to get to the bottom of it tonight.

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  chapter 12

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  Elizabeth's first instinct was to sleep apart from Reade that night, but she could see at once how foolish that would be. There wasn't enough bedding for them to sleep separately, and the ground itself seemed to be mostly rock, and frigid besides. She knew that lying on the ground with only her own clothing to shield her would sap the warmth straight from her body, leaving her in even worse shape the next day.

  She ate the leftover rabbit he gave her wordlessly, and when it came time to lie down, she hesitated for a moment but curled up next to him under his cloak, her head pillowed on his arm.

  "Are you angry with me?" she asked quietly.

  "No. You've done nothing for me to be angry about, lass."

  "What happened before..."

  "You needn't talk about it if you don't wish to. I won't touch you like that again unless you wish it."