Highland Warlord Read online

  She slid her dagger from beneath her pillow and silently swung her feet over the mattress. The floorboards felt cold beneath her bare feet as she tiptoed to the door. Her hand perspired as she rested it on the latch, listening for another sound.

  Closing her eyes, she steadied her breath and offered a silent prayer for strength.

  In one swift motion, Ailish yanked open the door and lashed out with her blade. Before she could recoil, a hand grabbed her wrist and squeezed with the strength of a vise, making the dagger fall from her grasp as she spiraled downward, landing on top of the blackguard.

  “Och, m’lady, I’d have a wee peek at who I’m attacking afore I blindly thrust a dagger about.”

  “Sir James?” she asked, pulling away and peering through the blue-black ingress, lit only by a moonbeam shining through an arrow slit in the stairwell.

  “Aye, lass, and you’d best be glad ’tis me.”

  “But why would you be here, making noises outside my door?”

  “I was sleeping afore you came barreling out here with this.”

  As he held up her dagger, she snatched it from his grasp. The movement caused her bottom to shift, his thighs flexing beneath. Only then did she remember she was sitting on his lap. A flood of awareness gushed deep and low in her belly, and she quickly tucked her legs. Heavens stars, only her shift and his plaid separated her skin from his. “Y-you were…” Her gaze dipped to his shirtless chest—a very nice, very braw chest. Even in the dim light, she could discern the outline of musculature obviously developed after years of wearing mail and wielding a gargantuan sword. “Um…you were sleeping in my doorway?”

  “The king entrusted me with your safety, did he not? It wouldn’t be forthright of me to make up a pallet below stairs in the great hall and leave two nuns alone in a keep full of Cunninghams, now would it?”

  Ailish gulped. “For our protection?” she murmured absently, her gaze slipping to his mouth. Curiosity made her run her finger over his bottom lip, leaning nearer as her blood pulsed faster. “Do your lips always glisten in the dark?”

  James’ warm breath caressed her cheek as his hand tightened on her waist and another slipped up the back of her neck, making tingles flutter down her arms.

  As if pulled by a magical force, she inched closer until his lips brushed hers.

  She gasped.

  His fingers slipped into her hair while his mouth grew harder, more urgent. Unable to stop herself, Ailish followed his lead, closing her eyes. When his tongue lightly brushed her lips, she opened ever so subtly. She must have interpreted the cue correctly because with a feral moan, that devilish tongue swept into her mouth and danced in the most languid, erotic, entwining strathspey she’d ever imagined.

  Impulse took over as she met him stroke for stroke, weaving her fingers through his thick mane of hair.

  As they pulled away, he tapped his forehead to hers. “Forgive me.”

  She swallowed against the thickening of her throat. Aye, Ailish knew sitting on a man’s lap and kissing him in the wee hours was enough to see her ruined. But no one and nothing had ever stirred her blood as James Douglas had done in this moment. “I must go.”

  He helped her to her feet. But as she pulled away, he kept hold of her hands between his much larger palms and touched his lips to her forehead. “Sleep well, m’lady.”

  Dazed, Ailish stumbled back to bed. Who knew her first kiss would leave her utterly breathless?

  After the depression in the mattress popped up when Coira arose, Ailish rolled to her back and stretched. “Ahhh,” she sighed in a singsong warble. “What a fabulous day.”

  Water trickled into the washbowl. “Aye, I slept sound which was a nice respite after suffering the rain and the mortifying English attack the night prior.”

  Ailish smiled, her heart lighter than goose down. “A good night’s sleep is better than any tincture, for certain.”

  “That it is, m’lady.” Coira blotted her face dry with a cloth. “You’d best wash. We’ve another long day of riding ahead of us.”

  Ailish tossed aside the bedclothes and skipped to the washstand. She’d be riding with James this day. “Fa la de da fa la,” she sang.

  “My heavens, I don’t believe I’ve seen you this happy since afore we fled Caerlaverock.”

  “Oh?” Ailish hid her cringe by bending over the basin and splashing her face. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fumbled for the cloth. “I suppose I’m anxious to see Florrie and Harris.”

  “I am as well,” Coira said, waving a hairbrush. “Though we’ve another night on the road afore we reach Lincluden.”

  Ailish feigned a groan as the maid began to work through the knots that always managed to knit through her tresses when she was sleeping. “Do not remind me. I’m not comfortable to have Torquil riding with us, either. I loathe the way he ogles me.”

  “Hmm, though he behaved better at the evening meal. Perhaps his da set him to rights.”

  Deciding not to tell Coira that Sir James had slept outside their door obviously to protect them from the rogue, she grabbed her habit from the back of the chair and pulled it over her head. “Perhaps, but how will he behave when his father isn’t watching?”

  Coira held up the veil. “You’d best stay close to me. No wandering off the trail when we stop to rest the horses, ye ken.”

  Ailish wouldn’t mind wandering off the trail and stealing another kiss from Sir James, no matter how sinful the notion. Though in truth, she mustn’t lose her head. She was duty bound to her kin and he to the king. Once they reached the priory, they would part and most likely their paths would never again cross.

  Coira started for the door. “Come, we must break our fast. It may be the last good meal we’ll have in days.”

  When Ailish stepped into the great hall, she immediately spotted Sir James already seated at the table. “Good morn, everyone,” she chirped.

  He didn’t look up but shoved a bite of sausage into his mouth. “You’d best eat your fill. We ride within the hour,” he said, his voice gruff.

  Suddenly not very hungry, Ailish’s throat swelled. Had she done something wrong? Was he angry with her?

  Torquil rose from the bench. “You can take my seat. I’ll go see to the horses.”

  As she sat and served her plate, Ailish watched the big man through the fans of her eyelashes. He hadn’t glanced her way, not even once. What the devil? And after they’d shared the most passionate kiss she’d ever imagined. Did he think her a harlot for letting him kiss her last eve?

  How dare he? Sir James kissed me, not the other way around.

  His aloofness needled her to no end. How could he have been so passionate and completely flip his manner within a few hours?

  When Sir James stood, his gaze met hers for the briefest of moments before sweeping across the hall. “Eat your fill but do not dawdle. I’ll see you ladies outside anon.”

  “But we’ve only just started,” said Coira.

  “Wheesht,” Ailish snapped, her good spirits completely dissolved. “We won’t be but a moment.”

  “He seems rather cantankerous this morn,” the maid whispered as Sir James walked out the door.

  “His pallet was most likely as hard as stone. I’ll wager he didn’t sleep a wink.” The man had slept on a hard floor, and she had awakened him—unless he went about kissing women in his sleep. “I only hope I don’t have to ride with the beastly curmudgeon,” she added while the porridge churned in her belly. Oh, how she’d been looking forward to curling against Sir James’ powerful chest and enjoying his warm breath upon her neck. But everything had changed as soon as she’d stepped into the hall.

  But why?

  After they’d finished their meal, paid their respects to Mr. Cunningham, and headed outdoors, Ailish looked twice at the horses the men had assembled. With Torquil and Caelan, there were five riders, but only four mounts with saddles and the mule was packed with stores.

  James grasped her elbow. “Not to worry, Sister. Erloch has
given us a garron pony for Coira to ride, and you’ll be doubling with me as before.”

  “I could double with her.”

  He gave her a leg up onto the palfry. “You could, but mine’s the larger mount. We’ll travel faster if you ride with me.”

  She glared down at him. “I’ll have you know I am an excellent horsewoman.”

  “Did I say you were not?”

  Ailish pursed her lips. He hadn’t said as much, but she reasoned if he had his druthers he’d prefer not to have her ride with him. He most likely was concerned with moving as fast as possible and rued the fact they’d be sharing the warhorse. After all, the sooner they reached Lincluden the sooner he’d be rid of her.

  7

  A tic at the back of James’ jaw annoyed him like flies in a privy. And it had everything to do with how miserable he felt about grousing at Lady Ailish this morn. But it had to be done. Each of them had lost their sense of duty in the wee hours of the night. No matter how much he wanted to tilt that lovely chin his way and devour her with kisses, he must not.

  After Ailish returned to her bed last eve, he’d felt like an unmitigated arse. He hadn’t slept, either.

  James had no business wooing a proper lady—aye, a tryst with a widow or an alehouse wench might suffice, but Her Ladyship was neither of those. She was the daughter of an earl, and the eldest to boot. Obviously, the Bruce wanted to ensure her safe passage to protect her virtue, not for James to take it. And to make matters worse, she was traveling in a nun’s disguise. Riding off into the thicket and having a wee roll in the grass was out of the question, no matter how much his cock throbbed every time she moved her shapely backside.

  Aye, sharing a mount was pure agony. Having Lady Ailish so close and being unable to embrace her had already twisted his heart into knots. Yet, in no way would he allow her to ride with anyone else. Especially Torquil. And though Coira might be a splendid lady’s maid, she wasn’t equipped to protect the lass.

  At least he felt a bit more confident riding in a star formation with Torquil taking up the rear. Coira and Caelan rode at the flanks with the palfry in the lead. And being a good five and twenty miles west of Stirling, they were well and truly beyond the reaches of any English troops. This was Bishop Wishart’s territory and, thus far, Edward’s men had given the burgh a wide berth.

  Thus far.

  It was nearly midday and the lass riding in front of him hadn’t uttered a word since they set out this morning. Even though Lady Ailish’s posture reflected angry tension, every time James inhaled, he bathed in her scent. And the woman’s alluring perfume drove him to the brink of madness. Never before had he wanted to take a lass into his arms as much as he wanted Lady Ailish now. If only he could dig in his spurs and make love to her in a fortress of peace—a place free from war, where the sun shone every day.

  But such a place did not exist. At the moment, James did not even have a chamber to call his own let alone a humble shieling in the Highlands. And if it hadn’t been for Bishop Lamberton’s generous gift celebrating James’ knighthood, he wouldn’t even own the warhorse beneath them.

  A wisp of her hair slipped from under her veil and swept across his face. He shifted his reins to one hand and wound the tress around his finger. Bringing it to his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled. The winsome fragrance made his heart squeeze all the more. He glanced over his shoulder. The others were far enough back, if he kept his voice low, he could try to calm the waters without being overheard.

  “Are you looking forward to rejoining your kin?” he asked.

  Ailish immediately stiffened as if his question riled her. “There’s no need to make idle chat.”

  James unwound the lock of hair and let it drop. “No, there isn’t.”

  “Hmph.”

  If only she’d allow him to tighten his arms around her and urge her to recline against his chest as she’d done the day before. But showing her how much he cared would only cause hardship for them both in the long run.

  “I’d like to meet Harris and Florrie,” he whispered, trying again. She might be angry with him, but he didn’t want a rift between them when he left her with her kin. At least there was no harm in attempting to rebuild the wee friendship they’d begun.

  “They’re both sweet dear ones,” she replied. “Neither of them deserves to be orphaned, hiding behind the walls of a nunnery.”

  “Nor do you.”

  She turned her head and glared up at him with those bonny yet unnerving ice-blue eyes. “No, I do not.”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “I’m glad we have that settled.”

  “Aye.”

  He ground his molars as she faced forward again and laced her fingers through the palfry’s mane. She fashioned the coarse hair into a plait, mussed it, and started again, her fingers working furiously.

  “I’m sorry for being a mutton heid this morn.”

  “Och, so ye own to it, do you?” Ailish’s fingers stilled as she leaned out and glanced back to the other riders. “You kissed me,” she whispered. “Then come dawn, you acted like I was a harlot.”

  “Nay. It was not you at whom my ire was directed.”

  “It did not seem as such to me.”

  “Forgive me. I cursed myself for…”

  She waited while an air of awkward expectation swelled between them. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Are ye going to tell me why you transformed from Lancelot into Mordred in a matter of hours or nay?”

  He chuckled at her metaphor. “We are both tasked with duty to king and clan. You pledged an oath to your father to protect your brother. And I have been assigned with the forming of an army to defend our border.”

  “No small task.”

  “You are right there.”

  “Where will you find men to support you? We’ve been at war for so long, Scotland’s sons are either dead or bone weary.”

  “Och, that doesn’t sound like the spirited lass who impersonated a nun and traveled to Scone to pledge fealty for a king who some consider an outlaw in his own realm.”

  She gave him a sardonic leer. “Was that your attempt to make amends? I woke this morn floating like a soap bubble but someone below stairs took his eating knife and made it vanish with a single barb.”

  “Ye do have a way with words.”

  “And you haven’t answered my question. Where are you planning to find your army?”

  “They’ll come. Caelan and Torquil are just the beginning. Once I make it known I’ve taken up the sword in the name of Robert Bruce, my clansmen will stand behind me for certain.”

  “You sound confident.”

  “I am confident. Like you, I was orphaned at a young age. My kin sent me to Bishop Lamberton to shelter me from the English. They kent I’d receive a fine education and train to become a knight like my da. Though I left fighting, I now realize there was wisdom in their actions.”

  “Aye,” she said on a sigh. “I’ve never seen a man wield a sword with as much ferocious passion as the likes of you.”

  “Is that a kind way of telling me I’m brutish?”

  “Nay. The way you fight reminds me of the legends of William Wallace. The question is…”

  “Hmm?”

  “Whether or not you have his heart.”

  James gulped. Indeed, he believed he had such a heart. He’d pledged his life to Scotland and the king and he would rid the land of Edward’s vermin or die. Now he just needed to prove it to her.

  They rode in silence for a time as he reflected on the enormity of the task he was to undertake. For the past ten years, he’d been driven by the intense desire to take back his father’s lands. He’d lived, breathed, and trained with an ever-growing hatred for the English king, knowing in his blood he would have vengeance. He needed to prove it to himself. Prove it to clan and kin. And when Robert the Bruce stepped forward to take the Scottish crown, James was further galvanized to prove he was worthy to his king. Now, for some reason he did not grasp, it meant the world to him to prove hi
s worth to the wee sable-haired lass he’d only met less than a sennight ago.

  Lady Ailish’s shoulders relaxed with her next exhale. “We both have our crosses to bear, do we not?”

  The woman had no idea exactly how right she was.

  The following day, Ailish decided the only good thing about this journey was having it come to an end. Riding with Sir James was difficult, painful, and frustrating. Yesterday, they’d chatted a bit and it seemed to ease the tension between them a little. But today, nothing had changed. Ailish didn’t want to say goodbye with an awkward misunderstanding dangling between them but knew the inevitable would come within hours.

  It was well after midday and they’d been riding since dawn.

  Trying to think of something clever to say, Ailish bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t tell him that after one silly kiss, she’d been smitten. Such a thing was not only daft, it was trifling.

  She sighed, her head swimming. Oh, what a marvelous kiss it had been. If she ever experienced such rapture again, it would be nothing short of a miracle. In fact, Ailish had no illusions that her stolen kiss in the wee hours would be the one and only reckless indulgence of her lifetime. Hidden behind the walls of a nunnery, there was no chance for her to fall in love. Besides, highborn lassies never actually fell in love. As the king had alluded to in Scone, he might one day arrange for her to marry a nobleman. Then again, who knew how long this war would last? How long would it be before Harris regained their ancestral lands?

  Too long.

  Ailish’s brother was only nine years of age. She’d be an old spinster by the time he no longer needed her.

  Again, she sighed. At least she had the memory of Sir James’ kiss and she would lock it away in her heart for the rest of her days.

  As the horses crested one of Scotland’s rolling hills, a tower caught her eye. “Look. ’Tis Closburn Castle.”

  “We’ll be at the priory in time for the evening meal,” said Coira, sounding immensely thrilled that their journey was coming to an end.