The Highlander's Iron Will: A Highland Defender Novella Page 6

  “Let me kiss you, Skye of Clan Iain Abrach.”

  She drew in an unsteady breath. “But what of the morrow? What happens when you mount your horse and ride back to your da’s lands? What of our kisses then?”

  His lips parted while his tongue moistened his bottom lip. Heaven help her, it was all she could do not to slide her fingers to his neck and close the distance. “Ah,” he said, pulling away, the movement making Skye’s hand slide down the wall of his abdomen. “It would be irresponsible of me to shower you with promises I cannot keep.”

  She gulped and pulled her fingers away, crossing her arms tightly as if the gesture would protect her from her own hot-blooded emotions. “Ours is a forbidden fondness.”

  Grazing his teeth over his bottom lip, Mr. Campbell’s expression grew softer. “Forbidden and impossible and I would never want to do anything to hurt you.”

  “You already have.” Skye lowered her hands to push to her feet, but he stopped her.

  “Stay.”

  “But—”

  “We mightn’t have a future together. But honestly, who kens what the future will bring. I’m an officer in King William’s army. I could be called to Flanders on the morrow and shot dead the day I set foot in France.”

  Her resolved waned. Why did everything have to be so confusing? Skye rocked back and raked her fingers through her hair. “You mustn’t talk like that.”

  “No? Not when ’tis true?” He fingered a lock of her hair and held it to his nose. “I have faced Hugh MacIain in battle, sword against sword. Who was right and who was wrong? He stole Glenlyon’s stallion and afore that, the captain stole a dozen head of cattle from the MacIain’s grazing lands up the Devil’s Staircase.”

  She shook her head. “It all sounds so senseless when you put it like that.”

  “Highland feuding is senseless. And do you think King William is going to allow it to continue when he needs conscripts to man his war in France?”

  “No, and that’s why the clan chiefs are signing the oath of fealty.”

  “Aye, after they received an order to do so from the exiled King James.”

  “But why should treaties and wars concern us? No king of England, Scotland and Ireland ever lifted a finger to help MacIains put food on the table or to clothe our children. All they want is our young men to fight their battles and die far away from their kin. They leave widows and orphans who pine at home whilst they beg for alms.” Skye buried her face in her hands. “I hate war and feuds.”

  “’Tis the way of it,” the lieutenant said so softly, she barely heard him. He rubbed his hand across her shoulders. “If it is any consolation, I’m of like mind. Perhaps there’ll come a time when MacIain faces Campbell and shakes hands in true friendship.”

  Skye grasped the braw soldier’s hand, then turned and faced him, pressing his fingers over her heart so he might feel the fervent beating that thundered in her breast. “I am taking your hand in this moment, Mr. Campbell. In this moment, we are but a man and a woman. There is no clan standing between us, no arms preventing you from feeling the rhythm of my heart. Am I not flesh and blood just as you are?”

  His gaze met hers with a force that shot like an arrow through her blood. “You and I are kindred spirits no matter the men who sired us. Please, please call me Kier.”

  Before she could respond, he closed his mouth over hers while a bone-melting fire spilled through her soul. Merely the pressure of his mouth against hers gripped her heart and made it soar. This wasn’t a stolen kiss in the wee hours of the night. This was a declaration of life and liberty between two tortured lovers who could never be. Even though they could never share a life together, she threw herself into the passion coursing between them and met his lips with the hunger of the starved.

  She sighed as he trailed kisses down her neck, wanting more, wanting to feel everything this man had to give. Her one regret? If only they were truly alone, she could cry out with joy.

  Chapter Seven

  Kier cradled Skye while she nestled into his chest. His eyelids grew heavy and he reclined against the wall as he watched her sleep. Her face was so smooth and pure, he imagined angels looked like her. His chest swelled with the myriad of emotions thrumming with his every breath. Though he was a lieutenant and second in charge, Glenlyon still hadn’t informed them of their purpose. Aye, they were awaiting Colonel Hill’s orders, but surely the captain had an idea of their next move.

  With dozens of clans yet to sign the oath of fealty to King William, it was reasonable that troops would be stationed along the western shore of the Highlands where the unruliest clans lived. Clans like the Camerons, the MacDonells, the MacDonalds and the most notorious of all, the MacIains. Indeed, Kier had firsthand experience with the latter. Clan Iain Abrach was the most flagrant, riotous mob of thieves in all of Scotland.

  And there he sat with one of their daughters in his arms and he was completely smitten. It had been all he could do just to kiss the lass and restrain his hot Campbell urges. Och aye, Campbells were not entirely the righteous, honorable noblemen they purported themselves to be. They, too, lived by a code of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. When the MacIains raided, Campbells repaid in kind…though they twisted the law to their side and undertook every underhanded action to ensure they gained power with the incumbent monarch. They were as much whores to the realm as MacIains were pirates.

  A loud snore rumbling from the box bed snapped Kier from his thoughts. He smoothed his palm over Skye’s silken tresses and kissed her temple. If only he weren’t in the army, he might take the lass and sail away to the Americas and find a home where birthright didn’t matter.

  But soon the cottage would stir and if Skye’s parents found the lass asleep in Kier’s arms there’d be hell to pay. “Skye,” he whispered.

  She didn’t move. Just continued to slumber like an angel.

  Kier looked to the bed. If he carried her across the floor and hoisted her to the top, he’d run a great risk of waking Jimmy and Sineag. On the opposite wall, Tommy appeared to be cozy enough on his pallet, and it would be like Skye to slip down and tend her brother in the night. Making his decision, Kier gathered the lass in his arms and carried her over to the boy. Gently he rested her on her side and kissed her again. Then he took his tartan blanket and draped it over her.

  After he slipped back to his own pallet, Kier rested, content he’d done the right thing.

  But his contentment was short lived.

  It seemed like he’d been asleep for two minutes when a great deal of shouting tore him from a pleasant dream. In the blink of an eye, Kier hopped to his feet, facing the ire of Mistress Sineag and the woman’s bright red face. She shoved his blanket into his chest. “Exactly what, pray tell was this doing atop my daughter?”

  Skye looked stricken. “Ma—”

  “And, you, young lady. What in heaven’s name prompted you to sneak down from your bed when there is a Campbell dragoon sleeping in the cottage?”

  “This is scandalous!” Jimmy bellowed, springing from the box bed and wrapping a kilt around his hips. “I kent bringing a Campbell backstabber into my home would come to no good. Good God, strolls around the grounds and now this?”

  Kier threw up his palms. “I have no idea what you think happened here last eve, but I assure you, your daughter’s virtue is still intact.”

  Skye dashed across the floor and flung her arms around him. “Kier is right. He has acted honorably.”

  Mistress Sineag’s face grew redder. “You call him familiar and embrace him?” She drew the back of her hand to her forehead. “Lord save me, I shall have one of my spells.”

  Jimmy grabbed Skye by the arm and yanked her away from Kier with such force, she stumbled to her knees. “Never touch that man again.” He shifted a hateful gaze to the lieutenant. “Get out, ye scoundrel. If you weren’t a guest of the laird, I’d skin you alive I would!”

  Kier bowed and hastened to collect his things. Before leaving, he faced them. “Forgive
my impertinence, sir. My only concern was Miss Skye’s comfort.”

  “Never come back!” the matron yelled as Kier pushed out the door.

  “Mr. Campbell!” Skye called after him, her voice shrill.

  Marching away, Kier stopped for a moment and listened.

  “He did nothing but put a blanket over my shoulders and you accused him of taking advantage?” Skye’s voice was filled with vinegar. “You are contemptable. How dare you fault me? I am a grown woman and fully capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Oh, you think so, do you now?” said Jimmy.

  Kier had heard enough. The lass would be fine. In a couple of days her parents would forgive her and all would be forgotten. Good Lord, how would they have reacted if they’d found him kissing the lass? He strode toward the marching paddock. This was for the best. He knew as he cradled her in his arms last eve that his actions had been wrong. The whole bloody affair was wrong. Hell, it wasn’t even an affair. It was more like an inexplicable attraction. Christ, men had been attracted to women they shouldn’t throughout history. Look at Helen of Troy and the bumbling mess that made.

  ***

  Skye spent the next few days stewing. One moment she’d be so enraged she could spit and the next, the burden of guilt would creep up her spine and make her refrain from speaking her mind. She had no idea how she’d ended up on the pallet next to Tommy that night. Only Kier could have moved her there and the proof was the blanket covering her shoulders. Her parents hated Campbells so much they couldn’t stand the thought of their daughter having any sort of friendship with one.

  Worse, it seemed every time Skye looked out the window of the weaver’s shop she saw Kier marching his men. When she ran errands, she inevitably bumped into him. Having him in Glencoe was tearing her apart on the inside. She couldn’t even say hello without turning heads. And yet, after twelve days, Captain Campbell of Glenlyon still hadn’t received his miserable orders. He’d most likely never receive orders. The regiment would be billeted to Glencoe forever. They’d end up building a fort in the laird’s courtyard and Skye would grow old pining for Kier, throwing him forlorn looks and listening to endless chiding by Mistress NicGilleasbuig and Ma.

  Sweeping the floor where Kier’s pallet had been, the broom brushed something shiny. Skye looked up to see if anyone had noticed. Da sat smoking his pipe and whittling a stick while Ma sat darning socks. Because Tommy’s ankle was still healing, the lad was still using the pallet by the hearth. He was playing with a set of soldiers Da had whittled ages ago. Skye bent down and brushed the dirt off the object, recognizing it at once. It was the miniature of Kier’s mother. Turning toward the wall, Skye picked it up and slipped it into her pocket just as a knock came at the door.

  After a long pause, Ma looked to Da. “Are you planning to answer yet this eve?”

  “A man cannot enjoy a moment’s peace.” Grumbling, the old man set his tools aside and lumbered to the door.

  “Good evening, Jimmy,” said a deep voice—though not Kier’s voice.

  “Hugh.” Da sounded delighted. “To what do we owe this kindly visit?”

  “My father has requested Miss Skye come sing for his dinner guests at the manse, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “Sing for Alasdair?” Ma scurried to the door. “It would be no trouble at all. Come, Skye. You mustn’t keep the laird waiting.”

  She glanced down at her dirty apron. “But I look a fright.”

  Huffing, Ma strode over and pinched Skye’s cheeks. “You look lovely, dear. You always do.” She pulled the apron tie. “Let’s just slip this off and pat down those flyaways.”

  As Hugh escorted her to the manse, Skye’s mind raced. He didn’t say much and seemed to be preoccupied, which suited her just fine. “Who are the laird’s guests?” she finally asked.

  “Same as they have been for nearly a fortnight now. Glenlyon and his officers.”

  Her stomach jumped. That meant Kier would be there. With luck, she might be able to return his miniature. Perhaps she’d happen upon the chance to apologize for her parents’ abhorrent behavior as well.

  Hugh opened the door and gestured toward the dining hall. Skye had never been a guest there, but had been a servant before she started working in the weaver’s shop. The laird’s laughter resounded through the corridor.

  “Sounds like he’s making merry,” Skye said.

  “Or giving a good pretense of it.” Hugh straightened and walked ahead. “We’re in luck, gentlemen. Miss Skye has agreed to sing for us.”

  Alasdair MacIain clapped his hands. “Good on you, lass.”

  She stepped around Hugh, looking at the long table set with fine dinnerware and delicate goblets filled with wine.

  “Aye,” said Captain Glenlyon giving her the once-over with his shifty eyes. “I so enjoyed your performance at the gathering, I’d hoped to listen again afore my orders arrive.”

  Skye nodded, panning her gaze across the faces until she met Kier’s intense midnight blues. The corners of her mouth turned up as he gave her a friendly nod.

  This time, she filled with confidence as she sang a Celtic love song. Though she tried to remain impartial and shift her gaze to each guest, by the end of the ballad, the only man in the room became Kier Campbell and the intensity of his devilish stare. At least until the applause. In a blink, Skye snapped her gaze away and bowed her head.

  “Och, aye the lass has a set of pipes,” said Glenlyon, practically clapping louder than the laird.

  Kier applauded politely with a broad smile. “Thank you, Miss Skye. Your song has been the highlight of the evening.”

  “Indeed, it has,” said Alasdair. “Shall we retire to the drawing room for pipe and a dram of whisky?”

  Glenlyon stood, rubbing his skeletal fingers. “That and a round of cards.”

  All of the men followed suit, ignoring Skye and moving out the door. All but Kier. He strode up to her and gave a polite bow. “Have you an escort home, miss?”

  She looked for Hugh, but he’d also left with the others. “No, but I’m afraid my parents would be furious if you walked me home, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, well, I’ll not allow you to go alone, especially not when the troops have liquored up in the brewhouse.”

  Again she looked beyond him. “Will you not be missed?”

  He batted his hand through the air. “Not by Glenlyon, though Hugh MacIain might have something to say come morning.”

  “I can go back to the kitchen and see if someone there might be so kind.”

  He offered his elbow. “Come. Besides, I wanted us to part on more pleasant terms.”

  She didn’t take it. “Part? Have you received news as to your deployment?”

  “Not yet, but Glenlyon expects a missive any day now.”

  He tapped her shoulder, urging her forward but Skye held up her finger. “I almost forgot.” She reached into her pocket. “I found this whilst sweeping the floor.”

  “Ma’s miniature.” He grinned. “I thought it was lost.”

  “You wouldn’t want to lose a keepsake such as that.”

  “Thank you.” He gestured toward the door. “Let us make haste afore someone decides that having a Campbell escort a MacIain lass home is a sacrilege.”

  Outside, a blast of frigid air made Skye shiver. “Heavens, I’ll be happy when spring comes.”

  “I think we all will.” He removed his cloak. “Here. Wear this.”

  “No need.” She hastened toward the weaver’s shop. “I’ll borrow an extra blanket.”

  “Isn’t it locked?”

  “What on earth for?”

  “Something could be stolen.”

  “From the laird? Mayhap on Campbell lands, but I assure you, a MacIain would never steal from a MacIain.”

  Kier chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Skye opened the door and stepped inside while warmth enveloped her. “The coals are still bright in the hearth.” A crackle of anticipation coursed across her
skin as he moved behind her. His aura made her shiver even though it wasn’t cold inside. Oh no, she didn’t need to turn around to feel his looming presence.

  “Then we shan’t need to light a candle.”

  “The blankets are over here.” Again he followed and as Skye reached for a blanket, his hand slipped to her waist.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through her entire body.

  “I’ve missed you as well.” She clutched a blanket to her chest, trying to breathe. “The past few days have been torturous.”

  “They have.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him dip his head. His warm breath skimmed her neck right before he kissed her. Light, feathery kisses trailed across her nape while his strong hands slid around her waist. “Why is it I cannot stop myself from thinking of you every waking hour?”

  “You, as well?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Dear God, bonny Skye. I am tortured by your beauty, by your kindness and your strength of spirit. Ever since I walked away from your cottage, I have thought of nothing else but you.”

  Closing her eyes. Skye dropped the blanket and clutched her hands atop his arms. “What is it between us?”

  “I only know that I have never felt like this before.”

  “Nor I.”

  She let him turn her around and pull her into his embrace. He claimed her mouth with deep, wondrous swirls of his tongue. Melting into him, Skye greedily returned his kiss, sliding her hands to his back and clinging to him for her very life. His chest molded to her breasts, his hips to her hips, making a hot yearning deep inside blast into an unquenchable fire. She met him rub for rub, yet it wasn’t enough.