Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel (13 page)

The coveted lands of Skye stretched before Errol’s eyes. He’d been here many times, though not in this exact location. It seemed every generation the clans called for peace, and all the lairds gathered, hoping to gain allies and power, only to fail miserably. Then war broke out again, scattering men to the four corners of the Highlands, in search of vengeance and blood.

He scrutinized his friends Gunn and Liam, knowing they’d have his back through anything. But even three of the most cunning fighters couldn’t stand against a whole clan.

“It seems our benevolent host has forgotten to meet us,” he said on a smirk. Positive they’d landed in the right place, his gaze followed the footpath up the ridge. “Can you walk uphill without me holding yer hand, wee Gunn?” he asked as he walked briskly toward the incline.

Once they reached the top, the stone tower was all the welcome they needed. Armed men were positioned on the wall, and several were posted at the entrance. As if he were an old ally expected for a feast, Errol strutted toward the structure with his hand never far from his sword. As he approached, the redheaded mongrels stared at him with contempt, their weapons at the ready.

“Is this the greeting I get for accepting your master’s invitation?”

“Invitation?” one of the MacDonald guards asked. “More like a summons for a death warrant.”

His partner laughed.

Unaffected by their sarcasm, Errol looked over his shoulder at Liam. “Perhaps Broc’s eyes are failing, for he assured me the MacDonald lasses were comely. All I see is a couple maids with hairy lips and arses.”

Swords were raised for attack. All his pent-up aggression was begging for a reason to unleash. He eyeballed the biggest of the guards, the man’s red hair a sore reminder of what Errol had lost in the girl he loved.

“Since you’re at a serious disadvantage,” Errol said, “I’ll give ye first strike. Try to hit somewhere between my shoulders and thighs.”

“Blasted MacRaes.”

“Fooking MacDonalds,” Gunn fumed between clenched teeth.

“Stand down, Connor,” another red-haired man, a head taller than the other MacDonalds, ordered.

The guards lowered their weapons, and Errol signaled for Gunn and Liam to do the same.

“I am Cian MacDonald, brother to our chieftain and protector of our sacred clan.”

“Errol MacRae,” he said, sizing up his enemy. “I’ll have you know, I never slept with your daughter.”

“No?” Cian asked.

“Nay,” he said with great conviction. “And if you’ll let me have a wee look at the lass to confirm it, we’ll be happy to ride the tide back home before nightfall.”

“Ye’ll be going nowhere, lad,” Cian assured him. “And in the future when you decide to dip your wick, ye might want to look before you leap.”

His men chuckled.

Errol bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. The bastard was baiting him, but Errol would honor his father’s request and remain civil.

“Follow me inside,” Cian murmured, turning and storming away.

Once seated at a table inside the man’s sparsely decorated hall, Errol took a swig of watered-down ale and waited for Cian to present his daughter. He imagined some horse-faced girl he’d turned down for a night of pleasure at a feast, who now wanted revenge. What better way to entrap a future laird?

Gunn and Liam sat on either side of him, also waiting in silence.

Finally, Cian joined them. “Rest assured no one will harm you under my roof. I promised your father you’d have safe passage home, and I am a man of my word.”

“That’s questionable,” Liam muttered under his breath.

Errol shoved his friend’s shoulder. “Apologize to the man.”

Liam’s eyes went wide.

“Do it.”

Liam sighed, then looked at Cian. “I am sorry.”

“Doona question my honor again,” Cian said in a harsh tone, then returned his attention to Errol. “Your reputation precedes you. How many lasses chatter about the skilled Errol MacRae? The greatest lover in the Highlands. Even here amongst the most virtuous girls of the Western Isles, you are a despoiler of women.”

Not in the mood for banter, Errol clenched his fists on the table. “ ’Tis no concern to me what the lasses gossip about. I am here for one reason, to face my accuser. Let her show herself.”

Cian emptied his cup and called for more ale. “True or not, just being accused of such a thing is reason enough for me to cut your prick off and feed it to the vultures.”

Errol scoffed, but jerked uncomfortably on the bench, the very idea of being separated from his manhood painful, to say the least. “Bring forth my accuser.”

“In time,” Cian said. “Drink another cup of ale with me.”

Errol drained his vessel, finding the MacDonald ale as weak as the accusations against him. “My sire sends his tidings, to you and your brother. He wishes you to recognize his generosity by accepting this token of his goodwill.” Errol reached inside the leather pouch tied to his weapon belt and pulled out a purse filled with silver coins. “My father has a charitable heart.” He dropped the purse on the table.

“What are ye saying?” Cian asked, obviously offended. “That my clan canna support themselves?” He frowned at the gift.

“Doona put words in my mouth,” Errol said.

“Then pick your words more carefully,” Cian countered.

“Why are we wasting precious time?” Errol gulped his drink and slammed the cup on the table after he finished it. “Present your daughter, Cian MacDonald. Unless the lass doesna exist and this whole thing was a ruse to get me here under false pretenses. And if that be the case, rest assured the MacRaes and MacKenzies will cross the sea with violence in their hearts.”

Cian’s persistent laughter made Errol want to punch him in the face.

“Yer mistaken,” Cian said. “If I wanted to fight you, Errol MacRae, I’d sail across Loch Duich and knock on your door myself. There are no cowards under my roof, nor liars.”

“But there are men who would cruelly rub salt in someone’s wounds.”

Errol turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice. Much to his amazement, the witch from the cave stood before him, but he said nothing to show he knew her.

“Kateland.” Cian stood up. “I told ye to stay away.”

“And let you torture this man?” She shook her head, then looked at Errol. “ ’Tis good to see again, though I cannot say the circumstances are favorable.”

Errol appreciated her boldness.

“You are welcome here,” she continued. “Especially as a guest of the MacDonald himself.”

“What are you cackling on about, woman?” Cian asked, irritated.

“When were you going to tell me you had a daughter, brother?”

Everyone stood at the appearance of the MacDonald chieftain in the great hall. Flanked by half a dozen bodyguards, the man commanded Errol’s respect.

Cian’s angry gaze rested on Sgùrr. “What have you done?”

“What any loyal kinswoman would do,” the MacDonald said. “Sent word that a bloody murder might take place if I didn’t intercede.”

Cian grimaced. “This is between the woman and me, and the man who seduced my daughter.”

“I dinna—” Errol started.

The MacDonald raised his hand. “Produce my niece. Now.”

Sgùrr rushed to the stairs. “Come, child.”

As the beautiful Aileana descended, Errol’s heart burst. “This canna be,” he said, surging forward. “She is a MacRae. Raised by my people, loved by my father as his own daughter. And now promised to me in marriage.” He wanted to hold and kiss her—make love to her again and again.

Gunn grabbed his arm. “Stay here,” he advised.

Errol shrugged him off, determined to get closer. Seeing her draped in a MacDonald plaid almost infuriated him as much as knowing Broc had kissed her. Every instinct screamed to take possession of what belonged to him. But when their eyes met, Aileana’s wet with tears, something inside him settled. This wasna about his selfish needs or pride. She’d waited all her life to meet her family. This much he knew, for the lass had confided it to him more than once.

And though he despised the MacDonalds, his hatred as innate as his lust for Aileana, he couldn’t deny her bloodline. Standing there with her father and uncle, and likely close relations amongst the guards, he could see with his own eyes they were family.
Blasted fire heads.
Nearly all of them had red hair.

“This is Aileana?” The MacDonald appraised her. “You favor my mother, Meredith Cameron MacDonald—a great lady.”

Aileana curtsied, as respectful and sweet as she’d always been, and it killed Errol to have to stay put. His heart thumped erratically, his palms wet with sweat.

“She is as much a MacDonald as you are a MacRae,” Gunn whispered.

He scowled at his cousin, not needing anyone to point out the obvious.

“Welcome home, child,” the MacDonald said. “I hear you’ve caused quite the commotion, yer father and betrothed squabbling over you like two wretched hounds fighting over a scrap of meat.”

“ ’Twas not my intention,” she said. “All I ever wanted was to know my people.”

The chieftain smiled warmly. “And so you will,
Aileana MacDonald.
”

She had known Errol would be shocked and disappointed once he knew she was a MacDonald. Although the circumstances were beyond her control, he’d possibly blame her. And she’d already sworn to do whatever was necessary to keep him safe. But once she met his confused gaze, it took infinite patience to not run into his arms and whisper how much she loved him. His handsome face reflected the feelings in her own heart. They’d been apart for much too long.

“Aileana,” he called out, disregarding protocol. “Doona be afraid to address me, lass.”

Cian glared at him. “You’ll hold your tongue, MacRae. I havna given you permission to speak to my daughter.”

“She’s lived her whole life not knowing ye,” Errol said. “My clan took her in, sheltered her, clothed and fed her, treated her as one of our own. Do you think your opinion matters to me?”

“It better,” Cian growled, looking infuriated.

Errol’s eyes held a fierceness Aileana had never seen before. It scared her, so she hoped her mother would intercede. Her father was a hotheaded, annoying man. Though she appreciated his protective nature, nothing would stop her from loving Errol. Sgùrr patted her hand.

“Milords,” her mother spoke. “Nothing positive will come from all this posturing. We must accept the unfortunate past and look to the future. My daughter dinna come here to listen to the men in her life quarrel.”

“I accept nothing you’ve done, woman.” Cian said. “Yer hands work malice for the devil himself.”

Sgùrr rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Your black moods taint anyone within reach. You’ll condemn me without answering for your own shortcomings. I did what I thought best for our child. And look at her…” She smiled at Aileana. “I couldna be prouder of how compassionate and lovely she is. Wise beyond her years, and in love with a fine man.”

“ ’Tis a poor excuse,” Cian said. “My only daughter canna marry a MacRae. She must take her rightful place, learn the ways of the MacDonalds, and within time wed a man
I
find suitable.”

“You mean to sacrifice her happiness for a strategic alliance,” her mother countered. “I’d rather die than see it happen.”

“That can be arranged.” Cian pulled a dirk from his weapon belt. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to stab you in the heart?”

Aileana gasped, unable to comprehend why her father would lash out so violently. She stepped in front of Sgùrr, shielding her from his menacing stare. “I am ashamed to be here.”

Laird MacDonald had remained silent, but once his brother threatened violence, he raised his hands. “There will be no bloodshed today,” he said firmly. “Put your weapon away, brother. ’Tis not the homecoming my niece deserves. I must apologize for your father’s temper, Aileana. I’ve kept him away from Dunscaith, where manners are necessary. As for ye, Kateland—we will talk later. I expected better.”

Cian gave an insolent shrug and sheathed the dirk. “And how will we deal with the MacRae miscreant?”

“If the man is such an abomination, why did you invite him here?” the MacDonald asked.

“To punish him.”

That made the laird laugh. “For loving a girl he dinna know was a MacDonald? We may be enemies, but even I acknowledge the debt we owe his family for keeping the girl safe.”

Aileana sighed with relief. “Milord,” she said. “Please let Errol go home. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“I willna leave without you.” Errol took a few steps in her direction. “Not even your chieftain can undo fate—not when the Lord has blessed our union.”

Cian clenched his fists, once again targeting Sgùrr with his wrath. “Why in the hell didn’t you stop this?”

“I prayed for her well-being every day. Do you think another man could make her happy?”

“I doona care about her happiness right now,” he said. “Love is a sentiment she canna afford to worry about. Look what it has gotten her.”

“Stop!” Restraint broke inside Aileana. “I feel like a piece of rope being tugged on from both ends. I am overcome with sadness.” She scanned the room, weighing the moods of her father, mother, the MacDonald, and Errol. “Doona make me choose between you,
please.
” Only one choice existed. Tears burned her eyes as she gazed at Errol.

She had all she’d ever wanted, a man who clearly loved her and a family. But if she couldn’t have both, she’d be forced to pick one destiny. And spending the rest of her life alone and under constant watch from an overbearing father didn’t interest her. She’d rather be an orphan.

“God help me,” she said. “I love all of you. But all I want right now is a chance to speak to Errol. Please, milord.” She faced Laird MacDonald, her bottom lip quivering. “Grant me some time with him. Let us take a walk outside alone. There is much we need to say.”

When Errol’s arm slid around her waist, she nearly let out a cry. Oh, to feel his touch again—the warmth and desire that radiated off his body made her feel so safe and alive.

“I will guard her with my life,” Errol said to the laird.

The MacDonald eyed them both. “Permission granted,” he said. “But doona get any foolish ideas, MacRae, your men are still here. If my niece disappears, I’ll have their bloody heads.”

A muscle in Errol’s jaw tightened as he held on to Aileana. Surrounded by MacDonalds, he knew the chances of getting away unscathed were slim. He’d never unnecessarily risk the lives of his friends, and he blamed himself for the present situation. The chieftain had entrusted his niece to him, but Errol wanted to make sure Liam and Gunn were willing to stand as collateral for her safe return.

He guided Aileana across the room, unwilling to let her go.

“Gunn. Liam. Will ye stay here while I take a walk with Aileana?”

“Aye,” they said in unison.

“Thank you.” He grasped both their shoulders in gratitude, knowing he’d do the same for them.

Settled, he escorted his betrothed out of the keep and down the footpath that led to the shore. The one thing they both needed and deserved was privacy. As soon as he was sure no one had followed, he stopped abruptly, and faced Aileana. As he gazed into her wide, blue eyes, his hand slipping into the thickness of her red hair, the words he wanted to speak didn’t form. Instead, he slanted his mouth over hers, tasting the sweetness he’d feared lost forever to him.

She gripped his arms, returning the kiss with equal desperation.

The time apart had only strengthened his love. “Sweetest, Aileana.” He reluctantly broke away. “Why did you leave?”

“I-I…Oh, Errol.” She clung to him, tremors wracking her tiny frame. “I had no choice. You must believe me.”

She gazed up at him then, lovelier than he’d remembered. It melted his heart. But no matter how hard he tried to banish the doubts he had, he couldn’t forget the evidence he found at home—the two sets of footprints in the snow. “What do you mean?”

“Doona make me tell you,
please.
My existence has already caused so many problems.”

He framed her face between both hands, admiring how vibrant and caring she was. Always concerned with everyone else’s happiness but her own. “Remember what I told you, lass? What hurts you, hurts me. The trust and respect we share is rare. There will be no secrets between us, Aileana. Understand?” He hoped she did.

“Aye.”

“Would it help if I faced the other direction?” He quickly turned around.

“No. I want to see your beautiful face.”

He closed his eyes, loving how openly she praised him. “You think I’m beautiful?” he asked, facing her again.

“Aye—more beautiful than anything on God’s green earth.”

Unable to resist the temptation, he tugged her into his arms, lost in everything she represented. The promise of a happy life and deep love. The soft scent in her hair, the way her wool dress hugged her feminine curves, the warmth of her breath against his skin, and the feel of her body pressed against his made Errol lose his mind. He’d been deprived for too long and cared little for what the MacDonalds would think if he made love to his wife there and now.

For that’s what he considered her. His wife. His love. His whole godforsaken world. Overcome with emotions, he untied the laces on the front of her gown. A cold breeze blew in off the water and he cursed himself for being so absentminded. She’d freeze if he made love to her in the open. Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her deep into the woods, yards away from where they were.

Then he set her gently on her feet and began to undress, spreading his plaid on the ground for her to lie upon. “I willna take no for an answer, lass. I need you. Want you. Love you so desperately I’d kill them all to be with you.”

She stood unblinking, watching him, her gaze drifting down his half-naked body.

“Do you like what you see, lass?”

“Aye, I do.”

Aileana hungered the way he did. From the first kiss they’d shared, to this moment, he could read her thoughts, see the way her body reacted to his.

His chest and throat felt suddenly tight as she finished what he’d started, loosening the laces on the front of her gown and shift, and letting it gape open so her luscious breasts were exposed. Her pink nipples were like tiny pebbles. He swallowed hard, his fingers itching for contact with her pearly flesh.

She hiked her skirt up to her thighs, then sat in the middle of his plaid, spreading her legs wide enough and angling her hips so he caught a hint of the tawny curls that guarded the gates to his paradise.

“Come to me, Errol.”

Wearing only his linen shirt and boots, he lowered himself on top of her and gently pushed her flat on her back, taking one of her hard nipples in his mouth and caressing her face.

He worshipped her breasts with his tongue and hands, loving the way she writhed underneath him, her little mews a reminder of the mutual pleasure they shared. As he crawled slowly down her body, he pressed his thumb between her lips and she sucked on it—lust weaving through him.

Positioned between her slim thighs then, he cupped her arse cheeks, and lifted her, burying his tongue inside her. Sweet heaven—she was so hot and wet for him.

“Errol…”

“Shhh,” he said. “Let me taste you.”

His tongue spiraled over her flesh gently at first, but as her body responded, and the scent and flavor of her excitement overwhelmed him, he used his fingers and mouth to brand her—to remind her where she belonged. With him forever.

“No MacDonald will keep us apart, Aileana. Ye belong to me. Say it, lass.”

“I belong to you.”

“Aye.” It pleased him beyond measure to hear her speak it.

“Milord…” she squealed with delight.

He sucked on her clitoris harder, milking her, until she boiled over with pleasure. Not giving her time to recover, he repositioned himself so their faces were flush, his cock poised at her entrance.

“Love me,” she whispered, her wild gaze pinning his with a look he couldn’t quite define. But it gave him chills. “I’ve thought of little else in this lonely place. I love you.”

He growled then, thrusting so hard, they both cried out in shock as he buried himself deep inside her. His cock throbbed with need. And as her tight flesh squeezed him like an angry fist, he pumped his hips harder and harder. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Errol kissed her soft lips, thumbing the tears away, silently vowing to never let anything or anyone make her sad again.

“Mine,” he reminded her.

“Yours,” she reassured him. “And you belong to me as well.”

“Aye,” he said. “Half a heart canna survive in this cruel world.” He sat up, lifting her heels to his shoulders so he could watch her come undone beneath him.

This is how life should be—the world locked out, and only Errol and his ladylove left to explore the depth of their feelings. As he thrust again, he threw his head back and roared like a beast, filling her with his seed, knowing she’d be his forever.