The Fearless Highlander (Highland Defender Book 1) (28 page)

“You’ve grown weak. Now come again,” Hugh swung his sword in an arc and beckoned Tavis with a flick of his fingers.

“I’m not bloody weak, you blind bloodhound.” Baring his teeth, the young warrior raised the old, two-handed sword and lunged in with a downward strike.

Hugh countered, their blades clanging with reverberating force. Locked in a battle of wills, the steel screeched until their cross guards met. “Now you’re showing a wee bit of vim, you milk-livered swine.”

“I’ll knock you on your arse afore this is finished,” Tavis grunted through clenched teeth.

Hugh sidestepped as they circled. Lord, it felt good to have a sword in his hand and expel his pent-up hostilities. “In your dreams, young pup.”

“Hugh,” Og’s voice came from behind. “You’ll never believe what’s coming up the pass.” Thank God the tone in his brother’s voice was one of bewilderment rather than urgency.

He gave Tavis a nod, pressing him backward before lowering his weapon. “I take it Glenlyon isn’t leading an army to finish us off?”

“Come. There’s a flock of sheep heading our way.” Og swiftly led them up the crag to the northern lookout.

Hugh stepped to the edge of the cliff. Heading for their secret hiding place, the bleats from a mob of sheep kissed his ears like angel’s bells. Thick wool covered their backs. Aye, the ewes and weathers would soon need to be shorn—a gift from heaven for certain. “I’ll be damned.”

“They’re driving them straight up the pass,” said Tavis, pointing. “Och, is that Miss Charlotte bringing up the rear?”

Lord in heaven, Hugh wouldn’t mistake her outline for anything. His chest tightened until he could scarcely suck in a breath, his skin perspired, a hot bolt of longing made him instantly hard.

Damnation
.

He’d tried to ignore his feelings of loss after he’d sent her away—tried to work harder, relentlessly driving his men, preparing them for the possibility of another attack. But seeing Charlotte sitting erect in the saddle looking up the hill while the sunlight caught her face hit him between the eyes like he’d been stunned. The vision brought more emotion than any raucous sparring session could have prepared him for—and he’d given Tavis a walloping. But one glimpse at Charlotte and Hugh’s knees buckled as if he’d been delivered a blow to the gut. His fingers twitched to touch her, to wrap her in his arms and inhale the heady scent of woman. God, he’d missed her, wanted her, craved her.

Blinking, Hugh shook his dazed head and regained a modicum of sanity. Why was she riding with a mob of drovers bringing sheep up the mountain?
Devil’s bones, what has she been up to?

“Aye, ’tis Miss Charlotte for certain,” said Og. “But why the bloody hell isn’t she leading a herd of cattle?”

Hugh thwacked his brother with a backhand. “If I hear anyone utter one spiteful word against her, I’ll cut out their tongue and eat it for breakfast.”

Og made a show of clutching his chest and shuffling backward. “Christ, Hugh. You’re a wee bit sensitive about the lass, are you not?”

“Wheesht.” He didn’t need an opinionated brother’s snide remarks. “Tavis, go tell the women we’ll have guests for the evening meal. Og, we’ll give them a Highland welcome—if you can manage to keep your off-color comments to yourself.”

“I was just saying cattle would be preferable to sheep.”

“Shut it.” Hugh gave his brother another smack. “Damnation, we’re in no position to barter, you bleeding milksop.”

Climbing down the hillside, a tightness gripped his chest. Ballocks, why did Charlotte have to be his Good Samaritan? This whole thing didn’t feel right. If any Highlander in Scotland had given him a small flock to help set the clan back to rights, he’d be kicking up his heels. But to see Charlotte riding behind the lambs didn’t sit well. What the devil? Lord knew he would move heaven and earth to be with her, but as clan chief—hell, as a man, he needed to be the one to provide. He needed to make a proper home for her—not the other way around. Aye, it might take a few years, but he would regain his lands and rebuild Glencoe.

By the time they arrived at the pass, the entire clan had assembled, clapping their hands, their faces rapt with joy for the first time in what seemed like a hundred years.

Damnation
.

“I can taste the roast lamb now.” Young Lachlan smacked his lips.

Hugh frowned. “We do not yet ken if the flock is intended for us.”

“’Tis ours.” The lad pointed with more surety than he ought. “Miss Charlotte has brought them for us.”

A twitch fired at the corner of Hugh’s eye.

Bonnie clapped her hands and pressed praying fingers to her lips. “Aye, thank heavens for Charlotte Hill. Indeed, she is a saint among women.”

“Och aye?” Hugh gaped at the woman. “And it wasn’t so long ago you were telling her she didn’t belong with us.”

Bonnie’s round face flushed bright red.

“Mayhap you’ve had a change of heart?” Hugh didn’t wait for her to respond. The clan hadn’t treated Charlotte well and now the lass had appeared with alms he expected from no man.

The children ran to the pack mules, squealing around Miss Charlotte, asking if she’d brought them any sweets. Hell, they surrounded her horse, making her stop. She grinned at every one of them. “I’ve brought blankets and clothing mostly. Perhaps there’s a pair of shoes that might fit.”

“Och, I don’t need shoes now ’tis spring,” said Lachlan—the cheeky beggar.

Hugh strode forward and reached for her gelding’s bridle. “You all leave Miss Charlotte be. She’s had a long ride and needs her rest.”

His gaze strayed to her face. Blessed be Mary and all the saints, a pure rose never looked so radiant. How could she be more beautiful than he remembered? And Lord knew he’d remembered her as the bonniest lass he’d ever laid eyes upon. Her healthy smile brightened the entire world and the corner of Hugh’s mouth tuned up like a simpleton. “What is all this?”

“My dowry.” She grinned even wider. “At least a portion of it.”

Hugh couldn’t stop the concerned pinch of his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“Help me down and I’ll explain.” She stretched her arms out.

Clumsy as a wet-eared lad, Hugh reached for her waist, so small, his thumbs touched. Why in God’s name did he feel like a pubescent lad? Hell, his heart could stop its damned fluttering right now.

As soon as his hands held her firmly in his grasp, everything around them vanished. It took such little effort to lift her from her sidesaddle. Drawing her to his chest, his senses honed, awash with a scent more heavenly than lilacs. As she slid down his body, he groaned at the friction. Soft, exquisite breasts plied his chest and molded to it like a well-worn doublet. God, she felt so good, he could haul her into the rushes right there and then.

Hugh slipped his arms around her back, clutching her to his body. Pink, bow-shaped lips pouted only inches from his. “God, I’ve missed you,” he growled.

Her sultry gaze dipped to his lips. “Not a moment has passed where I haven’t longed to be in your arms again.” Lord in heaven, her voice was every bit as honeysuckle sweet and soft as it had been the first time he’d heard it.

Heaven help him, she turned his entire body to fire and molten iron. Slipping a hand up her neck, he cradled her head and captured those delectable lips in a kiss. She tasted delicious—beyond delicious—warm and sugary like a hot apple tart overflowing with rich cream. God, he wanted to devour her. His hand slid down to her buttocks and pulled her mons flush against his cock. Holy Moses, he was already harder than an axe handle. He thrust against her—feeling her feminine parting through her skirts. The past two months of suppressing his need for the bonny lass came to a boil and Hugh had no intention of stopping.

With a gentle moan, Charlotte tugged her lips away. “A few more inches and my feet might touch the ground.”

His knees buckled at the sound of her steamy voice.

Hugh blinked, the peals of laughter from the others rang in his ears. Had he really almost lost his senses in front of his clan? Bloody oath, he’d lived like a monk for too long. Letting out a nervous chuckle, he eased her down his body. “You feel too good to be real.”

Her eyebrows shot up and a pink tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth. Devil’s bones, did she know what that coy look did to a man?

“Perhaps we should take a walk?” he suggested before he really did something to embarrass himself. And bloody oath, the lass had learned fast. From the waggle of her brows, the lass kent exactly what she was doing. It only took a wee look to seduce him and turn him into a lovesick fool.

Regaining a modicum of control, he took her hand and addressed his men with a stern clear of his throat. “Offload the mules and portion the supplies to those most in need.” He looked to Charlotte. “When must you return?”

Farley stepped up. “The horses need rest. I’d be much obliged if we could stay the night.”

“Of course.” Hugh’s heart skipped a beat. He’d be able to hold Charlotte in his arms for an entire night afore they had to turn back?

“I intend to stay,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Farley gaped. “But—”

“I believe Miss Charlotte and I have matters to discuss.” What the hell did she mean about staying? She couldn’t stay. Not yet. Nonetheless, Hugh could hardly wait to spirit her away and have her to himself. “Welcome to all and my thanks. Og, kill the fattest lamb. We’ll roast it over the fire and feast this eve.”

When Hugh squeezed the lady’s hand, he wanted nothing more than to forget his lot in life and enjoy the cool spring day before the sunset. But her surprise appearance needed answers for certain. “Are you up for a wee climb?”

She nodded. “Anything to stretch my legs after an entire day in the saddle.”

Holding her hand brought on another stampede of raw emotion. Lord, he’d forgotten the silkiness of her skin, and how fine-boned she was. Like a well-bred filly. Hugh’s palms perspired, his tongue went dry—if only he’d known she was coming, he would have cleaned up a bit. “I cannot believe you’re here.”

“’Tis wonderful to be back.” She blessed him with a smile—one that reflected the same restlessness making his heartbeat thrum across his skin.

Leading her up a steep path, he held tight to her hand and grasped her elbow in the jagged places. He took her to a pool that had only recently thawed. Surrounded by trees, water trickled into it via a burn from the mountain above, and flowed out with the tinkling harmony of a waterfall. And across, his most recent project—a shieling he hoped to share with her one day—though it only had the makings of stone walls and a frame for the roof.

Mossy green tipped the trees with leaves that had only begun to bloom. But green moss hung from their dormant limbs, giving them a bit more privacy.

“This is beautiful.” Her eyes brightened when she peered across the pond. “Are you building?”

Hugh slapped a dismissive hand through the air. “’Tis only a ruin.” He didn’t want her to know he’d thought of her while he set every single stone in place—while he’d stripped the timbers of bark and lashed them into place with strips of hardened leather he’d made from the hides of the animals that had kept his kin fed.

Moving behind Charlotte, Hugh slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled into her slender neck. “I will not be able to drink in enough of you afore you leave on the morrow.”

She turned her head toward him, those violet eyes enormous as she peered up at his face from under long lashes. “Did you not hear me? I have no intention of returning.”

“Your father agreed?”

“No.” She looked away. “But by the saints, I am a woman full grown. I should be allowed to make my own decisions.”

Hugh’s back tensed. “Should I expect an attack?”

“Heavens, no.” She stepped away, wringing her hands. “Papa is in Inverness. We…we argued and he said he would send me back to London upon his return.” She spun around and faced him. “I’ve been collecting alms for your clan for weeks at the Inverlochy market. I told him we must soon deliver them to you, and he launched into a tirade—said you are wrong for me.” With a gasp, she hid her face in her hands.

Lord knew, the colonel was right, but that still didn’t give her father the right to crush her dreams.
Thank God she still loves me
. Hugh swirled his palm across her shoulders. “Everything will work out for the best. I ken it will.”

She shook her head and faced him. “He said that I am a ruined woman and my only hope to be saved is to find a husband in London.” She shook her fists. “I hate him for that.”

A chasm in Hugh’s heart stretched wide. Dammit all, her father was right. There she stood, wearing a fine gown and cloak—the likes of which he might never be able to afford. How could he provide for such a jewel? Aye, he wanted Charlotte more than life itself, but that didn’t make it right. She would suffer. He could never ask her to give up her fine things, her life of luxury for him—a fallen man. “And the sheep? Where did they come from?”

“As I said, I paid for them with money from my dowry.”

He frowned. “Charlotte, aren’t fathers to decide how dowry funds should be used?”