Highland Hero

SCOTTISH KISS

Kenneth gently grasped Isbel by the shoulders and pulled her close, smiling faintly when he felt her trembling beneath his hands. “Isbel, did ye truly come to find your cat?”

“Do you really wish to hear the truth?” she asked in a soft, unsteady voice.

“Aye, I have always favored the truth,” he murmured and touched a kiss to her forehead.

“Nay, I didnae come to find the cat.”

“What did ye come to find?” He cupped her face between his hands and brushed a kiss over her faintly parted lips.

“Another kiss,” she whispered.

“Isbel, my sweet child of the faeries, if I kiss you, ’twill nae end there.”

“I am nay an innocent. I ken what the kiss could lead to.”

“There will be no
could
about it. It will lead to a bedding. Ye pulled away from the first kiss we shared and I let you. I cannae promise I will let ye free this time. Not unless ye put up a verra loud protest.”

“I willnae put up a loud one.” She curled her arms around his neck. “I dinnae think I will be inclined to even whisper one.”

“Before we start to play this game, honor demands that I tell ye a few rules. I cannae promise ye I will stay—” He frowned when she stopped his words by touching her soft fingertips to his lips.

“I ken that there will be no promises made. I ask for none, save for a wee taste of the passion I felt when we kissed . . .”

Books by Hannah Howell

ONLY FOR YOU * MY VALIANT KNIGHT *
UNCONQUERED * WILD ROSES *
A TASTE OF FIRE * HIGHLAND DESTINY *
HIGHLAND HONOR * HIGHLAND PROMISE *
A STOCKINGFUL OF JOY * HIGHLAND VOW *
HIGHLAND KNIGHT * HIGHLAND HEARTS *
HIGHLAND BRIDE * HIGHLAND ANGEL *
HIGHLAND GROOM * HIGHLAND WARRIOR *
RECKLESS * HIGHLAND CONQUEROR *
HIGHLAND CHAMPION * HIGHLAND LOVER *
HIGHLAND VAMPIRE * THE ETERNAL
HIGHLANDER * MY IMMORTAL HIGHLANDER *
CONQUEROR’S KISS * HIGHLAND BARBARIAN *
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST * HIGHLAND SAVAGE *
HIGHLAND THIRST * HIGHLAND WEDDING *
HIGHLAND WOLF * SILVER FLAME *
HIGHLAND FIRE * NATURE OF THE BEAST *
HIGHLAND CAPTIVE * HIGHLAND SINNER *
MY LADY CAPTOR * IF HE’S WICKED *
WILD CONQUEST * IF HE’S SINFUL *
KENTUCKY BRIDE * IF HE’S WILD *
YOURS FOR ETERNITY * COMPROMISED HEARTS *
HIGHLAND PROTECTOR * STOLEN ECSTASY *
IF HE’S DANGEROUS * HIGHLAND HERO *
HIGHLAND HUNGER * HIGHLAND AVENGER *
HIS BONNIE BRIDE * BORN TO BITE

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

H
ANNA
H H
OWELL

H
IGHLAND
H
ERO

ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

SCOTTISH KISS
Books by Hannah Howell
Title Page
Edina and the Baby

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

The Magic Garden

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

Isbel

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue

Tatha

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11

Copyright Page

Edina and the Baby

Chapter 1

Scottish Highlands—Summer, 1420

“Gar? Where are ye, laddie?”

Edina MacAdam cursed as the sharp leaves of a tall thistle found the small, unprotected strip of soft white skin between the top of her knee-high deer-hide boots and the hem of her tucked-up skirts. She looked around the wooded hillside as she idly scratched the irritating small bumps raised by the plant’s unwelcoming touch. Her wolfhound had left her side and bounded up the hill, evidently tracking something that had excited him. He had disappeared into the thick growth of trees at the top of the hill and, now, even his barking had stopped.

After checking that her string of rabbits was firmly secured to her sword belt, she took a deep breath and plunged into the shadowed forest. It took several moments to quell the urge to run right back out, her terror of the forest almost blinding, but she had to find her dog. Gar was the only companion she had. Forcing back the dark memories of how her lovely but heartless mother had left her in the dark forest to run off with her lover, Edina concentrated on finding her dog. The day that had bred her fears had occurred fifteen years earlier, when she was barely five. It was time to shake free of such childish terrors. Her heart pounding in her ears and the cold sweat of fear trickling down her back, Edina stepped deeper into the forest.

“Gar! Curse ye for a witless beast! Where are ye?”

A sharp yelp answered her. Edina turned toward the sound. Calling repeatedly to her pet, she followed his sharp answering barks, softly cursing the forest for trying to mislead her with its echoes and the way it concealed the true direction of a sound. When she finally saw Gar sitting beneath a tree, she was torn between the urge to hug the dog in relief and soundly scold him. Then she saw the bundle of rags he sat next to. Even as she cautiously approached, one tiny, pale, dimpled arm appeared and a little hand grabbed a clump of Gar’s thick fur in a way Edina knew had to be painful. Gar just glanced at the small hand, then looked at Edina and yelped.

“A bairn,” she whispered as she crouched on the other side of the child.

She reached out to touch the cooing child, saw the dirt on her hands, and grimaced. Edina trickled water onto her hands from the goatskin she carried, then rubbed them clean with the skirts of her soft gray gown. After gently detaching the baby’s hand from Gar’s mottled gray fur, she picked the child up in her arms and found it impossible to silence her dark memories.

As clearly as if it were happening before her eyes, Edina could see her mother riding away with her lover, laughing at her cries. She had stood where she had been left for hours, unable to believe that her mother was not going to return. The sounds of the forest had changed from enchanting to threatening with each passing moment. In her terrified child’s eyes the trees had become grotesque, dangerous shapes trapping her, alone, within their shadowed home. Her dour uncle had not found her until the next day and, by then, her fear had deepened until it had scarred her very soul. It did not help her to conquer her fears when every time she looked into a mirror she saw her mother. Edina was not sure how exactly she matched the woman’s looks, but she knew she had the same thick, unruly raven hair and the same faintly slanted, clear green eyes. That was more than enough to revive the painful memories. The lack of love and attention she got at her uncle’s home ensured that she had nothing with which to soften those harsh memories.

“Did your mother toss ye aside?” she whispered as she undid the child’s swaddling and carefully looked him over before covering him back up again, relieved to find no injuries. “At least ye are too young to ken what has happened to you and where ye are. Ye willnae be scarred by the painful memories or the fear. Why do they do this to their bairns, laddie? Mothers arenae supposed to cast aside their bairns likes the bones of a finished meal.”

She held him close, carefully stood up, and began to examine the area closely, looking for any sign that might tell her why a child of six months or so had been left to fend for itself in the forest. “Mayhap I blacken your mother’s name unfairly,” she said as she crouched and frowned down at the clear sign of hoofprints on the moist forest floor. “There may be an even darker reason for ye to be left here to die.”

Just as she was trying to figure out how many horses had been there, she heard a sound that chilled her blood. Someone was riding toward them. She could hear the sound of horses crushing the leaves and undergrowth beneath their hooves. Even as she set the baby down, stood protectively in front of him, and drew her small sword, she heard men’s voices. She patted Gar’s big head as he stood beside her. She straightened her shoulders and waited, determined that no one would touch the child until she was sure he would be safe—and loved.

Lucais MacRae raised his gaze from the ground where he had been searching for tracks and reined his horse in so sharply, it startled the horses of his two companions into rearing slightly. As his cousins Ian and Andrew struggled to calm their mounts, Lucais studied the vision before him. He had spent three grueling days searching for his nephew, and the last thing he had expected to find was a belligerent little woman and a massive dog standing between him and what he had been seeking.

She was a tiny woman in both stature and height, made to look even tinier by the trees towering all around her. Thick, raven black hair tumbled around her slim shoulders in a wild, silken tangle. Her soft gray gown fitted snugly over full breasts, and her thick hair brushed against a tiny waist. The way her skirts were kilted up revealed slender, well-shaped legs. Her small, heart-shaped face was dominated by wide, heavily lashed eyes of a green so true and rich, he could see the color even from where he stood. He knew that they would be breathtaking up close. It would be easy to dismiss her for some pretty little lass, no more and certainly no threat, except for the small sword in her delicate white hands. She not only held the weapon as if she knew how to use it, but the expression on her pretty face told him that she was fully prepared to do so.

He dropped his gaze to the rag-wrapped child on the ground just behind her small, booted feet. Lucais could not see the baby’s face, but the thick chestnut curls spilling out of the top of the wrappings told him that it was his nephew Malcolm. When he looked back at the girl, he felt suspicion and anger push aside his attraction and surprise.