Return of the Highlander (32 page)

Heaven help him, he did love her—still—even though she did not see him as the man he truly was. She could not have loved him the same way he loved her, or things would have turned out differently.

The sun was just coming up to brighten the pre-dawn sky, so he sat down at the desk in the office to await the day manager’s arrival. He would then retire to his own bedchamber and sleep for the day—and he would try not to think of her again.

* * *

Darach woke with a start when the manager arrived. He lifted his head off the desk and realized he had fallen asleep in the chair.

He’d had the dream again. This time, the hawk was flying out over the water, swooping freely down just above the waves, then back up again. The last time he’d dreamed of the hawk, it had turned out to be a premonition regarding his return to Leathan Castle, and later, of his escape. Sadly, his home had turned out to be nothing that it once was. The Leathan he knew as a boy was all gone now, taken over by the English. There was no one left to return to.

After handing the keys off to the manager, Darach crossed the courtyard to the south building where his room was located on the second floor. He climbed the outdoor steps and laid a hand on the knob, but hesitated to push it open when he noticed the door was ajar.

Half expecting to find a Redcoat inside rifling through his belongings, he reached for his sword, quietly withdrew it from the scabbard, and gently pushed the door open with the toe of his boot.

The room appeared to be empty, but he moved silently nevertheless. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he tiptoed across the floor.

He sucked in a breath and lowered his sword when a woman popped into view, rising to her feet from the floor on the opposite side of the bed.

Larena
….

“Oh. You’re here,” she said with surprise, smoothing out her skirts.

“Yes,” he flatly replied, though on the inside, he was bursting open with a sudden rush of exhilaration. “I live here.”

What was she doing in his apartments? And dear God, she was more beautiful than he remembered. He couldn’t breathe. It was a miracle he didn’t collapse.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she explained. “His Grace let me in. I dropped my earring just now.” She gestured toward the floor.

“The duke was here?” Darach asked. “In this room?”

Darach had only met the duke once—on the day he’d arrived with Angus’s letter of introduction. The duke had immediately assigned Darach to this position in the distillery on the outskirts of the village to guard over his whisky. Darach had not set foot on the castle grounds since.

“Yes,” Larena replied while Darach re-sheathed his sword. “And Gwendolen was absolutely right. He is a charming man and his duchess is stunningly beautiful. Did you meet her?”

“No.” Confused by all of this, Darach closed the door but remained just inside the threshold. “How long have you been here, Larena?”

“I arrived yesterday afternoon with Angus and Gwendolen. They brought their children as well. We had dinner with the duke and duchess last night. What an experience that was.”

“How nice for you,” Darach said with a frown, not entirely sure what her purpose was in coming here. He certainly hadn’t invited her. He had been working so hard to forget….

“It was indeed,” she replied, moving around the foot of the bed. “I feel very blessed to have met them, but that is not why I came, Darach. I have traveled here for quite another reason.”

The closer she came, the faster Darach’s pulse pounded beneath the surface of his skin. She was everything he remembered from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her in the ravine, when she’d sat up and struck him on the head with a big rock.

Perhaps it was time he simply got down on his knees, surrendered completely, and allowed her to finish him off.

“I owe you an apology,” she said, and all at once, Darach’s passions ignited into a flurry of conflicting emotions, for he could not forget why he’d left her at Kinloch a month earlier—because she had not trusted him enough to believe that he would never use her for revenge. She had not understood that he’d loved her. She had not loved him enough, in return, to see the truth.

“Yes, you do,” he coolly said.

She appeared startled by the iciness in his tone, but proceeded nonetheless.

“I was wrong to treat you the way I did,” she softly said, gazing up at him with clear, determined eyes. “You are a good man and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before about what happened.”

“Which part?”

She swallowed uneasily. “All of it. I’ve had time to think about it, and I’ve replayed everything in my mind a thousand times over.”

“And?” he asked, still frowning.

“And…I don’t believe you killed my father on purpose. I
do
know you better than that, Darach. I believe it happened exactly as you said it did—that he came at you from behind and took your knife.”

A flood of relief washed over Darach, yet he was still angry with her for all the days she had
not
seen the truth.

“What changed your mind?” he asked.

“I don’t know.
Everything
. The way you showed mercy to Gregory Chatham that night at Kinloch when he begged you not to kill him. I was wrong to assume that you would. And the look on your face in the glade when I saw you kneeling over my father with the knife in your hand. You told me it was an accident and I should have believed you. And the mark you showed me at your neck when I found you in the crofter’s cottage. That was solid, tangible evidence, and yet I refused to accept it. I’m not sure why….” She strode a little closer. “Or maybe it’s just how I feel about you, which is not a factor of reason, but a factor of the heart. Also, what I know about my father—or rather, what I
didn’t
know. The fact that he kept me in the dark about his Jacobite plots is unsettling and astounding to me. You were right about that. I don’t believe I ever really knew him—at least not that part of him.”

Darach’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he took a step toward her. “You did know him, lass. You knew the man he was, as your father, and that side of him was worthy of your love.”

She wiped away a tear, then bowed her head. “Oh, Darach. How is it possible, after everything I’ve said and done, that you can be so forgiving—of both me and my father? You make me feel ashamed.”

His heart split in two. “Why?”

Her eyes lifted. “Because I was not forgiving toward you when you deserved so much more. You risked everything and gave up everything for me—your brother, and even your freedom—yet I was ungrateful. Untrusting.”

“You were grief-stricken,” he said.

She smiled with melancholy. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

He laid a hand on her cheek and felt all his anger slowly draining away. “What do you mean, lass? I’m not trying to hurt you.”

She let out a sob that was half laughter, half tears. “You’re not actually hurting me. You’re making me want you even more when I am so afraid that you’ll never want me back.”

“Why in the world would I not want you back?” he asked.

“Because of how I treated you,” she replied with disbelief that he couldn’t understand why she was so forlorn.

Darach nodded his head. “Aye, lass, you were a bit of a shrew, but I was not perfect either. I, too, owe you an apology for the things I said about your father the night we parted. I was very harsh. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did,” she replied, “and you were justified. I cannot blame you for that. But you once told me that just because our fathers were enemies didn’t mean
we
had to be. I don’t want to be. None of that matters. It’s in the past. I know you for the man you are today and that is the man I love and respect. The man I want to be with.” She cupped his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes with passionate purpose. “Please, Darach, if you could only love me again. I would give anything….”

“Love you
again
? My darling lass, I never stopped.”

A tear spilled from her eye and Darach wiped it away. She gazed up at him with those big weepy eyes and he was done for.

At last, he pressed his mouth to hers and gathered her into his arms with fierce, unruly desire. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to toss her onto the bed right then and there, because he wanted all of her, all at once. He could hardly believe she had come back to him.

Her lips were so soft, so deliciously sweet, he wished he could devour her whole. Running both hands down her slender back and over the curve of her hips, he held her captive while he drank in the delectable taste of her.

“Oh, Darach,” she sighed into his mouth, “I missed you so much. I don’t care where we are or who we claim to be, as long as we are together. Please don’t send me away. Let me stay.”

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her to the bed, set her down, and crawled onto the mattress to lay down beside her. “I wouldn’t let you go now if you begged me to.”

“I won’t,” she replied, “but perhaps I will beg you for something else.”

She gave him a look of sensual allure and reached up to pull him down on top of her soft, warm body. As she wrapped her legs around his hips, he kissed her deeply and wished he was inside her already.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” she whispered, “not as long as I live.”

“Nor I, you,” he replied, “and I still want to marry you, lass, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will.”

He drew back slightly and spoke with regret. “But you’ll be married to a fugitive.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “And there are ways around it. I spoke to the duke last night about our situation. We could still have our freedom.”

“How?”

She inched up on the pillows.

Curious, he sat up beside her.

“Do you know what I admire most about you?” she asked, as if changing the subject.

He shook his head.

“You know when to let go, and when to move on, and you don’t get mired in the past. You tried to teach Logan that, but he was built differently than you. I believe, Darach, that you and I are similar that way. I don’t want to be mired in the past either. I want to spread my wings and fly, somewhere new.”

Darach raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Did you know that His Grace has family in France?” she continued. “That’s where his mother came from.”

“I wasn’t aware.”

“Well, it’s true, and the duke is very generous. He has offered to send us over there with a letter of introduction. We would have to take the MacLean clan name of course, but we wouldn’t need to stay in hiding or live our lives on the run. Gregory would never find us there.”

He stared at her, transfixed. “Are you sure you would want to do that, lass? To leave your homeland?”

She smiled. “You were always asking me if I wanted what you were offering, and I always told you I didn’t know
what
I wanted. But I know it now. I want
you
, and that is all. Where ever we end up will be my home, as long as you are with me.”

With a surge of greedy lust, Darach kissed her again and eased her down onto the mattress. “Does this bed count?” he asked, “even though you just arrived and I haven’t even shown you around?”

“Why don’t you show me around the bed right now,” she suggested with an inviting grin that caused his romantic intentions to increase sizably.

Not wanting to disappoint his future bride, Darach did exactly that for the rest of the morning. He showed her every nook and cranny of that big soft bed…until she cried out in ecstasy and begged to see more.

* * *

Read on for an excerpt from the next book in this series:

TAKEN BY THE HIGHLANDER

Excerpt from

Taken By The Highlander

Logan’s Story

Available December 2015

Chapter One

Scotland 1730

By the time Logan Campbell emerged out of the dark forest onto a wide river valley, the full moon was high in the sky. The pain in his arm was so severe, he passed out for a few seconds in the saddle and toppled off his horse. Landing with a heavy thud on the grass, he immediately regained consciousness, curled up in agony, and hugged his broken arm close to his ribs.