Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel (9 page)

Aileana wasn’t the only one affected by Muriel’s words. Throughout the meal, Errol kept watch over his betrothed. She chatted freely with the MacKenzie, making him laugh often. But he’d grown familiar with her eyes and the way her shoulders drooped whenever she felt uneasy. Sensing her desire to retire, he leaned close to his sire.

“I believe it best to escort Aileana to her new chamber.”

Laird MacRae’s eyebrows drew together with concern. “Is she unwell?”

“No,” Errol said. “But the confrontation with Muriel has drained her strength. She looks wearied.”

His father gazed in Aileana’s direction. “Were you surprised how well the MacKenzie received the news of your betrothal?”

“Aye. With four unwed daughters, the man is desperate. Can we trust him?”

“John is not the deceptive type. And even if he were, his temper is too explosive to hide.”

“Then I am a happy man, Father.”

Laird MacRae gripped his shoulder. “As I knew ye would be. Aileana will breathe life back into this old keep.”

Errol stood, then walked three chairs over to Aileana. She smiled at him.

“The hour is late,” he announced. “And tomorrow we have much to do. Would you like to go abovestairs?”

Aileana glanced at Laird MacKenzie. “Thank you for being so kind. I hope to see you again.” She rose, then kissed the MacKenzie’s cheek.

“You’re a fortunate man,” John spoke to Errol. “Few women hold my interest. This one has spirit to spare. Guard her well.”

Linking arms, the people left in the great hall cheered as Errol and Aileana walked by. The night had ended well for both of them. But the memory of Muriel’s scathing words was etched in Errol’s memory forever. Where one sowed the seeds of discontent, others were sure to follow. Only next time, he’d be prepared to deal swiftly with it.

“Before we part, shall we take a walk outside?”

Aileana nodded.

Knowing she was ashamed of not having a family of her own, he wanted to reassure her that his feelings were true. He waved to the guards on the wall and steered her away from the keep, toward the loch, where they’d kissed.

“You must learn to trust me, Aileana,” he said. “As your future laird and husband, any concerns or fears you have are now mine. Even if you think it unimportant, tell me what’s in your heart.”

She stopped walking. “Nothing,” she said. “My heart is numb.”

Errol cupped her cheek tenderly. Under the moonlight, her red tresses gleamed like copper, her wide eyes focused on his. “Then we shall change that.”

He had to admit to liking the idea of teaching her how to love and showing her how their bodies were capable of expressing those emotions. Once his father accepted the idea of their marriage, he found himself incapable of stopping his true feelings from surfacing. All those years he wasted bedding other women, trying to purge his mind and soul of the desire to know the redheaded girl no one accepted. Even when she was young and scrawny, covered in dirt from playing outside, Errol watched her—intrigued by her determination, impressed with her fearlessness.

How many fights had she gotten into when someone taunted her? Instead of crying like most girls, she stood her ground. And Edme and Margot loved her all the more for it.

“Do you know,” he said, staring heavenward, “I used to follow you when I was a lad.”

“Yes,” she said. “I spotted you in the trees by the loch many times. But you were the laird’s son, I had no right to question or even speak to ye.”

“I often spied when ye stripped down to your shift and jumped in the water. I liked the way you paddled around, then floated on your back like nothing in the world mattered. What happened to that carefree lass, Aileana? What altered you? Who made you so unsure of yourself?”

She sighed. “Once I realized I wasn’t a MacRae, everything changed.”

“But you knew the night you came here.”

“Nay,” she said. “I had
no
memory. Perhaps the warmth and love of my aunties allowed me to be happy for a short while. The girls were kind enough, too. But as we grew older, it changed. Muriel and the other maids began mocking me. Little things at first—they’d criticize my dress and hair, or mock me for mistakes I made in the kitchen. Then the rumors started.”

Errol knew the damage jealousy could do. Her big eyes were full of sadness. “None of that matters now.”

“But it does,” she said. “Our betrothal changes nothing really. I see the contempt in their eyes. An outsider has won the heart of the MacRae’s only son. Living with that won’t be easy, milord.”

She’d accepted his pledge of love. But convincing her to open up to him, that would take action, not words. He tugged her into his arms, locking her against his body, and dipping his head so he could taste her delectable mouth. Whenever he held her close like this, the world around them could disintegrate in the fires of hell and he’d never know. All he could think about, see, touch, and smell was everything that Aileana was. Sweet perfection, soft, and uninhibited. That’s what he desired above all things. The same treasure Laird MacKenzie warned him to guard carefully.

He’d do better than that. He’d claim her tonight. Make it so she’d never run away again. For that fear haunted him day and night, that he’d wake up and find her gone. He couldn’t let that happen.

Once they reached the loch’s edge, Errol made it a point to kneel and run his fingers through the water. “ ’Tis perfect for a swim.”

Her lips curled into a shy grin. “Is that why you brought me here? To swim in the icy cold loch?”

If he could keep that look on her lovely face, he’d escort her to the loch every night for the rest of her life. “I admit the memory of you splashing about in the water still holds some appeal. And as for the water being cold, lass, ye never let a bit of snow or ice stop you before. You’re as hale and hearty as any soldier I’ve ever seen brave the frigid loch in winter. And if you look closer, there is no ice built up yet. Most of the snow has melted, even.”

“You wish me to swim in my gown?”

“No,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’d prefer to see what’s underneath it.”

“Bold words any lady should take offense to.”

“You aren’t just
any
lady, Aileana.” He stepped in front of her. “Yer mine. And nothing we do is considered a sin. We are betrothed, and to most Highlanders, that’s as good as speaking our vows.”

She took Errol’s hand, squeezing it tight as she silently considered his words. He felt the slight tremor in her fingers, knowing she wanted him.

“Allow me the honor of convincing you.” Without thinking, Errol removed his weapon belt, plaid, and trews, folding the prized ruby bodkin within the length of his tartan. As he stood in his linen shirt and boots, his manhood remained at attention despite the cold air.

Aileana blinked up at him. “Yer naked below the hips.”

“Aye,” he said, a low growl escaping. “End my suffering, sweet one. Cover me in your warmth.”

She sighed then, retreating a step. “In this one way I feel completely safe with you, milord.” She turned around, and swept her hair to the side. “I’ll need help with these laces.”

And as he’d done dozens of times in life with other women, Errol began to loosen the ties on the back of her dress. But he fumbled like an inexperienced boy. How he’d dreamt of this moment—unwrapping her like a precious gift. He gritted his teeth as he finished, and she faced him again.

“Let me continue,” he said, unbridled desire driving him forward.

He gently lifted the silky gown over her head, finding a lace-trimmed shift underneath it. Her nipples tightened, poking through the thin material. He licked his lips, fantasy about to become reality. Nothing had hidden her feminine curves, not coarse homespun or the layers of drab wool most of the maids chose to wear in the kitchens, and not the soft shift she wore now. They stared silently at each other, their mutual attraction as assured as the stars and moon overhead.

“You said you trusted me, lass.”

“Aye,” she whispered.

“Especially now.”

She nodded.

“Would it make ye feel better if I said the same of you?”

“I am not your first love.”

“You’re mistaken,” he disagreed. “I’ve bedded many—I don’t want this marriage to be built upon lies, lass. And if I denied my past, you’d know better. I’ve never loved anyone but you.” He kept the small distance between them, giving her time to accept what was about to happen. For if she refused, Errol would respect her wishes, though the pain of need raged inside him.

“You bedded those women without feeling anything?” She frowned.

“I felt something,” he clarified. “But only physical gratification. Things are different between us, lass. Though I crave the release your sweet body offers, my heart is hopelessly yours. A rare thing.”

“And what if I don’t please you?”

He fisted his hands at his sides, desperate to show her how misplaced her fears truly were. Some things were better explained without words. “Let me touch you, Aileana.”

“Only if you promise me one thing…”

“Ask anything of me.”

“Swear there will never be another—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish; he knew what she was going to say. The fact that she thought he’d take another woman to his bed after her made him angry and disappointed. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue parting her lips mercilessly, twirling with hers, and finding the heat and honeyed flavor only she possessed.

“How could you ever doubt my fidelity once I’ve held you, Aileana?” he growled. “I’ve confessed my deepest feelings.”

She slipped her arms about his waist. “I am a foolish lass.”

“Yes,” he agreed, grinding against her. “Foolish and beautiful.”

She moaned as he dipped his head again and tasted her. Then he stripped her shift off, leaving her completely exposed to the night air and moonlight. He swallowed hard as he beheld her—loving her flawless white skin and long legs. His gaze traveled selfishly slowly up her body, pausing on her round hips, knowing his hands would soon grip her there as he pushed inside her. And her full breasts, those dusky nipples begging for his tongue to spiral over them again and again.

But his eyes were drawn lower still, to the apex of her thighs, where tawny curls crowned her womanhood, where heaven waited.

“Damn me to the lowest depths of hell for what I want to do to you, Aileana.” He looked at her face. “I am no saint, lady. And I willna treat you like the angel you are. I want to defile you. I want to show you the greatest pleasure—leave ye wet, panting, and begging for more.”

Patience gone, he lifted her, and she locked her ankles behind his back. She threaded her fingers through his hair, releasing it from the leather queue. “Kiss me,” she begged.

Their tongues danced together, driving rational thought from his mind. The soft flesh of her arse filled his hands and he groaned. She felt incredible in his arms, and he no longer wished to wait. He set her on her feet, then tugged his shirt off. Next he removed his boots, leaving himself equally vulnerable to the world.

This time her gaze lingered in spots no virtuous maiden would look. But that’s what captured Errol’s heart about this unusual lass, she didn’t fight the natural curiosity inside herself, or try to hide her hunger.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, focused on his throbbing shaft.

“Yes,” he said. “But not the same kind of pain as getting hit with a rock. It aches and pulses with need for you.”

Genuine concern etched her pretty face. “May I touch it?”

He sucked in a breath. No woman had ever asked his permission to caress his naked body. This is where her innocence showed.

“Not only do I encourage you to touch it, lass, I ask that you squeeze it without delay.” If something hot and tight didn’t provide some form of relief now, he’d surely explode.

She delicately stroked it, her fingers running the length of his shaft. “Yer beautiful,” she said, meeting his eyes. “The skin is so smooth, but…”

“Where did you come from?” he asked as he swept her into his arms and stepped into the loch. The more she spoke, the deeper his belief that she might have been abandoned by the fairies in the woods.

He waded into waist-high water, cradling her against his chest. She shivered in his arms. “Are you too cold?”

“Nay,” she said. “I love the water.”

“I love you,” he reminded her.

She wiggled free of his grasp and disappeared under the water, reemerging yards away. “Are ye a fair swimmer?” she asked.

“Aye.” He grinned.

“Race me to the islet.”

He stared in the general direction of the small island with trees in the middle of the loch. Known to many young lovers, it was the one place Errol had never bedded a woman. He preferred the comfort of his chamber or the warmth and privacy of the stables. But he could think of no better place to make Aileana his. In the future, whenever she visited the loch, she’d remember their first night together.

“I accept,” he said, diving into the water.

The temporary loss of her senses must have made her challenge her future husband to race. With only a slight distance advantage over him, she swam with urgency, hoping to reach land first. Breathless and frantic to feel his big hands all over her body again, she scanned the shoreline for any sign of Errol, but found nothing. Even the water remained eerily silent. Her heart plummeted with fear—until he tackled her from behind.

Aileana fell forward on her hands and knees on the grass, and squealed as Errol covered her body with his from behind. Nuzzling into her hair, he nipped the sensitive skin on her neck. When she tried to crawl out of reach, he locked his arm about her waist, pulling her back.

“Ye lost the race, sweet Aileana,” he murmured near her ear. “And it’s time to pay your debt.”

Shifting on his knees, his hand traced a trail down her spine, then caressed her center. Pleasure threaded through her body as his fingers filled her.
Dear God.
She never imagined how good it would feel. Never thought she’d want it so much. Errol increased her sweet agony, withdrawing his fingers, then plunging them inside her again. Her hips moved in unison with his hand, and he began to kiss her—starting at the small of her back, using his tongue and teeth to make her forget everything but him.