Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03] (23 page)

He pulled back and touched his finger to her lips. “Shhh…I know. Donna worry about it.
’
Tis over.” He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “Colin told me what your father did to ye. Please tell me ye are well.” He ran his hands up and down her arms.

“It was terrible, Alex, but I was more frightened at the thought of losing ye.”

He paused and pulled her close. “That will nae happen, lass. From this day forward, I promise ye that. Please promise me there will be nay more lies between us.”

“Aye.”

“Then if we are being truthful, there has been something I have been meaning to tell ye.”

She pulled back and her expression was puzzled. “What?”

“I loved ye from the first time I saw ye at the waterfall, Lady Sybella MacKenzie of Kintail. Ye plagued my thoughts for years and I always wondered what became of ye. Ye are the bonny lass that filled my dreams.” He smiled and gave her a roguish grin. “And your lips taste of sweetened honey. In fact, I will tell ye a secret. I’d really like to taste them now.”

He lowered his head and she licked her lips.

“Alex, ye are so verra wicked.”

Sybella sat at the table on the dais in the great hall surrounded by MacDonells and MacKenzies, and her smile broadened in approval. Men and women laughed as if they had not a care in the world. For the first time since she could remember, she was blissfully happy, fully alive. She no longer felt the burdensome chains of betrayal.

It was good to be home.

She couldn’t believe a sennight had already passed since the death of her father. And this jovial mood was exactly what the clans needed. The dreaded nightmare was over and it was finally time to heal old wounds. A little voice pulled her from her woolgathering.

“Come on, Lachlann, ye can do it,” said Anabel. She held out her arms as Lachlann took unsteady steps into her embrace. “Ye did it!”

Rosalia smiled. “He has taken a fancy to ye, Anabel.”

Anabel stood tall, proud. “I think I get along better with the wee lads than with my brothers.”

Colin rubbed the top of her head. “Your brothers may jest with ye now and again, Anabel, but they will always look after ye and love ye.” He turned to Sybella and they shared a smile.

A warm hand came down on Sybella’s shoulder and she reached up to grab it.

“Aunt Iseabail is in the garden with William. Should I be worried?” asked Alex, sitting down beside Sybella.

“Nay, I have a feeling William would ne’er let anything happen to her.”

“I suppose ye’re right.” Laughter filled the hall and Alex took a drink from his tankard. “My men are glad to be home from Lewis.”

“’Tis quite obvious. And ye really think things with the MacLeod will settle down now?”

“Now that Colin is laird and we have withdrawn our men, we shall see. With His Majesty’s men arriving on the isle, there isnae much the MacLeod could do now anyway.”

“I suppose.”

“Come now, Ella. I told ye that I donna want ye worrying about such things.”

“How can I be worried when I have such a strong and handsome protector?”

Alex lifted his brow, and as he was about to speak, Ennis approached the dais. “Thank ye for inviting us to the celebration. Anabel loves seeing ye, my lady.”

“I wish I could see her more often. Ye know how much I simply adore her. At times, I wished we lived closer to Kintail.”

“That doesnae mean we cannae come to pay ye a visit.” A mischievous look came into Ennis’s eyes and he lowered his voice. “Besides, I donna think ye will have the time, Lady Sybella. Ye will soon have your own bairn to raise.”

Sybella’s mouth dropped and Alex sat forward. “What? What did ye say?”

“Aye, Laird MacDonell, your wife is with child.”

She stammered in confusion. “Are ye for certain? I thought ye couldnae see without the stone.”

A sheepish smile crossed Ennis’s face. “That’s what I told your father, lass. I was aware of what he did to the MacLeod’s women and children, and knowing that, I could nay longer aid him in his endeavors. I ne’er wanted blood on my hands. I only tried to help our clan.” Alex was about to speak when Ennis looked him in the eye. “Aye, ye have your heir. He is a healthy lad.”

Sybella didn’t even realize Ennis had walked away when Alex pulled her to her feet. He lifted his hand to her cheek and held her close. “Ye have made me the happiest man alive, and nae only because ye carry my son. “
Tha gaol agam ort,
Ella.”
I
love
you.
His eyes were tender, compassionate.

She placed his hand to her stomach and laced her fingers with his. “Alex, I love ye with all my heart. And I’ll need ye now more than ever.” She laughed in sheer joy. When he raised his brow, puzzled, she rolled her eyes and added, “Ye heard Ennis. A lad. Just what I need. Another bad boy of the Highlands.”

Here’s a sneak peek at

My Highland Spy

by Victoria Roberts

Highlands, Scotland, 1609

“She’s here.”

“Damn.”

“Aye, well ’tis too late to turn her away now, Ruairi. What did ye expect? How long did ye think ye’d be able to hold King James at bay? Ye havenae shown your face in Edinburgh and didnae send Torquil…”

Laird Ruairi Sutherland thundered his way to the great hall and didn’t bother to let the captain of his guard finish his response. Why would he? Fagan clearly knew how Ruairi felt about His Majesty and the man’s ridiculous commands. As if he would send his only son to the Lowlands to learn the King’s English. King James had no respect for Scotland or its people. And Ruairi would be damned if he’d give in so easily without a fight.

He entered the great hall and walked toward the English lass. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight, unflattering bun. Her face was austere, her manner haughty. The woman held herself as if she graced him with her presence. He didn’t like her at all.

“A bheil Gàidhlig agad?” Do you speak Gaelic?

The woman merely stood there, mute.

He looked at Fagan and smirked. Turning back toward the woman, Ruairi’s eyes darkened.
“Thalla dachaigh.” Go home.

“Just place the trunk right there. Thank you.”

Ruairi’s eyes widened in surprise as another woman entered the great hall. Her smooth ivory skin glowed and the corners of her mouth turned slightly upward. She had a wealth of red hair, loose tendrils that softened her face, and her lips were full and rounded over even teeth. She seemed elegant and graceful. And for the first time since he could remember, he had no words to express the sight before his eyes. The woman was simply…beautiful. Who was this lass?

She lifted her skirts and walked over to him, greeting him with a warm smile. “I see you’ve met my driver’s wife, Mary. You must be Laird Sutherland. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Mistress Denny.”

Carried away by his own response, Ruairi failed to notice the woman waited for him to answer. In fact, he had one hell of a time trying to suppress his admiration. When her cheeks reddened under the heat of his gaze, he cleared his throat and nodded at Fagan.

“’Tis a pleasure to meet ye. I am Fagan, the captain of Laird Sutherland’s guard.” The lass looked puzzled, and then Fagan added, “My laird doesnae speak English.”

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “I see…And what of Lady Sutherland?”

Fagan paused. “Lady Sutherland has passed away.”

Ruairi eventually came to his senses when the pounding of his heart finally quieted. Although the woman was here to educate his son, Ruairi didn’t need to learn the ways of the English. He was a grown man. He had survived twenty-nine years on earth without the help of those bloody English bastards. And besides, the lass was now in the Highlands, his beloved lands, which were a far cry from the English border. As far as he was concerned, she could keep her ways to herself. He was bound and determined not to make this easy for her—as if he would roll over like a good dog because his liege demanded obedience. As soon as King James gave the Highland lairds the respect they deserved, perhaps he would feel differently. But for now, Ruairi certainly wasn’t going to tell the lass that he understood every word she spoke, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to mention the fact that his wife had died—nearly two years ago.

***

With all her might, Ravenna held back a groan. She’d traveled all the way from London to the bloody Highlands only to find out the laird didn’t speak a word of English. How would she be able to figure out if the man conspired against the Crown if she didn’t understand a word of Gaelic? Praise the saints. The man couldn’t even communicate with her. This was nothing short of a disaster. She was stuck in the Highlands with a widowed laird and his son. She didn’t like this at all.

Trying to compose herself, she gave Laird Sutherland a sympathetic smile for the loss of his wife. She stretched her neck to look up at him because the top of her head only reached the middle of the massive man’s chest. His green eyes continued to study her intently. His brown hair had traces of red and was fairly straight. Somehow she knew that she would never forget a single detail of his face. When their eyes locked, her breath hitched in her lungs and her heart turned over in response. Her gaze roamed to his powerful set of shoulders and he stood there like he didn’t give a damn about her or what she thought of him.

She heard herself swallow and she cleared her throat. “You have my sincere condolences on the loss of your wife.”

When he raised his brow, Fagan spoke, and she presumed the man translated her words. The laird must have understood because he nodded in response and then left without as much as a backward glance.

“Your trunk will be carried up to your chambers,” said Fagan. “Ye must be weary from your journey. I will escort ye to your room and leave ye to rest.” He was about to walk away when Ravenna spoke.

“Might I at least meet Torquil?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ye arenae weary?”

“Captain, I’ve come all of this way. I’d like to meet the boy.”

The man was just as big and imposing as Laird Sutherland. His dark hair hung well below his shoulders, but he had a kind, almost tender, smile. “Fagan, if ye will.”

Ravenna nodded in response.

“I am nae sure where the lad is at the moment, but I will be sure to introduce ye when he returns.”

“Very well. I suppose I will unpack my trunk.”

***

Ruairi took his seat at the table and felt the lass’s eyes upon him, judging him. The woman probably thought he was some kind of barbarian, as all those pampered English bastards thought of his kind. He wasn’t thrilled to have her here, but the sooner Torquil took to his lessons, the faster the lass would be back in her own country and not underfoot.

When the conversation drew quiet, a very small part of him felt a little guilty for deceiving her. He should probably work with her to help Torquil so that she could be on her way home. After all, she was only a woman and basically doing as she was told. And Ruairi liked the lasses—not necessarily English lasses—but lasses nonetheless. And this particular woman was not so sore to the eyes.

He gave her a brief nod.
“Ciamar a tha sibh?
”

“He asks how ye are,” said Fagan.

She sat forward and took a drink from her tankard. “Tell me. How do I answer him that I am fine?”

While Fagan instructed Mistress Denny, Ruairi sat and listened, somewhat surprised the lass had wanted to answer him in his native tongue. After several botched attempts, she turned and gazed at Ruairi with an intense look upon her face.

“Tha gu math.” I am fine.

Torquil clapped and his eyes lit up upon his governess’ efforts to speak Gaelic. Ruairi hadn’t seen that look on his son’s face in quite some time. The boy was only six when his mother had died, and Ruairi knew his son missed her.

“She would like a tour of your home. Will she teach Torquil in the library?” asked Fagan in Gaelic.

“Aye. I will take her after we sup.”

Fagan’s eyes grew openly amused. “Must I come along to translate?”

“I think I can manage,” he said, annoyed.

Fagan smiled at the lass. “My laird will escort ye and show ye his home after we sup.”

Ruairi didn’t like the way her face lit up when Fagan spoke to her. The woman clearly didn’t know that the captain of his guard was only doing what he was told to do. He wondered if she’d still smile at Fagan that way if she knew the man only followed Ruairi’s command.

“That would be delightf—”

“Ravenna, I want to come too,” said Torquil in Gaelic.

Ruairi’s brow rose when he heard Mistress Denny’s Christian name spoken from his son’s lips. “Torquil…”

Her gaze became puzzled at the sight of Ruairi’s displeasure, and the lass placed her hand over her heart. She leaned forward in the chair. “Fagan, is the laird upset because Torquil called me Ravenna?”

“Aye.”

“Please tell Laird Sutherland that I asked Torquil to call me by my given name because it was much easier on his tongue. It was difficult for the boy to say ‘Mistress Denny.’ And if it suits the two of you, you may both call me Ravenna as well.”

Fagan turned up his smile a notch. “Ravenna…A verra bonny name for a verra bonny lass. The name suits ye.”

Ruairi scowled. What the hell did Fagan think he was doing? Was he actually trying to woo the lass? God’s teeth! The chit was English, a sworn enemy. Ruairi was aware that he probably shouldn’t have been so aloof toward her. After all, she would report back to His Majesty. When he gave his captain another dark look, Fagan only lifted a brow and then had the audacity to smirk. The man would pay for that one later.

For the remainder of the meal, Ruairi sat and listened while the woman laughed at all of Fagan’s jesting, sent smiles…at Fagan, and asked questions about Ruairi’s home…to Fagan. Clearly, Ruairi couldn’t answer, his only option to sit mute. Perhaps this wasn’t one of his most brilliant ideas. Mistress Denny must think him daft. He took another drink from his tankard and tried to think of all the ways to kill the captain of his guard.

Her gentle laugh wafted through the air. She was a bonny lass with her slim waist and long red tresses. In truth, her nearness was overwhelming, but the feelings she stirred within him had nothing to do with reason. After all, it had been quite a long time since he had shared his bed with a woman. When visions suddenly appeared of the sultry temptress lying beneath him, a cynical inner voice cut through Ruairi thoughts. He hated when his cock ruled his mind. He brought his tankard to his lips and took another big gulp, quickly realizing he needed something much stronger than what was in his cup.

***

Ravenna was by no means blind to Laird Sutherland’s attraction. Her instinctive response to him was powerful, but she mentally took a step back. What was she thinking? What had she become? And what kind of man made her mind race with purely wicked thoughts? He had just lost his wife. He was in mourning. Besides, since he didn’t speak English, she was forced to obtain her information for the Crown elsewhere.

She deliberately switched her attention to Fagan. If anyone should know what was afoot, it should be him. He was the captain of Sutherland’s guard, after all. She didn’t like the thought of using her feminine wiles against him, especially since she favored the looks of the handsome laird who sat beside her in a rugged, dangerous kind of way.

When Laird Sutherland abruptly stood, Ravenna presumed the meal was over. She thanked Fagan for his hospitality and followed the laird. His kilt rode low on his lean hips and the muscles under his tunic quickened her pulse. He appeared to fill out the material quite nicely.

She continued to follow him around, not minding the view at all, as he led her from the library to the kitchens and then to the ladies’ solar without speaking a word. He gestured with his hand and they walked out into the fresh air and into the gardens.

The last of the summer blooms lined the path. Yellow and red flowers led to a stone wall that was about waist high where the laird stopped and waited for her. She walked up beside him and looked over the wall. The white waves of the ocean crashed below on jagged rocks that stuck out from the shore. She inhaled the fresh saltwater air and closed her eyes, letting the breeze comb through her loose tendrils.

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her. He shifted his weight and stood to his full height. He stood so close that a piece of his long hair whipped her cheek. She could easily drown in the depths of his emerald eyes. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe and caught the smell of his spicy scent as it wafted through the air.

For a brief moment, Ravenna forgot who she was and what she was sent there to do. Something intense flared through her entrancement, which made her tingle in the pit of her stomach. No man had ever looked at her that way.

What was the matter with her?

The man had enough burdens. He was mourning for the loss of his wife and now had to raise his son alone. And here she was acting like some virginal chit who floundered over the man’s good looks.

Ravenna cleared her throat. “It’s quite unfortunate that you do not speak English.” When she saw a slight hesitation in his hawk-like eyes, she added, “Praise the saints. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You stand there, so handsome, sporting your kilt. Frankly, I don’t remember any of my other assignments being quite so…desirable.”

The smoldering flame she saw in his eyes startled her.

“Ye are my son’s governess, but I would take ye verra willingly to my bed.”

Ravenna paled.

Coming September 2014