Ravished By The Iron Highlander (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Read online

  Duncan slid off the horse and took her down. Her eyes were shadowed and distant and he felt deeply sorry for it. Taking her hands in his he said, “That part of my life is gone, lass, and I will never go back there. Will ye believe me?”

  Her eyes were down and her shoulders were set in a stiff line. Then, she sighed and her body went lax. Her head shook, “I can’t blame you for the mistakes you made in your past.”

  “Thank ye,” he brushed his lips on her cheek. “Go inside, I’ll find a place to put the horse away and then, I’ll join ye.”

  Walking away, he watched as she took the stairs, flashed a smile over her shoulder to him, then pushed the door in. Raking a hand through his hair, he looked around for any barn or stable while resolutely ignoring that he had made Isabella very uncomfortable…put out…angry? He was not even sure what she was feeling or how he could remedy it.

  Tugging the horse to the back of the inn, he spotted another structure with a rough-hewed wooden trough outside and went to it. Just inside the straw-littered floor, he spotted a gangly boy, sleeping, precariously balanced on a bucket. His threadbare cap was pulled over his eyes and he knocked lightly on the wall to get the boy’s attention.

  His head jolted up and he nearly fell off the bucket, but he steadied himself and stood. Wiping a hand under his chin the youth, probably fourteen summers, bopped his head twice, “Sorry, sorry. Me name’s Johnny, can I ‘elp ye?”

  “Just need a stall for me horse, boy,” Duncan said. “Some straw and water too.”

  “Aye, what’s yer name, sir?” The boy went to take the horse’s reins.

  “Duncan Goreidh,” he said while rubbing the horse’s ears. “Take care of him, Johnny.”

  Going back to the front door of the inn, Duncan took the steps, entered and saw Isabella sitting on a chair, staring out a window with her sack on the ground near her. He took the seat beside her, reached over and took her hand. It was lax on her lap but she curled her fingers over his. “Did ye get a room?”

  “I did,” she said. “I was just waiting for you to come. We’re married by the way,” she tacked on. “Mr. and Mrs. Goreidh.”

  A thrill ran through him at her words, and his eyes even dipped to her hand. A ring was not there, but if he did dare to think of it, a golden band would be lovely on her finger. “May I escort ye to our room, Mrs. Goreidh?

  “I believe you may,” she smiled at him. “Supper is being served later on, but I think…I think it best for us to rest until then.”

  The room they were given was down the hall and was wide enough for a good-sized straw mattress and a wooden tub. Isabella dropped her sack and tugged her coat off. The thin pale green dress she had on molded to her body and his throat went dry.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged her long braid over her shoulder. What concerned him was that her eyes were everywhere but on him. Sitting on the floor directly before her, he waited until she did look at him.

  “What did I do wrong?” he asked. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

  Her lovely eyes flicked up to him then down to her lap where her fingers were twisting. “It's not you, Duncan, it’s me.”

  Now, his concern turned to worry, “How is that?”

  She took his hands and a rosy hue was on her cheek, “When you spoke about being with…those women, I realized that—I’m a virgin, Duncan, I think that if we do get intimate…I’ll be lacking. The only thing I have is my gut feelings,” her laugh was self-deprecating. “I don’t even know if I’m kissing you properly.”

  “Yer doing fine,” Duncan said with a shake of his head. “And yer wrong about how ye are. Those women are practiced, Isabella. They have years upon years of kenning how to seduce men and women alike. They daenae have the same real, honest responses ye do and that is all from yer innocence. ‘Tis refreshing, honestly.”

  She was nibbling her lip now, “Are you sure?”

  “More than,” he said while rising to his feet. Taking her hand, he sat on the bed near her and tugged her into his side. “Let’s lie down for a moment, eh?”

  Isabella hadn’t needed to remind him of her innocence but he was happy that she had told him how self-doubting she was with him. He did not know how to tell her that being with whores was nothing glorious. She had to understand that such things were for boys who were just foraging their way into manhood, as he had been at seventeen.

  As they lay, facing each other, he steeled himself for a few hours of being near the tempting woman that he had begun to crave. He vowed to not touch her until she gave him permission to do so. It was going to be difficult to not let that primal need inside him let loose, to claim this woman, to make her his. But for both of their sakes, he stayed his hand.

  Brushing the loose tendrils of her hair from her eyes he said, “Yer eyes are lovely, Isabella. Has anyone ever told ye?”

  An unladylike snort escaped her, “If you count my brother telling me that my eyes were like the old owl that would sit on the tree outside his window.”

  “Yer brother is a louse,” he murmured softly.

  Leaning into his hold she smiled, “And you defy what I’ve thought Scotsmen were like.”

  “And what were ye expecting?” he asked.

  “Red hair, long beards in thick plaits, burly bodies, and always carrying a sword,” she said. “Scar wounds all over, always eating haggis…a bit savage and unlearned?”

  “God above,” Duncan swore lightly. “Yer people have the most ridiculous assumptions about me people.”

  She was tracing a finger over the neck of his linen shirt, and said, “You must have the same assumptions about mine, don’t you?”

  “Aye,” he admitted. “I have. That yer society forces men and women to marry only for money, nae caring if they are fifty years apart and that a simple kiss in public is a sin worthy of the deepest pit of hell.”

  “See,” Isabella giggled, “most of those are…well, all of that is true but thank god we do know each other now and can say that we’ve surpassed those.”

  The time was ripe to divulge his deepest secret, “Her name was Caitlin and she betrayed me in the worst way. I kent I had loved her but she was only using me. I was two-and-twenty at that time me Faither had just died. The Lairdship was in a very weak and vulnerable state and I felt that I was falling in love with her. Like she would be me wife and help me rule with a good and balanced hand.”

  He pressed his lips tight for a moment, battling the feeling that had arisen when he had uttered the woman’s name, “I had recently taken on the Lairdship and suddenly, me people were being raided, thieves came out of nowhere to steal things, me soldiers were called out and being slaughtered left and right. It was only by happenstance that I found out that she was from the enemy clan that was killing mine. She was sending messages, telling the Laird there, who was her lover, where to strike.”

  “Good god,” Isabella whispered. “A real-life Delilah.”

  “Me words exactly,” he said. “I never dared to give me heart out again…until ye.”

  “Me?” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he said reaching over to kiss her, “Ye.”

  15

  Dawn had come and Duncan had gone to get washing water for her. She was at the window, looking as the black-robed monks took the hill to the church in a somber line. The air was cold, and the mist was still hovering over the land, rendering it somewhat mysterious. As the sun had not fully come out yet, only pale pink lit the air. She tightened the lapels of her coat to stave off the chilled air coming in.

  Last night had been very enlightening. She might not have had years with him, but she was beginning to know that Duncan was not a man who brushed things off like a callused vagabond. He took things deeply and for him to give a woman his heart and have it be slashed in half like that, it had to have wounded him.

  I never dared to give me heart out again…until ye.

  “Me,” she whispered. Touching her lips, she felt the pleasure of his long kisses from last night shi
vering through her again. He had kissed her for what felt like hours, pouring out his attention and care with his lips.

  They still had a way to go before getting to his home, a few more days at least and she was all right with that. What worried her was, would she be able to keep the passion he had ignited inside her, tamped down until they got there or until she knew how it was going between them?

  Does he truly want me?

  Hearing scuffles from the other side of the door, she rushed to yank it open even while Duncan was shouldering it in. He was carrying two massive buckets of hot water which he easily poured into the wooden bath. The water, to her disbelief, came a good halfway up the tub.

  He shook his head, wet with morning dew, “Nay much, but it will do for ye.”

  “And you?” she asked.

  “I took a dip in the creek behind this place,” he said with a shrug. “We’re getting deeper into the country, lass, spring and creeks are almost everywhere. Have yer bath, the innkeeper has arranged for a meal for us and then we’re on our way.”

  So, that was not dew clinging to your hair.

  “I’ll have the horse ready for us,” he ended with a quick kiss to her cheek.

  “Wait,” she called as he turned to the door. “How’s…how’s your leg?”

  That was not the question she had wanted to ask but her bravery had taken a sudden dip. She was concerned about how they would be when they ventured deeper into the Highlands. A war had just ended. Surely, ripple effects would have surged all over Scotland. Would the people take to her knowing she was English?

  Duncan flashed her a comforting look, “Feeling better every day. Dinnae worry yerself about it.”

  He was gone and she latched the door behind him. Closing the window, she disrobed and took her bath, this time with a sliver of olive oil soap. Through the washing, she debated on how she was going to voice her concern to Duncan.

  I’m no weakling, I can defend myself if anyone challenges me…but then again, it is better to be prudent than merely courageous.

  Knowing their time was limited, she finished her bath, dressed and wrapped her braid like a halo around her head and pinned it. The bed was made and her packed sack was resting on her feet. Her aunt’s face flashed before her, the pain she had seen that night on her face made fear tug at her belly.

  Am I making a mistake, running away with Duncan? Am I just bringing problems to his doorstep, all because of my feelings for him?

  The door pushed in and Duncan was there. “Ready to go?”

  “Somewhat…” she trailed off then looked at him, “are we sure about this? How will your people take to me knowing that I am from a land that was at war with theirs? I fear that I’m voluntarily walking into exile.”

  He sat with her and coldness washed over her when he did not take her hand. “I’m nay going to discount yer worry; ‘tis a troubling situation but ye need nae worry too much. Ye had nothing to do with it.”

  Distress still settled heavy in her chest, “But I am still…English.”

  “When they ken ye were the one who saved me life instead of letting me die, they will accept ye,” he said, the sincerity of his words reflected in his eyes. This time, he did reach out and hold her close. With his nose in her hair and his mouth near her ear, he assured her. “Nothin’ will harm ye, I give ye me word.”

  Slightly mollified, she rested her head on his chest for a moment then pulled away. “Let’s go eat. It’s time we get back on the road.”

  After a meal of warm lamb stew, they were back on the road, heading north. She asked Duncan where they were headed to and he replied. “I was kenning to pass through Edina but ye said it was more prudent to keep away from places that might remember us. So, we’re heading to Perthshire, where the Stirling’s have made and held their stronghold.”

  Curious about his terminology, Isabella asked what was so intriguing about the place and Duncan began a long tale, telling her how the land had been found by King Alexander the First, and, how, over the centuries, it had passed between English and Scottish hands.

  Listening to him speak, Isabella knew that he was very knowledgeable and articulate. He did not even hesitate when he spoke and any question she asked, he had a ready reply. They stopped to water the horse then took off again.

  Again, when they had reached the town, he saw awe and wonder painted on Isabella’s face. The castle, rising high upon a plateau stand was bound to catch anyone’s eyes but those of an outsider even more so.

  “See, Isabella, we arenae savage or unlearned,” he said proudly while the castle’s pennant flittered in the wind. “Me home puts this to shame, though.”

  She twisted on his lap. “You’re that confident?”

  Spurring the horse into a walk he said, “More than. Me home, lass, was carved from a mountainside. Everything about it is awe-inspiring and magical. In fact, we have claimed that magic is the reason we are who we are.”

  Casting him a look, she asked, “Really, how so?”

  “‘Tis said that my ancestor was down the waterway an’ gazing at the land where he wanted to build his home but had not the means to. He was there until the magic hour of twilight came and a loch selkie came to the shore. She said she felt his pain an’ would give him the power to make his home,” Duncan clarified. “She let him touch her skin and he got the power to cut into the rock. The selkie visited him every year to replenish his strength and fifteen years to the day of their first meeting, his home was made, and he married the selkie. She did not age but he did and when the time came for him to die, their love was so true, she took him to her home in the river.”

  “That is what I wanted my aunt to understand,” Isabella sighed. “To find true love instead of settling. To have such love that even death could not part the two lovers.”

  “It might be a story but I’d like to think about the morals too,” Duncan said. “Loyalty and honor are the forerunners of love. If she kept coming for fifteen years and he dinnae stray away, they must have built something during that time.”

  Loyalty and honor are the forerunners of love…I could not say it any better.

  Her musing was interrupted by him asking, “D’ye want to stay in an inn or travel farther from the village, which will take us to the forest beyond.”

  The thought of spending another night in an inn with a bed, was tantalizing, but she felt it more important to keep their faces out of the mind of people who could be persuaded to tell on them for a gold coin. “Let’s go as far as we can. I don’t mind the forest.”

  Duncan steered them away from the town’s center and the attention it would gain them, to the far countryside, they rode on. When they did stop, it was in the evening, and they were on the banks of another river. While a fire was being made up to buffer the cold, she spotted a swarm of lightning bugs hover in the waters, making them glisten. Birds of a white and mottled brown feather were picking insects out of the muddy bank and a feeling of peace was like a blanket over them.

  It was calm but Isabella’s eyes were on Duncan who was only just a few feet away. So far, Duncan had proved to be intelligent, caring, fun-loving, and dedicated. He was handsome and his kisses made her warm all through. But she knew there was another side to any coin, what could she expect from him that he had not shown her?

  Would he show her that he was overly-proud, stubborn or, god forbid, unfaithful? Sitting on the riverbank, she remembered the warmth of his kiss, how he looked at her with care, and how his words of comfort were like a balm to her troubled spirit. While he was working the fire up, he flashed her a grin and she repaid it.

  I can easily fall in love with this man.

  “Yer gears are turning again,” Duncan teased as he came over to sit with her. “What’s worrying ye, now.”

  Briefly, she considered telling him but shifted to another worry that was lingering in the back of her mind—her aunt.

  “Aunt Matilda,” she said as her eyes ran over the river, “I’m worried about her and my brother.
Surely by now, he has found me gone. I am worried he is taking his anger out on my aunt.”

  His shoulder bumped hers, “If ye dinnea mind me saying as I daenae ken about her or yer brother as ye do, but ken of it. If yer aunt had survived this long in the wildness of Scotland, she must be a strong woman. I highly doubt she would let him overpower her or intimidate her into anything. I ken yer aunt held her ground with him.”

  Leaning on his shoulder, she said, “I can only hope.”

  * * *

  Sunderland, England