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

  She went back to her room, tempted to let out a scream of frustration through the window. Instead, she dropped to the chair and felt the burn of tears begin under her tightly clenched eyes. This was her worst nightmare coming true, being sent back to the controlling brother while the only options to be free were to run away—but to where?— or kill herself, and that was dismal at best. She could not stay with her aunt as Matilda would never let her stay.

  An idea sprang into her head but she shook it away…Duncan will never take me on and carry me anywhere. They were just at war with my people. To them, I’m the picture of an enemy and who would welcome an enemy within their ranks?

  She glanced at the letter in her hand, and gripping the top with both hands, she ripped the sheet in two and then into four, only to chuck the pieces into her unlit fireplace. She then began to pack her things, shoving her clothes back into the trunk only to leave out two dresses, a cloak, and her nightdress.

  Instead of leaving the room she sat and quietly considered her options again and her mind ran to Duncan again. Is it worth it to even try and get into his good books after I ran away from him last night? Will he even see me?

  As night came down she changed into her nightdress and went to rest until it was late enough that she could go and see him. She counted her breaths as the time passed and when she deemed it late enough, she slid out from the sheets and then into the corridor down to Duncan’s room. Softly padding down the hallway, she tried to plan what she might say to him but the words felt disordered and trite to her ears.

  When she got to his door, she pushed it in but found it stuck. Supposed it was stuck, she tried again but the rattle of a bolt in its socket told that the door was not stuck, it was bolted. Duncan had locked her out. She rested her head on the dark wood and felt the pain of his unspoken rejection settle hotly in her chest. Perhaps this was what Duncan had felt last night and it was only fair that she felt it back.

  She did not dare speak much less call out to him, to plead with him to open the door and let her in. She opened her lips to utter a whispered plea but the words were stuck in her throat. Her forehead rested on the cool wood briefly before she pulled away, swallowing her disappointment down. Pulling her hand away, she stepped away from the door and then slowly went back to her room to lie down and wait for a sleep that would never come.

  10

  The rattle of the door had been expected. Duncan had known that Isabella had been scared last night and had run off in fright. Before she had taken off however he had sensed that she had wanted him to kiss her. How she had tipped on her toes and how her lips had parted had been clear indicators. He had predicted that she would come back that night to either apologize or ask him to kiss her again, but he could not stomach seeing her at all.

  He felt that he had been disloyal in trying to kiss her when he knew she was off-limits. His heart had ached while hearing her try to push the door in and if it had not been for his firm decision to not let her in, that door would have been flung open at the moment he had heard her soft footsteps outside.

  A day ago, he had been sure of wanting to carry Isabella with him but now that bedrock belief had suffered a pulverizing blow right in the middle. His expectation for staying a few more days had been narrowed to one. He was leaving the next night and no one or anything was going to change his mind.

  When he was sure she was gone, he went and unbolted the door. He then went back to the bed and put some more of the salve on his thigh. His leg felt better but there were moments his muscle went so incredibly stiff. He was going to leave this salve no matter how it helped. He had already dishonored Miss Dellendine by trying to kiss Isabella. He was not going to steal from her too, not the salve and certainly not the horse.

  He went to bed but uninvited thoughts of Isabella still coming with him invaded his head. His hand twitched with the urge to run his finger through her hair, and his lips folded with the desire to kiss her. A kiss and a touch that he was doomed to never have.

  I’ll never know the feeling of her touch.

  Sleep came hard to him that night but he woke more determined than ever to leave. When the maid came with his meal, she did not say much. There was coldness coming from the woman but he did not know why.

  “Thank you,” he said only to have the maid’s head snap up and her eyes narrowed. Did I say ye instead? Why is she looking at me this way?

  “You’re welcome,” the woman said but her tone was far from gracious.

  She might be suspicious but she had not had time to doctor his food so he ate. When she came back he was surprised she had not carried Miss Dellendine with her. She only came, took the empty trencher and goblet and left with a nod. Duncan began to pray for the time to pass and while on the bed, kept massaging his leg. His eyes kept glancing toward the window, judging the time and did not turn even when the door was opened.

  “Are you thinking about going outside?” Miss Dellendine asked.

  “Eventually,” Duncan said. “My thanks again for aiding me.”

  The lady sat, her face solemn and her eyes distant and taciturn, “Are you sure there is no one I can call for you? I’m soon to be alone here as Isabella is going back to her home for her marriage.”

  Damnit! That was what she had wanted to talk to me about and I refused to see her!

  He schooled his face into one of nonchalance even though his insides were burning with fury at himself. “That’s good then, inn—isn’t it?”

  “I am assured, but Isabella is not as convinced,” Miss Dellendine replied. “If only she knew the hardship of a woman of her status not being married when the time to do so is right.”

  Duncan narrowed his eyes a little. Why am I sensing there is some kindred history there…the lady is nay married, is that why she is pushing Isabella to do so? To escape the ignominy of being an old maid?

  Her eyes went sharp, “You disagree, don’t you?”

  “‘Tis no power of mine to agree or disagree,” Duncan said calmly. “If the maiden is of age and desire to marry, then she will do so. If not…” he trailed off then shrugged.

  Her lips flattened and Duncan wondered how she could be expecting him to have an opinion on the matter. What was she expecting him to say? She was the one who had told him about Isabella about to be married off. As far as she knew, he had only seen Isabella once. He did not know what the woman was aiming for. As the silence stretched, something in his expression must have told her that it was futile to continue the discussion.

  “I see,” Miss Dellendine murmured as she stood. “Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Gordon, I will see you tomorrow.”

  Nay, ye won’t.

  Nodding briefly, Duncan’s eyes followed her through the door. He then began to plan how he was going to leave. From the window, he could see the same barn where he had been found by Isabella. It was the same way he planned to take on leaving.

  The sky was darkening with rain, and he wondered why there had not been any rain yet. The winter was setting in and soon enough his home would be clothed with snow. If he did not leave soon, the mountain passes would start to get snowed in, and considering the limitations of being weak and horseless, he might be trapped in the lowlands for months.

  He went back to the bed, not before squatting a few times. His legs were still a bit weak but he believed he was strong enough to walk to the next town and find a horse. He turned to rest his back on the window sill and looked around the room. It felt empty and miserable, any comforting touch it might have once had, was long gone. The walls were bland, the bed was plain and pushed up to the wall, and a drab strip of carpet was on the dark stone floor. He briefly wondered why Miss Dellendine lived in such a large house that was so lifeless.

  While pressing his thumbs into his knee, the door opened and the maid from before came in with a tray of stew. Duncan eyed her as she set the tray on the bed, “Thank you.”

  She nodded, “Mr. Gordon, is it?” He nodded. “It is Miss Dellendine you should be thanking, really.”


  “I have,” he replied, wondering why the woman’s tone was as taciturn as her mistress’. “Whenever she comes to see me.”

  The maid nodded and then left, she stopped at the doorway and said, “Get well soon.”

  Turning back to his knee, Duncan massaged it, pressing his thumb into the joint and then slipping down to massage his leg. He tried to remember if he had seen a town or village on his way, tottering away from the war nearly two weeks ago.

  His memory was blurry and all he could remember was pain, weariness, and a deep wish for his miserable reality to be over. He did not know if there was a town nearby but Isabella had mentioned that her aunt had gone to church so there had to be a village nearby.

  Thinking of Isabella and that he was never going to see her again in less than ten hours made cold settle deep into his stomach. His clothes, a linen shirt, and trousers, were loose and were probably the best for walking long distances.

  I’m sorry, Isabella that I couldnae do much more for ye.

  Dusk began to creep in and Duncan, not feeling the least hungry though he knew he should eat something for his long night ahead, took the stew and dumped it out the window. The maid came for the bowl and left with her curt words.

  Night fell slowly and as the cool air came in, Duncan was glad that he had been placed on the ground floor. It would be much easier to sneak out the window and then get past the shed and into the marshlands. The night was deepening and fortunately, or ominously, no light was there to guide him as it was a new moon. The bare illumination he had to guide his way was from the stars.

  * * *

  She could feel her time ticking away from her. By the time the pink rays of dawn came, she would be on a carriage back to her brother and the marriage she did not want. She was perched on her window looking out into the dark night, wishing that God would stop time for her or miraculously let her brother drop dead.

  It was nearly the deepest hour of the night, and she still could not tear herself away from the window. Her gaze was listless, roaming all over the backlands, when she saw a shadowy figure coming out of a window and gingerly letting itself down the few feet to the ground.

  For a moment she was confused but then, when the realization hit her, she nearly fell out of her window. It's Duncan! And he is leaving.

  Isabella was immobile, her feet felt planted to the floor when she knew she had to stop him. I should stay here…and let him go. She was resolute in staying behind, but soon she was spinning to the door. If he must go, he must go, but he cannot leave me this way—he cannot! She was out of her room in a flash and hurried down the stairs as if the house was on fire.

  Rushing to the backyard, she saw Duncan walking toward the shed where her aunt’s horse was kept. Is he going to steal it? Picking up her pace, she ran toward him and even called out for him to stop. Duncan spun in place and nearly stumbled, his arms flailing a little.

  She grabbed at him and her heaving breast was nearly resting on his chest. His eyes were dark and unreadable but she tugged him closer while her eyes were searching his. “Why?”

  It was the only word she could utter and it was loaded with pain. Why had he chosen to leave in the middle of the night? Why had he chosen to leave like a coward? Grabbing at him tighter she asked again, “Why, Duncan? Why leave like this? Please tell me?”

  “I…” he stalled. “I have to leave, Isabella. It's nay safe for me to stay here. Ken of it, I am a Scot in enemy territory. Yer people just lost a war and if anyone gets word that a fugitive Scot is at yer home, I’d be calling death upon yer heads. I must leave and go home. It is pure survival for both ye and me.”

  She did not drop his hand, “When I saw you my first thought was to leave you alone…but my heart told me otherwise. What are you hiding from me, Duncan? Do you not feel the same connection I had when you held my hand?” She stepped away as a horrible thought twisted her heart. “Or was I fooling myself?

  His reply was his hand cupping the back of her neck and his lips on hers. Her lips opened to say something, but his tongue was inside and the kiss deepened. Every sensation in her body was jolted awake as Duncan kissed her with deep intensity, careful control and tantalizing skill—all that she had imagined him doing. A feverish heat began to grow just under her skin.

  He licked the roof of her mouth and she shivered while a spark of heat danced up and down her spine. Isabella’s hands were clutching at his shoulder and her unfettered breasts were pressed against the stone-wall of his chest as his mouth consumed her with each bold pass of his tongue. Bravely, she tried—however so clumsily—to respond.

  So, this is the desire I’ve read about. This magnetic, mesmerizing energy betwixt us.

  Duncan pulled away and warm breath, from his flaring nostrils, ghosted over her lips. “I couldnae tell ye, Isabella, I dinnae ken I’d keep me control knowing that ye were soon to be married off.”

  “Why?” She asked in sincere confusion. “Why would that bother you so much?”

  “Because I hated the very idea of ye being yoked to a man ye dinnae like or love,” Duncan said plainly but somehow—somehow—Isabella felt there was more to it than that. “When ye told me about yer abhorrence for this new marriage thrust upon ye, I kent to take ye with me, but then I wondered if ye would come with me. I began to doubt meself.”

  “You thought about carrying me with you?” Isabella asked in disbelief, then laughed quietly, “That’s very odd, because I thought of it too and even on the ghost of a chance it did happen, I did not think it would be in the middle of the night and I know I would never get my aunt’s permission.”

  “You don’t know me that well,” Aunt Matilda’s voice came from behind her.

  Isabella jumped nearly a foot in the air and her heart was suddenly, firmly lodged in her throat. She spun, ready to give her aunt an excuse, any excuse, but her throat was dry. Her aunt came forward, her face pale and her eyes looking forlorn.

  “Aunt, I—”

  Her aunt held up her palm, cutting her off indiscriminately, “Stop, Isabella, just stop. I know what is happening. I know you went behind my back to see the man I had ordered you to stay away from. But then I heard his words and…” her eyes flicked between the two of them. “I know what you’re feeling Isabella and from experience, I can tell you it is not that easy.”

  Now, Isabella was flummoxed. She stepped back and felt her back bump into Duncan’s hard chest. His hand came to rest on her hip for a moment to steady her and she spotted her aunt’s eyes dip to it and then back up.

  “What do you mean?” Isabella asked.

  “Falling in love with a Scotsman,” Aunt Matilda said and Isabella nearly swallowed her tongue. “When I was nineteen years old, the very age you are Isabella, I had fallen in love with a Scottish man and he with me. It was love that I had not known could exist. He made me feel like a Queen. We had decided to elope, but my father found out about it and killed the man before we could run. I was so broken that I never got married and my father thought he could buy my happiness back by giving me a house and enough money to live on my own.”

  Isabella was numb with shock. Her aunt had loved a Scotsman! At first, it felt too hard to believe but then the pieces began to fall in place. That was why she had lived so far from them, that was why her house faced the Scottish mountains, and that was why her aunt was so cold and lonely. She had lost the love of her life and it had been so strong that she had never looked for another.

  “Is that why you live so near Scotland?” Isabella asked her aunt those questions running through her mind and Matilda’s response was a nod before she turned to Duncan.

  “If you must go, I will help. Mr. Gordon, where do you live?”

  “Me name is Goreidh and me home is in Brynkirk, right on the brink of the Loch Mhòrair,” Duncan replied then he breathed out. “I am the Laird of Clan Brynkirk.”

  The shocking bolts kept coming and, jolted, Isabella spun to Duncan. Again, it made sense as to why he was running. If it was found
out that he was not only a Scot but the Laird of a Clan, the bounty on his head would be much more massive.

  “Y-You’re a…Laird?” She stuttered. “How were you in a war then?”

  “‘Tis just how I told ye,” Duncan replied solemnly. “For the sake of me family, it was better to take one man than hundreds. But nay because of me position doesnae mean I am exempt from fighting. In fact, I am sure that they nearly captured me to barter the return of their prisoners because of me authority.”

  “Despite all that, you are still injured,” Aunt Matilda said, “You cannot walk for long lengths of time. I will make you a trade, Laird, I will give you my horse, if you promise to take care of my niece.”

  Her head snapped to her aunt and her mouth slipped open in surprise, “Aunt!”