Her Wicked Highlander: A Highland Knights Novella (3 page)

“Stubborn wench,” he muttered, holding her as steady as he could while she flailed about in his grasp.

And then she burst into tears.

He blinked at her, pushing her to arm’s length away from him so he could look at her. “What’s wrong?”

She shoved at his chest, and he looked down, confused.

“Are you stupid?” she sobbed.

“Nay,” he said truthfully.

“You’ve stolen me from my bed in the dead of night, trussed me like a turkey, and taken me to an abandoned castle. I dinna ken whether you intend to maul me or rape me or murder me, or all three. I dinna ken what you want from me, and why you want it. You dinna tell me a thing, just lock me into a room and expect me to sit docilely while you go… while you go collect your torture devices!”

For the first time, Max truly considered this from the lass’s point of view. Mayhap she had a point. He’d simply been doing his duty, but perhaps he’d forgotten the feelings of the other human involved. In his defense, he’d never been tasked with the duty of protecting a belligerent female before. He had been somewhat at a loss as to how to handle the situation.

One thing was clear now, though. It’d be far easier to simply tell her the truth rather than tie her up and hear her shrieks or have to recapture her every half hour.

“You’re right,” he told her.

Glassy and still brimming with tears, her eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“I need to be telling you more. Come back with me, we’ll have a meal, and I’ll tell you why I brought you here.”

“I dinna trust you!”

“You need to trust me, lass,” he said solemnly. It was true—right now, Max was her best chance. The other man searching for her would have no qualms about hurting her—probably even killing her—once he got what he wanted. “If you do naught else, you need to trust me.”

“How can I? You’re a kidnapper and a trespasser and a thief!”

“A thief?” He frowned.

“Well, aren’t you?”

“I dinna think so.”

“Verra well, then. A kidnapper and a trespasser!”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then, realizing he couldn’t, he simply sighed. “Come back with me,” he said wearily.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nay.”

“Do you intend to throw me over your shoulder again?”

“If needs be.”

“Please don’t.”

“Then come willingly.”

Swiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she straightened, standing tall and proud in the red tartan dress he’d taken from her cottage last night, a Highland woman through and through. Admiration surged through him, but he didn’t let it show.

“Lead the way,” she said tightly.

He reached out, and when she didn’t make a move to take his hand, he reached down and clasped hers. “Come.”

They walked back through the forest to the road, where he lifted her onto the horse, then mounted behind her, trying not to think of the way her thighs felt against his. She was soft and sweet, and she smelled good, which after all the running and shouting came as no small surprise. But she smelled of the Highlands—of heather and hay and earth. She smelled of home.

He turned them back toward the castle. They rode in silence, and she waited as he stabled the horse, and they walked together through the door to the kitchen. He led her to the drawing room, where their simple meal was waiting. He handed her a piece of dried meat, which she devoured. Then he handed her another one, which she ate more slowly. They both sat on the sofa, and Max settled the tray containing their food between them.

“Well, explain yourself, then.” She took another bite of meat.

He nodded. “Your dagger is what brought me here.”

“My family’s dagger is no business of yours. It belongs to me.”

“Aye, it does. But someone wishes to get his hands on it.”

She shook her head in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it’s valuable.”

“Aye, well, there’s the ruby. It’s valuable, but there are many things in Scotland more so. Why are they after my dagger, and what’s your role?”

“’Tisn’t the ruby. It isna the literal value of the dagger that has drawn him. ’Tis the political value of it.”

“What’re you talking about?”

How could she not know any of this? This lass was truly a long distance from London. Anyone who’d laid eyes on any London newspaper in the last two months knew of the King Richard Dagger by now. “Haven’t you heard the legend?”

“The legend?”

“Of the dagger?”

She made a scoffing noise. “Aye, well, they say King Richard the Lionheart had it made in Jerusalem during the Crusades. That he added the ruby from his personal treasure.”

“Aye, well, that’s the history of the dagger. There is a new rumor about it, though. They say that whoever owns the King Richard Dagger will have the capability to restore power to the clans in Scotland.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?” she screeched.

“Aye. I’ve come from London, and—”

“London?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You dinna sound like you’re from London.”

“Aye, well, I’m a Scot by blood and by birth, but I joined one of the Highland Regiments when I was a lad of sixteen. After Waterloo, I remained on the Continent for a time—”

“Doing what?”

He sighed. “Anyhow, I’m in London for now. There’s a man named William Sutherland who has decided that he wants to be the man to bring power back to the clans. He has been spreading propaganda about how England has abused the rights of the Scottish people since the slaughter at Culloden, and how Scotland will never truly be free under English domination.”

“Culloden was almost three-quarters of a century ago.”

“Yet it is still in the mind of many Highlanders. You live here. You’ve seen it.”

“Aye, well, that’s true. But no one’s stupid enough to think that we’ve any chance of bringing the clans back to power.”

“Sutherland is. He’s also been circulating the legend about the King Richard Dagger—that whoever controls it will be the one responsible for restoring the power to the clans.” And by doing so, Sutherland had grown dangerous indeed. People believed the propaganda the man was spreading, and once he had the dagger in his possession, the Knights feared it would be easy for him to gather followers.

Aila frowned. “Sounds to me like
he
’s the one who wants to gain power.”

Max nodded, impressed at her insightfulness. “Aye. That’s exactly what we think as well.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me… and my colleagues.”

“Who are…?” she prompted.

He sighed. “The Highland Knights.”

“The Highland Knights,” she repeated slowly. “I dinna ken who that is.”

“We’re a brotherhood of Scotsmen working in the interests of the Crown,” he said, radically simplifying the description of the Knights.

“I see. And you traveled to the Highlands in order to stop Sutherland?”

“Aye, and to ensure your safety.”

“Why would you do that? You dinna even know me!”

“Sutherland is dangerous,” Max said darkly. “You require protection.”

She made a scoffing noise. “You’re the one who’s dangerous, as far as I can tell—”

“Aye, well, let’s put it this way: Sutherland plans to find you. He plans to torture you until you tell him the location of the dagger. And then he plans to kill you.”

Chapter Three

Aila’s mind reeled. Did someone truly believe her family heirloom was a key to power in the Highlands? It seemed mad beyond measure!

She gave Max a dubious look. “This canna be true.”

“Aye, well, it is.”

“So… you’re here to protect me.”

“Exactly.”

She raised her hands in exasperation. “Why did you no’ tell me that at the beginning? I’ve spent the last day thinking you were an evil witch with malicious intentions!”

He shrugged. “I was given orders. I didna think of that part of it. I just kent I had to get you away from danger.”

“Do you ever think of how your actions might affect others?”

“Nay,” he admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “Not often.”

She studied him. Something about him—she could admit it now that she was fairly certain he wasn’t her enemy—drew her. Part of it was his looks, certainly—who could ignore a handsome, strong, tall, virile man? He made everything that was feminine in her stand up and take notice.

He tilted his head, and they stared at each other hard for a long moment. His eyes were a clear brown, framed by long, black lashes.

He wasn’t going to hurt her. This was all about protecting her. Though that seemed unbelievable after all that had happened since last night.

And yet… she believed him. There was something purely honest in the way he functioned, as if deception simply wasn’t part of his repertoire.

Or perhaps he was so good at it, it was impossible to discern.

He was sitting close to her. She could smell him—he must have bathed, because he smelled of soap and clean man and fresh air. She swallowed hard, and took the last half of the bannock he offered her. “Thank you.”

He nodded and finished his last bite of meat, then reached over and poured them each a small measure of whisky from the jar on the table. She took it from him and drank it in one swallow. It was stronger than her whisky at home, and she gasped.

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling for a second before he downed the fluid in his own glass. He set the glass down with a
clunk
.

“So this is your castle?” she asked. “You must be rich, then.”

His lips twisted. “Aye, well, that depends on how you’ll be defining
rich
.”

“You’ve seen my house.”

He stared at her for a second, then nodded. “Aye, then. I’m rich.”

“Where is your family?”

“In Aberdeen. My da is a salt merchant.”

“Is that a profitable business?”

“Aye, it has been, at least for him.”

“And do you have siblings?”

He had moved the empty food tray aside and was inching closer to her, she realized. Warmth tingled under her skin, the whisky quickly running through her veins and heating her blood. She desperately wanted to touch him, but she’d been raised to be a modest lass—at least in some ways.

She’d had suitors, but no one had much interested her, until now. Her boyish, countrified suitors were nothing like Maxwell White.

“Aye,” he said. “Two brothers. Both younger.”

“I never had a brother, or a sister,” she said, sighing. “Well, I suppose I did. Two sisters… but they died at birth.”

“I’m sorry for that. I canna imagine life without my brothers.”

“Having no family…” She looked away from him. “It can be lonely sometimes.”

“And your parents are gone… Died two years ago from plague, was it?”

“How do you ken so much about me?” she asked, stiffening.

“We needed to learn all we could about you once we knew Sutherland was after you.”

She frowned. She didn’t like that. Didn’t like people she didn’t know digging into her past, learning about her parents.

“Do you miss them?” he asked softly. He cupped her cheek in his palm, turning her to face him.

His palm was warm and strong and soft, and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. “Yes. I miss them. I miss them terribly.”

His mouth touched hers, soft and warm, and she sighed against him.

“Aila,” he murmured, his lips moving against hers. “You’re so bonny. I havena…” He pulled back and dropped his hand, and she opened her eyes. He stared at her with a look that made tingles shudder under her skin. She grabbed onto his shirt, fisting the fabric in her hands, and he made a low noise in his throat. “Dinna test my control, lass.”

A thrill of fear rushed through her, but it wasn’t the kind of fear she’d experienced when she’d thought he was going to hurt her. This was a different animal altogether.

“What if,” she asked softly, “I want to test it?”

It was the right thing to say, she realized, because the heat of his gaze intensified. “You dinna ken what you’re saying,” he rasped.

“I was raised in a three-room cottage on a farm,” she countered. “I ken exactly what I’m saying.”

“How old are you, lass?”

“Two and twenty.” She gazed at him directly, challenging. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. Too old for the likes of you.”

She scoffed. “Och, that’s ridiculous.” She lifted her glass and held it out for more whisky. He poured some into her glass and then into his own.

He took a swallow of his drink. “You manage your lands on your own.”

“Aye. Well, Gin and I manage it together.”

“Gin? Oh, aye, your servant. She’s in Inverness seeing to her aunt, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Aila conceded. “But she’ll be back in a few days. I couldna do it without her help, and without the help of our neighbors, the Grants, and the people in the village.” She relaxed against him.

“And do you like living alone like that?”

“Mmm…” she murmured. “There’s naught else for me to be doing with my time, now is there?”

“If there were, would you choose to do it?”

“It is my life, and ’tis where I belong. Although, I dinna think I’d mind traveling to London and seeing the Prince Regent with you.”

“I’ve never seen the Prince Regent.” He put his arm around her, his fingers playing with the fabric of her dress at the top of her shoulder.

She tilted her head. “Why ever not?”

“Just… never got around to it, I suppose. I havena much interest in the Regent, anyhow.”

“And yet you support his government.”

“It is
my
government. What I fought for, for eight years in the army. What so many died for at Waterloo, and the battles leading up to it.”

“Aye,” she said softly. “And now Sutherland wants to change all that.”

“Aye, and there are others as well. ’Tis why the Highland Knights must exist.”

She closed her eyes, thinking of this Sutherland and his search for the dagger. “Where is Sutherland now?”

“Here, in the Highlands.”

“Nearby?”

“Aye. Near your lands.”

“Is that why you were in such a hurry last night?”

Max nodded. “I received word he was in the area.”

“Oh dear Lord!” She pulled away from him. “Do you think he’s already been to my cottage?”