MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel (23 page)

But for Colin, home would always be his wife.

And what a strange sensation that was. Strange yet comforting.

Maggie was moving beneath him, picking up the pace, drawing their lovemaking to its inevitable conclusion. He didn’t want it to end. Their connection was permanent, but this moment, this small moment of time, cut out from the real problems in the world, was just for them alone. All theirs. No one else’s. When it was over, he would have to face the struggles going on outside this room.

He held on as long as he could, slowing his movements, gritting his teeth, but it wasn’t something he could put off forever. Maggie thrust her hips forward and pulled his hips down as she came undone, crying out his name. He could no more hold back his release than he could have stopped the river that swept Maggie away from him.

They clung to each other, and while Colin was nearly certain that Maggie felt the same connection, he was reluctant to speak of it, to give it words, for fear of putting himself out there. So he kept it to himself, close to his heart, because words unsaid couldn’t cause pain.

She made a purring noise and turned her face to his chest to press her nose against him and fall fast asleep. But it was a long while before Colin found peace in sleep. He thought about the people scattered throughout the woods. He felt their hopes that he would restore their way of life to them, and in the dark of the night, all the fears that he’d forced himself to forget while making love to Maggie came to the forefront of his thoughts.

Could he do it? Could he force the English from his home and take it back? Could he be the leader his father and brother had been? Or would he disappoint everyone again?

He kissed the top of Maggie’s head and closed his eyes, admitting that the person he feared disappointing the most was his wife.

“They were afraid,” Maggie said as she snuggled into his arms, sated from their lovemaking.

“Afraid of the English,” he said, his voice rumbling through her.

“No. Afraid of ye.”

“Me?” He tilted his head down to get a better look at her.

“They were afraid to go to ye, afraid the English would find them. Afraid it was a trap. I searched them out and knocked on a few doors.”

“Ye rounded them up yerself?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“What else was there to do? Waiting wasn’t accomplishing anything.”

“I did no’ think they would be afraid to approach me.”

“They’ve been living in fear for weeks. They’d heard stories of the English atrocities, and they’d even heard ye were imprisoned.”

“Were they truly happy to hear I’d come back for them?” he whispered, as if he didn’t quite believe it.

“Ye seem to think that yer clansmen hold the same opinion as yer father and brothers, but they don’.”

“They should.”

She touched his cheek, feeling the soft stubble. Most days she had to remind herself that he was her husband from now until forever. Hers. Even if he didn’t want to be married to her.

“They should no’,” she said softly. “Ye’ve come for them, and that is what they wanted. Ye’ve given them hope that they can have their home and their lands back.” She ran her thumb again over the stubble; it reminded her so much of her husband. One moment prickly, one moment soft.

“I canno’ promise that we’ll defeat the English,” he said.

“Even knowing that, they’re willing to stand by ye.”

She snuggled into his arms, turning to his side, her eyes heavy, her body sore from so many days of riding and sleeping on the ground. It was good to be in a soft bed. It was even better to sleep next to her husband.

She fell asleep to the beat of his heart, and she could have sworn she heard him say, “Sleep tight,
mo gradhe
.” But she wasn’t certain if she’d dreamed that or not.

The next morning Duff was at their door bright and early, with a cart full of fine French wine and a wide smile. “Ye wanted French wine, I brought ye French wine.” He waved his arm toward the cart and made a comic bow, like a court jester.

Colin laughed and pounded Duff on the back, then walked around the cart, inspecting the goods by pulling out a bottle and reading the label, then putting it back to examine another one. “Ye did good, Duff.”

“Ye doubted me?” Duff said, sounding more amused than offended.

“Never. I knew ye could do it.”

Alan MacLean approached and looked askance at the illegal goods. “So what now?” he asked.

“Now we infiltrate the holding and place the wine and hope the majority of them drink themselves senseless.”

Alan raised a disbelieving brow. “Ye think the English soldiers are so untrained that they’ll drink themselves into a stupor just because there’s wine?”

“We only need enough of them to do that so we can enter the keep and overtake them,” Colin said.

Alan was a seasoned warrior and had been the MacLean commander for years. His advice would be invaluable and his expertise needed. “It could work,” he said. “If it were me, I’d have my weakest men in the back of the keep, where there’s little chance of being overtaken. The front will house the better soldiers. Not that the English can hold a candle to my warriors.” Alan winked at Maggie and she smiled. He was a gruff, weathered man, but there was a sparkle in his eye, and she could tell that he was looking forward to this fight.

“Do ye remember the tunnel that runs from the cave by the sea to the dungeon?” Colin asked.

“Oh, aye. I remember that’s how ye escaped yer studies and yer training most times.”

Colin grinned.

“So ye’re thinking of going in that way?” Alan asked.

“It won’t be as heavily defended. My guess is that they do no’ even know it’s there. Probably no’ many remember it.”

“It’s the dungeon, though. There will be prisoners in the dungeon, and where there are prisoners, there are guards.”

Colin thought about that for a moment. “I still think the best guards will be in the front and the worst in the back. If we go in late at night, we should be fine.”

Alan nodded thoughtfully. “Mayhap.”

“I think it’s the best chance we have.”

“That cave hasn’t been used in a while,” Duff said.

“How are ye planning on getting those particular soldiers drunk?” Alan asked.

“We’re going to tamper with the wine, put a sleeping draft in it,” Colin said.

“But how are ye to get the wine in there?” Alan asked.

“We haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Bring it in through the cave and the tunnel,” Duff said with a shrug. “No need to get too complicated.”

Colin nodded. “Seems easy enough. Leave it where one of them will find it. Let them believe they found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

Maggie thought the plan was too simple. Too pat. “We canno’ guarantee they’ll see it, let alone drink it. We need to not only lead them to it but make them drink it.”

“Impossible to do unless we put one of our men in there,” Alan said.

“Precisely.” She looked at Colin, and it took him a moment to understand what she meant.

“Oh, hell no,” he said. “I’ll no’ be sending ye in there with those bastards.”

“Who, then?” she challenged. “Who else would ye trust? I look like a lad, I fight like a man, and better yet, I can drink like a man. Keep one of the bottles untainted. I’ll drink from that one and make sure the others drink the rest.”

“No.”

“I do no’ know, MacLean—” Alan said.

Colin spun around to face his man-at-arms. “Absolutely not. I will no’ hear any more of this. From any of ye.” He eyed each of them in turn, effectively silencing the warrior and the smuggler.

“Oh, bollocks,” Maggie said, exasperated. “Are ye really going to do this? Throw away yer best chance of retrieving yer home from the English?”

“Ye’re no’ going in there,” Colin repeated.

“I can act like a lowly English soldier, and I can get them to drink the wine.”

“Enough, Margaret.” He leaned forward, trying to intimidate her.

She threw her hands in the air. “Then who? Who will ye get to do it?”

He pressed his lips together and glared at her.

She leaned forward, mimicking his movements. “There. Is. No. One.” She enunciated each word. “Except me.”

Colin growled and stomped away. Duff was trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. Alan was looking at the toes of his boots, the tips of his ears red.

“Where do ye propose we get the sleeping draft?” Maggie asked Duff.

“A witch who lives on the edge of MacLean land is willing to provide it.”

“Ye can trust her?”

“Oh, aye. She’s mighty attached to her fine wine. I’ll set her up real nice and she’ll keep quiet. Besides, she hates the bastard English more than any of us, because they killed her husband and sons.”

“Then it’s settled. Get the sleeping draft and give her enough bottles of wine to buy her silence.”

Duff nodded and headed off. Alan was looking at Maggie thoughtfully.

“What?” she asked, expecting another argument about her role. Just because Colin had walked away from their disagreement didn’t mean it was over, and she wasn’t pleased about having to argue with Alan as well.

“He’s mighty angry at ye,” he said.

She shrugged. “So be it.”

“Oh, aye. I agree. I just think it’s funny.”

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Alan. “Why would ye think it’s funny?”

“Well, now, lass, I’ve known Colin MacLean since he was a wee’un. He’s as stubborn as they come. Does what he wants, no matter the consequence. Drove his parents batty, he did. Did no’ bother him none what his stubbornness did to his folks. I just think it’s humorous that ye’re just like ’im. He doesn’t know what to do with ye.”

“If he lets me do what I want, there won’t be any trouble,” she said.

Alan laughed. “Oh, aye. Ye two are too much alike. There’ll be some bloody battles between the two of ye, that’s for certain. But…”

He trailed off and Maggie raised a brow, waiting for the “but.”

“But this time he cares,” Alan said softly. “And he doesn’t know what to do with that caring.”

Maggie’s hands slid from her hips. Her tongue was all tied and her stomach in knots. She wanted to cling to those words. They were the only hope she had that this marriage might work. “Hear me now, Alan MacLean: I will get into that keep and I will get those soldiers drunk and I will do my part in restoring the MacLean holding to the MacLeans.”

With a nod she set off to find Colin, bracing herself for a massive battle.

“I’m no’ discussing this,” he said.

“Then we’re in agreement, because I’m no’ discussing it, either.”

“Ye’re no’ going in there,” he said.

“I thought we were no’ discussing it.”

His jaw clenched and the muscle pulsed. She’d never seen him so angry and it almost,
almost
made her back down, but she stood her ground and faced him.

“Ye’ll do as I say,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Colin,” she said on a sigh. “Do ye really think commanding me like that is going to work?”

“Maggie,” he warned.

“I fooled the prison guards for weeks. I fooled ye for longer than that. If ye had no’ come upon me in the river—”

He closed his eyes and held out his hand to stop her from speaking. “Please, Maggie. Don’t do this.”

She took his hand and wound her fingers through his, bringing them to her lips to kiss each rough knuckle. “I’m doing it for ye. I’m doing it for us, and I’m doing it for every MacLean hiding in those woods, afraid to come out for fear of the English.”

He hung his head and blew out a breath. “The thought of ye in there, unprotected, terrifies me.” He raised his head, and the fear and despair in his eyes nearly buckled her knees. “I can no’ lose ye, Maggie, lass.”

Her heart turned over at the raw emotion in his voice. “Ye’ll no’ lose me.”

He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her so she was tight against him. “Ye can no’ promise such a thing.”

“I can try my best.”

He looked down on her. “Ye’re determined?”

“More than determined.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Promise that ye’ll keep safe, and if there’s one bit of a sign of trouble, ye’ll get the hell out of there.”

She smiled up at him, not because his words spelled victory but because he was so earnest and fearful, and because he clearly cared for her, even if he hadn’t said it outright yet.

“I promise.”

“The washerwoman is my wife’s cousin,” Duff said as he tossed Maggie a red coat and dirty white breeches. “She nicked these for ye.”

“My thanks,” Maggie said as she caught the English uniform and inspected it, wrinkling her nose at having to wear the redcoat’s clothing. It reminded her too much of Fort Augustus and brought back feelings of fear and despair.

Colin was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a frown twisting his features. He still wasn’t happy about the plan, but he was aware that it was the best one they had.

Duff tossed her a pair of scuffed black boots that appeared to be too big. “The wine is ready,” he said. “Ye drink only from the marked bottle.”

Maggie nodded. They’d been over this time and again. They’d picked the plan apart a hundred times, looking for holes and inconsistencies. There were plenty, but they were running out of time. The English were bound to discover that MacLean land was overrun with Scottish warriors, and once they found out, they would come looking.

“Tonight, then,” she said.

“Aye,” Duff said. “Tonight.”

She was nervous but would have been surprised if she hadn’t been. Nerves gave her the edge that would keep her alert.

“Let’s be off, then,” Sutherland said, motioning Alan and Duff to leave. “We can rest before our long night of battle.”

Duff made a sound of derision, but Alan gave Maggie a wink as he passed. “Be kind to him,” he muttered under his breath.

Maggie smiled at the old man’s wit. “I’m always kind to the MacLean,” she said.

“Ha!” He left with a chuckle.

“I do no’ like this one bit,” Colin said into the silence Alan left behind.

“I know.”

“There’re other ways.”

“We’ve been through this. There are no other ways.”

He pushed away from the wall to run a hand through his hair. “Given time, we can think of something.”

“We’re running out of time.” She stepped up to him. “Have faith.”

“I have all the faith in the world in ye, Maggie mine. It’s the English I do no’ trust.”

“We can do this together.”

“I should go in with ye.”

“Ye’ll give us all away in a moment and ye know it. Ye’ll be in the tunnel, close enough if need be.” It was the one compromise they could agree on. Colin and a few of his best warriors would follow her and wait in the tunnel while she plied the guards with drink. If she called for help, they would be by her side in an instant, but she didn’t think she would need help. Their plan was simple and, hopefully, effective.

“Let’s no’ spend the next several hours arguing,” she pleaded. “Let’s make love.”

His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t reach for her even though he looked like he wanted to.

“Please,” she whispered.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her against his body. The look on his face was savage and, God help her, she was excited. They’d never made love like this, although she’d heard some of the maids talk about rough lovemaking.

A quiver raced through her body and Colin smiled, but it wasn’t warm or welcoming. It was the smile of a predator who’d trapped his prey and thus had time to toy with it. She shivered in anticipation, already wet between her legs. She knew what this was. This was Colin laying claim to her, and she would let him because she wanted him to lay claim to her. She was his. She wouldn’t dispute it.

He kissed her hard, his teeth grinding against hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth. Their lips clashed and she knew hers would be bruised and she didn’t care.

He yanked down her breeches until they were twisted around her feet. If he thought she would be quietly compliant, he was in for a surprise; she wanted to give as much as he was giving. In her eagerness to pull his shirt over his head, she ripped it. He reared back just long enough to help her with the shirt and toss it to the side. She ran her fingernails down his naked chest, scoring the skin and raising red welts. Colin made a sound that was half groan, half chuckle, as he backed her against the wall. It was difficult to walk backward with her breeches around her ankles, so she shuffled, holding on to his arms to keep from falling down. How ungraceful would that be?

Her back hit the wall and Colin pressed against her, pinning her between his hard chest and the even harder wall. His skin was hot. The wall was cold. The mingling of opposite sensations was strangely arousing.

He lifted his kilt and she spread her legs, her knees trembling, as he drew out the moment before entering her.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes were hooded, his arousal evident in their dark depths. The corner of his lips twitched up in a half-smile as he took her hands in his big hand and raised them above her head.

Maggie was strong for a woman and stronger than some lads. She could have broken his hold easily, but she didn’t want to. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts up toward him. His gaze flicked down, then back up. His lips were pressed together, and he was breathing heavily through his nose.

The only warning she received was a tic in his jaw before he thrust himself inside of her. Even though she’d been expecting it, she wasn’t prepared, and she cried out in shock and pleasure.

Colin threw his head back and breathed deep as he withdrew and then plunged back in, hard and swift.

Maggie closed her eyes and felt the fullness of him invade her body, retreat, then invade, over and over. It was rough and exciting, and she was racing toward her climax. It was too soon. She wanted to slow down, but it was too late; she doubted either of them would have been able to, anyway.

Colin’s hips were pumping fast. She could hear her backside slap against the wall, but she didn’t care. All she could feel was the tight ball of tension building inside of her.

“Damn ye,” Colin ground out. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, and she gladly accepted it, sucking it in so that he swallowed her scream of pleasure when the tension exploded. For one wonderful, excruciating moment, the world went dark and her body pulsed over and over.

Colin reared back and roared as his climax overtook him and his seed shot up into her, warm and thick.

They lay in each other’s arms. Day had given way to dusk and was moving to full-on dark. Maggie’s body ached in a good way, hurting in places that had never hurt before. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of Colin’s warm body.

“ ’Tis time,” she said softly, not wanting to break the spell but knowing that if she didn’t, he wouldn’t.

“Stay.” He held her tighter, as if afraid to let her go.

“I canno’.”

“I hate this. I despise the damn bloody English for what they’re doing to our country and our lives.”

“If we can force them from yer home, then we can build a better life.”

“Our home,” he corrected.

“Our home.”

Outside, she heard Duff’s gruff voice giving commands and the rumble of the dozens of warriors preparing for battle. “I have to get dressed,” Maggie said. She slithered out of his grip and stood beside the bed, naked as the day she’d bathed in the creek and Colin had discovered she was a lass and not a lad.

He climbed out of bed as Maggie reached for the English soldier’s uniform. At least it smelled decent. Duff’s wife’s cousin had done a fair job cleaning it.

“Maggie.” Colin took her hands and turned her toward him. “Lass. Before ye go, I need to tell ye something…”

She looked up at him, surprised to see that he appeared so uneasy. His eyes were shining and wet, and he had to blink a few times. “Yes?”

He looked down at their hands, loosely linked. The tips of his ears were turning red. He choked back a laugh and looked around the small cottage. “I love ye, Maggie mine. I love ye more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Ye make me powerfully frustrated sometimes, but even then I love ye.”

“Oh, Colin.” She let go of his hand to touch his cheek. “I think I started falling in love with ye when ye came into the cell beaten and bloody. I admired ye so much because ye would no’ let Abbott see yer pain.”

He tilted his head to press his cheek into her hand. “I’m frightened of what tonight holds. I’m fearful of losing ye just when I’ve realized how much ye mean to me.”

Maggie blinked away her tears, but it was no use. They traveled down her cheeks and tightened her throat, making it difficult to speak. “I promise that I will come back to ye and we’ll make a home of our own together. Whether it be the MacLean estate or a small cottage, we will have a home to call our own.”

He raised his head to look at her, and if she doubted his words—which she didn’t—she could never doubt the love shining from his eyes.

His smile wavered. “We’ve been through a great deal and married no’ even a week.”

She laughed and sniffed, then laughed again. “Let’s hope the next week is a little calmer.”

Someone pounded on the door. “It’s time!” Duff yelled.

“I’m coming!” she called back.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“When this is all over,” she said, “I want to learn the smuggling business.”

Colin laughed, as she’d hoped he would. “Of course ye do.” He reached for the breeches and plucked them out of her hand. “Let me help ye.”

There were essentially three waves waiting to enter the castle. Maggie would go first and get the guards to drink the tainted wine, and when they were unconscious, Colin and his select warriors would come in and clear the way to the main floor. Sutherland would come in last, backing up Colin and his men.

They had a rough idea of how many soldiers were in the keep, but they could be facing more or, if the good Lord was on their side, they could be facing less.

Maggie had brought her sword and had numerous daggers strapped to her. She left the sword in the tunnel and would go back to fetch it when she could.

Colin had drawn plans for her so she had a rough idea of where she was going and where her weak points were. The basement housed the dungeon. A dungeon, Colin admitted, that hadn’t been used in his lifetime, though they had no idea if it was being used now.

They trudged through the tunnel silently, holding their swords close to their sides so they wouldn’t scrape against the wet, slimy walls and alert the enemy. The tunnel smelled of seawater and mildew and fresh earth. Maggie’s heart was thundering, her hands were sweating, and her mouth was dry.

The crate of wine bottles was sitting on the ground by the entrance to the dungeon, having been carried in earlier by two of Colin’s warriors. Alan stood to the side, his expression serious. Duff quietly melted into the shadows but not without a wink to Maggie first.

Colin slowly opened the door and they all held their breath, expecting the door to squeak. But luck was on their side and it opened silently.

Colin met Maggie’s look and raised his brows. The time for talking was over. The time for regrets and second thoughts and pleading was over.

She wanted to tell him one more time that she loved him. She wanted to tell him that he was her home and she would be happy as long as they were together. But there was no time for words, so she hoped her look was enough to convey everything she wanted to say.

She picked up the carton of wine. It was heavy but manageable. She nodded to Duff, still lurking in the shadows, and Alan, poised to charge if need be, and she walked past Colin, deliberately brushing against him so she could feel his warmth one more time.

Before she knew it, she was in the basement and Colin was shutting the door behind her, sealing her into the keep with the damned bloody English.