Seduced by the Highlander (33 page)

“What happened after that?” Lachlan asked. “After you married this Englishman?”

She lifted her gaze. “He used me and my father’s friendship with King James to gain entry to the Stuart court in Rome. That was his intention all along, I believe. He made the acquaintance of many powerful people, but he was a spy for the Hanoverians, and when the prince was born he tried to convince me to…”

Lachlan’s face became a glowering mask of fury. “He wanted you to do his heinous work for him? To kill the prince?”

“Yes,” she replied. “But I refused. I told him I would expose his plot, and that’s when he tried to kill me. He wrapped his hands around my neck and he choked me.” Tears spilled from her eyes, and she took a moment to gather her composure. “I lost consciousness, and when I woke, he was burying me in the yard.”

Catherine couldn’t describe any more of the hellish nightmare. She turned her face into Lachlan’s tartan and wept openly.

“Don’t cry, lass,” he whispered, stroking her hair away from her face and kissing her forehead. “I’m here now, and you’re safe. It’s all in the past. No one will ever hurt you again.”

“He was my husband, and he tried to bury me alive.”

“I know.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and needed to tell Lachlan everything. To describe exactly what happened. “When I woke up, I remember sucking dirt into my mouth. It was cold and damp, but thank God, it was a shallow grave. I was able to crawl out of it. I found the shovel and I struck Jack over the head. I killed him, Lachlan, and then I ran.”

“You did the right thing.”

She nodded, though it was not an easy thing to accept. Jack was her husband, and she had loved him once. Or at least she had thought she did.

“That’s when I lost my memories,” she said. “I was found shortly after that, huddled in the farmer’s stable, and taken to the convent.”

For a long time she and Lachlan lay together on the soft feather bed, holding each other close, stroking each other with gentle hands, kissing each other tenderly.

“What will be done about Murdoch?” she carefully asked.

“Your cousin is taking care of that. He called for the magistrate. There will be a report sent to the King about Murdoch’s attempts to raise another rebellion. He tried once before, you know. He was arrested, but later released. Raonaid has agreed to provide any information that will help to keep the peace in our country. I believe the King will reward her for her efforts on his behalf, for she brought down the leader of a new rebellion.”

Catherine snuggled into the corded muscles of Lachlan’s chest and breathed in the intoxicating scent of his clothes and hair and skin. All she wanted was to lie with him forever.

“But Raonaid and Murdoch were lovers,” she said after a time. “She must be grieving, in some ways.”

“Aye, but she’s a survivor, like you are.”

Catherine pondered that. “I suppose we have more in common now than ever before. We will have much to talk about.”

Lachlan nodded and rubbed a hand over her shoulder. She was grateful for the warmth of his arms as he cradled her.

“I am sorry for everything,” he said. “For all the pain I caused you. I never meant to hurt you.”

She tried to rise up on her arm to look into his eyes, but the pain in her side would not permit it. She had no choice but to lie very still against the softness of his tartan. “I can forgive you for anything, Lachlan. All I need to know is that you care for me.”

“
Ah, lassie.
If you only knew the half of it.”

“Well, I
don’t
know,” she told him, sounding more irate than she intended. But she loved him. She needed to know what he felt. “Please Lachlan, you must tell me.”

He cupped her face in his hand and kissed the top of her head, then sighed heavily. “You have no idea how I suffered when I saw you tumbling down that hill. I knew you were hurt, and when I saw the blood on your gown, a part of me didn’t think I could do this again. But the alternative—to deny my love for you—was worse than anything. In that moment, I knew that a single day spent loving you was worth any price—even the future loss of you. What is the point in living, if I cannot enjoy the passion that exists between us?”

She held back a cry of relief. “What are you saying, Lachlan?”

“That I want to be with you forever. I want to make love to you, make babies with you, give you everything that you could ever desire. I never want to leave your side again. I want all the things you said
you
wanted, when you walked out on me yesterday. You were right to do it. I needed a good kick in the arse.”

He leaned up on an arm and pressed his mouth to hers. It was a warm and tender kiss, filled with affection and desire.

“I’m not doing this right,” he whispered, drawing back. Slipping out of the bed, he dropped down to one knee. “I love you, Catherine Montgomery, and I want you as my wife. I will live anywhere with you, be anything you want me to be. I will give up my sword if you ask me to. I’ve had enough of this wandering warrior’s life. I want to be your lover now. Just yours. No one else’s. You are my angel and my love. Will you have me?”

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she laughed out loud with joy. “Of course I will have you.”

He was beside her again in a heartbeat, holding her close, but gently, so as not to hurt her. His mouth covered hers in a sweet, heady kiss that made her forget all the pain in her heart and body. He belonged to her now, and she would never have to say good-bye to him. He had pulled her from the bleak abyss of her life and shown her who she truly was.

She had a sister now, too.

“Where will we live?” Catherine asked as his soft lips grazed her earlobe and his hand cupped the side of her face.

“Anywhere you want, lass. I’ll go anywhere to be with you.”

“What about John? Do you think he will object?”

Lachlan looked at her. “Will it matter?”

“No,” she replied with a chuckle, ignoring the pain in her arm and her side, so that she could touch him all over. “I am of age. I can do what I want.”

“So you always said.”

He was smiling when his lips met hers, and she felt their shared joy within the magic of the kiss; then at last he took her mouth with a savage intensity that sent her reeling.

It was divine ecstasy, every moment in his arms, and she clung to all of it, embracing the promise of a new life.

“I hope you will heal quickly, lass,” he said, “because I owe you a proper shagging. I’ll want to do everything for you next time we make love. I’ll not hold anything back from you, not ever again.”

“Well then,” she replied with a playful grin of seductive allure. “Your words have given me great reason to recover as quickly as possible.”

He brushed the hair away from her face, and when she expected him to say something seductive in return—because he was a man of astounding sexual prowess—his expression grew serious and he spoke the only words that really mattered.

“I love you, Catherine Montgomery,” he whispered. And a tear fell across his cheek.

Epilogue

Drumloch Manor, Scottish Borders

December 1731

FROM THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF
C
ATHERINE
M
AC
D
ONALD

I have decided that today, since the weather is fine, I shall write in my new journal from the stone circle at Drumloch—the place where my life truly began ten years ago.

I can scarcely believe it has been a full decade since Lachlan found me here. So much has happened since then—marriage, children. More children …

Since our wedding day, we have been living in the West Tower of Kinloch Castle. Lachlan continues to hold the title Laird of War. He and Angus are as close as ever. I have also grown close to Angus’s wife Gwendolen, who is like a true sister to me. Our children play together every day. (We have seven children. Angus and Gwendolen have six, but Gwen is expecting another in the spring.) Sometimes I want to pinch myself when I think of how happy we all are.

Twice a year we travel to Moncrieffe Castle to visit Angus’s good friend, Duncan MacLean, who was recently awarded a dukedom for his tireless efforts to fight for Scottish rights, while still supporting the Union of Great Britain. He is a brilliant diplomat and a great favorite of the King.

Duncan’s wife Amelia, the duchess, is an Englishwoman and she, too, is well loved by the King. Just last month she sent me a beautiful diamond brooch as a gift to commemorate my tenth wedding anniversary. I was deeply touched by the gesture, and Lachlan—not to be outdone—gave me this leather-bound journal to write in, and promised to take me home to Drumloch for Christmas to visit my twin. It is the one thing he knew meant more to me than any priceless jewel.

Raonaid is transformed. She is no longer an outcast, but is instead mistress of this great house, Drumloch Manor. She and Cousin John have become good friends and his kindness and loyalty have softened her heart in the most remarkable way. She now believes in happiness and the blessings of a close family, and she is the most tender person.

We write letters to each other often and sometimes in our dreams we reach out to each other. I have difficulty explaining it in words, but we are somehow connected on a spiritual level that defies reason.

But isn’t it the same with love? It is simply not possible to see it or define it, but it exists just the same with more strength and power than any sword or musket.

My husband and my children are the core of my life. I would die for any one of them and I know they would do the same for me.

Oh, look, here comes Lachlan now. He is walking up the hill to fetch me for dinner. Raonaid and John have promised a great feast, and I am famished.

If only you could see how handsome he is in the winter light. How is it possible that I have married such a beautiful man? Sometimes I still wonder if it’s all a dream, for he always makes my heart soar, and I love him more with every passing day.

Here he is now. I must go. I shall write again tomorrow, I promise.

Catherine

St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by Julianne MacLean

Captured by the Highlander

Claimed by the Highlander

Seduced by the Highlander

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

SEDUCED BY THE HIGHLANDER

Copyright © 2011 by Julianne MacLean.

All rights reserved.

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