Hard-Hearted Highlander--A Historical Romance Novel Read online

  As he worked to disrobe her, she fumbled with his neck cloth, pulling it free, and undid the buttons of his waistcoat. In a flurry of movements, his chest was bared to her, and her breasts to him. He took them in his hands, and Bernadette gasped softly, then dropped her head back with a sigh of longing.

  This beautiful woman before him who longed to be touched was an elixir to Rabbie. She was a salve to his mortally wounded soul and he couldn’t imagine anyone else, not even Seona, being the person he needed at this moment in his life. Only her.

  He twisted again, this time standing up with her. With her gown dragging behind her, he began to move her across the salon and down the corridor to his room. He put her on her back on his bed and crawled over her, taking her breast in his mouth.

  Purely male instinct was guiding him now, his hands and his body moving without his conscious thought, his body striving to feel every bit of her, his desire to give her pleasure overwhelming him.

  She was growing impatient—she undid the buttons of his pantaloons, pushing them down his hips, then taking him in hand, stroking him. Any splinters of reason that had remained in his thoughts tumbled away. He pushed up, bracing himself above her with his arms, and stared down at her. Diah, but she was arresting in her beauty. Had she been so beautiful the first moment he’d laid eyes on her? Because there was no woman on earth who could possibly compare to her now. He couldn’t look away from her body, ferociously aroused by her stark femininity.

  She watched him take her in, her expression full of tenderness and another emotion that shone bright. That emotion felt like love. Rabbie could feel her loving him, and the crack in the shell around his heart widened.

  He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers, curling his around her hand. “Mo maise,” he said. My beauty.

  Bernadette’s smile made his heart ache with it. She lifted up to him to kiss him. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her breasts against him, and Rabbie could feel himself untangling, as if his heart and lungs and limbs had been pulled into a knot with every trial over the last few years and were finally, at long last, letting go. He pressed the tip of his body against her. His pulse was beating too fast, his heart pounding too hard. He moved to her breasts, his hand floating down her side and across her belly, then down again, between their bodies, stroking her as he slowly pushed into her.

  Bernadette growled and arched her neck as he entered her. She was warm and wet, her body welcoming. Rabbie began to move, straining to hold back and take his time, but his restraint was rapidly eroding as need built in him. It had been years since he’d felt such desire. He’d forgotten what it was to feel alive, to feel his body erupt into flames.

  Bernadette was moving against him, her body rising to meet his, urging him to move harder and faster. Her hands gripped at him, clutching him, holding on to him. He was so hard, so hot and moving in her with such force that he had the fleeting thought he might harm her in his eagerness. But Bernadette kept pressing back, kept digging her fingers into his hips, pushing him deeper inside her. She was panting, nearing her climax, and he covered her mouth in a kiss as he thrust powerfully into her. She cried out nonetheless, her body shuddering against his, and the waves of pleasure crashed over Rabbie, submerging him in carnal bliss.

  He collapsed beside her, completely spent. Her breathing was as ravaged as his, and a few moments passed before he became aware of her fingers in his hair, and then sliding along his spine.

  Rabbie lifted himself up. Her eyes had gone soft, the color of autumn leaves. He thought of how it would be to wake to her each morning, to walk with her along the loch. To give her children, to grow old with her.

  “What is it?” she asked, and casually brushed his hair from his forehead.

  He shook his head, his heart still affected by their lovemaking, his mind still swimming in images he’d not allowed himself to see until this very moment.

  She kissed the corner of his mouth, then pushed herself up to sitting. Her hair had come undone from the braid. When had that happened? He put his hand on her back, caressing her skin as she braided her hair with swift efficiency. When she was done, she smiled at him over her shoulder, her gaze full of contentment, a woman well pleasured. “What are you thinking?” she asked, her smile turning playful.

  That she was so artless in her beauty. That she was the sort of woman he could spend his life with. “Mo nighean dubh,” he said. My dark-haired lass.

  She gave him a sultry smile as she pushed the bed linens off her legs. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,” she said. She reached for a plaid at the end of his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then moved as if to stand.

  “No,” he said, and put his hand on her arm. “Stay here, with me.”

  She smiled and laid next to him, her back to his chest. He slipped his arm around her middle and held her tight.

  “Imagine how it could be,” he said into her fragrant hair. “You and I. The two of us.”

  “The two of us?” she murmured.

  “Aye. The two of us, leannan. Imagine it—waking to each other each new morn, filling this house with children, the future of the Highlands—”

  She stiffened. And then abruptly sat up and pulled the plaid tighter.

  Rabbie was startled by her reaction. “What have I said, then?” he asked. “Am I wrong? Now that the betrothal is ended, is it no’ true that we—”

  “What are you saying?” she said frantically, and stood up from the bed.

  Rabbie rose up on his elbow, confused by the sudden change in her. “You know verra well. What I meant when I brought you into my bed, aye? We can be one now.”

  “No!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “How can you think it? Of course we can’t, Rabbie.”

  He was confused by her reaction. “Why no’? I am no longer betrothed and you—”

  “I am still a lady’s maid to the woman who was your fiancée.”

  He couldn’t understand her. “Diah, Bernadette, I am offering for you hand. I want to marry you, aye?”

  Her eyes widened with alarm. “No,” she said frantically.

  The tender emotions he’d been experiencing began to disappear. “Why in bloody hell no’?” he demanded, coming to his feet.

  “We scarcely know each other!”

  “We donna?” he asked, gesturing to the bed, to his nakedness.

  She flushed. She avoided his gaze by stooping down to gather her clothing. “I mean that we’ve not spent sufficient time in one another’s company—”

  “I donna care. I know that I’ve no’ felt as strongly for someone as I do for you, Bernadette.”

  She looked at him sharply. “What of Seona?”

  The words startled him. “She’s gone,” he said. “You said I should no’ live in the past. And this,” he said, pointing to her, “is no’ the same as that was, Bernadette. You are a verra different woman and I am a different man than I was then. I’ve fallen in love with you, mo chridhe.”

  Her eyes filled with myriad emotions. Shock and tenderness, and something else, something that made him think of fear. She looked as if she wanted to speak, but then pressed her lips together as she dipped down to pick up the last of her clothing. She dropped the plaid and quickly began to dress.

  Rabbie watched her, uncertain as to what was happening between them. What had he misunderstood? Had he been the only one in that bed? “What is the matter?” he asked, a little frantic himself now.

  “Everything!” She tossed his pantaloons at him. “You can’t say those things to me,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “Your engagement to Avaline has just ended in the most spectacular fashion—”

  “What has that to do with it?” he asked with frustration as he thrust one leg and then the other into his pantaloons.

  “I am her friend!” she cried.


  “Och,” he said, and grabbed up his shirt. “You are no’ her friend, Bernadette. You are her servant—”

  “And her friend! Do you see? There is a so much you don’t understand, so much you don’t know,” she said, and caught what sounded like a sob in her throat as she fumbled with the fastenings of her stomacher.

  Rabbie reached out to help her. She tried to move away but he clucked his tongue at her and did up the last hooks of her stomacher. She donned her gown as quickly as she could, tears slipping down her cheeks. He reached for her again, but she said, “Don’t. Please, I beg of you, don’t.” She turned away from him.

  He stood helplessly, trying to comprehend what was happening. “What is it, leannan?” he begged her. “What has you in tears?”

  “I have to leave,” she said shortly. Her voice sounded as if she was determined to go, but her eyes, when she looked back at him... Her eyes said differently.

  He strode forward and wrapped his arms around her in a strong embrace. She tried to resist it at first, but when he wouldn’t let go of her, she sagged against him and began to cry. Fat tears that wet his chest. “Ah, mo chridhe, what has you wrought?” he asked, cupping her head, resting his chin lightly on top of her head as he held her. “I’ll no’ have you so sad, aye? Tell me.”

  She shook her head and slowly lifted her head, leaning back from him. “I can’t... I’m wrong for you, Rabbie. I wish I was the one, you’ve no idea how I wish it. But I’m wrong for you—you need a Scots woman.”

  “I need you,” he argued.

  More tears fell. She put her hands up between them, placed them against his bare chest, then pushed against him. Hard. His arms fell away from her, and she stepped back. She picked up her boots and clutched them to her chest like a shield. “No one brought you back but you. I’m sorry, I am truly so very sorry, but I am leaving for England when arrangements have been made for Killeaven, and there is nothing you can stay that will dissuade me from it.”

  The words she spoke were harsh to his ears, but they did not match the tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “No,” he said, and he meant it. She would not leave for England. He didn’t know how he’d prevent it, but he would. His heart began to pound in his chest with trepidation. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not now, not after he’d found something to live for.

  But as he moved to reach for her again, Bernadette shook her head and fled the room, and he could hear the slap of her bare feet on the stone floor as she hurried down the corridor. A moment later, he heard the front door shut.

  Rabbie stood precisely where she’d left him, utterly stunned. He didn’t understand what had happened. He was wounded, he was angry...but more than anything else, he didn’t believe her. He’d seen the way she’d looked at him, had felt the way she’d responded to him, and he didn’t believe there was nothing that could change her mind.

  Aye, but he was angry with her at the moment. He didn’t know what held her back—was it her child? He’d not thought of it until this moment, but if that was what had made her refuse him, he’d go and fetch the bairn himself. If he had to fight for her and what existed between them, so be it, he would, without hesitation.

  He would fight for her, too. He’d been robbed of the opportunity to fight for a woman he’d once cared for and he’d not be robbed again. He’d not lose again.

  But he had to unearth the reason for her trouble and change her mind.

  * * *

  RABBIE NUMBLY WANDERED about Arrandale, wanting an occupation, his mind racing, his thoughts so scattered that he couldn’t seem to concentrate on any one task. He was confused by what had happened—how could a woman make love as she had then turn so coldly against him? It made him heartsick with doubt. His thoughts had begun to turn dark, and he was relieved when he heard riders on the lawn, relieved to have a diversion.

  He walked outside and found Cailean, Daisy and Ellis coming down from their mounts.

  Cailean glanced at Rabbie’s plaid. “Do you want them to hang you, lad?” he asked jovially.

  “I donna care if they do,” Rabbie said with a shrug. “What brings you to Arrandale?”

  “We’ve come to see after your welfare, darling,” Daisy said, and rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

  “My welfare,” Rabbie repeated. He didn’t think it was wise to mention that it had been shattered this morning by the tears of a Sassenach.

  “Well, yes,” she said as she adjusted her hat. “Yesterday must have been rather an ordeal for you.”

  “Yesterday was a release from my chains,” he said.

  Daisy smiled, but young Ellis frowned mightily at his remark. “It wasn’t Miss Kent’s fault,” he said. “It’s her father who is to blame.”

  “Aye, that he is,” Rabbie agreed, and motioned for them to come inside.

  “Ellis is right,” Daisy said as she removed her gloves in his great room. “I do worry for Miss Kent.”

  “I understand that Kent and his brother mean to depart immediately, without his wife and daughter,” Rabbie said. “I offered that perhaps you’d see Lady Kent and Avaline safely to England, aye?”

  “Oh,” Daisy said, and glanced at her husband. “Who has said they are to leave?” she asked curiously.

  Rabbie had spoken without thought—he’d given a bit of his secret away, and turned to the sideboard, hoping no one noticed his flush. “Miss Holly,” he said. “She came round to inquire on their behalf.”

  “Aye, we will,” Cailean said. “I’ll send Niall around on the morrow to offer.”

  “I have thought quite a lot about her,” Daisy said quite casually.

  “Who?” Cailean asked.

  “Miss Holly.”

  Rabbie turned around from the sideboard. “Aye, and why is that?” he asked carefully, his gaze on the window, afraid that he might reveal himself yet.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Daisy said. “I suppose I was rather unkind about her yesterday, but in thinking about it, I’ve recalled the talk about her elopement.”

  Rabbie was not surprised. He guessed that news had spread through northern England when it happened. Certainly that would have happened in the Highlands had she been a Scot.

  “They say she and her new husband were caught by her father’s men right after they supposedly took their vows. The marriage was annulled straightaway,” Daisy said softly, her gaze on Ellis as he wandered about the room. “How awful that must have been for her.”

  “Aye,” Cailean agreed.

  Ellis moved away from them, apparently uninterested in the gossip. With his hands at his back, he wandered to the far end of the great room to examine a claymore Cailean had placed on a wall when he’d built Arrandale. It had belonged to their grandfather.

  “You said there was a bairn,” Rabbie said, his gaze fixed on Ellis. He couldn’t look at Daisy, couldn’t let her see the rush of emotions that were suddenly churning in him. “What happened to it?”

  “I don’t know,” Daisy said. “Her father is very wealthy, you know. He makes iron. I remember there was some speculation...”

  “Look, Pappa,” Ellis said, standing next to the claymore. “It’s as tall as me.”

  “Aye, that belonged to our seanair, our grandfather,” Cailean said, and walked across the room to have a look with Ellis.

  “What speculation?” Rabbie asked Daisy. “That she abandoned it?” It was the only thing that made sense to him, the only reason she might be in Scotland with a young mistress instead of with her child.

  “No...that she lost it,” Daisy whispered.

  Rabbie’s gut plummeted.

  “Mamma, you must come and look!” Ellis said excitedly.

  “What is it, a sword?” Daisy asked, moving in that direction.

  Rabbie remained rooted. He was filled with sorrow for Bernadet
te. He could understand why she’d not told him this part of her story, too. Was that it, then, the thing that kept her from agreeing that they ought to be together? Did she have some macabre need to be near the bairn’s grave? He realized that he didn’t care what scandals she’d been involved in. He didn’t care if she’d loved before. It hurt him that she’d lost a bairn, but it didn’t change his opinion of her in the least. After all that he’d endured, there was nothing Bernadette could do or say or admit to him now that would persuade him against loving her.

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  AVALINE HAD CRIED until she couldn’t possibly shed another tear.

  Her father and uncle had departed Killeaven two days after the disaster of her declaring her love to Aulay. She shuddered every time she thought of it. What a fool she’d been! And oh, how she hated Aulay now; hated him with the strength of a thousand suns.

  She’d been so certain that he returned her affections! Wasn’t he always at her side? Had he not smiled and complimented her? And then to so cruelly and openly deny her! To allow her lips to touch his then to react as if he’d been bitten by an asp! Twice her age, he’d said, as if that had any bearing. A ship’s captain, he’d said, as if she was not allowed on the sea alongside him.

  Yes, Avaline, despised Aulay Mackenzie and Scotland and Killeaven. To think she’d once thought this decrepit pile of rocks could be her home!

  She couldn’t wait to leave this place.

  How she would leave this place was another question entirely.

  That question was answered, apparently, when Mr. MacDonald arrived from Balhaire and asked for an audience with Avaline and her mother. “Mr. Cailean Mackenzie has asked me to invite you to sail with him and Mrs. Mackenzie to England. He has asked me to say that he will see you safely home, then.”

  “Sail,” Avaline said. “On whose ship?”

  “The Mackenzie ship,” Mr. MacDonald said.

  “No!” Avaline said instantly, and looked at her mother, incredulous that anyone would suggest such a thing after all she’d been through.