For the Highlander's Pleasure

“Aye?” Reluctantly she turned.

“You are unwell,” he announced, sounding most certain of himself as he stared into her eyes in the flickering light. “As if you imbibed too much drink, and yet I saw you take little wine this eve.”

Her hands flew to her face, embarrassed that he circled closer to the truth. Mortified he might think her as weak willed with libations as her father.

“Indeed, perhaps I will feel better after I seek my chamber.” She wrenched her gaze from his and hoped he would take pity on her as she trembled before him, cursing Morag with every other breath. He reached for her, his hand skimming her waist. “You are unsteady. Allow me to—”

The jolt of heat from his hand to her thighs was enough to make her think she’d harnessed the lightning that flashed through the high arrow slits overhead. Her breasts tightened unbearably. The effects seemed to be growing worse.

Wrenching away, she stumbled out of his grip and along the darkened corridor.

“I am fine, sir,” she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing off the dark walls. “Good night.”

Racing away as fast as unsteady feet would take her, she planned to hide in her chamber long enough to ensure everyone else was asleep. Then she would flee the keep to stand in the cooling rain. To run through the downpour until she reached Morag’s cabin to warn her that a new enemy had arrived.

Although, in light of Finn’s effect on her, she began to think she was in greater danger from him than anyone else.

* * *

Deep within the forest outside the village of Caladan, a would-be warrior with no allegiance traveled the edges of his new domain. By luck or Fate, he’d arrived in a place where rumors of ghosts and unnatural beasts kept travelers away, providing him with an ideal place to perfect his work. He’d traveled throughout the Highlands gathering the herbs he needed to make his potions work. By now he had all the ingredients. He was almost ready to take his vengeance on the lord of Caladan.

Reaching the southernmost boundary of his lands, the man paused in the rain to look beyond. The hall of Caladan awaited him. No price was too high to claim his due. No life too important to escape sacrifice where necessary to recover his pride after being born with a grievous defect that kept him from fulfilling his family legacy.

Cold air chilled his skin. He sat atop the horse that moved as silently through the woods as its rider. Some nights, just seeing the keep was enough to spur him on in his quest. Other times, he preferred more than that, waiting in the shadows for any glimpse of the sweet prize that would soon be his for the taking.

Violet of Caladan.

Not that a woman was of great importance to a man with ambition. But she was part of the spoils that would soon be his. She might not have as much worth in gold as her father’s keep or the fighting forces the earl commanded, yet Lady Violet was the sugared sweet to follow a substantive meal.

His life had not allowed him to indulge in sweets very often and he planned to savor this one when he had her in his grasp.

A sharp wind blew in off the river while he stared. He was turning to leave when a small figure took shape in the distance. Dark and windblown, the outline moved with determination across the sprawling hill leading down from the village walls. A bold path for anyone after the unholy rumors about the forest.

Ah, but those rumors were so effective at discouraging unwanted visitors. He could not have helped his cause more if he had fought and won a dozen battles to protect the privacy of the forest.

Still, he would battle this newcomer if needed. He’d even brought the necessary weapon. He fingered the pouch of herbs dangling from his belt.

But wait.

The figure hurrying toward him was no foolish villager seeking to poach the earl’s rabbits under cover of night. Nay, this silhouette had a womanly outline. One that became all the more notable when the dark hood blew off the female’s hair in a gust of wet wind.

Violet.

Why would she visit the forest so late at night? She’d never done so before.

And why did she not fear the forest the way the villagers did? Even Caladan’s own knights avoided this stretch of woods whenever possible. Perhaps she thought she knew the dangers.

Her friendships with the forest dwellers had made her deliciously careless.

Excitement rose at the sight of her, mingled with something like bloodlust. Then again, perhaps it was genuine lust. He had been watching her these many moons. He only hoped she did not visit the forest for purposes that would make him angry. Like a meeting with another man…

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into the heels of his hands until he could feel the release of blood. Somehow, the bloodletting helped. He’d seen the way it soothed his victims before death, so he knew he was not the only one to find it thus. Calm reason took over where passionate fury had been. He would follow Violet silently as he had so many other times. He had not planned to take her yet, but strategic warriors knew how to improvise. Perhaps she was meant to come to him. To belong to him.