The Savage Highlander Page 3

  One large puppy, Robert, the only male, was trying to reach the lamb, yet Scarlet tried to hold him back. Unafraid, the lamb knocked its head into the dog, who bent his head low, ready to play. “No, Robert,” Scarlet yelled. The puppies were so large now that they were difficult to handle. Alana needed to work harder at training them.

  Aiden strode to Scarlet and hefted the male dog into his arms. Scarlet ran after the lamb, who’d hopped toward the still flustered chickens. Finlay bent over in a fit of humor, hands on his knees. His men roared behind him. He straightened, shaking his head, and sauntered over to mount his horse.

  He looked down at Aiden, who still held the wiggling Robert. “Ye have your hands full, Campbell,” Finlay yelled over the barking, squawking, and bleating. His laughter calmed, and he gave a more serious smile. He called out to be heard. “Just make sure to keep your promise on the morrow.”

  “I keep my promises, Menzies,” Aiden said, shifting the dog to avoid its lapping tongue.

  Finlay lifted his gaze to Scarlet, who cradled the lamb in her arms. “Good day to ye, milady.” He bowed his head, smile in place.

  Damn, the woman had no idea what a bonny vision she was, her red cape flung back to reveal her curves in the dark dress, the white lamb sitting sweetly in her arms. Her hair lay in waves over one shoulder, and her lush lips curved in a smile that seemed to beckon. Blast! Was Finlay Menzies feeling beckoned?

  Aiden walked forward, lowering the dog to the ground. “Farewell, Menzies,” he called and slapped his hands together. Crack! The horses shifted, and Finlay was forced to look away from Scarlet. Aiden purposely put himself in the way of his view, moving his arms as if the action would shoo the mounted men out of the bailey. “We have work to do.”

  “All right, Campbell,” Finlay said, turning his horse. “I’ll leave ye to your lessons at the school for lasses.” Laughing again, the men rode out through the gate. Aiden raised his arm to Hamish, who was waiting for his signal to lower the portcullis.

  Aiden turned away when the points reached the packed dirt. “Alana,” he said. “Ye have to work more on training these beasts.”

  “Aye,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve not had the time, with learning and teaching at the school.” She whistled, and the calmer mother followed her back up the steps. The puppies, nipping and tumbling with Robert in the lead, eventually climbed the steps after her.

  Scarlet set the lamb down, and it quickly pissed and left a pile of pellets. “Good girl,” Scarlet said and patted her skirts. “Come along, Snowball.” The lamb actually hopped toward her, following her to the steps into the keep. “Look how clever you are,” she said.

  “Ye can’t keep it in the castle,” Aiden said, striding over to head up the steps. “It will shite everywhere.”

  “Just until I get Kerrick to help me build a cozy pen for her, or until her mother and siblings arrive.” Scarlet continued to lure the lamb up the steps. “I’ll clean after her.”

  Aiden snorted, pushing into the dark entryway.

  “I keep my promises, too,” she called behind him.

  “Doubtful,” he murmured. What English woman ever kept her promises?

  …

  Once cold seeped into the bones, it was hard to get rid of it. Scarlet shivered in her bed, pulling her blanket tighter. Making a spy hole in her inadequate covering, she could see that the coals in the hearth were nearly black. Surely it was the cold that had woken her and not the strange dream of dancing with Aiden Campbell, his strong arms around her, whirling her around the ballroom at Whitehall Palace. At least she hadn’t woken choking or sobbing like she usually did when finding herself in that nightmarish setting.

  With the curtain drawn back from her one window, silver moonlight showed Snowball curled up in Scarlet’s second blanket before the hearth, slumbering peacefully. Perhaps she should lift the lamb to sleep next to her. God’s teeth, her mother would toss in her grave if she knew her daughter ever considered bringing a barn animal into her bed.

  Scarlet pushed up off the mattress, and before she could talk herself into suffering further, she jammed her stockinged feet into her slippers and rose. She would have to find more blankets. The lamb didn’t move as Scarlet slipped out her door and into the inky-dark corridor.

  You should open my Hogmanay gift now to keep you warm. Evelyn’s words came back to Scarlet, and she hurried forward. Aiden said he would find a different bed, but when Scarlet reached Evelyn and Grey’s bedchamber door, she pressed the iron latch softly. The door opened without hesitation. Surely Aiden would have locked it or put the bar across if he were slumbering inside. Scarlet peeked in but couldn’t see anything with the curtains drawn across the two paned windows. But the hearth was completely dark. No fire. Not even embers.

  Scarlet released her breath and walked inside the vacant room. She cursed softly as she bumped her knee against the chest at the end of the bed. She needed some light, so she continued past it toward the window, feeling with her hands out before her as she shuffled her slippers along the thick rug lying across the wood floor. Coming off the end of the rug, she teetered forward, her fingers grabbing for a wall, bookcase, or hopefully the curtain. Her fingers brushed something, and she pressed her palms against it, her breath catching in her clenched chest.

  Instead of cold stone or wood, her palms pressed against…warm skin. She couldn’t speak without breath, but her fingers curled inward as if the contact burned her. A sprinkling of hair, solid muscle, hot skin.

  “Oh, God,” Scarlet said, her stomach flipping.

  The mountain before her moved, and the curtain whooshed as it was thrown aside. Moonlight blinded Scarlet, and she blinked.

  “Nay,” Aiden Campbell said. “Not God, although a Highlander is close.”

  Scarlet’s mouth hung open as she saw that Aiden stood with his legs braced apart and his arms crossed before his massive chest, which she’d just stroked. He was completely naked.

  He studied her. Was she blushing? Surely the silver of the moonlight would hide it.

  “I…I…” Scarlet’s mind felt numb, and her heart pounded as if letting her know it was ready if she needed to sprint away. “I came to get warm,” she said.

  His frown softened, and his eyebrows rose slowly. “Ye came for me to warm ye?”

  Scarlet blinked, her breath ragged. She closed her eyes and spun around. “I thought you were sleeping elsewhere.” Her breath came rapidly as she surveyed the rumpled blankets and furs across the large bed.

  Without his glorious, brawny, very naked body before her, Scarlet’s numb shock faded, replaced by irritation when she spotted the open door. “Who sleeps without locking the door? You lower the gate during the day but won’t bar your room at night?” She threw an arm out, angling it toward the dark hearth. “And you don’t bank a fire?”

  Silently, she saw him step past her. Moonlight sliced across his toned buttocks, making her choke. She coughed, swallowing. Her gaze lifted up his broad back where lines of scars ran, but before she could study them, he grabbed a fur from the bed, lowering it before his narrow hips as he turned to face her.

  “The other beds are too small,” he said. “I didn’t require a fire.”

  Scarlet shivered, realizing that she’d dropped her blanket by the door. She stood in her sleeping smock and the robe she donned before getting into bed. “Well, normal people do. It’s freezing, and mine has burned low.”

  “So…ye came here for warmth?” he asked, leaving off his early question about her searching for him. As if she would seek Aiden Campbell out to warm her.

  The dream warmed you, didn’t it?

  Her traitorous thought made her frown.

  Scarlet flapped her cold fingers toward the end of the bed. “Evelyn told me to open a gift if I was cold. That it would help me stay warm. I was retrieving it.” She strode to the chest, tripping slightly on the thick rug as her loose slipper caught on it, falling off. Leaving it, she lifted the lid and felt under the cool cotton smocks, w
hich Evie had piled to one side. Underneath was a soft, folded something, tied with a ribbon. She worked it out without completely scrambling the smocks.

  “See,” she said, holding it up, and turned toward the hearth where Aiden had moved. “Good God,” she said. The offending man had dropped the fur in order to strike a flint to light a candle. She slammed her eyes shut. “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?” he asked, and she heard the slide of glass being set in place over the flame in the lamp.

  “Being naked.”

  “I sleep naked,” he said. “I am covered.”

  Scarlet opened her eyes to see that Aiden had tied a length of plaid around his waist like a loose kilt. He tucked the side in, but it didn’t look very secure.

  “What is the gift?” he asked.

  The package was made of soft black wool, the softest she’d ever felt. She untied the ribbon, tucking it into her cinched sleeve, and shook out the woven fabric. Two legs dropped down.

  “Trousers?” Aiden asked.

  Scarlet smiled. “Yesssss,” she drew out, running a hand over the soft trousers, like the ones Evelyn was wearing under her skirts for travel. Without waiting another moment, Scarlet lifted the edge of her smock and robe to shove her slipper-less foot into one leg. She kicked off the other slipper and did the same, shimmying the trousers up under her smock. The worked wool caressed her skin in luxury.

  “Thank you, Evie,” she whispered, already feeling warmer. Or was the tingle of heat coming from Aiden’s stare? She stooped to grab her blanket, throwing it over her shoulders and shoving her one foot back into the slipper. “I will leave you to your chilly slumber,” she said, glancing about for her errant slipper. Damnation, she’d abandoned it after her small wobble at the rug’s edge. Of course, it was right next to Sir Large and Frowny.

  A quick retrieval and she’d be away to grab an extra blanket from one of the other rooms. Though with her heart beating like a bird’s rapid wings, she’d likely be awake for hours. And the more Aiden stared at her, the more agitated she felt. It was as if he had a thin blade that scraped off more and more of her composure the longer they stood together. Alone. In the dark night. Nearly naked.

  She stuck a hand out to point. “My slipper.” Taking a quick step, Scarlet caught her toe in the drape of the blanket. Wrapped so completely in it, she couldn’t catch herself. She squeaked as she fell forward. Squeezing her eyes shut was the only self-defense she could take before she surely smashed her face into the floor.

  Instead of pain and cold floorboards, she felt solid arms pull her against the same hot skin she’d encountered in the dark. Aiden dragged her upright, and Scarlet realized that her nose was pressed into his chest. She inhaled. Lord, he smelled good. Like wild outdoors and clean man.

  “I…apologize,” she said. “I’m not usually such a bungle.” She tipped her head back. The moonlight cast half of Aiden’s face in silver while the other half was composed of shadows. His perpetual frown was relaxed, as if he’d forgotten to don it. The slight golden hue from the lamp showed a merriment in his eyes, making him look almost happy. Is this how Aiden looked while holding a lover in the night? Relaxed and merry, his chest warm and inviting? He kept a hold, as if he were afraid that she’d fall if he let go.

  Scarlet stared back, mesmerized by the change in his features. He was…beautiful and powerful. Her mind tumbled with an urge to step closer, sensation shooting through her. Oh Lord.

  She should step back, turn away, retreat as quickly as she could. Yell “no” and run like she’d learned in her self-defense lessons. Didn’t she know, firsthand, that men were dangerous in the shadows, away from eyes, without rules of propriety keeping them honorable? Why then did she want to lean into Aiden Campbell?

  Scarlet’s breath grew shallow, and she felt the press of him against her chest. Had he leaned forward, or had she?

  Down the hall, a faint bleat sounded, as if a far-off lamb was lost. Scarlet pulled back. “Snowball,” she whispered, turning to the door. “I…” She didn’t manage to say anything. Not an apology, not a thank-you. What were the proper words for nearly falling prey to a passion she’d sworn never to allow again?

  Scarlet was out in the dark corridor before she realized that she was walking unevenly, her slipper left behind. “Snowball,” she called, her voice soft. “I am here.” She stuck a hand out of her blanket to skim the wall next to her. Behind her, the golden haze of light funneled down the hall, reaching her and illuminating farther ahead.

  Her heart jumped as the scene from her nightmares came to life. A candle glow that grew brighter until brutal fingers…

  But this was Aiden Campbell, a man who showed no interest in her, not some flattering suitor in King Charles’s bedecked court.

  But could Aiden have felt the tether that had held her there in his arms for a moment? Was he coming after her to…? What? Throw his surly frown away and ask to kiss her? Could he want to…love her?

  You were fashioned by God to be desired, Scarlet. Every man will want to bed you.

  The deep voice in her nightmares surfaced like a bloated fish on a stagnant pond. Scarlet scooped up Snowball without pausing, moving quickly but not running. No footsteps sounded behind her, but the faint light brightened. He was gaining on her.

  Snowball squirmed in her arms, and she realized that she was clutching the lamb. “There now,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” Reaching her room, she strode into the darkness to place the lamb back in the blanket nest that she’d made earlier. Light illuminated the room. “I have found her. You can return to your bed.” Her words came breathlessly, as if she’d run the whole length of the hall.

  Aiden stood, still without his shirt, beside her bed. In her smaller room, he looked even larger, his shadow dark and looming across the ceiling. He didn’t say a word but strode toward her. Scarlet held her breath, her palms pressed tightly against one another. As he moved past her to squat before the hearth, Scarlet let her exhale out in a silent huff.

  Aiden patted the lamb’s head and reached around it to set down his lamp on the stone before the open fireplace. Scarlet’s legs felt weak from being so tense, and she stepped back, perching on the edge of her bed.

  Aiden broke the cinders apart with the iron poker and set dry kindling and peat on the iron grate. “I didn’t know ye could go this long without saying anything,” he said, the back of his head toward her.

  He was teasing? The quiet humor helped Scarlet inhale fully, but her fingers still curled into the edge of her mattress. She should respond with some flippant remark, a witty comment, but her fear in the hall had washed her wit away.

  “Ye should have a fire if ye’re cold,” Aiden said when she didn’t reply. He grabbed something wedged under his arm and tossed it toward her. It clunked on the floor near her feet. “And ye forgot your slipper.”

  Scarlet watched a small flame catch on the dry twigs, and Aiden bent to blow under it. As light grew in the room, she again saw the angry scars from the castle fire across his broad back. “Thank you,” she said, finally finding her voice. She watched the muscles in his back and shoulders stretch and tighten as he lifted two logs from beside the hearth, placing them into the grate.

  “Ye should have bricks to heat for your bed.” He looked over his shoulder at her, and the openness on his face had disappeared in the tight set of his eyes. “That is what cold ladies do, isn’t it? Wrap hot bricks for their beds?”

  The return of his frown calmed Scarlet’s nerves. He wouldn’t come closer, discovering that her heart pounded. “I suppose, yes,” she said and cleared her throat as the tightness there lessened. “I will have to find some in the morning since I seem to have left my heating bricks in my other robe.”

  The flames licked along the logs, and Aiden stood, bending once more to arrange the blanket around the lamb. He glanced briefly at Scarlet before heading toward the open door, his steps quick, almost as if he were fleeing. “Get some sleep,” he said on passing. “It will be a long d
ay tomorrow going to the Menzies.”

  He shut the door behind him. Scarlet strained to hear his footsteps, but all she heard was the crackle and sizzle of the flames. She wrapped the blanket over her, burrowing once more into her own nest, feeling warmer. Scarlet breathed deeply for long minutes, yet sleep remained a specter, hovering close but unable to lull her.

  She stared at the bright glow of the flames. Did Aiden have nightmares about flames flaying his back open? Even hardened Highland warriors must fear torture. Yet he seemed to have no problem building fires, blowing life into the sparks. Perhaps he couldn’t fear fire, since it was something he dealt with every day.

  Scarlet exhaled long. She encountered men every day: charming Kerrick, serious Grey, faithful Hamish, and half a dozen other Campbell warriors. But none of them haunted her nightmares, and none of them made her heart flutter like Aiden’s nearness had. Blast. Scarlet forced herself to shut her eyes, but the red glow from the fire played behind her lids until she rolled over onto her other side. Never again would she allow her heart to rule her mind.

  Chapter Three

  Aiden let his horse, Eigh, lip up a small apple as he watched Scarlet walk across the bailey toward the horses. After he’d left her in the dead of night, he’d tossed in Grey’s gigantic bed, the feel of her warmth and the smell of her skin making him ache. Damnably beautiful woman.

  “She’s a young mare and will need a strong hand,” Kerrick said, holding the bay’s bridle as Scarlet peeled off one of her white gloves to let the horse smell her hand.

  “What is her name?” Scarlet asked.

  “Caora,” Kerrick said. “It means reed in Gaelic, because she was such a slender little filly when she was born.”

  “Aren’t you beautiful, Cooo-ra,” she said, drawing out the ooo sound in the name. She almost purred like a cat. Damnation. Even with her bloody English accent, the woman’s voice lured him. It was like God or the fates were tempting him, testing his convictions.