Rogue of the Highlands: Rogue, Book 1 (44 page)

Jillian stared at him. Heaven was truly raining blessings on her. First, she and Ian would be married. Now she was going to own her lands and the Andalusians. She knew what a rarity it was for a woman to hold title. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“We would suggest you consider adoption as soon as possible,” the prince replied.

She glanced at Ian. He gave her a hug. “I will be happy raising the bairn as our own, lass. Doona fash.”

Could she ask for a better husband? And Mari…she would have her Season with both the townhouse and a country home. She took Ian’s hand and smiled at him.

“Ah, yes,” the prince said, “We think it’s time We retired and left the two of you to your own resources.”

Everyone stood when the prince did and after he left, Ian turned to Picard and Robillard. “I want to thank you for coming. I still don’t know how you got here so fast.”

Picard and Robillard exchanged glances. When Robillard nodded slightly, Picard turned to them. “I had ridden over to your place shortly after you left, to pick up the journal about Vitoria. That’s when I noticed the floor in your library.” He hesitated. “And the window.”

Ian’s gaze sharpened. “Your ancestors were Templars?”

“
We
are Templars,” Robillard replied and then smiled at the confusion on Ian’s face. “The Brotherhood still exists. And the Brothers never let one of their own fight alone. It’s why we came. When Jamie met us we were already south of Carlisle.”

“I don’t understand,” Ian said. “I’m not a Templar.”

“No, but your cousin, Shane, is.” He and Picard moved toward the door. “I trust our secret is safe with you?”

“We swear it,” Ian and Jillian said at the same time and then Jillian added, “We owe our lives and happiness to you.”

When they had gone, Jillian turned to Ian. “I had no idea that the Templars still existed. I guess if I can believe in faeries, I can believe in Templars existing.” She looked around the room speculatively. “I almost expect the knights of the Round Table to put in an appearance too.”

“Is it a knight in shining armor that ye want?” Ian asked.

Jillian shook her head as she slipped her arms around Ian’s neck. “All that armor would make it hard for me to do what I want to do right now. I think a Highland rogue in a kilt will suit my purpose better.”

Ian wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “What purpose would that be, lass?”

Jillian arched her back so that her breasts pressed against him. “Something like this,” she said and swiveled her hips against his hard erection.

“If ye keep this up, we’ll not make it back to our chambers.”

She slid her tongue over his lips. “Who said anything about going to our chambers? It’s quite comfortable here, don’t you think?”

Ian grinned. “The prince’s private quarters? ’Twould not be
proper
, would it?”

“It would be most
improper
,” Jillian said and gave him a seductive smile, “which is why I suggested it.”

Ian’s mouth claimed hers, his tongue invading the warmth of her mouth as he backed her against the door. He slipped one sleeve off her shoulder and down her arm, exposing the soft, white mound with its petal-pink nipple. He trailed kisses down her neck, his thumb flicking the tight little peak as he pushed up her skirt and lifted her thigh to fit over his. His fingers found the slit in her pantaloons and he slid two of them deep into the wet, hot recess of her while his mouth covered her breast and he began to suckle.

Jillian made a soft mewling sound deep in her throat and fumbled with loosening Ian’s sporran and the numerous pleats of the plaid. When she finally freed him and began to stroke his granite shaft, his moan joined hers.

His lips claimed hers again, hard and demanding, as his hands moved to cup her buttocks and she suddenly felt herself lifted.

“Wrap your legs around me, lass,” he whispered with a wicked grin. “Hold fast.”

Jillian clung to him, arms tight around his neck and ankles crossed behind his slim hips. She had an odd sense of weightlessness and then she felt herself being stretched wide as his long, thick member plunged deep inside of her. He set the rhythm, holding her in place as he drove into her, his shaft butting the head of her womb with each thrust. Her body began to shudder as desire built in an increasing crescendo. Muscles tightened deep in her belly as Ian shifted her slightly, causing her nub to begin its own throbbing rhythm. The shudders deepened into undulating contractions, like waves building upon each other, threatening to crest and spill over. Jillian clenched her legs more tightly about Ian as the inner wave crashed and her body shattered into weightlessness once again. With one last, mighty lunge, she felt Ian’s seed spill into her.

He held her there against the wall, his damp forehead against hers. “Dinna I tell ye once that a wee bit of risk makes life more interesting?”

Jillian smiled. She’d had no idea.

Epilogue

The ride to Scotland this time had been more leisurely. Jillian and Ian had wed quietly at Cantford and then spent two weeks deciding which horses would be taken to Scotland to begin an interbreeding program there. She and Ian, astride Gunnar, had also ridden to all of their neighbors and she had introduced him to them all.

Strangely, Jamie had decided to stay at Cantford as they journeyed north. “Just as an overseer until ye return,” he’d said, but Jillian suspected it had more to do with Mari than it did horses. Not that they weren’t still squabbling.

But right now, Ian’s sisters were making a fuss over her, adjusting her new plaid and pinning it with a temporary brooch. Ian would be fastening the Macleod horned boar to it during the Gaelic ceremony that was to take place in a short time.

“So you really saw the faerie?” Fiona asked with wide eyes.

“I’ll never doubt one of Ian’s stories again,” Jillian answered and took the stone from her pocket. The golden streak of light was gone from it now and she knew the faerie no longer lived in the stone, but she wasn’t going to part from it. “I hope we can travel to Dunvegan so I can see the faerie flag too.”

“Doona be expecting it to cast a spell for ye,” Bridget warned with a laugh. “The Macleod have one wish left with it.”

“All I wish for is Ian,” Jillian returned.

“How romantic,” Fiona sighed as the twins giggled.

Just then, a bellow came from down below and Bridget sighed. “It seems the groom is a wee bit impatient.”

The sight of Ian standing near a copse of oak trees that had at one time been a druid’s circle took Jillian’s breath away. He had been her lawful husband for nearly a month, but she would never tire of looking at his solid, muscular body and that strong, chiseled face with the raven hair and dark eyes.

Those eyes turned appreciatively on her now as he looked at her in her new plaid. Soon she would be a true Macleod. Then she blushed as she realized his expression had changed. If she were any judge, soon she would not be wearing the plaid…or anything else.

The priest who had officiated at their hand-fasting went through the formal ceremony, and then Ian fastened the brooch that made her a member of his clan. She didn’t think she had ever felt more proud.

Just as she was about to turn and be acknowledged by his kinsman, the Old Crone of the Hills materialized from the nearby woods. A hush fell over the normally jubilant Scots, but Jillian smiled at her. The old woman had given her the stone, after all.

She approached Jillian. “So ye have returned to have the bairn?” she asked.

Jillian’s smile faded. “I can have no bairn.” She heard the collective gasp of those nearby. The truth was out and she hoped Ian’s clansmen would forgive him for not telling them.

“Ye are wrong. Ye already carry the wee one.”

Jillian stared at her while Ian’s hand tightened around her shoulders. “What do you mean? I am barren.”

The old woman’s dark eyes looked at her shrewdly. “Have ye been ill o’late?”

Her stomach had been queasy, now that she thought of it. “Well, yes, but—”

“And do ye tire easily?”

“Lately…”

“The signs are there for ye, lass. I do not need them. Ye carry a fine son for the Macleod. One that has waited a long time to come.”

Could it be? Suddenly, Jillian recalled the conversation with Wesley. A conversation that she thought she would never want to think about again. But what had he said?
The old bastard couldn’t make his wife pregnant.
And he hadn’t made Jillian pregnant either. She had never suspected that Rufus might have the problem and not her.

“Ye’ve come home, lass. Be welcome,” the Crone said and then turned to fade back into the trees.

Home. Yes, that was how Jillian felt, she realized. The Highlands and this old castle felt more like home than the townhouse in London ever had. It even felt better than Newburn Hall, which was a bittersweet memory. She would return for Mari’s Season, but
home
would be here. Here, she could start over, with a new family. With her husband and her own bairn.

She linked her arm through Ian’s and he laid his other hand protectively on her stomach and brushed her brow with a kiss.

Jillian sighed. She couldn’t ask for anything more.

She was
home
.

About the Author

The first time Cynthia Breeding arrived in Scotland, it felt familiar. Sitting in the Great Hall of Stirling Castle, which the Bruce claimed after Bannockburn, was a surreal experience.

Back in the States, Cynthia resides in the semi-tropic city of Corpus Christi, Texas, where she enjoys long walks on the beach with her Bichon Frise.

She can be reached at
www.cynthiabreeding.com
or through snail mail at: 3636 S. Alameda, B116, Corpus Christi, Texas 78411.

Look for these titles by Cynthia Breeding

Now Available:

Capture Her Heart

A passion neither of them wanted…and neither can deny.

Rogue Countess

© 2012 Amy Sandas

Anna Locke was once young, naïve and infatuated with the handsome Jude Sinclair. Until the charismatic “gentleman” showed his true colors by abandoning her on their wedding day.

In the years since, she has transformed herself into a confident, successful woman, independent of her errant husband’s aristocratic family in every way but name. When Jude unexpectedly returns demanding a divorce, she quashes the butterflies he still elicits, and resolves to show him she won’t be so easily cast aside.

Jude has come home to assume the responsibilities left to him upon his father’s death, and to finally end the marriage into which he was tricked. To his surprise, Anna is no longer an awkward, skinny girl with a furtive gaze. She has become a lush, enigmatic vixen with a dark gaze that shields secrets she seems determined to keep.

In their intimate war of wills, the heat of bold desire flares into passion—and casts light on a shared past tangled in lies and blackmail. But until Jude can win her trust and learn the truth, there will be no destroying the obstacles that loom darkly between them…and the love that should have been theirs.

Warning: This title contains a shockingly revealing sapphire gown, highly improper behavior at a masquerade, a tangled web of deception, and perhaps most scandalous of all, a fiery passion that flares to life between a husband and wife who have been estranged since their wedding day.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rogue Countess:

Anna gasped again as his fingers continued to follow along the top edge of her gown. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, yet he only touched her with a light brushing of his fingertips. He wore no gloves, another thing a gentleman would never do. She had noticed with the very first stroke of his fingers that they were not soft and smooth, as they should have been. His touch was slightly callused.

She discovered she liked the feel of a man’s roughened hands on her skin.

He moved around behind her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brushed his fingers across the swollen rise of her breasts where they pushed over the top of her bodice. Her skin tingled with masterfully awakened sensitivity in the wake of his caress. He stalked her with his movements and his gentle touch soothed her at the same time. Her breath caught in her throat and she willed herself to remain in control.

This game wasn’t played through yet. Recalling that he had asked her a question, she sorted through the hazy corners of her mind for the appropriate answer.

“Would it matter if I had a husband?” Her reply was breathless.

“No,” he murmured just before he pressed his warm mouth to the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

Anna had to fist her hands to keep from jumping out of her skin at the sudden sensations wrought on her system. Her nerves hummed and vibrated like the strings of a violin. Her muscles grew heavy and weak as if they had been filled with sand. He pressed another hot kiss to the side of her throat and his palm covered the upper rise of her breast, pressing over the spot where her heart beat fiercely. At the same time, his other hand slid around her waist to pull her back against his chest.