To Catch a Highlander: A Highland Erotic Romance

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

To Catch a Highlander copyright @ 2014 by Krystal LaCroix. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

TO CATCH A HIGHLANDER

Big Jack was one of Father’s most prized fighting men, feared on the field and off. He was also as dumb and boorish as he was big, always doing as he liked with any of the ladies that he could get his hands on, and thrashing any of the men who got on his bad side, and I had wanted to put the beast in his place for as long as I could recall. As with many wishes that come true, I couldn’t help but reconsider my wishes on that hot Saturday afternoon at the alehouse in town, when I found him lunging for me with rage in his eyes and a body twice the size of mine.

“I’ll crush you like a twig, boy!” he roared. I stood rooted to the floor, my chest aching even more than it usually did when I was dressed like this, and my already shallow breath catching in my throat. Still, I had seen Big Jack fight dozens of times, in mock battles in Father’s fields, in drunken brawls around the village, and against more than one insubordinate soldier of Father’s, and I knew just what to do. I had practiced it countless times, alone in my chamber and in other fights with easier targets. Terrified but confident, I awaited my chance, and then took it.

He was big and brutal, but lumbering and no match for my reflexes. As I had done with so many of Father’s other troublesome men, I ducked out of the way at the last second as his huge hands were lunging for me, and was rewarded with the sight of him stumbling onto a table and grabbing at an empty pitcher where he’d expected me to end up. Dancing gracefully around behind him as he struggled to refocus, I found the moment of vulnerability I knew he would provide, and I took it for all it was worth, clobbering him on the back of the head with my empty pint glass. It shattered against his thick skull, and I drew blood with a jagged edge.

“Arghhh!” He reached back to feel the wound, giving me an even clearer shot, and I reared up and kicked him in the chest. He bounced off the stone wall with a satisfying thud, a look of murderous rage in his eyes as he bore down on me once again. Behind me, I heard Peter – smarmy, silver-tongued, pretty Peter who never seemed to have a hair out of place or a missed opportunity to kiss Father’s bottom or stare at mine – making some feeble appeal for a truce before someone got killed…perfect. Jack gripped my shoulder with his left hand and took a hard swing with his right, but his grip couldn’t stop me from stepping in towards him, burying my face in the crook of his arm and leaving only Peter in harm’s way.

I didn’t see Big Jack connect with his friend’s nose. I only heard the
WHAP
and could only imagine the wonderful instant of abject horror they both must have felt as they realized too late what was about to happen. The resulting shock enabled me to wriggle out of Jack’s restraint and dive for the safety of the now-empty floor just inside the door. Everyone else, the barkeep included, had cleared away in fear and they were now watching the results of Jack’s punch with morbid curiosity. I was free to escape into the street.

Owing to my constricted breathing in my outfit, I could not run very fast for very long; but I knew the back alleys of the village intimately, and in a matter of minutes I was home free in my beloved woods behind Father’s estate. Father’s posse might well come looking there for the Boy Avenger, that I knew; but I also knew that as usual, they wouldn’t find him in time. Never once had I failed to make my escape to the pond, where I trusted my dear Penny would be waiting to hear of my latest adventure.

The pond – there may have been a name for it, but I never knew any – was at the foot of a steep hill nearly a mile behind the house, shielded by thick woods so that none could see it from those halls that had always seemed to have eyes. It had therefore always been the perfect spot for Penny and me to have our fun, as well as for me to don and shed my disguise. Our beloved tree house from years before was still there, a suitable repository for our clothing. But on this occasion, I did not bother with the tree house, for after the dashing escape my chest hurt more than usual and I was dying to breathe deeply again. Anticipating the relief, I had already unbuttoned most of the buttons of my shirt when I arrived at the waterline.

“Oh, thank heavens!” called Penny from the water when she saw me. “I take it you came to your senses and didn’t mess with Big Jack after all.”

“Actually, no,” I said. “I did, and I drew blood, if you can believe that!”

“You’re joking!”

“Do I look like I am?” I asked her, nearly ripping my shirt off in my eagerness to remove the tight flat bodice she had pinned me into a few hours earlier. Hastily I set about removing the pins. “My God, I’m dying to get out of this…” I said as my best friend watched with her usual amazement. At last, I pulled away the garment and liberated my breasts. Finally able to breathe normally, I gulped in an immense breath of relief, and also rubbed my sore breasts as they resumed their proper shape.

Penny was amazed as usual. “I say, Brianna, no matter how many times I watch you do that, I can never believe it. How on earth can you breathe with them tucked in like that?”

“I’ll tell you,” I confessed as I pulled my trousers off and waded nude into the water, thrilled to be back in the embrace of our sanctuary where it was perfectly acceptable to be a woman, “Every time it’s over with and they’re free again, I wonder how I did it, too.” I have never been ashamed of my breasts; they are really quite elegant if I do say so myself. But they do get in the way now and then. “But it’s worth it for all I’ve seen in town, and for putting Father’s nastiest men in their place.”

“I do wonder just what the villagers would think if they knew the Boy Avenger wasn’t a boy at all,” Penny said. “My father talks about you regularly, you know. Always with admiration, actually – ‘Old Man Douglas and his gang are too damn big for their britches anyway, how marvellous that someone’s giving them all a beating now and then!’ But he’s dying to know who it is, and you should hear the speculation.”

“And of course all the suspects are men,” I said. “What would you expect?”

“Well, you do try so hard to look like one out there, don’t you?” Penny pointed out. “Tell me again, Brianna, remembering we’ve known each other all our lives and know everything about one another – do you want to be a man?”

“Certainly not!” I reassured her. “I just don’t want to settle for all that is allowed for a woman. I refuse to be my father’s property, and sometimes that requires some pretending. That is all.”

“I do envy you that,” Penny said. “I could never even try what you do.”

I embraced my friend tenderly in the water, exulting in the glorious intimacy we had known for so long in that pond. I did not say so, of course, but I rather envied Penny as well for her own apparent contentment with the lot of young uppercrust women in our village. My own life would be ever so much calmer if I could settle for another afternoon tea today and another dance tomorrow night, as she could! When our tender moment had passed, Penny wanted to hear more about what the inside of an alehouse looks like, so I told her all I could recall from earlier that afternoon – much like I always filled her in on life as a man after my forays into town to harass Father’s men. There was ever so much I had seen in disguise, and remembering that Penny could never hope to see any of it made binding my chest seem almost welcome!

We talked for over an hour, before at last it was time to dry off and dress for the walk home. This we did together in agreeable silence, as we had done hundreds of times before. I enjoyed the companionable experience as usual, but I did not truly savour it as I now know I should have, and certainly would have had I only known it would be our last afternoon together!

Penny’s family owned the second largest farm in the shire, just down the hill from the edge of the woods, and so we parted there with a final hug. Alone at last, I rambled home across Father’s fields, enjoying the gentle swish of my skirt against my legs – I missed that so when I dressed for one of my adventures! – and keeping an eye out for any of Father’s men who might be up to no good. With the worst of the lot finally dealt with, I almost feared there would be no further satisfactory challenges. The sun was hanging wonderfully low over the mountains beyond the village when I arrived at home, a deep sense of contentment lingering from the afternoon with Penny.

As usual, Father lost no time in spoiling that sense of contentment. Scarcely had I shut the front door behind me than his secretary, Mr. Cuddy, confronted me. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but your father would like a word,” he said. “In his study. Now.”

“Yes, sir!” I said with my usual ladylike meekness, wondering as always if it truly disguised my annoyance at his brusque tone. I should certainly have liked to have words with Father about his aides addressing me as though they were the boss, but a lady of my stature knew better. With that in mind, I heeded the instruction and let myself into Father’s study.

He was standing at the window, and to my surprise he was not alone. Another man sat in an armchair, facing away from me and nursing a drink. “Come in, Brianna,” Father said coldly, and without turning to face me. The guest in the armchair did not turn to greet me, so I was left to guess at his identity until I got to Father’s desk.

When at last I got a look at him, I was both pleased and a bit shocked to see Peter’s bruised, unsmiling face staring back at me. My plan had worked better than I could have hoped, for his left eye was swollen shut. “Peter!” I said, my surprise not entirely feigned. “Whatever happened to your eye?!”

Peter didn’t answer. Father did. “Brianna,” he snapped, finally turning around, “You can drop your charade. You know exactly what happened to Peter.”

I laughed my well-practiced stage laugh. “Father, whatever can you –”

“Silence!” Like the little girl I still was whenever I was in his presence, I obeyed. “Did you really suppose you could run about town dressed like a boy, picking fights with my men, and no one would ever recognize you, Brianna?”

“What on earth do you mean, Father?” But even I could hear I was fooling no one.

Peter spoke up for the first time. “Brianna, you looked me in the eye rather too long just before you picked your fight with Jack. Your disguise was impressive, my dear, but I would know those eyes anywhere!”

“I’m not your dear,” I grumbled.

“That’s enough!” Father snapped. “Peter has treated you with nothing but the respect due a young lady in this house, and you will act as though you appreciate it whether you do or not!”

“Y-yes, Father,” I mumbled. No use in trying to explain all the leering glances I had put up with since Peter had wormed his way into Father’s good graces, and all the times he’d looked at my breasts rather than in my eyes, and the rude comments about my physique whenever we passed in the hallway – it would all make no difference to Father.

“Now then, no more lies,” Father said, looking me in the eye now. “For months now, my men have been talking of this Boy Avenger who runs about the town, looking for trouble with the toughest of the lot, and nearly always finding it. Usually they’re more than happy to see their comrades beaten down; that’s a travesty unto itself, but nevertheless they talk about this mysterious boy who stirs up trouble anywhere he goes, and always manages to leave much bigger men broken and humiliated. You have been the Boy Avenger all along, haven’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“I shall take that as a yes,” Father continued. “My fault, I suppose, raising you from such a young age without your mother. I taught you how to be a lady as best a man could hope to do, but I must concede, that is not among my talents. Never in my wildest imaginings, though, did I foresee this! Brianna, what on earth would possess you to not only disguise yourself to visit places no woman should see, but also pick fights with my finest men and cause them to injure one another? And now my most valuable fighter of all
and
my assistant?!”

I could endure no more. His finest men?! Big Jack was an absolute barbarian! I had no doubt I should now be very popular now among some of Father’s other men. But a woman could hardly speak her mind on that or any matter, that I had known all my life. As always, I conjured up my most ladylike smile. “Father, really, now…” I began.

“Enough!” he shouted. “Brianna, I’m afraid I must now do something I should have done years ago. You’re a grown woman now, whether you act like it or not, and this simply is not the place for you to live any longer. And I quite frankly don’t have the stomach to go on worrying that you might pull any more nonsense like today. You will recall my dear friend Gordan, from the coast.”

“Father, Please!” I whimpered, knowing nevertheless that I was helpless as ever. Gordan was a fixture of Christmastime visits when I was a girl. Portly and stinking of whiskey most of the time, he was a challenge to tolerate even for a brief visit. I had been brought up well enough to pretend he was a pleasant enough visitor once a year, but what Father appeared to be suggesting was intolerable for even the most refined of ladies – which I was not, quite by choice. I scarcely dared guess Gordan’s age by then either.