The Accidental Highland Hero (The Highlanders #2)

Prologue

Cala na Creige, Scotland, 1103

‘Twas the first time since her father’s death in a fortnight, Lady Eilis Dunbarton had managed to sneak out of her uncle’s castle without escort. She’d so longed to see the beach below the cliffs where her father and she had spent many a day talking about the sea and his journeys. Only here could she find a gift for her cousin that she would truly treasure.

Eilis unfastened her brooch and pulled off her ariasaid. After attaching the brooch to the plaid, she tucked it behind a crag on the grassy ridge so as to keep it dry.

By the time Eilis traversed the steep, natural steps cut into the cliff by wind and rain and reached the rocky beach, the tide was coming in. She couldn’t tarry long and hurried to sort through the sea-polished stones when she spied a glint of purple crystal a few feet away, the water already washing over it. The stone would be the perfect gift for Agnes’s day of celebration as much as she loved the color. Eilis hurried forth, her foot slipping on the wet, mossy rocks. She nearly took a tumble. Her heart leapt in her throat.

But then the small, narrow cave where the incoming tide had drowned two laddies last summer caught her eye. Were their spirits still trapped there? She shuddered, remembering how she and Agnes had sneaked into the forbidden cave only a day before and found a dagger and silver brooch. She swallowed hard. ‘Twas best she kept her mind on the incoming tide and be quick about her business.

Elated to find such a treasure, she took a deep breath of the salty, fishy smelling air, grabbed the shimmering purple crystal, and dropped it into her pouch. It clunked against her other precious stones.

Drawing closer to the tidal waters, she spied an amber stone. As disconsolate and imprisoned as she and her wee brother had been since their father’s death, she knew Ethan would love yet another gem to add to his collection. ‘Twas a shame she could not bring him along for a brief respite, but she’d had a difficult enough time slipping out on her own without taking him with her.

Wending her way over the rocks, she attempted to reach the glistening stone, the tidewater already rushing in to claim it. Nay, it would be hers this day. There was no telling when she could sneak out alone again. Mayhap never.

She only wished her father’s youngest brother living in Ireland could have taken her and her brother in. But she could wish all she liked and naught would change. Soon she feared her Uncle Ceardach would give her in marriage to some chieftain to tie another clan’s loyalty to his. Ethan would then be at her uncle’s cruel mercy.

The sea soaked her to her ankles, the water icy cold, and she slipped again. Her skin prickled with unease. The deeper the water, the harder to see her treasure and to make any progress against the flow. Och, just a few more feet. The tide threatened to wash her back onto the diminishing shore.

When she reached the spot where she thought she’d spied it, she crouched, wetting her kirtle, and dug at the stones with her fingers. Lifting one after another, she tossed them aside. Where was the pretty amber stone? The water tugged at her, trying to topple her as she fought its strong push. Heart racing, she stood, shielded her eyes from the sun peeking through clouds, and peered into the water. She thought she glimpsed it farther out than she’d first imagined.

She hesitated. ‘Twas not too far to go if she hurried. Mayhap she would not get too much wetter, although the cold was already making her feet ache. She thought of Ethan and how he would react when she brought him the gem. His face would light in glee. Aye, she had to get him the treasure.

She waded deeper, the cold icing her legs, her skirts soaking up the water, weighing her down. And then when she thought she stood in front of it, she peered into the water and smiled. Aye, there it is. She leaned over and thrust both hands into the water and grabbed the treasure, but the stone was wedged tight. Larger than she thought also.

The water had risen too high, was moving too fast, and now even her chest was immersed as she—

The rock began to give, and her heart did a little skip for joy.

A man’s youthful voice, shouted, “Nay, lass!”

But ‘twas too late for a warning.

The tide pulled her off her feet, tugging her like a hundred wet hands toward the cave into the dark and jagged rocks. Her breath let out in a whoosh. Grasping for purchase on the ragged rocks in her path, she swallowed a mouthful of briny sea and choked.

“Hold on!”

the man shouted again, but his voice was still a goodly distance away.

Searing pain ripped through her torn palms and fingers while she clung on, the tide threatening to drown her as it attempted to pull her into the cave. She couldn’t give in, not when she had to look after Ethan.

Was the man coming? She couldn’t hear him for the roar of the water crashing along the cliff face and the seagulls screeching high overhead. Another wave roared over her, soaking her to the skin while she held her breath against the onslaught. But the wall of water yanked her from her tentative hold on the slippery rocks.

Just as the sea was pulling her under, hands grasped her wrists and tugged her away from the entrance to the cave. The man held her tight around the waist and kicked his legs, drawing her farther from the deadly menace.

Coughing to expel the seawater that gagged her, she tried to open her eyes. The saltwater stung, and she couldn’t see anything more than a blur and closed them again.

“Are you all right, lass?”

The man dragged her from the water and onto the first of the steps leading back up the cliff. The water lapped at the rocks just below them and would rise even higher.

All she could think of was how angry her uncle would be if he saw her clothes and hair wet. And if he knew a man had touched her, despite the best of intentions, he’d kill him. But beyond that, the man who held her so intimately, did things to her she never had imagined—sent a strange heat through her body when she should have been chilled to the bone. His strong arms secured her against him, lean and hard, his lips so close even his eyes took in her appearance with too much familiarity. ‘Twas more than scandalous. Yet, she clung to him with all her strength—loving his warmth, his protectiveness, his noble endeavor to save her when he could have died.

He pulled a strand of kelp from her hair and threw it back into the sea.

“I am…I am all right,”

she sputtered, her throat raw from swallowing the seawater.

He raised his brows. “Aye, you are a hardy one that. Although what the devil you were doing, I cannot fathom.”

He would not understand. ‘Twas not more than a foolish lass’s whim he would think. But to revisit the place her da and she used to come, and what the stone would have meant to her little brother—these things meant the world to her. Only she lost her brother’s treasure. Her eyes filled with tears.

The man half carried, half dragged her up the steep incline. Several feet above the tidewater broiling in a frenzy against the rocks, he helped Eilis sit.

“Here, drink this.”

He pulled a flask from his belt.

The honeyed mead helped soothe her throat, the sweet wine washing away the salty grit. She tried to wipe the biting salt from her eyes, but her wet sleeves irritated them even more.

“Here.”

He pulled a dry cloth from a pouch. “Where do you live?”

After wiping her eyes, she opened them, although they still burned, and she squinted against the pain. When she was able to see more clearly, she noticed the man’s hair, the color of freshly turned earth, rich and glistening with water, hanging loosely at his shoulders. His brows were furrowed with concern. But his dark brown eyes swallowed her up, held her hostage. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a handsome man in her life.

“Lass, where do you live? In yonder castle, mayhap? You will catch your death. Even now you are shivering. Shall I take you there?”

“Your name, sir,”

Eilis whispered, her bloodied hands burning, tears pricking her eyes.

“James.”

He tugged at her to get her to her feet.

Her gown laden with water, she could barely stand.

“Concentrate on taking one step at a time, lass. We need to get you to the top of the cliff.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her to the next step. “You weigh as much as my horse, I fathom. What is that you are carrying?”

She couldn’t tell him ‘twas a collection of rocks. He would think her daft. Inching up between his pulling her and her climbing, she felt a new pain, this in her right hip. Hopefully, she had not broken anything or her uncle would be more than angered.

-By the time they neared the top of the ridge, Eilis felt like she’d been climbing cliffs on an all-day hunt.

“We are almost there, lass. Just a wee bit more, and I should be able to pull you up.”

The next thing Eilis knew, she was on her back, and the youth was lying atop her, his head between her breasts, his legs between hers, his breath rasping.

“James,”

she gasped, her chilled body instantly heating as if she’d been immersed in cook’s boiling soup. The tingling in her stomach renewed and spread to the tips of her breasts and between her legs. She’d never felt anything akin to this before, and the sensation both intrigued and alarmed her.

He lifted his head, and his mouth curved upward in the most devilish manner. “You are alive.”

Her legs bared to the warm breeze, she tried to wriggle free, shoving his shoulders with her hands, but pain jolted through her hip, her palms burning, and she groaned.

“You are hurt, lass,”

James said, his eyes widening as he eased off her. “Where do you ail?”

“Beg pardon, sir,”

she cried, scooting away from him, yanking at her kirtle to cover her naked legs. Her uncle had thoroughly warned her about men, of any age—young and old, how easily they could compromise a lady’s affections then leave them in a bad way, heartbroken and alone.

“Your dress, lass, was too sodden. When I finally managed to get us to the top of the cliff, we collapsed, and you fainted, pulling me on top of you. I listened for your heartbeat to make sure you had not died.”

“I am quite alive, sir.”

Verra much so, if the way her body had reacted to his was any indication.

What was worse, she missed his intimate touch, the heat of his body, his protectiveness. Yet the image of him betwixt her legs reminded her of the kitchen maid Eilis had spied with a stable boy in the barn and with another man she did not know. Both times the maid’s kirtle was above her waist, the rest of her naked to a bare-arsed lad—och.

Eilis would think naught more of the matter as she had told herself so many times before. Besides, this was not the same. James was noble for having risked his life to save her.

Until she looked into James’s eyes and saw a hint of the devil in them. Or mayhap it was his lips curved up in such a roguish way that intrigued her like no other.

“Aye, I see you are verra much alive.”

James smiled at the bewitching lass. As soon as he’d spied her on the rocky beach, he wondered what she was doing. But when he saw the danger she was in, he’d had to stop her and nearly broke his neck in his rush down the slippery stone steps.

Now her green eyes held his gaze, boldly, unlike how a serving girl or even one of the ladies of a manor would react, looking away demurely, trying to draw him in with her subtle female ways. But the lass more than held his gaze, assessed his looks—twice already, stirring his loins like no other.

He assumed from the quality of her gown, she was a lady of some means. Although he tried not to look at it overmuch, the way the wet fabric clung to all her soft curves, revealing way more than he should have seen. Just observing her like this, for once, he was at a loss for words.

So what was she doing without a chaperone, risking her life with the tide coming in?

She was daring, adventuresome, and even half drowned—the prettiest lassie he’d seen with fiery red-gold curls in wet straggles down to her hips and cheeks full of color. Although when he’d listened to her heart, her cheeks had been quite pale.

None of the shy, retiring girls he’d met would have left their castles without proper escort. And none of them would have been caught dead doing—well, he wasn’t sure what she’d been doing. Looked to be fishing without a net.

Although she’d spoken barely a few words, her speech was as honeyed as his mead, not shrill like cook’s voice, or harsh as the kitchen staff. And even though he’d startled her with his actions, she had not screamed for someone to rescue her.

She more than intrigued him. He thought he intrigued her a little also.

“Your name, lass? And from where do you hail?”

Just then a man shouted from the road some yards beyond, “Where are you? Da will have your hide!”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Hide. Hurry! Beyond that crag. If my cousin finds you alone with me, he will slay you.”

“I just saved you.”

“He will kill you! I beg of you, if you value my life and your own, leave.”

Her eyes misted.

With great reluctance, James would do as she bade. He took her arm, realizing then how cold she was and berated himself for not going for help sooner. “I will wait over yonder to see that your cousin finds you.”

She licked her lips as if preparing them for a kiss. Without further thought, he pressed his mouth against hers and tasted the honeyed mead and her own sweetness.

Her lips parted in surprise, and he pushed harder. Soft, yielding, perfectly innocent. ‘Twas with the utmost difficulty he broke the kiss. “Lass, your name.”

He knew then he had to see her again. Somehow. Although he hoped she was not of an enemy clan.

But she shook her head and pushed him away. “He will kill you, fool. Go.”

She pressed her finger to her lips as if cherishing his touch. She tried to sit up, but she groaned, and James hesitated to leave her. Again, she shoved at him. “Go,” she whispered, her word angry, but her eyes sad.

He ground his teeth and dashed off to the outcropping of rocks, hating that he had still not learned her name. Irritated he would have to hide when he had only the lass’s best intentions at heart—well, except for the kiss—chaste as it was.

His younger brother slipped in beside him. “I have searched for you for miles,”

Malcolm whispered then peered around the rocks to see what James was watching.

Malcolm let out his breath. “What is going on? Da is calling for you. Who is the lass? What is she doing there, soaked from head to toe? And what were you doing kissing her?”

James groaned inwardly. How long had his brother been watching them? “Little brother, her cousin comes for her. Hush.”

‘Twas not much longer when a strapping young man, red blond hair like the girl’s, came into view astride a roan, a scar across his face, giving him a surly look.

“There you are. God’s wounds, cousin, my da will take a strap to you for running off. Why are you soaked to the bone? Get up.”

“I…I hurt myself.”

Her cousin jumped from his horse, leaned down, and grabbed her wrist.

James would have leapt from his hiding place and protected the lass if his brother hadn’t seized his arm and shaken his head.

The girl’s cousin yanked her to her feet, and she screamed out.

‘Twas more than James could bear. He fought against Malcolm, furious he would stop him from rescuing the lass.

“Och, Da will be more than displeased.”

Her cousin grabbed her by the waist.

“My bag.”

Her face pained, she motioned to the leather pouch on the ground.

He glanced at it. “Your rocks?”

He grunted. “Da needs to find you a husband without delay.”

“But—”

He threw her over the saddle, and again she cried out. Before she could protest or James could get loose from Malcolm, the lass’s cousin remounted and galloped off.

“Who was she?”

Malcolm asked as they rose from their crouched position.

The most foolish lassie James had ever met, and the only one who had ever heated his body to a fevered pitch, stolen every reasonable thought in his mind, and left him yearning for more of her touch.

He frowned at his brother for stopping him from rescuing the lass from her brutish cousin. Malcolm leaned down and lifted an ariasaid from the ground, hidden by the shadows of the rocks. “Is it hers?”

James took the plaid from his brother and smelled it. “Aye.”

‘Twas the sweet lassie’s scent. He tucked it into his plaid and traversed the rocky cliff. When he reached her bag, he hoped to discover more about who she was and where she was from. He peered inside and stared at the contents. Rocks? No wonder the lass weighed as much as his horse. Well, that, and her wet kirtle. He tied the pouch to his waist, hoping to learn who the lass was and return her treasures. “Is Da drunk again?”

“Aye. When is he not? But he says you must wed soon, and he wishes you to choose from one of the lassies he has in mind for you to marry.”

“I will not be laird until he is gone. ‘Tis time to take up my sword in the Crusade.”

Mayhap James could redeem his father’s sins. Or mayhap not. He glanced in the direction the lass’s cousin had ridden. “Time enough later to find a lass to wed.”

When he could find one who made him feel like the girl in the green kirtle did, with silken hair and sea green eyes, who challenged him with her sweet innocence, aye, then he would wed.

Dubh Linn, Ireland, 1107