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Seduced by Her Highland Warrior
Michelle Willingham
BACK IN HER HUSBAND’S BED Alex MacKinloch is chief of his clan and, in these dark times of unrest, he has united his people. The void between him and his wife is proving a much harder challenge. When Alex discovers Laren has been keeping secrets from him, his thinly veiled frustration can no longer be contained…The pleasures of the marital bed seem long forgotten to Laren. Yet her warrior husband is looking at her with increasingly hungry eyes… This powerful Highlander has seduction on his mind and his wife in his sights! The MacKinloch Clan Highland warriors prepared to fight fiercely for their country…and for love
While she cleaned the tunic, Alex scooped up some water, washing off his skin. Rivulets of water spilled over his hard muscles, and Laren found herself staring at her husband.
He stretched and shivered from the freezing water. Her eyes followed the water that pooled over his skin, trailing downwards.
He saw her staring, and met her with his own frank gaze. Dark eyes moved down her face, past her breasts to her hips. Unable to help herself, she reached out and touched his cool skin, wiping away a droplet of water with her fingertips.
Alex didn’t move, but he caught her wrist and held it to his skin. ‘After the girls are asleep, meet me here again tonight.’
He pressed her fingers over his ribs, guiding her hand around his waist. Though his skin was icy cold from the water, she leaned in to warm him. His hand cupped her face.
Though he hadn’t done anything at all, Laren’s breath was shaky, her body seeking his nearness.
His fingers stroked the side of her face, and she lifted her mouth to his, claiming the kiss that he hadn’t given.
When he pulled back, he let his hands remain around her waist. ‘Tonight,’ he repeated.
She nodded and he released her.
AUTHOR NOTE
Whenever I visit a medieval cathedral, my eyes are always drawn to the stained glass windows. The stunning details and the intricate glass make it hard to believe that I’m staring at something that’s over seven hundred years old. I’m fascinated by the artists who made the glass, and those who pieced it together to form sacred art.
I decided to create a heroine with the talent of making her own glass—a craft she learned from a mentor priest. But for Laren MacKinloch glassmaking provided the solace she needed after losing her newborn son. Grief fractured her marriage with the clan leader Alex MacKinloch, and I wanted to explore how two people could rebuild a stronger relationship after a tragedy.
One resource which I found extremely helpful was On Divers Arts by the monk Theophilis. He documented a treatise on blowing glass that explained the techniques used in the medieval era. In addition, this past autumn I was privileged to watch the glass artists at Art of Fire take me through the process of blowing glass. You can view pictures and videos of the process at my Facebook fan page: www.facebook.com/michellewillinghamfans
You’re welcome to visit my website at www.michellewillingham.com for excerpts and behind-the-scenes details about my books. I love to hear from readers, and you may e-mail me at michelle@michellewillingham.com or write via mail at PO Box 2242, Poquoson, VA 23662, USA.
About the Author
MICHELLE WILLINGHAM grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand. When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance. She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University. Currently she teaches American History and English. She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword.
Visit her website at: www.michellewillingham.com, or e-mail her at michelle@michellewillingham.com
Previous novels by this author:
HER IRISH WARRIOR*
THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH*
HER WARRIOR KING*
HER WARRIOR SLAVE†
THE ACCIDENTAL COUNTESS**
THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCESS**
TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR*
SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR*
CLAIMED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR§
Available in Mills & Boon
Historical Undone!eBooks:
THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE
THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN
AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION**
INNOCENT IN THE HAREM PLEASURED
BY THE VIKING
*The MacEgan Brothers †prequel to The MacEgan Brothers mini-series §The MacKinloch Clan **linked by character
And in Mills & Boon
Historical eBooks:
LIONHEART’S BRIDE (part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages)
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Seduced by Her
Highland Warrior
Michelle Willingham
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Chapter One
Glen Arrin, Scotland—1305
Soldiers gripped spears in their palms and charged forwards, their weapons aimed at his wife and daughters.
Blood dripped from a wound on his forearm, but Alex MacKinloch wouldn’t stop running. A primal roar resounded from his mouth as he lifted his sword and hacked his way toward the women. His lungs burned as he fought, the battle haze clouding his awareness of reality. In the distance, he saw his wife Laren’s gleaming red hair as she struggled through a water-filled ditch. Her skirts weighed her down and she held their younger daughter in her arms. She didn’t see the dozens of soldiers approaching as she tried to evacuate the fortress.
I have to reach them. Or they’ll die.
It was a reality he didn’t want to face, and the thought of his Laren falling beneath a soldier’s blade was a horror he couldn’t grasp. His arm ached with a vicious pain, but he fought a path towards them. The soldiers blocked his line of vision until all he could see was a swift storm of arrows.
A pulse thundered in his ears until he realised the arrows were coming from their younger brother Callum, who was guarding the women and children. Flames erupted from the wooden keep that stood high above them, like a dying sentry.
The fortress was going to fall. He ran as hard as he could and heard his kinsman Ross breathe, ‘Mary, Mother of God.’
As Alex rushed forwards, he heard the cracking of wood.
‘Callum, dive!’ shouted a man’s voice from behind her.
Laren MacKinloch struggled through the forest, her skirts sodden with water as the keep surrendered to the flames and collapsed. She stared through the trees, in shock at the sight of her home.
Gone now.
And what of Alex, her husband? ‘Take Mairin and Adaira,’ she begged Vanora, handing over her daughters. ‘I’ll join you in a few moments.’
‘You can’t go back,’ the older matron warned. ‘This isn’t over yet.’
‘I won’t leave the trees,’ Laren promised. I just need to see him. I need to know if he’s safe.
She didn’t wait for Vanora’s reply, but moved back to the forest’s edge, holding on to a slender birch tree for balance. Her breath frosted in the evening air as the cold settled around the glen.
When English soldiers surrounded the men from both sides, she felt her heart branching into silent pieces of terror. Dear God, no.
She couldn’t hear what was happening, but the look of grim finality on Alex’s face meant that the worst was near. As she stared from her hiding place, the years seemed to fall back. No longer was he a powerful chief but instead, the man she’d once loved. The fist of heartbreak caught her and tears dampened her cheeks. They’d grown so far apart over the past two years, and now she didn’t know if she would see him alive again.
If she had one last moment with him, there were too many words to speak. Too many things she’d locked away in her heart for far too long.
Her palm pressed against the tree bark. Though Alex couldn’t see her, she kept her gaze fixed upon him, as if she could memorise his face and hold it for ever.
A fiery pain blasted through her right side. Laren’s knees buckled beneath her and she gasped in shock at the arrow embedded within her skin.
The searing agony stunned her and she could barely keep her senses about her. Though it was a shallow wound, piercing the soft skin sideways, near her ribs, she’d not realised how close she was to the battle.
She forced herself to snap off the feathered end, sliding the arrow free of the wound. Blood poured from her side and she pressed her dark cloak against the flow, fighting the dizziness.
You have to go back to your girls, her mind warned. She couldn’t stay, no matter how much she feared for Alex’s life. One of them had to live, to take care of their daughters.
It wrenched her apart, having to choose between her husband and her children, but she forced herself to continue. If the English gained the victory, they would come looking for the survivors. Her daughters needed her and she had to protect them.
She struggled up to the top of the ridge. Each step sent another wave of pain raging through her side, but she ignored the wound, hiding it beneath her dark cloak. There would be time to tend it later.
When she reached the girls, her elder daughter threw her arms around her waist, weeping. At the ages of four and not quite two, Mairin and Adaira weren’t old enough to understand what was happening. Laren caught her breath, keeping Mairin’s hands away from the injury while she spoke soft, reassuring words.
‘Where is Da?’ her daughter demanded. ‘Is he safe?’
‘I don’t know.’ Laren’s throat tightened with fear, her eyes burning. ‘But we have to wait here for him, away from the soldiers.’
‘I’m afraid,’ her daughter sobbed.
Laren brushed a kiss against Mairin’s forehead. So am I.
The earth trembled as dozens of horsemen surrounded their army on both sides. Robert Fitzroy, the Baron of Harkirk, watched in fury as more of the Scots poured in, reinforced by the French. His hand tightened upon the hilt of his sword and he wanted nothing more than to bathe his weapon in their blood.
The MacKinlochs were supposed to die this day. Hadn’t he burned their fortress to the ground, slaughtering their kinsmen? He’d already planned to set up an outpost here, to secure more land for King Edward Plantagenet, but he could see his victory fading away like smoke.
‘Pull back!’ he ordered and his soldiers obeyed. Though it splintered his pride, he hadn’t survived half-a-dozen battles by making foolish decisions that would endanger his neck.
As they retreated into the hills, Harkirk cast a backwards glance. This wasn’t over. Not by half.
He vowed that the next time he looked upon the face of a MacKinloch, it would be mounted upon a pike outside his gates.
It took a quarter of an hour to reach the ridge and Alex helped his brother up to the top of the hill. Nairna looked worried, for although they had survived with only minor injuries, traces of battle madness lurked within her husband’s face. But Alex felt certain that once they brought Bram home, his brother would make a full recovery.
When they reached the clearing, the first glimpse of Laren sent a roaring breath of relief back through Alex’s lungs. The instinct pulled at him, to go to her. He needed to hold his wife and breathe in the scent of her skin, touching her soft red hair.
Laren started to take a step towards him, but she abruptly stopped, her face ashen. Her hand pressed to her side and then she turned her attention to their girls. Their clansmen were watching, and at their sudden attention she shrank back.
He couldn’t understand why. Aye, they’d grown apart over the past two years, but was it so much to ask that she show him a grain of affection? That she could welcome him back into her arms? The pain in her eyes bothered him, for he didn’t understand it. Wasn’t she glad to see him alive?
Though Mairin and Adaira called out, Laren bent and spoke quietly, as if to prevent them from running to him. Adaira clutched Laren’s leg, burying her face in her mother’s skirts.
A thousand moments passed by in a single second. Pride froze out the aching emotions, and Alex stared back at his wife, wishing she would meet him halfway. But she merely gave him a nod and moved away with the girls, unable to face him.
Something was wrong. She’d closed herself off from him and he didn’t know why. His hand tightened on the door frame and he forced himself to look after Bram. ‘Will you be all right with him?’ Alex asked Nairna, who had helped her husband to sit upon their bed.
‘Aye.’ She poured water into a basin and retrieved a cloth to tend Bram’s wounds. When she had wrung out the cloth, she sent Alex a pointed look. ‘Go to Laren. She needs you.’
He left them alone, watching the way Nairna cared for her husband. The deep love in her eyes and the answering look in her husband’s face brought a surge of envy. He wanted to be with Laren right now, to shatter the invisible wall between them.
The thought became a thorn, digging deeper into his pride. She was the woman he’d pledged to protect. Years ago, she would have thrown herself into his arms, not caring what anyone else thought. She’d have clung to him, whispering words of how she’d worried.
But now she kept her distance from him, almost as if they were strangers.
His frustration strung tighter as he walked among the survivors, asking about their welfare. During that time, not once had Laren moved towards him. Her face was white, as though she were too timid to move.
Damn it all, he didn’t care if she no longer wanted him. They’d survived their brush with death; right now he wanted to hold her. He needed her in his arms, whether or not she was too shy to answer the embrace.
He crossed through the people, moving directly towards her. Without voicing a single word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She let out a slight gasp, but her hands moved up to his shoulders, resting there. He didn’t speak, didn’t reveal any of the thoughts coursing through his mind. Adaira and Mairin each grabbed his legs, but right now, he needed Laren.
Dimly, he was aware that she wasn’t quite holding him in return. Her hands were there, but there was no warmth, no answering embrace. His heart numbed when he pulled back to look at her, his hands resting at her waist.
He’d mistakenly believed that if he made the first move she would welcome him back, that the past two years of distance wouldn’t matter any more, because they were alive. But she didn’t look at him, as if she were too shy to speak.
He let his hands fall away, saying nothing. The girls were chattering, asking him questions about when they could go home, where they would sleep, and he couldn’t give them an answer.
His kinsman Ross came near, and asked, ‘Do you want to bring your family to our home for the night?’ Since Ross’s home was on the opposite side of the fortress, it had escaped the fires.
Alex never took his eyes from Laren, but agreed. ‘Aye, if it’s no trouble to you.’
