The Rogue: A Highland Guard Novella (The Highland Guard) Read online

Her mouth twitched again, and he knew she was fighting a smile. He suspected because he’d been scowling as he answered. “I should like to see it.”

  His scowl deepened. She had an uncanny way of making him feel defensive. “Perhaps you might try by saying something that was actually funny.”

  The words were out before he could stop them. It was a rude and ungallant thing to say. He was never rude and ungallant—especially to a young lady.

  But if he was worried about offending her, he should have known better.

  She looked over at him, clearly startled, and then did something extraordinary. She burst out into laughter. Deep, honest-to-God, joyous laughter. It was beautiful to hear—even more so than her singing the day before, which had conjured images of angels and other heavenly creatures.

  “I suppose I deserved that,” she said with her typical good-natured wryness. She tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made him vaguely uncomfortable. “You should be forthcoming more often, my lord. It becomes you.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.” He gave her an odd look. He didn’t know what the hell to make of her, and it showed. “You are an unusual young woman, Lady Isabel.”

  Proving the truth of his comment, she beamed. “Thank you. I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”

  He hadn’t necessarily meant it as a compliment.

  She laughed again, demonstrating a disconcerting ability to read his thoughts. “Even if you hadn’t meant it as a compliment.” When he reflexively started to assure her otherwise, she stopped him. “No pretty protests, please. Do not ruin the good impression left by your honesty. Perhaps you can think of something else rude to say instead?”

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement. They were the prettiest shade of light blue—like the sun on a crystal clear spring day. A day much like today as a matter of fact.

  Randolph was pretty sure this was the oddest conversation he’d ever had. “Give me a minute or two. I’m sure you’ll make me think of something.”

  She laughed again. “Keep this up, my lord, and you will have me swooning at your feet.”

  I’d pay to see that.

  He didn’t realize he’d muttered it aloud until she gave a fresh burst of laughter. “Why, when there are so many willing to do so for free?”

  Their eyes met. Was she teasing him or laughing at him again? He couldn’t tell. That was part of the problem.

  Suspecting that if he tried to continue the conversation, she’d keep getting the last word, he did something rare and gave up.

  They rode for a few minutes in companionable silence until he heard her gasp.

  “Is that it?” she asked, pointing to the hill and cliffs that had just appeared before them.

  “Aye. The hill is known as Arthur’s Seat, and those oddly shaped columns of rock in the cliffs on the southwest side are Samson’s Ribs.”

  Her eyes lit with excitement, and it hit him with the force of a hammer. Low in his gut at first, then stirring rather hard below his belt.

  Christ, she should look like that all the time. Animated and full of excitement, she was about as far from serene as he could imagine. She was lovely… absolutely breathtaking.

  “They are magnificent! I’ve never seen cliffs shaped like that. And they are aptly named, indeed; the square sided columns look like ribs.”

  “Hexagonal,” he corrected automatically. “When you get up close you can see the six sides of the columns. There are similar rocks on the Isle of Staffa and along the coast of Northern Ireland.”

  “There are?” She was honestly amazed, and for the first time he felt as if he might have impressed her with something. He liked the feeling. He liked it a lot.

  “Can we get closer?” she asked.

  “If you’d like.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before she snapped her reins and raced off ahead.

  Strangely caught up in her enthusiasm, he told his men to wait there for them and set up their meal while he rode after her.

  She was a good rider, he noticed, but that didn’t surprise him. She seemed the kind of woman who would be just as comfortable roaming the moors as she would be sitting on the dais in the Great Hall of some fine castle. There was a genuineness to her, a lack of pretense that made her seem grounded in whatever she seemed to be doing.

  She was already tying her reins to a tree when he caught up to her.

  He dismounted, tied up his own horse, and followed after her along the narrow path that circled the base of the rock.

  She seemed to dance through the ankle-high grass, still brown from winter, as she walked. If he wasn’t so acutely aware of the shapely hips, round bottom, and very womanly chest revealed quite splendidly in her form-fitting, green wool gown, he might have thought he was watching a child let out of doors for the first time after a long, cold winter.

  The thought made him smile, which he was still doing when she reached the furthermost curve and turned to look at him.

  She seemed startled. He could have sworn he heard a sharp intake of breath, and the pulse at her neck appeared to flutter a little faster.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She blinked a few times and shook her head. “You’ve never smiled like that before.”

  He frowned. “Like what?”

  But she’d already turned from him to examine the rock face. She had her hand pressed against one of the flat surfaces when she turned back to him to ask, “How do you think it became shaped like this?”

  The sun had turned her hair to shimmering silver, her eyes to aquamarine, and seemed to bathe her features in a warm light. He was struck by the delicate lines of her small, straight nose, her softly pointed chin, her deftly curved cheeks and brow, her big, wide-set eyes, and her dainty bow-shaped mouth.

  “By the hand of God,” he answered, his voice oddly rough, not just thinking about the rocks.

  The answer didn’t seem to satisfy her. She skimmed her hand over the mostly dark gray with an occasional tinge of pink, finely grained rock surface. “It’s magnificent.”

  Could one be jealous of stone? Clearly the stone had impressed her—which was more than he could say for himself.

  He reached back through the recesses of his mind and pulled out a fact that had been buried a long time ago. “Pliny the Elder classified different kinds of rocks. He would have probably called this ‘tephrias’ as it appears volcanic in origin.” He frowned. “Or maybe ‘basanite,’ which is a specific type of volcanic rock used to carve ancient statues.”

  She was looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. His face started to feel hot, and if he didn’t know better, he would say that he was actually feeling self-conscious.

  “You’ve read Naturalis Historia?” she asked, obviously shocked.

  “You know Pliny?” he asked, equally so.

  “A little. Unfortunately, my brothers were more interested in learning about Sparta than they were natural philosophy.”

  He chuckled. “I was, too, but I’ve always been interested in architecture.” It was his passion. He could talk about it for hours. “The book on mineralogy includes information about stones for building.”

  Izzie hoped she didn’t look as surprised as she felt, but she suspected her expression matched her incredulity. First the smile—the real smile that nearly stole her breath—and now this? He liked architecture? Apparently, singing wasn’t the only anomaly of shared interests between them.

  “I know,” she said. “That’s why I wished to read it as well.”

  She wasn’t alone in her shock—or in her ability to mask it. He was just as surprised as she. “You are interested in architecture?”

  She shrugged, a little embarrassed. Her brothers teased her about her uncommon propensity for learning by telling her that if she wasn’t careful, they’d send her to a nunnery. But Randolph wasn’t her family. Would he understand the curiosity that took her in strange directions of study?

  “Nothing so for
mal,” she said. “But when my brother had our donjon rebuilt—it had been hastily repaired after King Edward had it slighted in 1298—I worked with the master builder on the design. I loved it and wanted to learn more. He was the one who told me of Pliny’s work—among others. I tried to interest my younger brothers with the hope that their tutor would try to procure a copy, but alas…” She shrugged.

  “Sparta?” he finished with a smile that twinkled in his eyes.

  She was momentarily transfixed, but then quickly managed to return his smile. But good gracious, when he smiled that way, he was so handsome, it was almost ridiculous. “Aye, I’m afraid my attempts to make rock and foundations sound as interesting to my thirteen and fourteen-year-old brothers as swords, shield walls, and ancient warriors failed miserably.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  Izzie grinned. “Sarcasm, my lord? Have care or you will win my heart along with my cousin’s, and doom me to an eternity of heartbreak.”

  He shook his head and held her gaze. “Somehow I don’t think there is any danger of that.”

  A few minutes ago, she would have agreed. But she had to admit Randolph had surprised her. He was still strung too tightly and took himself far too seriously for her taste, but he did appear to have some sense of humor and a couple redeeming qualities beyond his good looks and charm.

  She studied the handsome face looking down on her—he was at least two or three inches over six feet—with the same intensity that she’d looked at the stone earlier, trying to penetrate their secrets. To the same effect. They both revealed little.

  “Perhaps you would be interested in looking at a few drawings I have of some improvements I’d like to make to my castles?”

  “I would love to,” Izzie said before he’d even finished.

  Realizing she’d perhaps sounded a little overeager, she was trying to think of a light reply when a loud rumble shattered the peaceful quiet hum of nature around them.

  She started to look around. “What was that? It sounded—”

  “Watch out!” He pushed her back against the wall of rock she’d just been admiring, pinning her body to it with his own.

  The shock of sensation riveted her from head to toe. She’d never been in such intimate contact with a man before and everything about it seemed to strike her at once. He was warm, solid, and very muscular. Were it not for the heat and the way her body seemed to be melting into his, she might have thought she was being pressed between two stone walls.

  He was wearing a mail shirt but it was the solid strength of the chest underneath that she was feeling. Every ridge, every bulge, every slab, every rock-hard inch—of which there seemed to be quite a lot. Not that she was complaining. He felt good. Really good. Flushed cheeks and weakened knees good.

  Sensing her shock—and she hoped misinterpreting it—he tried to explain what was happening before her head cleared enough to ask.

  “Slide…,” he started to say, but the rest of his words were drowned out by the crash of rock that rained down behind them like a deadly waterfall.

  Good God! Had he not reacted as quickly as he had, she would have been crushed beneath all that. He’d saved her life—he really was a hero. The bones in her legs felt as if they’d turned to jelly. She would have slid to the ground had he not been holding her up.

  Yet, through it all, he held himself like an iron cage over her. He wouldn’t let anything touch her. She was perfectly safe.

  She knew that. It was the only reason to explain why she didn’t panic. Why she stood there calmly, concentrating on the hard warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the faint scent of rare cinnamon, while the ground reverberated and her teeth rattled with the force of the rockslide.

  It lasted only a few seconds, though it felt much longer.

  But when the din had faded and the dust had settled, he was still pressed against her.

  The beat of his heart had been steady, but oddly she felt it pound harder now.

  He turned his head enough to meet her gaze. Instinctively she sucked in her breath. There was something in his eyes she’d never seen before, but which she instinctively recognized. Desire. It washed over her—flooded her—with heat and awareness.

  Awareness that made her heart start to pound and her body start to tingle when she felt him harden against her.

  There was so much of him, it was impossible to miss. Rather than being shocked and offended, however, she became embarrassingly aroused. She flushed with heat, and a strange dampness rushed between her legs. Her body was coming alive with sensations that she couldn’t seem to control.

  His eyes were dark and penetrating—almost as if he were looking for something.

  Permission, she realized. He wants to kiss me.

  Her heart jumped to her throat and seemed to pound in her ears. Her eyes were telling him no… weren’t they?

  Apparently, they weren’t inclined to lie because a second later he was lowering his mouth to hers.

  Her lips parted on their own, anticipation making her forget to breathe. The air was so thick and heavy between them; her body held captive by the tight grip of desire. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.

  She didn’t want to, she realized. She wanted him to kiss her. And he did. Thoroughly. Magnificently. With every bit of finesse she would have expected from someone of his reputation. Was it any surprise that Sir Thomas Randolph kissed divinely? That his lips were warm and soft and heart-wrenchingly tender? That his breath was the perfect mix of hot male and warm spice—the cinnamon she’d smelled earlier.

  He was a rogue, and he kissed like one.

  And from the first touch of his lips to hers, Izzie knew she was in trouble. This wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever experienced. There was nothing delicate or chaste about the feel of his mouth on hers. It was searingly hot, achingly wicked, and thoroughly consuming.

  The explosion of sensation shook her to the core and wouldn’t let go. It penetrated in a hot wave of pleasure that radiated through her body from her head to her toes and everywhere in between, concentrating in the place between her legs where he was now wedged even more firmly.

  He felt so good that she pressed herself closer. The low groan—growl?—he made in response seemed to reverberate low in her belly.

  It was amazing. And then it was ever more so. The sensations grew stronger as his mouth moved over hers. Softly at first—deftly—then with increasing intensity as his tongue filled her mouth. It hit her again. His tongue was in her mouth. She’d never…

  Oh God. The teasing flicks gave way to demanding strokes that seemed to reach deeper and deeper within her, making her want more. Her heart fluttered with every stroke.

  She couldn’t seem to get enough of his mouth and tongue as it wrapped around hers in an intimate dance. She felt greedy—insatiable—for the taste of him, for the pressure of his lips, for the pleasure he was building inside her.

  For more.

  He made a sound as if she might have spoken her demand aloud, and his tongue stroked deeper, harder, fiercer. Finesse and skill gave away to something else. Something even more powerful and exciting. It devoured her. He devoured her. Her bones seemed to dissolve as the passion enfolded them both.

  His hands were still braced on either side of her head, but when she reached up to circle her arms around his neck, they slid around her to pull her fully into his embrace.

  Their bodies fused together perfectly, which was why it was such a shock when he suddenly released her and stepped back with a sharp curse.

  She was too busy trying to stay on her feet to notice that it was a rather crude word for such a lauded knight to utter before a lady.

  But a moment later she understood what had provoked his reaction.

  “Captain!” One of his men suddenly appeared around the bend in the path where Randolph and she had apparently—fortunately—been hidden from view. “We feared the worst when we heard the crash.”

  A second man came up beside him.
“Did you not hear us calling for you?”

  “I was tending to the lady,” Randolph explained evenly, as if nearly ravishing someone against a wall was a daily occurrence.

  Was it? She pushed the thought sharply away.

  But perhaps he was more affected than he appeared—he still hadn’t looked at her.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” the second man asked. “Were you harmed?”

  Devastated but not harmed. What had she done? How could she have let him kiss her like that? He was supposed to be courting her cousin, not kissing her. He didn’t even like her.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, pleased by the relative evenness of her own voice when her insides were a riot of emotions too tangled to analyze.

  “We should get you back to the castle to make sure,” Randolph said.

  Their eyes met, and she felt a pinch of disappointment in her chest. The mask was firmly back in place. Whatever lightening of humor, whatever relaxing, whatever common ground they might have temporarily found had been wiped away by that kiss.

  He looked just as prickly as when they’d first started out. His arrogant features were set perfectly in place. The mouth that had just plundered hers so tenderly and thoroughly was pulled in a tight line and the jaw below it had turned once again as rigid as stone.

  She nodded and looked away, suddenly as eager as he to see this ride over.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lost in her thoughts, Izzie didn’t notice right away that the soft buzz of conversation beside her had stopped. She was doing some needlework with some of the other women who’d joined King Robert the Bruce at Holyrood Abbey in Edinburgh. Bruce was in Edinburgh preparing for the return of the English king and his army—who were threatening to march on Scotland in the summer—by laying siege to two of the most important castles still in English hands: Edinburgh and nearby Stirling. Izzie’s cousin and Elizabeth’s brother, Jamie, had just captured another important castle, Roxburgh, from the English a few weeks ago.

  With Edinburgh Castle under siege, the abbey was serving as a temporary court for Bruce. This afternoon, Izzie, Elizabeth, and Jamie’s wife, Joanna, had joined the others in Lady Margaret Bruce’s solar. The three women had set themselves off a little—Izzie wasn’t alone in her unusual quiet—but it wasn’t until Elizabeth spoke to her that Izzie realized Joanna had gotten up to sit with some of the women on the other side of the solar, and Izzie and her cousin were alone.