Highlander's Captive (Historical Erotic Novella, Book 1) (Highland Temptations)

• Highlander's Captive, (Erotic Historical Novella)
  
• Midpoint
  

Highland Temptations, Book 1 (Erotic Novella)

Hildie McQueen

Copyright Hildie McQueen 2012

Published by Pink Door Publishing - Smashwords edition

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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author

Highlander's Captive

By Hildie McQueen

"Well, Miss Westcott." Conor McDougall stood over Victoria and scowled down. "I suggest you don't wander off alone. It's dangerous for a lass to go about unaccompanied." He didn't move out of her path, so Victoria looked up at him, her deep green eyes taking him in.

"I am far more afraid of what awaits me in the Highlands."

Unable to stop, the Scot put his hand up to her cheek. "Don't be afraid, Victoria. As you already know, I cannot return you to England. I am taking you to my brother's keep. You will be safe there."

Victoria moved from his touch. "I don't want to be in Scotland. I want to go home." Her last word hitched. "You must send word to my brothers immediately. They will come and fetch me." Angry eyes blazed into his.

"You must understand I can't return you. It would be an admission of guilt."

"You murdered those poor people and kidnapped me. I don't have to understand anything you say, sir!"

Conor froze. Most men did not stand up to him, and this small lady was not only standing up to him, but was scolding him as well. "I don't have to explain the reason for my going to England. But I will tell you that here, I am the one who says what will and will not happen. I am not a lackey for you to order about, lady. When we arrive at Somerset, my brother will decide what he wants to do about you and your maid."

They were standing close, nose-to-nose, Victoria's eyes boring into his. Neither wanted to be first to back down. Victoria put her hand out to Conor's chest to push him aside and move past.

His hand caught hers. "Be careful, lady, I am not in the right mood."

Victoria's eyes widened only slightly, but she did not retreat. "Release my hand, sir."

Not sure what possessed him, Conor didn't release her hand. Instead, he pulled it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, allowing his lips to linger on each. She gasped. Her mouth fell open, and she tried to tug her hand free.

When Victoria leaned forward, he bent and took her mouth with his. Upon touching her lips, a surge of arousal lurched through him. He deepened the kiss without restraint, and pulled her into him.

Her body stiff, she pushed against his chest, but only to soften and kiss him back, opening her mouth to allow his tongue to explore hers fully.

Victoria raised her hands, he assumed to put them around his neck. Instead, she slapped the back of his head.

Conor jerked back and lifted his hand, to the affected area.

"How dare you!" She spat at him and took a wobbly step back, rounded him and ran back to the cart.

How had that spitfire of a girl caused him to lose control? He stalked to the river and washed his face. The cold water helped. He then went straight to his horse, not looking at her. After that, Conor rode ahead and traded places with one of the forward scouts to avoid being near her for the rest of the trip home.

Victoria Westcott strode into the great room at Somerset keep. She was ushered by a maid to sit upon a long, bench-style seat, at an equally lengthy table topped with steaming meats, root vegetables, and hot loaves of bread for the evening meal.

She'd never dined in a Highland home. Expecting a lack of civility, she was pleasantly surprised when a man she recognized from the journey stood and assisted her to sit.

"Thank you," Victoria murmured to the male who sat next to her.

His only reply was a grunt.

According to her brothers, although larger clans might be less cultured than the English, they were usually well read. But the close-knit clan members rarely married outsiders.

Especially not an Englishman or woman.

Victoria sat with her eyes downcast, until the familiar deep voice sounded.

"How fare you, Miss Westcott?" Conor McDougall lowered his large body into a seat across the table, only a few seats over from her.

"As well as can be expected," she replied, meeting his gaze. She'd not seen him since arriving earlier that day. Bathed and shaved, he did not resemble the brute she'd traveled with, but remained just as striking.

He turned to his brother, Calum, who cleared his throat.

"I wish to meet with you after the meal," the laird told Conor, before directing his attention to Victoria. Calum resembled Conor in physical build and dark hair. They had the same startling, deep-blue eyes, but the similarity ended in the lack of warmth when Calum regarded her.

"Miss Westcott, I hope your chambers are to your liking."

"They are adequate."

The laird's wife, Meagan McDougall, entered the room, her arm linked with Conor's sister, Cailyn. Meagan, who wore her light-brown hair braided and wrapped around her head, glanced to Victoria. Upon sitting, she began a conversation with Cailyn, purposely ignoring the newcomer. Except to direct a glare in her direction on occasion.

In stark contrast, Cailyn, who resembled Calum and Conor in coloring, directed a warm smile at her. "Victoria. Perhaps we can spend some time together tomorrow?" Her vivid blue eyes held hers.

"Of course," Victoria replied, earning a new glower from Meagan.

While the meal progressed, the laird and Conor spoke in hushed tones. From where she sat, Victoria could not make out clearly what they said, so she watched and tried to read their lips. Sensing her regard, Conor's gaze took hers. Her heart leapt at the scorching heat in his eyes, and she swallowed.

A subtle lift of the corner of his mouth, a gesture only she would notice, sent a ripple of acknowledgement to trickle further down. When he focused on the frantic pulse at her throat, her hand instinctively flew up to cover the area. She looked around the table to ensure no one else noticed. Thankfully, everyone was either too busy eating or talking.

…"you'll be leaving on the morrow…" Calum, who appeared to notice his brother's lack of attention, spoke louder. The words directed at Conor slammed Victoria's pulse to a near stop. Terror enveloped her, and at once the food on her plate lost all appeal.

No. Conor couldn't leave. Not now. They'd only just arrived. Besides her maid, Mary, who she'd seen only once since arriving, she knew no one.

Not even Conor, really.

A prisoner more than guest, there was no guessing how the McDougal clan would treat her, an English interloper, once her protector went away.

Victoria refused to stay behind without her safeguard. A sense of foreboding propelled her to take action.

Once the evening meal ended, she would await the perfect opportunity and confront him. First, she'd have to find Conor alone. When Victoria cornered him, she'd bring up the fact that he'd taken and brought her against her will, therefore was now by law her keeper and protector.

If he still had to go on whatever business his brother sent him on, then she'd suggest going with him. He would not refuse her. Surely Conor held some honor.

Once again she looked to where he sat at the head of the table, and found him studying her. This time, however, his expression was not playful. Instead, his brow was creased, with an air of apprehension, or perhaps even worry.

Possibly he stood as reluctant to take leave of her, as was she. Could it be that he, too, feared for her safety?

No, she was being foolish. Surely she'd become addled in the idea that the imposing Scot made her feel secure in the midst of chaos, after everything that she'd lost in recent days. Nonetheless, even if she wasn't sure why, the stark truth of it stood. His presence, as overwhelming as it was, brought her a sense of security.

*****

Victoria paced the small bedroom and waited for hours. Finally the house became quiet, and she exited her chamber. With the ready excuse of finding a book to read in bed, she made her way toward the study.

From the study's doorway, she would have a clear view of Conor's bedroom door from what she'd learned from the chambermaid.

The dark hallway allowed her to dally, her steps growing more hesitant the nearer she got. She hoped he'd be in the study, but if not, did she dare attempt to go to his bedroom?

Victoria stood just outside the study in the darkness and waited. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

Without sound, Conor's large figure darkened the soft light at the end of the corridor. He stormed past without noticing her, and went directly into his chamber.

Heart pounding so loud that she couldn't hear if another person approached, Victoria looked behind to ensure no one saw her. Finding the area empty, she scurried on soft-slippered feet to Conor's chamber. After a quick rap on the door, she turned the knob.

"Oh, God," Victoria whispered, losing her nerve. At the precise moment she lost the courage to enter, and started to turn away, the heavy door flew open.

"Damn it, Calum! Can we leave the conversation until…" Conor, who obviously expected his brother, stopped mid-sentence when he saw Victoria.

Best to not be seen at his doorway, she rushed inside and pushed the door closed. He continued to stare at her as if she'd lost her senses.

"I know this is compromising, to be in your room...at night...well really at anytime," Victoria sputtered, "but I must speak with you. It is of utmost importance."

Regaining his composure, his face now devoid of expression, Conor leaned on the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I'm listening, Miss Westcott."

Victoria hesitated. To find the right words and not sound like a ninny became impossible, now that she found herself in such close proximity to the magnificent man. He would never believe her afraid to be left behind at Somerset Keep, not after the way she'd stood up to him and his men on the journey.

"I overheard your brother state that you are leaving tomorrow." She flushed and looked away. "What will become of me? You said I am here as your guest. Will your brother allow it with you gone?"

Conor nodded. "Aye, I confirmed with Calum that you will remain here as my guest, for now, and he agreed."

"For now?"

"Until I return. At that time, we can discuss your future," Conor explained with a bored tone.

Victoria wanted to shake him. He didn't seem to understand how she felt. That she didn't quite understand either mattered not. Annoyed at the fear that gnawed, she took a breath. Of course she was fearful. After all, not only was she brought here against her will, but now he planned to abandon her.

Victoria squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I have told you repeatedly, my brother is Captain Jamie Westcott, the well-known privateer. He is a force to be reckoned with, and you should make every attempt to send him word that I am here, unharmed. My brother will come for me with haste."

"With a battle ship or two, no doubt?"