Pleasured

A hunt through the Scottish Highlands for a
hidden cache of gold draws in three passionate
couples—who discover that love is the greatest
treasure of all—in the thrilling new trilogy
from
New York Times
bestselling author

CANDACE CAMP

Secrets of the Loch

Praise for Book One

Treasured

“Sweet. . . . Entertaining. . . . A Highlands version of small-town charm.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“
Treasured
demonstrates Candace Camp’s ability to draw her readers in with strong, well-drawn characters. A legend of hidden treasure, a man who hides behind many façades, and a woman who fights for her birthright form the tapestry of this poignant, sensual, and emotion-packed romance.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(Top Pick)

And praise for Candace Camp’s acclaimed
trilogy Legend of St. Dwynwen

The Marrying Season

A Summer Seduction

A Winter Scandal

“Sensuality, intrigue, and Camp’s trademark romantic sparring. . . . Delightful.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“A charming courtship. . . . Readers will be captivated.”

—
Booklist
(starred review)

“Sexy and sweet! Beautifully written, with just the right touch of mystery and a generous helping of a scandalous romance.”

—
Coffee Time Romance

Be sure to read Candace Camp’s dazzling
Willowmere novels. . . . Critics adore this
breathtaking Regency trilogy of the
unforgettable Bascombe sisters!

An Affair Without End

“Delightful romantic mystery. . . . With clever and witty banter, sharp attention to detail, and utterly likable characters, Camp is at the top of her game.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Sprightly dialogue . . . [and] a simmering sensuality that adds just enough spice to this fast-paced, well-rendered love story.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(4½ stars)

A Gentleman Always Remembers

“Intensely passionate and sexually charged. . . . A well-crafted, delightful read.”

—
Romantic Times
(4 stars)

“A delightful romp. . . . Camp has a way with truly likeable characters who become like friends.”

—
Romance Junkies

“Where the Bascombe sisters go, things are never dull. Candace Camp delivers another witty, heartwarming, and fast-paced novel.”

—
A Romance Review

A Lady Never Tells

“This steamy romp . . . will entertain readers.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Well-crafted and enchanting.”

—
Romantic Times
(4½ stars)

“Superbly written and well paced,
A Lady Never Tells
thoroughly entertains as it follows the escapades of the Bascombe ‘bouquet’ of Marigold, Rose, Camellia, and Lily in the endeavor to make their way in upper-crust London Society.”

—
Romance Reviews Today

“One of those rare finds you don’t want to put down. . . . Candace Camp brings a refreshing voice to the romance genre.”

—
Winter Haven News Chief

“Filled with humor and charm. . . . Fine writing.”

—
A Romance Review
(4 roses)

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For Elijah Moersch,

the newest member of the clan

Acknowledgments

Thanks, as always, to my wonderful editor, Abby Zidle, whose sense of humor makes revisions so much easier, and to the team at Pocket. Also to my agent, Maria Carvainis, and her team, who deal with all those things I hate to do. And, most of all, for the folks here at home, who help me in ways too numerous to list.

Prologue

1746

H
er eyes flew open at
the sound of the knock. She waited, tense, until the faint rap came again. She slipped out of bed, picking up the iron poker beside the fireplace, and on silent feet crossed the floor. The door was sturdy and would hold, but it was old, and a bit of space was between it and the frame, enough to look out.

All she could see in the moonless night was darkness. She stood, barely breathing, considering. Who waited outside—some poor soul needing her assistance in the middle of the night? A Highland fighter running from the British? Or even worse, a British soldier, roaming the countryside to loot and plunder and kill?

When the tap came again, she spoke up boldly through the crack. “Gang away from this hoose. I hae my musket primed and aimed at your heart.”

Astonishingly, her words brought forth a chuckle on the
other side of the door, and a low masculine voice said, “Ah, but I have no heart and well you know it, for it’s been long in your keeping.”

For a moment the voice, so dear and so familiar, froze her. Tears sprang into her eyes and clogged her throat. “Malcolm!”

“Aye, it is I. Will you not open the door, then, my love?”

Her paralysis broke, and she shoved up the bar and pulled back the door, her heart pounding like a mad thing. It was Malcolm, tall and wide-shouldered, his blond hair shaggy, the Rose tartan wrapped around him and slung over his shoulder. The tears she had held back for months gushed forth, and with a choked cry, she dropped the poker and leapt forward into his arms.

“Oh, Malcolm, Malcolm.” She wrapped herself around him and pressed her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent, her tears flowing.

“Here now, lass, you’ll get me all wet,” he protested, but only rich satisfaction was in his voice as he squeezed her to him, moving out of the doorway into the shadows.

“I missed you sae.” She gulped back her tears and pressed her lips to his neck. “I feared you wouldna come back.”

He nuzzled into the thick fall of her hair. “You cannot get rid of me that easily; you should know that.” He raised his head. “I dare not kiss you, or I’ll never stop.”

“There’s nae need to stop.” A wicked smile crossed her face. “My mither’s gane to our cousin’s. I’m here alone all night and more.”

She slid out of his arms and took a step toward the doorway, looking back at him with a glinting smile. “Will ye come inside, then?”

“Aye.” His grin was wolfish. “You know I’d follow you anywhere, love.”

He closed the door behind them, settling the heavy bar in its slot with a soft thud, and bent to pick up the poker she had dropped. “We’ll need to get you a better weapon than this. Take my dirk.”

“Nae. Not your dirk. Are you mad? It’s got your rose all over the hilt.”

“Not that one.” He reached down to the top of his stocking and pulled out a smaller knife with a black hilt. “I carry more than the one, you ken.”

“I ken you’re a dangerous man,” she retorted, setting the knife on the table. Taking his hand, she started toward the bed in the far corner of the cottage.

But he pulled her the opposite way to the fireplace, where he used the poker to prod the peat into renewed life. “Wait. I need a proper look at you. I’ve been thinking of this face for so long; I want to see if I’ve remembered you right.”

Suiting his actions to his words, he set down the poker and tilted up her chin. The firelight played over her features, lighting her eyes and caressing the curves of her face.

“And do I look the way you remembered?” she asked saucily, her lips curving in an inviting way.

“Nae. You’re even more beautiful.” He stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “Softer. More enticing. You’ve cost me many a sleepless night the last few months.”

“Did I?” She slid her hand beneath the edge of his tartan and under his shirt, her fingertips lightly teasing his skin.

“Aye. And more than a little pain as well.”

“I would hae thought you’d find many a French lass to ease your pain.”

“You know none of them will do.” His voice thickened. “I want no one but you.” He grazed his fingertips across her breasts, and his eyes darkened as her nipples tightened in response. “Did you miss me at all?”

“All I could think of was you.” Her voice was low and threaded with emotion. “All I wanted was to hae you here again with me. To taste your lips . . . feel your touch . . . to hae you deep inside me.”

Hunger flared in his blue eyes, and he pulled her up into him. As he had warned her, once he kissed her, he could not stop. They sank together to the floor, kissing greedily, frantically, their hands neither gentle nor patient as they shoved aside their garments and found the naked flesh they craved. He kissed the soft mounds of her breasts, the flat plateau of her stomach, the silken skin of her thighs. Lifting her hips, he plunged deep into her, and the moan of her satisfaction was echoed in his throat.

“Mo leannan.”
His breath was hot against her skin.

She trembled under the force of her passion, and just when it seemed she could not bear the sweet strain of anticipation a moment longer, pleasure broke over her in a great wave, and she clung to him as he, too, shuddered.

Long afterward, they lay twined together, too weary and replete to move, his tartan wrapped around them for warmth, until finally the chill sent them to the comfort of the bed. There they cuddled under the thick layers, lazily stroking and kissing until their passion swelled once more, and they made love again, this time with the care and patience of those who had loved often but never enough.

“Hae you been to the hoose?” she asked at last as they lay in dreamy contentment.

“Nae.” She felt the rumble of his deep voice in his chest, a sound at once infinitely reassuring and stirring. “I had to see you first.” He sighed. “But I must get to the castle before dawn breaks. They say there are lobsterbacks roaming all about.”

“Aye, you must no’ let them see you.” She sat up and looked down at him, her voice urgent. “They will kill you if you’re found. Oh, Malcolm . . .” Her voice caught. “You shouldna hae come here. You should hae stayed in France.”

“While my people fought and died? Nae, how could I?” He sat up, his eyes bright. “It isn’t all lost, my love. We can turn the tide with what I’ve brought back.”

“You brought an army?”

“Nearly as good. I brought the means to raise an army.”

“Malcolm!” She stared. “Dinna tell me. You got the gold?”

“Have you no faith in me, lass? You think the Baillannan would come skulking home empty-handed?” He grinned.

“I should have known—no French king could match Malcolm Rose for stubbornness.” She glanced toward the door. “But where is it? Dinna tell me you left it on the ship. Can you trust those men?”

“Of course not. I trust no one.” He took her hand, his face sobering. “No one but you,
mo cuishle
.”

“Me?” She stared. “What do you mean?”

“I have to find the prince, and I dare not carry a chest of treasure while I run about the Highlands searching for him. I stowed the treasure in our place. Where we leave our messages. You must keep it safe for me.”

“I? But I am no warrior. How can I protect it?”

“That is why you would not be suspected. If the English
thought it was in Baillannan, they’d tear the house apart, looking for it. There’s my brother’s home in Kinclannoch, but I don’t know where Fergus is or if he even survived. I had no idea what had happened until we landed and learned of Culloden. In any case, Fergus is exactly where they’d look if Baillannan gave up no treasure. But you . . . a mere slip of a girl . . . they’d not suspect you. No one knows what you are to me.”

“But I am not—”

“You are a clever woman who knows these woods and caves and all the ancient places better than anyone. If there is a safer place to hide it, no one would ken better than you where that is. The gold is in bags. Easy enough to transport one at a time if you need to.” He smiled and smoothed his thumb across her wrinkled forehead. “Don’t look so worried now, love. You won’t have to hide it long. I’ll find the prince and be back before you know it.”

“I’ll know every minute you’re awa’.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she pulled him to her.

He kissed her, his hands gliding down her body, but after a moment, he let out a soft noise of frustration and pulled away. “You are too tempting. I must go if I’m to get across the loch before dawn comes.”

She let out a sigh but did not protest, only rose, wrapping the blanket around her for warmth, and watched him dress. Belting his tartan again, he adjusted the sword and dirk and glanced toward the table. “I meant it about the dirk. Keep it close to you. You don’t know when one of the bloody English might pop out of the woods.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then leaned his head against hers. “I’ll not see you again before I go. ’Tis too
risky. I wish . . . och, no time to be wishing.” He shook his head and kissed her hard. “Take care, my love.”

She followed him to the door, but when he opened it, she let out a low cry and flung her arms around him. “Don’t leave, Malcolm. Please. I canna part with you again.”

“Ah, lass, you tear my heart out.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her hair. “I canna stay, you know that. My prince needs me. My people. The Baillannan doesna shirk a fight.”

“
I
need you, too.”

“Aye, and glad I am of it. I need you as much. But in no time I’ll be back, and we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

“Will we?” She pulled back and pinned him with her fierce gaze. “You know we canna. It’s no’ our fate. I will never live with you, Malcolm. I’ll never have your name.”

“I know,
mo leannan
, I know.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, gazing deep into her eyes. “But you will always have my heart.”

He turned and walked away, and with dread knotting in her chest, she watched him vanish into the dark.