Kissing the Highlander Read online

  KISSING THE HIGHLANDER

  Terry Spear

  Eliza Knight

  Willa Blair

  Victoria Roberts

  Vonda Sinclair

  Five brand new Highland novellas by Bestselling Authors of Highland romances that will delight you with mystery, intrigue, romance, drama and so much more! From the authors who have provided countless hours of reading pleasure so that fans can slip away to the past and live among all those hot Highlanders. Are you ready to journey back to Scotland again?

  Copyrights © 2015 by Terry Spear, Eliza Knight, Linda Williams (w/a Willa Blair), Victoria Roberts, and Vonda Sinclair.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Art by Vonda Sinclair

  Published by Terry Spear, January 2015

  ISBN-10: 1633110052

  ISBN-13: 978-1-63311-005-2

  Reviews

  “All of the stories capture the magic and mystery of the Scottish Highlands.” Emma, Night Owl Romance, Reviewer Top Pick

  “It is a wonderful way to get a taste of several different Highlander Romance Writers.” Virginia, Novel Reader

  “Awesome Anthology! Each story took you away to a time where sexy highlanders fought hard and loved even harder, finally finding romance along the way.” Susan Newman

  HIS WILD HIGHLAND LASS

  The Highlanders Prequel

  Terry Spear

  About His Wild Highland Lass:

  Lady Sorcha Barclay has fled her sister's husband's castle because of his unwanted advances, except someone takes her horse, and then she makes the mistake of not keeping to the cover of the nearby forest. An awe-inspiring circle of standing stones captures her attention and she captures the attention of the laird who owns the land.

  Laird Ronan Daziel takes Sorcha to his castle to protect her and give her a home. Before long, he wants much more. But he's duty-bound to take a wife whose clan wishes an alliance with his. So why does he long to have something more? Everyone loves the lass just as much as he does. But he has pledged his loyalty to his clan and taking Sorcha to wife could lead to battle on several fronts. How can he not take her for his own when she stole his heart from the first moment he laid eyes on her near the ancient standing stones on his lands?

  Other Highland Titles by Terry Spear:

  The Highlanders Series:

  Winning the Highlander's Heart

  The Accidental Highland Hero

  Highland Rake

  Taming the Wild Highlander

  Her Highland Hero

  The Viking's Highland Lass (2015)

  DEDICATION

  To my Highland readers—may you always have a fun-filled excursion to the Highlands of Scotland, meet all kinds of braw Scots, and enjoy the kilted-warrior journey.

  Dear Readers,

  First off, this is a prequel to The Highlanders—the time BEFORE Winning the Highlander's Heart. If you've read about James MacNeill in later books, he is in this book as a five-year-old.

  Some have asked why I write so much about the MacNeills of old both in my wolf stories and my Highland medieval stories. My MacNeill was a commoner who fell in love with the Duke of Argyle's daughter and ended up eloping with her. They loved each other and had two boys and a girl, the youngest boy my direct ancestor, but Lady Elizabeth died when her daughter was only a wee bairn when they ended up in the harsh wintry conditions on Prince Edward Island. My stories are a way to recapture the Highland love, only with a happy ending, always. Love Scotland and can't wait to go back to that magical place where the kilted warriors of old once lived.

  Thanks for loving my Highlanders!

  Have a great new year! Terry

  www.terryspear.com

  Chapter 1

  1085, Scottish Highlands

  Still fretting about her stolen horse and not having any clue as to where she was now, Sorcha Barclay stopped to eat and rest. Her feet hurt something fierce. She'd never walked so much in her life, and yet, her life depended on her walking until she could reach a village. Now that her horse had been stolen. If she only knew the direction to travel.

  Thankful the summer day was warm at least, she spied a set of standing stones off in the distance past a shimmering blue-green loch. She'd never witnessed such a sight. As if someone had moved the enormous rocks and stood them each on end in a giant circle. She chided herself for gawking at them when she needed to retrieve some water from the loch near the forest where she intended to take refuge. Then she saw movement—three brawny Highlanders riding beyond the huge stones, dwarfing the men and their mounts. Her heart skipping beats, she dove for the safety of the woods, praying none of the men had seen her. What if they were some of the MacNeill clansmen come to return her to Craigly Castle under the rule of the despicable Laird Parthalan MacNeill?

  She would never return there—ever!

  ***

  Ronan, the eldest of his three brothers and laird of the Clan Daziel, paused with his brothers between two of the ancient standing stones to look in the direction of the loch and the forest beyond.

  He narrowed his eyes as he studied the trees lining the shore, the warm breeze sweeping his hair back off his shoulders as he attempted to spy whatever his brother Ward thought he had seen. Ronan swore Ward saw things that either did not exist, or he had more of a hawk's eye than he and their youngest brother, Alban, did.

  Ward let out his breath in exasperation. "Did you no' see someone?"

  He sounded a bit unsure himself, as if he needed Ronan and Alban to have witnessed what he thought he'd observed to make it true.

  "A stag?" Ronan and his brothers were unprepared to hunt for deer, when they had been assisting one of their crofters in the outlying area and didn't have their bows with them.

  "A figure."

  "Nay, I dinna observe anyone, brother. Are you seeing things again?" Ronan shook his head. "Partaking in too much ale this morn, aye?"

  Cheerful as usual, Ward smiled at him, his hazel eyes now sparkling with good humor. "You jest, but I know what I saw."

  "And that was?" Alban shifted in his saddle and turned his attention again to the forest.

  Of the three brothers, Alban was the shortest, the quickest to fight, and yet, all the lassies adored him and his long brown hair and dark brown eyes. Ronan couldn't understand how he charmed them so thoroughly.

  Ronan peered harder at the trees across the loch, seeing only the dappled shadows playing off the dancing leaves. "What exactly did you see?"

  "A figure, slight, mayhap. A lad. A lassie? I am no' certain."

  Ronan turned to Alban. "Did you witness anyone?"

  Smiling, Alban shook his head. "Nay. I believe you are right. Ward had too much ale when he broke his fast. Or…mayhap he saw one of the fair folk." He paused and observed the forest further. "Nay. I see no one."

  "I will prove to you both I wasna imagining what I spotted." Ward kicked his horse and galloped through the circle of stones to reach the shore of the loch and traveled around it to the forest.

  Ronan laughed. "If we dinna follow him, he will be sure to come up with another tale even grander." He raced off to join his brother, curious if he truly had seen something.

  Alban swiftly caught up to them as Ward dismounted, then crouched down to examine the shoreline.

  "Anything?" Still
mounted, Rowan considered the stony shore and didn't observe any footprints.

  "Naught, it appears." Ward stood. "It must have been the play of the shadows as the clouds parted and let the sun shine through briefly."

  "Baobhan sith." Alban grinned.

  "You and your imaginary fair folk." Ward remounted his horse. "You know I dinna believe in such nonsense. None of us do. Come. I must have imagined seeing something. I promised some of our men I would practice sword fighting with them, and we are late returning."

  Ronan didn't believe Ward thought that what he saw was nothing at all. He knew his brother too well.

  Alban nodded. "Aye. I have intended to spar with some of the men as well."

  Not waiting to see if Ronan agreed with them, Wade and Alban rode off in the direction of the keep, but Ronan peered into the shadowed woods. He waited while his vision adjusted to the dappled light and observed the leaves fluttering in the summer's breeze. The shadows danced across the green leaves and the understory plants.

  He smelled the air, the scent of pine and fish from the loch, and something else. He took a deeper breath. Something flowery. He heard the birds singing high above in the trees, saw their winged movement as they flitted from tree to tree, a butterfly settling on a leaf, and a dragonfly skim the loch near the shore.

  A twig suddenly snapped in the forest, grabbing Ronan's full attention. He listened. Nothing but the chatter of birds, buzz of insects, the gentle lapping of the water on the beach, and the sound of the breeze ruffling the leaves.

  Ronan urged his horse forward into the shady woods, walking slowly, listening for anything that sounded out of place. He could no longer see his brothers, but he heard their horses abruptly stop in the distance, and Ward shout, "Do you see something, Ronan?"

  "Nay. I am coming!" Ronan didn't budge from his spot as he absorbed every scent, every sound, every sight that might convey that someone was hiding in his woods.

  "Ronan, do you see something?" Alban called out, sounding concerned, as the brothers' horses galloped back toward the woods.

  Then Ronan saw something unusual in the leaves piled up on the forest floor nearby. Pale pink flesh—an ankle, he thought. And naught more.

  Ronan dismounted and slowly, carefully, quietly moved in the direction of the bare skin exposed in the fallen leaves from seasons past piled everywhere, making for the perfect hiding place.

  He unsheathed his sword in the event the person hiding was armed, or that he or she had companions nearby. He moved closer, enough so that he could fight him if he should bolt from his hiding place and attack.

  Letting him know Ronan knew he was there, he asked, "Why are you hiding in my woods?"

  The figure didn't move, like a rabbit half hidden in thick brush, hoping that by remaining still, Ronan hadn't see him.

  His brothers were nearly there and Ronan drew closer to the figure, then shoved his boot at where he assumed the person's foot would be.

  A lassie jumped up from the pile of leaves, startling him. What surprised him even more was the sgian dubh she held in her clenched hand, waving at him in a threatening manner—him, laird of the Daziel clan. "Dinna come any closer."

  He smiled a little at the petite lassie. Here, he was armed with a sword, and she, with nothing more than a dagger. Did she believe she could truly fight him? Her golden curls fell to her hips, tangled, brown leaves and red pine needles clinging to the strands, dirt smudges on her cheeks, and dark circles under her eyes—yet he thought her incredibly appealing. She did not look like how he imagined a baobhan sith would appear if they truly existed.

  Her léine and brat were made of the finest wool, a dark green shade that blended in with the forest. Her green eyes were narrowed in wariness, but shifted slightly to observe his brothers as they joined him, neither dismounting as they pulled up alongside his horse, slightly behind and off to either side of him.

  They must have assumed he'd manage the lassie on his own and knowing them, they didn't want to frighten the lass any more than she was already.

  "See, I did witness someone in the woods, did I no'? Who is she?" Ward was still of good humor, and Ronan thought—glad he had been right, for once.

  Ronan finally transferred his gaze from her bonny features to her eyes. "I am Ronan Daziel, laird of the clan. Whence do you hail, lass?"

  Her eyes widened a bit and he wondered just who she was.

  "I am just passing through, if you will but permit me."

  Her pleasing, honeyed voice did not disguise the nervousness or animosity she reserved for him. She did not sound as though she was asking, but telling Ronan, which couldn't help but amuse him. Saucy wench. He had no intention of letting a lone woman roam his lands where she could find herself in real danger.

  "Where are you from? Who are your people?" He assumed now the way she had reacted to his revealing the name of his own clan that her people and his did not get along.

  "The Clan Chattan."

  She could never have traveled that far on foot. Even by horse, it would have been far too risky for a lass all alone. They'd had no trouble with the Chattans, so that was good news. But he truly didn't believe she could be from that far away.

  "Where is your horse?" Only a person of some means would have one. Her clothes looked as though she could be from a family of some importance.

  "Stolen."

  "On my lands?" Ronan wasn't sure he believed her. But if thieves had stolen her horse, he would rectify that at once.

  Her eyes narrowed a bit, reminding him of a wild cat that lived in these woods. "I dinna know where your lands begin so I know no' if she was stolen on your lands."

  He smiled at her tenacity. "When then?"

  "Last eve."

  "Have you traveled far since then?" Ronan was trying to determine just where the brigands were, if she spoke the truth.

  "I…" She lifted her chin. "I walked from twilight yestermorn until gloaming yestereve."

  Which meant she no doubt had not walked very far and in any event, she would have been traveling across his land at the time her horse was stolen.

  "From which direction did you come?"

  She motioned northwest.

  "What did your horse look like?"

  "She is a red roan, her legs, tail, and mane, a rich red, and her body much lighter in color. She is named Milis."

  Sweet. Ronan should have known a lassie would call her horse by such a name, if she did indeed own one. "You are lucky that no one stole anything else from you, lass."

  Her face turned a light red and he hoped he had embarrassed her enough to make her realize just how dangerous it could be for her traveling alone like that.

  "Where is your escort?"

  She didn't answer, giving him a disgruntled look as if he had no right questioning her. Ronan didn't know what to think. "We will take you to our keep, and you can stay there until we find your horse."

  "Nay!" She spoke so sharply, Ronan raised a brow at her in surprise.

  Alban chuckled. Ward tsked. Up until now, they had been quietly sitting atop their horses and he'd almost forgotten they were there.

  "I will be on my way. My thanks to you just the same." She wasn't moving from her defensive stance, feet spread for balance, her sgian dubh held in a manner that showed she knew how to handle it, and she was clearly ready for a fight.

  It was past time to take the lass back to the keep and learn more about her. Ronan gave her one last chance to cooperate and then he'd take matters into his own hands, though he wished to do this in a more agreeable way.

  "Sheathe your sgian dubh, lass, and you will ride with me. We wish you no harm." Ronan wanted to give her the choice, to allow her to feel safer if she was still armed, though he knew it was a risky decision on his part should she turn on him.

  Stubbornly resisting the notion, she shook her head. Bloody hell. He really didn't want to do this, not when she was afraid of him and what he might do to her. Her slight trembling told him everything.

  He
lunged forward. Before she could react, he swung his sword, connecting with her sgian dubh with a clang. He struck hard enough that it sent her dagger flying. He believed, now that he had proved the mightier foe and she was unarmed, she'd give up her quest to rebel against his directive. He was wrong. Her expression was first one of surprise, her eyes widening and her lips parting. But then she glanced at the ground, looking for where her weapon had landed.

  He couldn't believe it!

  He knew her intent before she dove for her sgian dubh. But he couldn't react quickly enough. He wasn't about to allow her to arm herself again. He dropped his sword, needing both hands free and lunged for her, only with his body this time. Tackling her, he took her down, her back cushioned by the wealth of leaves, and planted his body on top of hers.

  She grew very still then, and he smiled a little at her. "If you had done just as I asked, we wouldna be like this, now would we, lassie?"

  ***

  Sorcha was fuming mad and scared witless as the braw Highlander pressed his body on top of hers. She felt his staff growing against her belly the longer he remained between her legs. He was beautiful, his dark brown eyes swimming with lust, his long brown hair hanging about her face as she looked up at him, panting for breath, trembling, despite wishing to show he didn't frighten her one bit. But he did.

  After dealing with her sister's husband, the vilest of creatures known to womankind, Sorcha did not trust this man. At first, she had feared they were the same men who had stolen her beloved horse, but she assumed she'd traveled far enough from that location that they wouldn't have found her. And if they had stolen her horse, they most likely would have had her horse in tow and remarked on it.