Highlanders: The Warrior and the Rose / The Forbidden Highlander / Rescued by the Highland Warrior

Torches had been lit, both within and outside the castle. There seemed to be lights below them, on the beach.

They had just arrived at Islay an hour ago, at dusk, having left Lismore just after sunrise. She was frozen from the wind, the mist and the snow, and she remained disbelieving. As she stared at the Atlantic Ocean, she thought, this is a godforsaken place, one well deserved by a godforsaken man—one who takes a pregnant woman and her small children hostage.

How could she attain her sister’s freedom?

The sooner he demanded a ransom, the better.

The three boys had all climbed onto one bed, and Mary now sat down with them, still wrapped in her fur. “Thank you,” she said softly to Lady MacDonald.

Juliana turned to look at Alasdair’s mother. She was gray-haired, blue-eyed, of medium height and build, still pretty and very soft-spoken. She seemed kind—she even seemed concerned. How had she given birth to such a cold, ruthless man?

And what had he truly meant that she should not have been at the cathedral when he attacked it?

Did he regret her involvement in his war?

Juliana shook herself free of such fanciful thoughts. Alasdair Og had no regrets, no doubts, just ruthless ambition.

She took a breath. “What we need is to be freed, so we can return home,” Juliana said, a bit sharply.

Lady MacDonald’s smile faltered. “I hope you are soon freed, Lady Juliana. “

Juliana stared, realizing that she was kind, and that she meant it. Would she be an ally, then? “I do not understand why your son captured us. If only he would release my sister and her children—I would gladly stay as his hostage.” As she spoke, she heard a movement in the corridor, and she tensed as Alasdair leaned against the open door. He slowly smiled at her.

Lady MacDonald said softly, “I gave up trying to understand the ways of men—and their need for war—long ago, Lady Juliana. But my son will make certain you are well cared for while here.” She turned to Alasdair. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yer always right.” He came forward, kissed Lady MacDonald’s cheek as she left them, and turned to stare at Juliana. “If ye think to move my mother to plot against me, ye might think again.”

Juliana hugged herself, her heart racing. She was acutely aware of being in this man’s complete control—she was his hostage, imprisoned in his stronghold, surrounded by the enemy. “Your mother seems kind.”

“Unlike me?” He was amused, and somehow very different now that he was at his home. His eyes had changed, for they were no longer cold and hard. Then she realized his very posture had changed. It was as if he was no longer braced for war.

“She is very kind, but she will not cross me,” Alasdair said. “So ye will gladly remain here, as my hostage?”

“Yes, if Mary and her children are freed.”

He laughed. “Ye might come to enjoy my hospitality, Lady Juliana—be forewarned.” He gave her a sidelong look and turned to Mary, his smile fading. “How do ye fare, Lady Comyn?”

Mary started. “It has been a very long day, but other than being very tired, I feel fine.”

He moved closer to the bed and both Roger and Donald gazed up at him wide-eyed. They had been staring at him with open fascination all day while upon his ship.

“Ye boys must be hungry,” Alasdair said, shocking Juliana.

Roger nodded, his eyes as huge as saucers, and Donald said, “Did ye really hang the bishop?”

“Donald!” Mary said, seizing him and pulling him close.

“I did. Treachery is not a good idea—neither is spying,” Alasdair said matter-of-factly.

Juliana marched over to stand between him and the bed, where Mary and the boys sat. She gave him a dark look.

Alasdair ignored her, smiling at Mary. “Shall I have my mother send ye some supper? I ken the day has been long and difficult.”

“That is kind of you,” Mary said. “I think we will all retire early.” Roger was yawning as she spoke. Thomas was already cuddled up next to her and deeply asleep.

Alasdair slowly faced Juliana, his expression wry. “Ye will stay with yer sister?”

“If the choice is stay with Mary, or sup with you, there is no choice,” Juliana said. “And it is a little late for kindness.”

He shook his head, amused, and left.

“Juliana!” Mary struggled to get up. Juliana rushed to help her, as Thomas murmured in his sleep. “Do not fight him now! Do not provoke him! We are at his mercy. I am happy if he can be kind, even for a moment.”

Juliana knew Mary was right. She wished she had held her temper. Berating him would not bend him to release her sister!

“We are hostages,” Mary said, taking her hand. “If you accept that, maybe we can endure this ordeal with as little difficulty as possible.”

“You are asking me to change my nature,” Juliana said. But even as she spoke she knew her sister was right. Even though she rarely acted upon the knowledge, she knew one always got more flies with honey than with vinegar. “I will be back.” Before Mary could protest, Juliana ran into the corridor.

Alasdair was at the far end, by the landing, and he vanished into a chamber there without seeing her.

Juliana faltered. Surely he did not have his chamber in the tower where she and Mary slept? Surely he was not directly down the corridor from them? And why did that bother her? Perhaps he merely wished to make certain that she and her sister did not escape—even when there was really no chance of ever doing so. Islay was an island, one could not merely walk off!

She recovered her composure, walking over to his door, which was wide open. She paused on the threshold.

Alasdair had his back to her, and he was removing his sword belt. His navy blue-and-red brat was already tossed across the bed. He was clad only in the linen leine he wore, and his leather boots. She could not help but notice how broad his shoulders were, how muscular his arms, how narrow his hips. The tunic left so little to the imagination.

“So ye follow me to my chamber?”

She tensed. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

He slowly turned. “Yer a noisy woman.” He was smiling. And his gaze was drifting down her lilac surcote, past the gold girdle she wore, and then back up again.

She did not smile back. “I don’t like it when you look at me in such a manner.”

His dark brows rose. “In what manner... Juliana?” He started slowly towards her.

Her tension increased. He knew what she meant! “I am here to...” She stopped.

“Yer here why?” He was laughing at her, but without a sound. She saw the amusement now in his eyes. And he had halted so close to her that she could see golden flecks in his blue eyes.

She stepped slightly back. “I’m here to apologize.” The moment she had spoken, she wished she had not. He had attacked her, not once but twice, he had taken her and her sister and nephews hostage!

“I can imagine how hard it is, for ye to say yer sorry. I accept.” He chuckled.

She felt like striking him, as nothing was amusing now, but knew better. “I am also here to beg you another time to spare my sister and her children from this ordeal! You have me—you do not need them.”

“My hospitality is only an ordeal if ye make it one, and Lady Comyn seems disinclined to do so. But ye, lady, love to fight.” There was no mistaking his look now—it was one of male admiration.