In Her Wild Highlander's Bed

By Cathleen Ross

When Sir Jasper Bruce discovers a lady hiding under his bed in the castle he has just conquered, he doesn't expect to fall in love. No Scottish knight in his right mind would fall in love with a Sassenach enemy, not in 1313 when Scotland is fighting England for its independence.
Forced into a betrothal with a cruel Scot, Lady Rosamund Percy can think of nothing else except escaping to England after her betrothed leaves her stranded in a highland castle. The trouble is Sir Jasper considers her a delicious prize of war. How can she convince him to let her go when he can think of nothing else but getting her into his bed?
This is the third book in the Highlander Forbidden Fantasy Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cathleen Ross
• Release date: Jan 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310730023

Cathleen Ross

Cathleen Ross likes to write about the quirky side of life. She loves writing erotic romance. Psychic Sex and Shift into Pleasure are her latest Harlequin Spice Brief releases. Psychic Sex was included in the Naughty Bits Anthology. When Cathleen's not writing for Harlequin, she's working on her Forbidden Fantasy self-published series.

Book preview

In Her Wild Highlander's Bed

By Cathleen Ross

Published by Cathleen Ross at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Cathleen Ross

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Chapter 1

Sir Jasper Bruce raced up the spiral staircase of Domnall Castle determined to hunt out the last of the traitor McEver clan. Claymore in hand, he entered a chamber. Cursing the weight of his armor, he sucked in a deep breath; the desire to avenge his clan drove him hard. Roses. The sweet scent of a lady floated in the silence of the chamber. He signaled to his men below to stop. It had been a long time since he'd lain with a woman. He'd heard the McEver laird had taken a young Sassenach bride yet the chamber appeared empty save for a bed, table and chest. Tapestries hung on the wall and he observed them with care, should someone be foolish enough to use one for concealment. The large, curtained bed dominated the room, the richly embroidered fabric drawn across hiding any possible occupant. Embers glowed in the fireplace signaling recent occupation.

Something growled. The sound deep; almost inhuman.

Jasper strained to listen. Nothing.

He stalked toward the bed relishing his chance for vengeance. The McEver clan had changed sides in battle at the last moment to support the English. Traitors! He'd kill every last one of them.

On sweeping the curtain aside with his sword, his senses reeled, not from finding anyone hidden but for the luscious sight that greeted him. On the bed lay a russet colored, silk lady’s gown trimmed with gold, the fabric so elaborate, that he, the third son of a laird, knew it belonged to a woman of high rank. A fine stocking lay strewn on the embroidered bed cover, its lace garter dangling over the edge, the fabric so delicate he longed to touch it. Imagine the woman who owned this dress. On the floor rested leather shoes embossed and threaded with gold, the workmanship far above anything he'd seen in Scotland.

A curse left his lips. The McEvers were forever reaching above themselves. The old laird had turned traitor for this Percy marriage. He reached over and fingered the garter unable to resist the urge to raise it to his face to catch the scent of the lady who had worn it next to her naked thigh. A light fragrance reached his nostrils. Rose petals, musk, woman.

Jasper exhaled with longing. It had been a long time since he'd known a woman. Footsteps clanked on the stairs signaling one of his men was approaching and he dropped the garter onto the floor. He had no wife who would appreciate such things nor did he intend to acquire one. Scotland was in disarray since Longshank's son, Edward, thought he had a right to Scotland. There was no way Sir Jasper and his Bruce clan would let a Sassenach stroll into the highlands without blood staining the earth. He had a job to do, secure this castle and his liege lord, King Robert the Bruce, would make it his.

His captain stood at the door, rubbing his beard as he scanned the room.

It doesna make sense. The McEvers have left everything behind, Sir Jasper said.

Flown like the cowardly fowl they are, the captain said. They didna expect to lose the fight. Thought they'd kill us and return home for dinner.

Jasper nodded. Aye. I'm thinkin' you're right. Now they’ll have to pass through Bruce territory if they mean to escape and join their kin in the west. My brother Eoin's men will slaughter what remains of them.

Run 'em through like pigs on a poker.

And speaking of such - the men deserve a feast. Build a fire in the Great Hall and give the men ale. The soldiers can sleep there after supper and remain warm. They've earned some respite. This is Bruce land now.

When his man left, Sir Jasper gave the chamber one last sweep over and turned to go. The bed looked like a welcome respite after two months of skirmishes with the English. He'd be glad when his squire divested him of his armor and chainmail for he was bone weary and looking forward to rest. His cook would prepare a fine celebration tonight.

Achoo!

The tiny sneeze, barely audible above the clank of his armor, made him stop. Sir Jasper turned back to the bed, realizing in his exhaustion, he hadn't checked under it. A fool and his head were soon parted, he thought grimly.

He thrust his sword under the curtained bed, slashing it back and forward. The claymore clanged against something hard. Sweeping back the valance, he saw nothing more than a servant's trundle bed. A prickle of alarm ran through him. Years of battle alongside his Bruce kin had taught him to listen to his instincts or die. He strode to the other side of the bed.

Something snarled. Jasper stepped back wondering what manner of creature could make such a noise for it had not the sound of a man. He tensed, dagger ready in his other hand. A small dog, a pink bow in its hair, ran at him, its tiny white teeth barred though it could do no damage to his chainmail.

He lifted his sword up, thinking to dispatch it, but it was such a small fluffy creature he had not the heart to do so.

Please, no! Don't kill her! came a woman's voice with the lilt of a Sassenach. A hand, heavily decorated with gold rings, came out from under the bed, followed by the tousled dark head of a damsel wearing the sheerest garment he'd ever seen. Eyes, the blue of cornflowers, rimmed with thick dark lashes, stared up at him. Her shift had a low neck and his gaze was drawn downward to feast on the curves of her creamy breasts almost down to the nipples.

You’re a long way from home, lady, he said to hide his surprise at the sight of the young woman. He sheathed his dagger, bent and offered her his hand to pull her out.

Aye and I fear I'll never return. She stared at his proffered hand but didn't take it. Instead her gaze glanced nervously from it to his sword.

There was something about the catch in her voice that made his heart twist. Why was the young Sassenach left here? It didna make sense.

Do you mean to ravish me?

Do you wish me to? The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Make love to her? Yes! Hurt her? No. Her cheeks were pink like her lips. Just the thought of touching her made his cock stiff and he was glad she couldn't see it. What a prized and bejeweled English beauty.

She shrank back under the bed.

He bent, no easy task in his armor. Who might you be who requires ravishment?

No one but a lady's maid servant. Please don't hurt me. Two frightened eyes gazed back at him.

Pray tell me, where might the lady be? The expensive gold rings on her fingers would never belong to a maid unless they were stolen.

The lady was betrothed to the Scottish lord. She fled with the clan.

Sir Jasper beckoned to her. Come now, woman. Do not make me drag you out, for your screams will attract the attention of my men. Who'd certainly enjoy the sight of this nearly naked English lady, for lady she was, as she had not the look of a maid. Some would relish making sport of her, a thought that held no appeal, given she was the age of his sweet sister, Arabel, now happily married to her knight.

She put her small hand in his and his fingers closed over it. With a measured pull he slid her out from under the bed and checked the space left. Empty.

She wore almost nothing.

Your hands look soft. Too soft for a maid's. Who are you really? He kept a grip on her though she tried to pull away, so she was forced to stand close and he could breathe in her fragrance. Her bones were fragile like a trapped sparrow's.

She stared up at him. I do no labor, only care for my lady.

Then perhaps there are fine arts you need to learn so you have a use, he said.

Panic lit in her eyes. Please let me go.

I hadna expected to find a beautiful woman waiting for me and as you are not accustomed to hard work, you can use those fine hands with those fancy rings on me. He let go of her to pull off his helmet and place it on the table.

She backed away all the while glaring at him. You knew all along I was no maid.

He advanced toward her, savoring her shapely breasts. Neither a lady's maid, nor in truth a maiden. I shall put this to the test? He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and tilted it.

Scottish swine. Get back. I'm Lady Rosamund Percy. My father will pay well for my return.

Her little dog growled and bared its teeth at him. She swept it up into her arms.

A hiss of disgust left his lips. He stopped. Immediately, she hugged the wee beast, no doubt aware of her perilous situation, but that only served to highlight the smudge color of her nipples under her shift.

Swine? You are the daughter of Sir Henry Percy, the man responsible for the rivers running red with Scottish blood. The baron who slaughtered men, women and babes alike. Shall we see who squeals more when you feel the metal of my prick?

She gasped then glared at him. Take your Scottish humor to your sty and wallow in it.

And miss the scorn of your Sassenach self? He looked her over noticing that the bottom of her shift finished at the calf and he could see the bare, creamy skin, fine ankle and foot of one leg, the other wearing a stocking. Though Scottish women were fair, Jasper was awed by the loveliness of this lady, despite her haughty attitude.

My father is an important lord. He will not want me harmed, she said, clearly noticing his perusal of her nakedness.

I have not thought to harm you, lady. He closed the distance between them. His arousal heightened his need to have her. Rumors had reached him that McEver had wed. No doubt this expensive, well-bred lady came with a rich dowry used by McEver to arm and kill Bruce men. His jaw clenched with disgust.

Her eyes widened and her face blanched. Stay back!

I will show you more mercy than your father allowed those whose land he stole. I've a hundred men in the castle who've not seen their womenfolk for months. The sight of you will heat their blood and they'll rip you to pieces. Cover yourself, he growled, stopping in front of her.

She edged herself away from him, along the bed toward a chest that stood at the foot, her fingers digging in to the wee beast. Will you look away while I dress?

He pushed back his chainmail from his forehead, freeing his hair. And have you raise a weapon to me, Sassenach? The last rays of sunlight from the clover-shaped solar window highlighted the curves of her body through her shift. When he dropped his gaze he could just make out the color of the hair between her legs. Would her cunny taste sweet? Damn her. For having her here made him think of nothing but bedding her.

You jest, my lord. I have not the strength to take on a knight. Distress deepened the blue of her eyes until they became stormy like the sea.

Perhaps not strength but Percy cunning, for you would drive a knife through my heart.

I think I would not find your heart. For you do not have one. You torment me so. She put down her dog. Keeping her gaze on him, she pulled open the chest latch, pulling up the lid.

Just as you torment me, he said huskily. When she bent he saw her breasts. His cock hardened and blood roared to his face. Even her fear smelled sweet.

And who are you that suffers such torment? she asked.

Sir Jasper Bruce, cousin of King Robert the Bruce. Conqueror of this castle and all in it.

God save me, she