Free Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel by Violetta Rand Page A

chapel and beg forgiveness for her impure thoughts. For her wanton behavior. For wanting to lift her skirts and let this beautiful man do whatever it was men did to women in the dark. She’d heard the moans and groans in the corners of the great hall late at night, after anyone of quality went to sleep. Now she understood.
    Errol’s skilled hands slipped below her waist and around her hips, cupping her arse and lifting her to his body. She instinctually wrapped her legs around his middle, locking her ankles behind him. Their gazes met, and she felt his rapid heartbeat against her own breast. Never thinking it possible that she’d have the same effect on him as he did her, it gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. Another sin of significance—pride. She’d been raised to be humble and silent in the presence of her superiors. But how could she submit to such pleasure without enjoying it, too?
    “I have news, lass,” he whispered near her ear.
    Chills spiraled down her body at the feel of his breath. “What news?” she asked.
    “The kind that binds us together forever. The kind that requires a second and third taste of you before I share it.”
    He dipped his head. Their tongues swirled together as he crushed her to him, his body growing more rigid by the moment, his erection pressing against her core.
Dear God, this couldna happen. Not here. Not ever.
    She pulled away. “Please,” she begged. “We can’t keep meeting like this, doing this. My mind isna capable of anything else whenever you’re near me.”
    He chuckled. “The sweetest confession I’ve ever heard.”
    That confused her. He enjoyed making her suffer? “You’d keep me defenseless?”
    “I’d keep you close,” he said, setting her on her feet.
    Aileana considered their futures unchangeable. Errol had his place in the world. But she, the lowest born, had nothing but bleak prospects to look forward to. “You are noble,” she said. “I am a bastard.”
    “Don’t speak that way.” He held his finger to her lips. “Your unfortunate birth is no concern to me. Only the woman standing before me matters.”
    “Why?”
    He rested his palms on her shoulders. “Broc asked my father for your hand in marriage this morning.”
    She swayed a little, but managed to stay upright. So were these stolen kisses, then? Errol’s twisted way of saying goodbye before he turned her over to the great bearded fiend she no longer could stand the sight of? “I respect and serve the laird,” she said with confidence. “But I refuse to marry that man.”
    “Rest easy,” he said, a sad smile on his face. “I spoke on your behalf.”
    “Ye did?”
    “Did I not promise to protect you?”
    “Aye.”
    “I never break an oath, lass—regardless of the consequences.”
    “Thank you.” His blind allegiance humbled her.
    “Doona thank me yet,” he said. “There’s more to tell.”
    She looked away and hugged herself, feeling very much alone. ’Twould have been better if she had gotten lost atop the mountains or died of hunger and cold. Standing here trying to guess what Errol was going to say next terrified her. What future had his father chosen for her? Did he have the right to do so? Would she accept it, obey the man she owed so much to?
    “Lass?” Errol tipped her chin upward. “In order to keep Broc from marrying you, I had to pledge your hand to someone else.”
    “No.”
    “There’s nothing you can do, the laird has spoken.”
    “I will run again,” she threatened. “Isn’t my life my own?”
    “Not anymore.”
    Tears burned her eyes, but she swiped them away before they fell. She must remain strong. “Then who does it belong to?”
    “Me.”

Chapter 11
    What more did he need to say to make her understand? His answer rang with finality. From the day Errol drew his first breath, his life had never been his own. It belonged to Scotland and his father, to the people that lived on MacRae lands. So taking control of his betrothed seemed natural.