Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance Read online

  Raves for the Novels

  of Tracy Anne Warren

  “An exceptionally entertaining Regency historical [that] offers readers a delectable combination of lushly elegant writing and lusciously sensual romance.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Warren’s emotionally wrought protagonists are beautifully portrayed.”

  —Library Journal

  “I loved this story! LOVED IT! Warren delivers exactly what I’m looking for in historical romance! Sexy and wildly emotional…should be on the top of all historical romance lovers’ to-be-read list.”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  “Warren is masterful at her craft, creating a story full of a rich story line, peopled with interesting, intriguing characters, [and] weaved with decadent seduction.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “Another top-notch read from Ms. Warren.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Warren crafts an unforgettable Regency in this compelling blend of bliss and angst…true emotional ambrosia. Fabulous.”

  —Reader to Reader Reviews

  “Trumps most of the paranormal and contemporary romances that I’ve read—ever.…Engrossing…I didn’t put it down once.”

  —The Eclectic Book Lover

  “Another fabulous story…Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed is definitely remaining on my keeper shelf and is most assuredly one of my picks for a Selected Read.”

  —Romance at Heart Magazine

  “Seduced by His Touch is one book that I would never part with; it goes on my bookshelf with my other keeper novels, to be brought out and read while waiting for the next masterpiece from this author. Brilliant!”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “A terrific Regency romance.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “A rich book full of elegance, desire, and romance.…Tracy Anne Warren sketches a magnificent tale that grasps hold of the reader.…This is one impressive read that I will always remember.”

  —Coffee Time Romance and More

  “Readers are gifted with the awe-inspiring genius of Ms. Warren’s talents.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “Warren’s wickedly wonderful and witty romances enchant readers and have made her a shining star.”

  —Romantic Times(41⁄2 stars, top pick)

  The Princess Brides Romances

  The Princess and the Peer

  TRACY ANNE

  WARREN

  Her Highness

  and the

  Highlander

  A Princess Brides

  Romances

  A SIGNET BOOK

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

  Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, November 2012

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN: 978-1-101-60693-3

  Copyright © Tracy Anne Warren, 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Printed in the United States of America

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON

  In loving memory of Violetta

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  June 1816

  The Scottish Highlands

  “Run, Your Highness! Run!”

  Princess Mercedes plunged through the forest, barely aware of the stinging scrapes to her arms and face as she pushed past leafy bushes and low-hanging tree branches. Her lungs burned as she forced herself onward, her feet aching inside thin silk slippers that were no match for the rough, uneven terrain beneath her. She staggered slightly as the hem of her gown snagged on a piece of nettled undergrowth. With her heart drumming like a frantic bird’s, she yanked the garment free, not caring when the elegant green silk tore along one edge. On she ran, knowing that her pursuers were only yards behind, each of their long strides surely gaining on her own shorter ones.

  Images of the attack flashed again through her mind—of her guard as they fought bravely against the band of ruthless highwaymen who had waylaid their coaches along the road.

  Before that, everything had been calm, boring even, as she, her cousin Herr von Hesse, her maid, and the men sent to escort her on the long journey to London had traveled south. Only that morning she had set off from Countess Hortensia’s Academy for Elegant Young Ladies of Royal and Noble Birth and the Highland castle that had served as her surrogate home for the past six years.

  Inside her coach, she’d been on the verge of dozing off, with the book she was reading lying slack in her hands when the first gunshots sounded. The horses had whinnied in terror and the men had shouted as the coaches drew to shuddering halts. More gunfire, then rough voices that mingled menacingly with those of her guard, before the metallic clash of swords began to ring out.

  Suddenly the coach door on the side farthest from the fighting was wrenched open. The captain of the guard stood before her, his eyes fierce as he reached in to pull her out and onto the ground. “It’s you they want,” he said, urging her toward the thick woods that spread outward like a vast green ocean. “Go. Hide. We’ll search for you when this is over.”

  “Yes,” her cousin said as he exited the coach after her. “Do as the captain says, my dear. We’ll find you once these thieves have been subdued.”

  But she knew there was no one left to search for her—except her pursuers. For in spite of her guard’s best efforts, her last glimpse had been of them losing the fight. Even her cousin and her poor maid were dead, she realized with an anguished pang.

  She was alone now and no one would be coming to her rescue.

  She stifled a whimper as she heard the brigands crashing through the foliage behind her. They called to one another, their voices carrying on the wind with taunting ease, as if they had no doubt they would find her.

  Did they want to kill her too?

  Or worse? Because even she wasn’t naive enough not to understand that there were things in this world worse than death.

  Her breath rasped loudly in her ears and a cruel stitch burned in her side as she forced her feet to keep moving ahead.

  But ahead to where?

  The forest all looked the same, dense and green and rough. She’d given up making any sense of her path and was hopelessly lost.

  Hide, the guard captain had said.

  But hide where?

  She scanned the area, the nearby trees and bushes and rocks seeming to offer no likely place of concealment.

  Then, without warning, she stumbled, the edge of her toe catching on an exposed tree root. Her hands flew out instinctively to break her fall and she landed with a muffled thud against the loamy earth, a tiny cry escaping her mouth before she could prevent it.

  Everything grew silent—everything, that is, except the thunderous pounding of her heart. She heard the highwaymen stop and call to one another again. Her mouth went dry when she realized they had changed direction and were beating their way through the woods toward her.

  This is the end, she thought as she bit her lip to hold back a sob. Any second now they’ll have me.

  But then she saw it—a dark, narrow fissure created by a pair of large boulders. The opening wasn’t obvious, certainly not from a standing position. If not for the fact that she was lying on the ground, she would never have even noticed it. Better still, the opening was obscured by a wide tree trunk that had fallen at a slant in front of the rocks. The decaying wood was covered in a velvety carpet of lichen, moss, and mushrooms, the greens and browns causing it to blend into the surrounding foliage so that it appeared all but invisible.

  With only moments remaining, she crawled as fast and quietly as she could. She ducked beneath the trunk’s surface, passing only a hairbreadth away from the wood, which was pungent with decay. She shuddered at the small army of insects moving in winding trails over the trunk, and did her best to ignore the creeping sensation that chased across her skin at their nearness. Reaching the other side of the fallen tree, she squeezed herself into the cold stone fissure beyond, then worked quickly to make herself as small and invisible as possible.

  A twig cracked only feet away.

  Her entire body tensed, the scent of male sweat and leather coming to her nose. Another scent came as well, sharp and metallic.

  Blood?

  She trembled and squeezed her eyes closed.

  Boots crunched against the undergrowth, and she sensed rather than saw her pursuer survey the area.

  “See any sign of ’er?” said a voice as another man joined the first.

  “No. Must be an animal. These woods are teeming with ’em.”

  Another lengthy silence descended.

  “Let’s keep lookin’. She can’t ’ave gotten far.”

  Still, the pair didn’t immediately withdraw; another minute ticked endlessly past before they finally gave up and moved away. But Mercedes didn’t relax, her limbs too paralyzed with fear to function.

  How long she sat huddled, frozen, she had no idea. Gradually daylight began to fade, shadows lengthening through the already dappled light of the forest glen.

  Only when it began to rain did she finally gather the courage to creep soundlessly from her hiding place. Needles stabbed her cramped muscles, the pain excruciating from her having been crouched in one position for far too long. She swallowed the cries that rose to her lips, fearing even now that they might come back, that they might still find her.

  When she thought she could walk, she glanced carefully around to make certain she was alone.

  Only then did she venture onward, thankful for the drenching downpour and the concealment she prayed it would provide.

  “Another ale, sir? Or could ye do with somethin’ a wee bit stronger?”

  Major Daniel James MacKinnon, late of His Majesty’s Royal Highland Regiment, looked up at the serving maid who waited expectantly beside his table. He had no trouble reading her expression and the unmistakable invitation in her pale blue-gray eyes. Her generous breasts were thrust eagerly beneath the well-worn brown cotton of her gown, and her hips tilted toward him with the confidence of a woman who knew the power of her own sensuality and wasn’t afraid to show it.

  His mouth turned up in an appreciative half smile despite the fact that he had no intention of accepting her offer. “My thanks, lass, but this’ll do for now.” Lifting his tankard, he gave the amber brew a lazy swirl.

  The maid wasn’t daunted, her smile widening to display a set of surprisingly even teeth. “Well, ye’ve only tae ask, ye know. ’Tis a raw night out fer all it’s summer, what with this rain pourin’ so fierce-like. Night sech as this, a body could do with a wee bit o’ comfort, I always say. Give me a shout if ye change yer mind.”

  She paused, clearly hoping he would indeed change his mind. Instead, he raised the tankard to his mouth and drank in slow and silent dismissal.

  She gave an audible sigh of disappointment and reluctantly sauntered away.

  Most would say he was a pure idiot to refuse the soft comfort of the serving girl’s arms and bed. In his younger days, he would have accepted, and gladly. But he was no longer young—or rather he didn’t feel young—even if he was only eight and twenty years of age in the chronological sense. But after years of fighting and suffering and loss, there was none of the boy left in him, only a man who was weary in both mind and spirit. Yet finally he was going home to the blue-green vistas of Skye.

  But will it still feel like home? a part of him wondered. He had lost so many there as well in the decade he’d been away. The most painful loss was that of his mother, who had died while he’d been mired knee-deep in siege mud in Spain; he’d eventually learned of her passing by letter weeks after the fact.

  Raising his tankard again, he swallowed deeply and wondered whether he ought to have the serving maid bring him another ale after all.

  In the next moment, the inn’s door opened on a gust of rain and wind, with the most curious tumble of skirts and water blowing in over the threshold.

  A young woman—if that was indeed what she was. It was nearly impossible to accurately determine her age beneath the wet tangle of long dark hair plastered to her head and face; she resembled nothing so much as a drowned cat.

  And a none-too-clean one at that.

  Her dress was a tatter of rags, the ruined fabric hanging in limp folds that were stained an indiscernible color somewhere between moss and muck. She was covered in grime as well, bits of twigs and pine needles caught in her hair, although it looked as though she had made an attempt at some point to comb them free. As for her feet, they were encased in a pair of thin, muddy slippers that were clearly inadequate for the terrain, the edge of her little toe showing through a rent torn along one seam.

  Daniel saw every head in the taproom turn her way, as every pair of eyes fixed on the sorry creature who had wandered into their midst. A few whispers floated on the air.

  The innkeeper adjusted the apron over his substantial girth and strode around the long wooden counter that bisected his domain. “Och, now, an’ what do ye think ye’re aboot, drippin’ all o’er me floors? ’Tis a quality establishment, this is, an’ we don’t take yer kind in ’ere. I’m afraid ye’ll have tae go.”

  The woman stood unmoving, a shiver chasing visibly over her drenched form. “Go?” she repeated in weak disbelief. “But I just arrived. I have been walking for miles.”

  Curious, Daniel thought as he listened to her reply. For a beggar woman, her speech was remarkably refined and not the least bit Scottish. English, clearly, he decided, and yet her words held a kind of precise perfection that did not sound completely natural. It was almost as if she had been taught the language rather than been born to it. Could she be foreign?

  He was still puzzling over the possibility when the innkeeper continued.

  “Miles, is it?” The man scowled. “Weel, unless ye’ve coin tae pay yer way, I canna help ye. ’Ave ye any coin?”

  She stared for a long moment, then shook her head. “No. I never carry money.”

  The innkeeper rocked back on his heels, while a couple of patrons laughed at what was clearly the oddest way of saying she was poor that any of them had ever heard.

  “Sorry, then, lass, but ye’ll ’ave tae be off.”

  “But I need to speak to a magistrate. My coach was set upon by highwaymen.” She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself. “I n-need to report the crime. I n-need shelter and s-somewhere to rest until my friends can be contacted.”

  Her teeth began chattering, though whether from cold or fright, Daniel could not tell.

  The innkeeper goggled. “Highwaymen, is it you say? In these parts? Where? On what road?”

  She shook her head. “I do not know. I told you I’ve been walking through the storm. It was on the main road south—or at least I think it was the main road…I don’t know any longer.”