My Highlander: A Cree & Dawn Novel Read online

  My Highlander

  A Cree & Dawn Novel

  Donna Fletcher

  My Highlander Copyright © 2018 by Donna Fletcher

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either 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.

  Cover Art

  The Killion Group

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  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

  Also by Donna Fletcher

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The Highlands, Scotland late 1200s

  * * *

  Cree turned and draped his arm over his sleeping wife’s waist and wrapped his body around her naked one. She felt good, so very good, warm and soft. He could melt into her and forever feel at peace. He pressed his face in her tousled, dark red hair, the familiar scent of lavender tickling his nose.

  God, how he loved this woman. She had stolen his heart, a heart that had turned cold and felt nothing. Dawn had changed all that. She had made him feel, something he had never expected to do again.

  He smiled, running his hand down over her stomach, the familiar slight roundness not noticeable to the eye only his touch, leftover as a reminder of the beautiful son and daughter—twins— she had given him almost two years ago.

  Life was good, so very good.

  He smiled again and with a gentle swipe of his face moved her hair away from her neck so his lips could nibble along her silky soft skin and begin to stir her awake. His hand drifted down along her slender body, his fingers settling in the triangle of red hair nestled between her legs, finding that small bud of pleasure he loved to tease and stir to life.

  Another smile surfaced when she stirred against him. He could almost hear her soft moan, though one would never slip from her lips. It made no difference to him that Dawn had no voice, though there were times it angered him that she had been born that way. It had been so unfair to her, never able to speak a word and yet there were times he felt she made herself heard more than someone with a voice.

  She made herself known through gestures, ones he easily understood now, though when vexed, her hands moved rapidly and he found himself lost as to what she was saying. She could have a temper, when warranted, otherwise she had an even nature, which pleased him since he was aware that his own scowling nature could prove difficult.

  He smiled again when she dug her bottom against his manhood, which had sprouted to life as soon as he had wrapped himself around her and now fully blossomed against her tight backside.

  That was another thing about Dawn, she made him smile, but then he had had little to smile about before she came along. Endless battles, death, and destruction had been his constant companions. No more. He had paid with his soul to finally get a title and land, and a home for his faithful warriors. Now he battled only when necessary, his days spent with his wife and children, keeping them and his clan well provided for and safe.

  Always safe.

  She turned in his arms, her eyes still closed as her arms went around his neck and her lips settled on his. It was no tender kiss, but then he had teased her passion awake well before she woke, leaving her aroused and in need, just the way he liked her.

  He returned the kiss with equal desire while his hand gripped her backside and pushed her tight against him, his hard manhood eager to settle between her legs.

  Lord, but he could not get enough of his wife. whether they coupled, simply kissed, or their hands joined, he found his need to have her near him had grown with time. Where some men found their wives irritating, he found pleasure in every moment he spent with Dawn.

  Need grew in Cree like a man starved far too long from coupling with his wife. He had to have her now. He could not wait. He needed to be inside her, deep inside her, and feel her wrap snug around him.

  “I need you now,” he said with a hunger so strong he feared he would hurt her if he did not temper it.

  Her dark brown eyes opened wide as she nodded vigorously, her need matching his.

  Cree turned with her in his arms, covering her with his body, spreading her legs with his knee, and settling between them. His need to enter her grew so rapidly that he thought he would burst with pleasure before ever getting inside her.

  He thrust his hips forward, having felt the wetness at her entrance, eager to slip in and become one with her. He groaned, impatient for that moment when he would feel her wrap around him, hug him tight, and finally be where he belonged.

  A crack of thunder had Cree bolt up in bed—alone—his hard manhood throbbing for a wife that was not there and would never be again.

  He tossed his head back and roared with a fury that had not left him since the day he had lost Dawn, three months ago. That day was forever burned in his memory. He had kissed her that morning in early April, feeling a bit jealous that she was excited to be off to help Lara and Elsa, the clan healer, collect some healing plants. He hadn’t wanted her to go, had almost stopped her, but the twins had been demanding of late, not to mention his own demands, and he saw that she needed time to enjoy others besides her family.

  He pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, trying to erase the image of Lara screaming as she ran into the village.

  “Dawn is gone! She is gone! Drowned!”

  Sloan, his best friend, and his wife Lucerne, wed six months and now three months pregnant with their first bairn, went running with him along with most of the villagers. They reached the rushing stream to find Elsa collapsed on the ground, hugging Dawn’s wet shawl to her chest, tears streaming down her face.

  Cree roared to the heavens and was ready to jump in the rapidly rushing waters to find his wife, but Sloan stopped him.

  “You will not find her if you die.”

  Sloan’s words had struck him like a sword to his heart. Dawn could not be dead. He would not allow it. He ordered his warriors to comb the banks of the stream. Knowing his wife, she would have struggled to survive. She could be clinging to a branch or rock somewhere.

  The search went on and when night fell it was obvious to most Dawn was not going to be found. She had been swept away. Cree had refused to give up. He had continued to have the banks of the stream searched throughout the night and day after day. And day after day there was no sign of Dawn.

  Cree dropped back on the bed. He hated life without Dawn and if he did not have the twins, he would throw himself back into b
attle and hope for a quick death. But Dawn would not expect that of him. She would want him to be a good da to their children and that was the only thing that kept him from joining his wife.

  It did not, however, stop him from getting lost in ale and wine and whatever else would help ease the dreadful pain that had shattered his heart and soul. The day he had realized that Dawn would never return to him, that she was dead, had been a nightmare. He had torn the Great Hall apart, smashing benches and tables, throwing whatever he could get his hands on until he stood in the center of the carnage, hands bleeding, sweat powering from him, and tears streaming down his face.

  He had not shed a tear since his mum had died and he had not even realized he had been crying. He had wiped at his wet cheeks and wished for the return of his cold heart, but knew that was not possible. His love for Dawn was too strong, too deeply rooted inside him. The horrible, endless pain would never go away. It would always be there with him like a punishment for not having listened to himself that day and not let her go. Why had he let her go?

  His only escape was spending endless hours on the practice field, whether with fists or a sword he battled day after day until one day he arrived at the practice field to find Sloan standing next to a post pounded into the ground.

  “You have injured enough of your warriors. Take your anger out on the post.”

  Cree had done just that, the post having to be replaced each day.

  He forced himself to get out of bed, standing, then dropping to sit on the edge, wishing he did not have to face another day without Dawn. He braced his hands on the bed to either side of himself, ready to force himself to his feet when he stopped, his eyes focused on his arms. With his daily sword and post bouts, his arms had grown huge as had his chest. His legs were also thick with muscles. And his strength went far beyond what it had ever been.

  He spread his hand, palm up, in front of him, staring at it. He had no doubt he could easily choke a man to death with one squeeze and it would not matter to him at all.

  He shook his head. Dawn would not want him thinking that way.

  Dawn was not here.

  The thought wrenched his gut and tore at his heart that was already torn to pieces. How much more could it take?

  A crack of thunder shook the room and Cree went to the lone window and saw it was raining, not a downpour though the heavy gray skies warned it could turn into one.

  He hurried into his plaid, not bothering with a shirt and slipped on his boots. He needed the mind-numbing task of battering the practice post, rain or not. Once done, he would spend time with his son and daughter. It was difficult seeing his daughter, her dark brown eyes so much like her mum’s and her gentle smile as well.

  Wanting the pain to stop, he hurried through the keep, those around making sure to keep their distance from him. He could not blame them. He had not been a pleasant man since Dawn’s death.

  Death.

  He still could not believe it. How dare she die and leave him alone. He should have been the one to die, not Dawn. He shook his head. He had to get to the practice field. He had to numb his mind, think of nothing, feel nothing.

  Rain sprinkled down on him as he walked through the village. He saw Old Mary, her gait slow, walking to her cottage. She had as much difficulty accepting Dawn’s death as he had and still did, insisting she would have known, would have felt it.

  Cree had wanted to believe her, to hold on to hope, especially since Dawn’s body had not been found. Sometimes he would look in the distance, expecting to see her on the top of the hill, waving at him as she ran down it toward the village. He turned and looked now, the darkening skies hugged the hill, not a soul was in sight.

  He clenched his hands at his sides, digging his fingers deeply into his palm, and walked to the practice field. The anger, the pain, he would beat the post senseless today. And he did, waving Sloan away when he attempted to approach, attempted to stop him.

  The rain had turned heavier, but Cree did not care. He needed to rid himself of the agony that was tearing at him like a mighty beast that he was sure would devour him at any moment. He even heard its powerful bark and chilling howl.

  Cree stopped suddenly, realizing the sound was not in his mind. He looked and in the distance by the edge of the woods stood a dog or was it a wolf? The animal was a good size and all black and when his eyes met with Cree’s the dog lifted its head and howled to the heavens. When he stopped, his eyes settled on Cree once again and he barked, turned to run into the woods, then stopped, looked at Cree, and barked again, and again turned to the woods.

  Cree realized the animal wanted him to follow. He could not be bothered. He turned back to the post and the dog’s barks grew frantic, not stopping.

  Cree had no patience with the animal and with his anger near to boiling over, he rushed toward the dog. The black beast did not make a move until Cree was nearly on top of him, then he ran into the woods and Cree’s anger had him following. He had only gone a short way in when he spotted the dog. He stood in a protective stance over a crumpled piece of cloth or so Cree thought until he saw slight movement.

  Had the dog gone in search of help for his master?

  Cree approached the animal slowly. “Your master needs help?”

  The dog looked as if he nodded as he barked once in answer.

  Cree took careful steps, the dog larger than he had thought and his teeth a good size. “I will see to him for you.”

  Surprisingly, the dog took a couple of steps back, as if giving Cree permission to approach.

  Cree crouched down beside what now was clearly a body beneath a cloak. He feared he might be too late to help whoever lay beneath, no movement coming from it, until… fingers slipped out, as if the hand was about to try and crawl.

  “Easy there. I will see you safe,” Cree said and gently turned the figure over.

  Shock had his mouth dropping open and he thought his eyes would burst from his head, and his heart explode in his chest, then he let out a roar.

  “DAWN!”

  Chapter 1

  Dawn’s eyes drifted open and her lips turned in a faint smile as she fought to mouth Cree. She was not sure if it was a dream like so many she had lately, only to wake and be disappointed. She prayed it was not, for it would mean she had finally made it home.

  Pain robbed her body of strength, but she did not care. She fought against it to raise her hand to touch her husband to see if he was real. She gasped, though it could not be heard, when she felt him take her hand and almost cried when he spoke.

  “I am here, Dawn. You are home. You are safe,” he said, seeing the worry and exhaustion in her eyes. He swore then and there he would never let anything happen to his wife again. Not ever. “I am going to get you home and Elsa will heal you.” He felt the faint tap of her finger telling him yes and was never so grateful to feel it again.

  He eased his arms slowly underneath her, not sure of her injuries or how much discomfit he would cause her. He almost roared with anger when he watched her face contort in pain as he gently lifted her in his arms to rest against him.

  “I hate causing you pain, but I have no choice,” he said and kissed her brow.

  Her eyes drifted closed and his heart slammed in his chest when he felt her go limp in his arms. He could not lose her again. He would not lose her again. He took off running for the keep.

  “Elsa! Elsa!” he roared as he ran through the village,

  His demanding shout for the healer had people pouring out of their cottages into the rain and they were shocked to see Cree running, his wife in his arms, and a beast of a black dog following behind him.

  Sloan had heard Cree’s desperate shouts and, worried something terrible had happened, had gone running to find him. He stopped dead, for a moment, when he saw who Cree carried. He shouted out, “I will find Elsa.”

  Cree nodded and hurried up the stairs to the keep, servants holding the two doors open for him. He rushed through the Great Hall, everyone there keeping out of his
way and staring in shock, though prayers were heard spilling from their lips. Except Flanna, the overseer of the keep and good friend to Dawn, she rushed up the stairs before Cree, opening the door to his bedchamber.

  Cree entered their bedchamber and stood a moment in the middle of the room. He had to see to his wife’s care, but he did not want to let her go. He never wanted to let her go.

  “She needs to get dry,” Flanna said and went to the hearth to get a stronger fire going.

  The beast of a dog gave a bark and went to sit by the fireplace as if agreeing with the woman.

  Cree waited until Flanna had a fire roaring going in the hearth and without asking the woman moved a chair close to the warmth of the flames for him to sit. As soon as he sat, he began to peel off Dawn’s soaked cloak.

  “Thank the Lord, she is alive,” Elsa said, entering the room, Lucerne following her in along with Sloan.

  “And you will keep her that way,” Cree ordered sternly.

  “If I am to do that, we need to get her out of those wet garments and dry, then I can see what injuries, if any, need tending,” Elsa said a slight command in her own voice.

  “Whatever you need, Elsa, just do not let her die. I cannot lose her again. I will not lose her again.”

  “I will do all I can, my lord,” Elsa said and turned to Sloan. “I need my healing basket. It is by the door in my cottage.”