Her Wicked Highlander: A Highland Knights Novella by Jennifer Haymore

“D’Argent is deeply involved in the land transactions in this area. ’Tis a well-known estate that recently changed hands to a group of Scottish men residing in London.”
    “Aye,” Duncan said. “Hearing I was from London, he likely put two and two together and guessed we might take Miss MacKerrick there.”
    “Aila, please,” Aila said.
    Duncan grinned at her. “Aye, then. Aila.”
    “Well,” Lady Claire said to the room at large, “I’m sure this arm is quite broken. I’ll be needing to set it.” She turned back to Max. “It’s going to hurt. A lot. But if you want full use of that arm again, you’ll need to obey me implicitly.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Max said obediently.
    Just then, Lady Grace arrived with a maid, both of them bearing trays heavily laden with food. Aila’s stomach growled at the sight—and she realized she hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours.
    She dug in with gusto—the food was delicious and plentiful—as Max explained to the room the details of what had happened over the past two days. Lady Claire finished working on Max, then checked Aila over, declaring her arm badly bruised but unbroken. She rewrapped it and gave her shoulder a gentle pat as Max finished his story.
    The room was silent for a long moment, everyone staring at her and Max. Then, the major gave her an approving smile. “Well done, lass.”
    “Aye,” Duncan agreed, “you saved White’s life.”
    “You should make her an honorary Highland Knight,” Claire said, her pretty blue eyes bright with appreciation.
    Aila flushed, unused to this kind of praise from strangers. She shrugged. “’Twas nothing.”
    Max shook his head ruefully. “’Twas everything, Aila,” he said softly. “’Twas everything to me.”

    Three hours later, Lady Grace showed them to a bedchamber.
    “How’d she ken we’d want to sleep together?” an alarmed Aila asked Max in a low voice after the lady had wished them a very good night, slipped through the door, and shut it behind her.
    Max shrugged. “All of them could likely tell.”
    “Tell what?”
    He gave a crooked grin. “How in love with you I am.”
    Aila’s chest went tight. “Nay. I’d wager they were looking at me… at how in love I am with you .”
    Max’s smile broadened, showing his dimple, and she leaned up to peck a kiss on it. “Mayhap they saw it in both of us, then.”
    They undressed each other slowly, cognizant of their injuries, and used the basin to wash. Finally, Aila was dressed in the fresh nightgown Lady Claire had loaned her, and Max had donned a clean nightshirt.
    They slid into bedclothes, and Aila sighed. “This is perfect. We didna even have to wash the bedding first this time.”
    “Aye,” Max mumbled. “Thank God.”
    He wrapped his arms around her, and Aila snuggled against him, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. “Max?”
    “Aye?”
    “I’ve killed someone.”
    “Aye, lass, you have.”
    “I’m not sure what to think about it.”
    “Dinna think about it at all,” Max suggested.
    “I’m… I’m worried it’ll change me somehow.”
    Against her, Max’s chest moved as he sighed. “Aye. It’ll change you. But not the essence of who you are.”
    “I dinna ken who I am anymore. I feel like… I’ve lost everything.”
    “Not me, lass. You havena lost me.”
    “But you belong to the Knights.”
    “Nay,” he said quietly. “I belong to you.”
    She swallowed hard, then pulled back so she could look into his face.
    “What do you mean?”
    “If you want to remain here in Scotland and rebuild your cottage, I’ll stay with you. If you’ll have me.”
    “But… The Highland Knights… they… you…”
    “The Knights are my brothers,” Max said softly. “But you, Aila… You are my life. I want to make you my wife. I wish to be by your side, always.”
    She couldn’t breathe. All the air had been sucked from the room.
    “Think about it, love,” he murmured.
    “Nay!” she snapped.
    “Nay?” His brows shot