The Highlander (Victorian Rebels Book 3)

“Keep your dirty hands off me, William Grant Ruaridh Mackenzie, or we’ll never be done with this in time to bathe and meet Andrew at the train,” Mena Mackenzie admonished firmly as she slapped her husband’s grasping fingers away from where they teased at her waist and were drifting toward her breasts.

“I was under the impression, Lady Ravencroft, that ye like it when I’m dirty.” Liam said from behind her where she stood and gathered the orders from the distillery office desk. His lips lowered and danced across her exposed neck, sending familiar shivers across her entire body. “We’ll send Jani for the train,” he rumbled before nipping at her ear in that way he knew made her instantly wet with desire.

Mena knew what she would find when she turned around. A brawny, soot-streaked Highlander fresh from singing the oak casks over the open fire, muscles thick and bulging from a day’s hard work and dark eyes blazing with an even dirtier intent. She’d be lost to his masculine seduction if she gave in to the temptation to turn and admire him, so she did the only thing she could think of to save her dignity. And her time. She called out to the new forewoman of Ravencroft Distillery, whose own office was only across the hall.

“Rhianna!”

Her husband growled and swatted her bottom before he stepped back to a more respectful distance as a great deal of frantic shuffling preceded a bevy of footfalls in the hallway.

“Ye’ll pay for that,” the laird vowed.

“Promise?” Mena threw a coquettish smile over her shoulder as the office door exploded open and a rather disheveled Rhianna stumbled into the room tucking untidy curls back into place.

“Ye called?” she asked breathlessly, wiping at moist, bee-stung lips and her rumpled blouse. The young lady’s lovely eyes widened with panic as she noted the laird lurking behind Mena.

“Father!” she exclaimed rather loudly. “I … thought ye were at the kilns burning barrels.”

“I was,” Liam said slowly, as though trying to piece together whatever information he was missing. “We’re finished for the day, and I’m after going to meet Andrew at the train.”

“Please inform Jani that we’ll need to ready two extra carriages for the ride to Strathcarron Station,” Mena told her.

“Jani?” Rhianna squeaked. “I would have to go find him. I havena the slightest idea where he is. I will go and … do that right now. Find him. As he is not here.”

Mena’s eyebrows rose, as she’d seen Jani’s tall frame tiptoe past her office door only a quarter hour past and slip into Rhianna’s office. A sly smile spread across her lips as she realized just who was responsible for Rhianna’s dishabille.

Apparently, Jani had decided to finally throw caution to the wind and claim the woman he loved. After four years, relationships had mended and reparations had been made, and Liam and Jani were close as ever. Jani was once again part of the family, and now Mena wondered if that was going to become more legitimate in short order.

Rhianna, now twenty-one, was a grown woman. A businesswoman. As Andrew had decided that school, industry, and politics interested him more than the family business. Liam had impressed Mena by heartily embracing the idea of his daughter inheriting the distillery rather than his son.

“Yes, do go and find Jani and we’ll meet you both at the keep.” Rhianna’s panicked expression faded as Mena winked at her meaningfully and gestured to Rhianna’s office with her eyes.

“Of course,” Rhianna said in a breathless huff, backing out of the office. “Thank ye!” Her stepdaughter dashed away, and Mena knew she and Jani would use the side entry as an escape route.

“Why would we need two carriages to pick up my son?” Liam queried, missing the entire subtlety of their interaction.

Mena finally turned to look at him, marveling that even after four years of married life, her husband still took her breath away with his wicked good looks and the demonic glitter of mischief in his eye.

“Because this year for the Samhain celebration, we’re having a few extra guests,” she said brightly.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Like who?”

“Oh, just family and close friends. Such as Farah and Dorian, Gavin and his new bride, and then we can’t forget His Grace, Lord Trenwyth and his rather scandalous duchess. Argent and Millie can’t make it as they’re still touring America with the theater company, but they’ll meet us at Ben More Castle for Christmas and…”

Her grim husband blinked thrice before reaching for her, effectively cutting her off. “Now ye have two things to pay for, and I’ll collect my due before I’m inundated with relatives,” he said wickedly.

“Very well.” Mena pretended to be put out as she bustled to the door to lock it before turning back to her husband with a sensual grin.

“Here in the office?” Liam’s dark brows lifted. “That’s not very ladylike of ye.”

“Well,” Mena said as she stepped around the desk and leaned against it invitingly, thoroughly anticipating her husband’s raw hands on her soft skin. “We’ve never been very good at keeping our sport in the bedroom, have we?”

“Nay, Mena mine, no, we have not,” he murmured, gathering her skirts in his hands. “And may the gods see that we never improve.”