Highlands Forever (Books 1–3)

by Rand, Violetta

  Fear slowly filled Helen’s heart. “Who would do such a thing? We have only just arrived.”

  “The MacKays have enemies, Lady Helen. Perhaps whoever did this waited for the right moment to attack.”

  “What about the crofters?”

  “I sent guards to the main village.”

  “And where is this village?”

  “Two miles north.”

  “Take me there,” she demanded.

  “No.”

  “Twas not a request, Kuresh. I am the lady of this manor.”

  “And I am Laird Jamie’s right hand. If anything happened to you, he would kill me.”

  “If anything happens to my husband, I will kill ye, too.”

  Kuresh grew silent, staring at her, as did the other soldiers. Helen had never threatened violence before. God forgive her, she hadna come all this way to find happiness only to have it torn from her arms. She would no longer cower in her chamber as she had been taught to do. And she wouldna rest until she knew her husband was safe and her people were protected.

  “I understand yer ways are different where ye come from,” she told Kuresh calmly. “That women are compliant. But I am nay that kind of lass. Not anymore.”

  “If I have to lock you in your bedchamber to keep you safe, Lady Helen, I will.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “Ye can try, Kuresh. But in the morn, when all of this is over, I will make ye suffer along with anyone who helps ye. I willna be denied.”

  Miran rushed into the hall. “Lady Helen, please, come with me. Let the men keep watch. Ramsey and Nudar are waiting for ye.”

  “Ye go back to them and guard that bairn with yer life,” Helen commanded.

  Miran dinna argue with her; she curtsied and did as she was told.

  “Bradana,” Helen called one of the maids in the corner.

  “Aye?”

  “Go abovestairs and get my cloak. It is bitter cold outside, I doona want to catch a chill while I am riding with Kuresh and the other soldiers.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  The young maid scurried by, then ran up the stairs. She returned moments later and helped Helen dress.

  “Will ye escort me to the village, Kuresh? Or will I be forced to ride alone?”

  “Lady Helen.”

  “Sir, time is short.” She started for the doors, and several of the soldiers stepped back, but not Kuresh. He blocked her path.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “No.”

  “Laird Jamie could die out there!”

  “He is a warrior,” Kuresh argued. “You are not.”

  “I am a Highlander.”

  Kuresh gripped her wrist, but Helen wouldna back down. She slapped his face, and Kuresh let her go, shocked, even offended by the action.

  A tense moment of silence followed, the murmurs around them held to a whisper.

  Kuresh finally relented, sidestepping so she could walk by.

  Helen ran to the stables, where several mounts were already saddled. The lads looked at her like she was mad, but Helen dinna waste time explaining. She was a capable rider and pulled herself up and swung her leg over the saddle like a man. Just as she was about to ride out, Kuresh and five other soldiers joined her.

  “Ye will go with me?” she asked him.

  “I cannot let you go alone.”

  They galloped through the open gates, turning northward. Helen had known the pain of losing Sutherland crofters growing up, seen the aftermath as she helped tend wounds in her father’s great hall once when she was young. She dinna want anyone to get hurt or die because of her. And in her heart, she knew whoever had done this evil act, burning the stable and killing that poor lad, had done it because of her. Her father had sent someone to get her or to punish whoever was protecting her. What would he do once he found out she had married Jamie?

  They powered through the snow, reaching the village. Nothing appeared out of place. Plumes of smoke rose from the chimneys in the cottages, all the doors were shut, and no one was outside.

  “Thank God,” Helen said as she pulled up next to Kuresh.

  “Are you at peace now, Lady Helen?”

  “Peace? Hardly. Jamie is still out there.”

  “You asked to check on the village, and we have. I want you to go back to the manor house where I can keep you safe.”

  Helen let out a dark laugh. “Doona make me fight ye again, Kuresh. Please.”

  “I will leave three guards here if you will go with me. Once we reach the house, I will send more men to patrol the area. It is impossible to guess where Jamie has gone. It is dark and cold, and I am sure he split his soldiers up and sent them in every direction to save time. If we pick up a trail, there is no guarantee it will be your husband’s.”

  “A risk I am willing to take.” She heeled her horse and the beast responded, leaping forward aggressively. The horse she had randomly chosen wasna a mild-mannered mare. It had spirit and was obviously accustomed to being ridden by a warrior.

  She headed south, sure if the attackers hadna targeted the main village, they were after Jamie. She rode past the manor house and picked up fresh horse tracks in the snow—many of them, which told her Jamie and the soldiers had ridden south, too.

  That’s when she heard someone rushing behind her to catch up. She turned in the saddle and found Kuresh. He raised his hand, signaling her to halt. Should she keep riding or stop? She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, hoping he had decided to help her.

  “Lady Helen,” he said. “You leave me no choice but to ride with you.”

  They were grateful for the near cloudless nighttime sky and the moon reflecting off the snow, providing enough light to follow the tracks she had found. But after a short distance, as Kuresh had suggested would happen, three sets of tracks took off in different directions.

  “Now what should we do?”

  “Pray for guidance,” Kuresh suggested.

  “I am sorry I struck ye,” she said sincerely. “I doona know what came over me.”

  He frowned but nodded. “Fear.”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Or maybe I have something worth fighting for at last.”

  “Pick a direction,” he said.

  Helen favored west but considered going south, too. “This way.” Before she could get her horse to move, they were surrounded by men on horseback.

  “Pluck that bitch off the horse,” a bearded man commanded. “And remove the brown barbarian from his mount. Tie him up. I willna risk him getting away to give a warning.”

  Three men dismounted and approached Helen’s horse. Anxiety knotted in her gut and she dinna know what to do. When one of the soldiers grabbed her ankle, she kicked free of his grasp. The other two succeeded in getting ahold of the horse, and Helen knew she had lost.

  The one she had fought off yanked her from the saddle, grabbing a fistful of her long hair to control her. “Unhand me.”

  But the large warrior only laughed and dragged her before the bearded man on the horse.

  “Who are ye?” she demanded.

  “Laird Baran Munroe,” he answered. “And who are ye?”

  His name burned a hole in her heart. She had never met him before, dinna even know what he looked like. But she could tell by his manner that he was full of hatred and would hurt her and everyone she loved. “I am Lady Helen MacKay.”

  That brought him down from his mount, and he strode toward her. “What did ye say?”

  “I am Jamie MacKay’s wife.”

  He circled her, leaning in to sniff her hair. His nearness made her want to vomit, but she stood straight and proud. Baran Munroe wouldna get the satisfaction of seeing her afraid, though inside, she wanted to scream in terror.

  “Ye are Helen Sutherland, my betrothed.”

  “Nay,” she said. “Tis a lie. I never signed a betrothal contract, as yer nephew found out.”

  “My nephew? Where is Duncan?” He stopped in front of her and placed his fingers under her chin, forcin
g her to look at him.

  “Sent back to the isles weeks ago with a MacKay escort. Laird Alex’s secretary proved my signature on the betrothal contract a forgery.”

  The laird bellowed with laughter. “Ye are a haughty one. Nothing like yer sire described.”

  “Ye’ve been with my father?”

  “Aye, left Dunrobin Castle two weeks ago in search of ye, with his blessing, of course.”

  Helen couldna believe it. Her effort to share her deepest feelings in that missive had been wasted. Her sire was as heartless as Laird Munroe, only concerned with his own selfish needs, not her happiness. “I willna marry ye—I am already married to Jamie MacKay.”

  “Ye’d better be lying, lass. For I willna allow anyone to make a fool of me, not like yer father allowed ye to do to him.”

  She shrugged free of the soldier holding on to her, fisting her hands at her sides, suddenly cold and tired. “Ye canna undo what has already been done. I took vows before God. I am Jamie’s wife.”

  Baran Munroe cursed her life and infidelity. “Ye are a worthless whore.” He backhanded her so hard she fell down.

  Pride gave her the strength to stand up again. She raised her chin defiantly, tears stinging her eyes. She looked for Kuresh, regretting how she had treated him earlier. He was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back. If he died, she would never forgive herself. “What do ye want?”

  “Justice,” Baran said through gritted teeth.

  “If ye free that man, I will go with ye back to Dunrobin Castle.”

  The laird let out a terrifying laugh. “Ye’re not going home, Helen. I will take ye back to the isles with me and keep ye as my mistress. And if ye give me a son, I might let ye live.”

  She knew the laird wasna making an empty threat. In his eyes, she had dishonored him in the worst way, for a betrothal was as binding as a marriage in the Highlands.

  “Yer sire was right about one thing,” the laird said.

  “Aye?”

  “Ye are a rare beauty, worth sparing to fook every night.” He caressed her cheek, and Helen spit in his face.

  It earned her a punch in the stomach. She fell to her knees in pain, struggling to inhale, fighting against the dizzying darkness that threatened to overtake her.

  Just as she was about to give up, three arrows landed in the snow in front of her. “Jamie!” she screamed, desperate to see him, frantic to be in his strong arms again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jamie flew out of the saddle, his warriors beside him. They swarmed Laird Munroe’s men. “MacAoidh,” Jamie cried out, identifying himself as a MacKay. The clan motto followed. “Bi tren…” Be true, be valiant. And he was, cutting down four enemies as he fought to get close to Helen.

  He had witnessed Munroe punching her in the stomach and heard his vile words. He swore the man wouldna live another day. But as he reached his wife, Jamie had no choice but to stand down, for the cowardly Munroe had Helen in front of him with a blade held to her neck.

  “Take another step,” Baran warned, “and I’ll slit her throat.”

  “Is this the kind of man ye want to be? A coward, shielding yerself with a helpless lass?”

  “I doona care what any of ye think of me,” Baran hissed. “I intend to leave here with Helen. She is my rightful bride. Spoiled or not, I will have her.”

  Fury uncoiled inside Jamie. If he could just get a clear shot, he had a throwing dirk hidden under his sleeve. And he had deadly aim. Everything he loved flashed before his eyes, his wedding night, Ramsey, Alex and Keely and their twins, his home, his people … but it would all end if Helen left him or died. She gave him a reason to live, to strive to be a better man, to love God, to breathe … Helen of the Highlands … his passionate, wild lass. And though he dinna know what she was doing outside in the middle of the night, he could easily guess, for there was fury in her eyes.

  She had tried to find him.

  “Make peace with yer maker,” Jamie warned the laird. “For tonight, ye die.” He revealed the blade, raised his arm, and nearly let it go, but something blunt and heavy hit him in the back of the head and he fell to his knees.

  “Nay. Jamie!” Helen screamed.

  He could hear her, but couldna see clearly.

  “Ye are the one who is going to die, Jamie MacKay. I’ve heard of ye, red-haired devil,” Laird Munroe said.

  Jamie lifted his head and gazed toward Helen. That’s when he saw Kuresh’s scimitar slice through the laird’s worthless neck. His head rolled onto the snow in front of Helen and she fainted.

  Mustering all his strength, Jamie crawled to her, reaching for her limp body. He managed to touch the fingertips of her right hand before everything went dark.

  *

  Jamie had been unconscious for two days, and Helen had never left his bedside. Miran brought her food and water, but how could she eat or sleep when her husband had suffered such a dangerous blow to the back of his head.

  “Please, Lady Helen,” Miran pleaded, “go to the solar and rest. I will sit with him.”

  “Nay. Tis my fault he got hurt, and I willna move until I am sure he will live.”

  “The healer said he will awaken, and that if he was meant to die, he would have already succumbed to his injury. He is young and strong and deeply in love.”

  Guilty tears filled Helen’s eyes. She dinna even recognize herself anymore. Two months ago, she would never have put somebody else’s life in jeopardy, but over the last day, she had endangered her husband, Kuresh, and all the warriors who served the MacKays. She deserved to be punished, banished, possibly even divorced. Jamie deserved a better wife, one who wouldna disobey him.

  “None of the women are angry with ye, Lady Helen,” Miran told her. “They admire yer bravery, and so do I. If I had a husband, I would have fought for him, too, whether he liked it or not.”

  Helen wiped the tears from her eyes. “Ye are just being kind.”

  “Nay. I am no liar. What if Laird Munroe and his men had attacked the house? Killed more people? Gotten their filthy hands on Ramsey or some of the other children? By leaving here, ye protected yer clan.”

  “I did?”

  “Aye.”

  Helen resumed her place in the chair next to the bed, gazing at her husband longingly. “Please wake up, my love.”

  Miran brought her a cup of water and she took a couple of sips.

  “Thank ye,” she said. “Now leave us, I will rest my eyes for a bit.”

  Miran curtsied and left the chamber.

  Yawning, Helen laid her head on the mattress beside Jamie’s arm. She said a silent prayer before she started to fade.

  “Helen?”

  Jamie! “I am here,” she said, opening her eyes and sitting up.

  “W-what am I doing in bed?” he asked.

  “Thank God ye are awake.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it over and over again. “Do ye remember anything?” The healer had said he might suffer some memory loss.

  “I remember everything!” he growled, throwing the furs off and trying to stand.

  “Nay,” she cried. “Doona get out of bed yet. Let me get the healer…”

  “I can handle the pain in my skull, Helen.” He refused to listen and staggered to his feet, his eyes surprisingly clear. “Where are my clothes? My weapon belt?”

  He was naked and glorious, ever the warrior.

  “In the trunk. Yer weapon belt is hanging by the door.”

  “Get my tartan and a fresh shirt.”

  She rushed to do his bidding and helped him get dressed. “Please, Jamie. What are ye going to do?”

  “Kill every fooking Munroe left alive.”

  “No more killing,” she said with conviction, standing in front of him. “Laird Munroe has paid the ultimate price for his sins. And so have a dozen of his men. The rest are locked in the cells.”

  “Then I will ride to Dunrobin Castle and beat yer bloody sire into submission, for he did this, I know he did.”

 
Helen stared at the floor. She dinna want to believe it, but Laird Munroe had been with the earl before he rode to Sands Airgid. “Laird Munroe mentioned my father, Jamie. But I canna say with certainty that my sire would send him to kill ye.”

  “Maybe not directly, but he dinna stop Munroe from coming. And someone told him ye were here. And when I find the culprit, he will die.”

  “If my father is guilty, I will be the first to condemn him, to never speak to him again.”

  Jamie cupped her cheek. “I love ye, Helen. And I never want to feel the way I did when I saw ye with that dirk at yer throat. If anything would have happened to ye, I would have died.” He winced in pain.

  “Jamie—come back to bed.”

  “I willna lie-abed like some old, weak woman. I want to see Kuresh. And I want answers from ye. Ye will accompany me belowstairs.”

  Dragging her feet like a chastised lass, Helen followed her husband to the great hall. Kuresh and the other captains occupied the high table, and the lower tables were filled with men and women and children. When they saw Jamie and Helen, all went quiet.

  Kuresh stood up. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

  Jamie smiled. “And ye make my eyes sore.”

  His friend and right hand chuckled. “The blow to your head did not improve your attitude.”

  “Nay, I’m in a foul mood and have the worst headache.” He addressed one of the maids. “Fetch me some ale and food.” Jamie turned to Helen and took her hand. “All will be well, sweet wife.”

  After eating and drinking a cup of much-needed wine, Helen waited to see what Jamie would do. As a new laird, she understood he must make an example of anyone who disobeyed him, including her. And with the number of people in the hall, he must demonstrate his leadership even more, for whatever he did, word would spread quickly.

  “Kuresh,” Jamie said.

  “Laird?”

  “Can ye tell me what ye and my wife were doing beyond these walls the night we were attacked?”

  Once again, a hush fell over the hall, everyone listening.

  “I did as you asked, Laird Jamie, secured the perimeter and guarded the doors myself.”

  “How did Helen get outside?”

  Kuresh gazed at Helen, then back at Jamie. “I failed to convince her to wait for you.”