Highland Engagement

by Dana D'Angelo

  “Tell me, is your father forcing ye tae marry the laird?” her grandmother asked.

  “Nay, he has given me a choice in the matter.”

  “I see that ye have made your choice,” she said quietly. “Now do your duty, and fulfill your promise tae your sire and tae your clan.”

  Anabell looked at her grandmother and saw that she was right. She climbed off her bed and stood tall. It was clear about what she needed to do next. In an important marriage like this, there was no room for love. Fortunately, she experienced love for a short while. And even though she wanted to be with Blane, the needs of her clan came first.

  Chapter 20

  Blane was ready to charge into the castle at nightfall, but ultimately reason set in. He decided that to stop the wedding, he needed to come up with a more reasonable ploy first.

  At the break of dawn, he made his way to the fortress on foot. When he neared the gatehouse an hour later, he found a line of townspeople waiting to be let into the stronghold. There were several more hours before the ceremony started, but people far and wide had come to catch a glimpse of the bride and groom. He assessed the stronghold and saw that the sentries on the ramparts were at their usual places. The guards were distracted by the people, and Blane figured that he could slip through the entrance without being seen.

  But he could barely contain his groan when he saw the porter guard standing at the gate. After Blane had knocked the man down the other day, the old warrior was sure to recognize him. It seemed that gaining access to the fortress wasn’t going to be easy as he thought. Fortunately, he wasn’t about to let this small detail deter him. He was technically an invited guest. The bride herself had requested his presence, and he would find his way in the castle no matter what.

  A disturbance occurred behind him, and Blane turned to the sound of shouting.

  “Make way!” a guard yelled on behalf of an approaching assembly.

  At the command, the throng parted, allowing the important guests to quickly pass. The crowd returned to the queue, and the porter guard resumed his job of allowing a few people in at a time.

  Blane allowed a couple of people to go ahead of him while he mulled over his approach. How was he going to get past the porter guard? Over to his right, someone laughed out loud, and his companions followed suit. Three women sat in a cart with a couple of bairns while five others surrounded the contraption. They were all in high spirits and seemed well acquainted with one another. An idea immediately sparked in Blane’s head. None of the townspeople were paying attention to anyone or anything around them. If he stood close to them, he might be able to blend in with the lot.

  Blane gathered the excess part of his kilt and pulled the hood closer to his head. As the line inched forward, he moved along with the noisy group. When their party finally reached the front of the gate, the porter guard barely looked at them.

  As soon as Blane emerged on the other side, he maneuvered around the cluster of excited clan members and walked quickly toward the gathering near the chapel. Two guards were stationed outside the building to maintain a clear path for the primary guests. It was clear that none of the commoners would get near the chapel. And the best they could hope for was if they caught sight of the bride and groom just before the ceremony began.

  As Blane found a spot near the front, a man glanced over at him and grinned. “It has been years since we’ve had a wedding this big at Dunburn Castle,” he said.

  Blane wasn’t in any mood to talk, but the man didn’t appear to notice. He continued to happily discuss the anticipated peace between the two factions. Blane grunted and moved to stand a couple of feet away from him.

  “Humph, some folk will never be content,” the townsman said, speaking to a person next to him.

  But Blane paid them no mind. He didn’t come here to be distracted by idle chatter.

  The mass behind him became more substantial, and the noise grew in proportion. As he waited for the ceremony to commence, his mind went over his plan once again. For his tactic to work, he needed to find a strategic spot and wait for his opportunity.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the members of the Black Targe Group had arrived and were heading toward the place of worship. His friends probably wondered where he was, but he wasn’t about to give himself away just yet. He took a step back, allowing himself to fade into the crowd. Fortunately, even in his new position, he still maintained a good view of the cleared pathway.

  Twenty minutes later, his patience paid off. He spotted his uncle strolling toward the church with two of his men trailing behind him. For once, the man walked as if he wasn’t in danger of stumbling.

  When James was a few paces from the chapel, Blane emerged from the crush of people. He stood blocking his uncle’s passage. With his legs planted firmly on the ground, he pulled off his hood.

  “Blane,” Giles said, recognizing him immediately.

  James Cunningtoun stopped at seeing his nephew’s sudden appearance.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” he sputtered. While he didn’t appear drunk, his eyes were glassy, indicating his indulgence. “I specifically said I dinnae want him at my wedding.”

  “Anabell invited me,” Blane said calmly.

  “Ye lie.”

  “I’ve come tae challenge ye for the clan leadership,” Blane said, ignoring the accusation.

  James looked wildly around him, and his eyes fell on Giles. “Get him out of my sight. Now!

  “I’m sorry,” Giles said. “Ye must face all challengers on your own.”

  Tension hung heavily in the air, and a fight seemed ready to erupt.

  Anabell had arrived, and when she saw the trouble ahead of her, she rushed over. “Please,” she cried. “I dinnae want tae see anyone hurt.”

  “Stay out of this, lass,” Blane said. “This concerns me and my uncle.”

  “Uncle?” she asked. Confusion clouded her eyes, and her gaze darted between them.

  Before she could say anything else, Gavan MacNeadain’s voice boomed, “What is the meaning of this?”

  “My name is Blane Cunningtoun, son of Richerd Cunningtoun. I have a right tae the chiefdom of my clan. And I mean tae challenge him for it,” Blane said, pointing to his uncle. His gaze then settled on Anabell, who stood beside her father, her mouth dropping open in shock. “I’m also contesting the marriage. I willnae allow Anabell tae marry James.”

  The MacNeadain turned to stare at James. “Are ye nae the true chief of clan Cunningtoun?” he demanded.

  “I’ve been chief all these years,” James sputtered. “When my nephew abdicated the responsibility in favor of becoming a mercenary, ‘twas I who held the clan together.”

  “Ye barely did that with all your drunkenness. From what I understand, the clan has suffered greatly under your so-called leadership.” Blane pulled out his claymore. “Now cease your chatter and fight!”

  “I’m nae fighting anyone.”

  “Then ye are a coward,” Blane said, spitting on the ground. “’Twas this verra reason that got my family killed.”

  “That’s false!” James shouted, his chest expanding. He gestured for a sword, and one of his followers handed him a claymore. He took a threatening step forward. “I’ll make ye take back those words. Ye are my brother’s son, but I willnae stand tae be insulted like this.”

  In answer, Blane lifted his claymore and slashed it down, cutting his uncle on the cheek.

  His uncle clapped his hand over the wound as a streak of blood ran down his face. He glared at his nephew. “How dare ye!”

  “What are ye going tae do about it?” he asked, his tone taunting.

  Blane stepped closer and swung his sword again. This time his uncle sidestepped the blow. But when the older man raised his sword over his head and started to bring it down, Blane had already anticipated the move. All of his years of training and fighting came to the fore. He narrowed his eyes, easily deflecting the attack.

  The surrounding noise and voices faded, an
d it was only him and his uncle. All the anger inside him surfaced, and each stroke he dealt was fueled by violent rage. At the time of his family’s demise, the others had held him back from racing to save his loved ones. But it was James who could have made a difference. He could have ignored Rory MacGregon’s order; he could have led the charge to rescue his brother’s family from the flames. But his uncle did nothing. The betrayal and cowardice had cut Blane deeply. Now, he wanted James to suffer, to let him endure the torture he had inflicted on his own relations.

  Blane knew that he had already won the challenge, but his desire for vengeance propelled him forward. Under normal circumstances, he was calm during skirmishes, but the long-held hatred he harbored churned in his gut. James Cunningtoun was weak, and his lack of courage led to the death of the people Blane cherished. This idea continually echoed in his mind.

  With the hot sun burning at his back, he slashed and swung at the older man. James tried desperately to defend himself, but he was at a clear disadvantage. There was only one way to end this, and he meant to follow through. But then, a sweet voice called to him, penetrating his dark intent.

  “Blane, stop!” Anabell shouted. Her father held her back, and she strained, trying to break free from his grip. Tears rolled down her cheeks but it was horror and fear that sounded in her voice. “This is madness. Ye are nae a murderer.”

  The distress in her voice struck him, and he couldn’t ignore her plea. He knew that if he crossed the line, he would become a cold-blooded killer. Blane raised a booted foot and placed it in the middle of his uncle’s chest. Then with a loud grunt, he shoved the older man to the ground.

  James lay in the dirt, his face white with terror. Blane moved forward, standing over him with his sword raised high. In the next second, he could drive down his blade and deliver one final blow.

  “I concede tae ye, Blane!” James said, his voice quavering. “Take the chiefdom!” The effects of his drinking had left him, and for once, he appeared sober. Sweat ran down his forehead, and he was breathing heavily.

  “I never wanted the leadership,” his uncle continued. “Your father was the chief. I had nay desire tae replace him. It wasnae fair tae have this burden placed upon me. I never wanted the guilt of your family’s death on my head.” Genuine tears of sorrow streaked down his full face. “Ye blame me for their murder, but ‘twas nae my fault! Forgive me, ‘twas nae my fault...”

  For the first time, Blane heard his uncle. The man truly was sorry for what had happened. Before the massacre of his family, he believed that his uncle was a strong, honorable warrior. People admired him for his fighting abilities, but after the tragedy, he was reduced to a shadow of his former self.

  But as Blane watched James grovel on the ground, it occurred to him then that the trauma from the event also had a profound effect on his uncle. James wasn’t the evil villain he thought him to be. The circumstances were tragic, and both of them were placed in a position where there were no winners. If his uncle had ordered his men to charge the English when Blane’s family was captured, the number of deaths would have increased. Most of the warriors on their side were already injured and exhausted. And if they fought the enemy then, it was certain death for many of them. James knew it; Rory MacGregon, recognized it as well. But out of everyone there, Blane was too blinded by the horror to acknowledge the truth.

  “I forgive ye,” Blane said, slowly lowering his sword.

  At his words, James began to weep as if his pain and sorrow were being released.

  Blane offered his hand to his uncle and pulled him from the ground. The animosity and anger he felt earlier was gone. He was ready to put the past behind him. And it appeared that his uncle was ready to move on as well.

  During the exchange, everyone seemed to hold their breaths, but when the danger passed, someone in the crowd shouted his approval. The yell triggered the rest of the onlookers to join in, stomping, clapping, and sending out resounding cheers.

  Two Cunningtoun clansmen came to assist James, but he brushed them aside. His uncle straightened his spine and appeared clear-eyed and sober. He no longer resembled the broken man he was before.

  “My nephew will take his rightful place as the chief of clan Cunningtoun.”

  Giles came to stand next to Blane, a huge grin on his face. “Congratulations,” He placed a hand on his shoulders. “I had faith that ye would come tae your senses. It means a lot tae us that ye will return home and put things tae right,”

  Blane nodded. In the past, he balked at returning to the clan. He didn’t want to be associated with his former home. But as the issues between him and his uncle resolved, he found that the challenge of leading his people appealed to him.

  He looked up at the sky. Suddenly, the world seemed brighter, more vibrant. And somehow he knew his father would have approved of his actions.

  “Sae what happens now?” the MacNeadain asked, his voice cutting through the din. “We need tae negotiate a new peace treaty. Obviously, the marriage between James and Anabell cannae continue.”

  “The marriage ceremony will continue,” Blane announced. There were looks of confusion on the faces of the people who surrounded them but they watched the drama with open curiosity. Blane glanced around him to ensure that he had everyone’s attention. “But the union will be between Anabell and me.”

  More cheers erupted around them. This time, the noise became louder, and it drowned out Anabell’s gasp. People jostled closer to congratulate him, grabbing his hand while laughing and shouting. Not to be outdone, members from the Cunningtoun clan also approached him and pounded his back.

  Anabell wasn’t immune to the excitement either. An equal number of people sought her out, touching her sleeve, and embracing her. But she was still stunned and was incapable of responding to anyone.

  Blane had never told her of his origins, nor had she ever thought to ask. But now all the pieces fit together, and she was left feeling a little light-headed. And most surprising of all, Blane wanted to marry her. For some reason, she never thought that he cared about her. She knew now that she was mistaken.

  Across the sea of people, he caught her gaze and smiled at her. Without releasing his eye contact, he made his way to her, bypassing everyone who vied for his attention. When he stood in front of her, he reached for her hand.

  “Tell me that ye will agree tae be my wife,” he said gently.

  Emotion welled up in her chest, and she squeezed his hand. For many days she thought she would be trapped with a man who she didn’t love. She had buried her feelings and knew that if she examined them, she would drown in self-pity. But providence had smiled upon her and brought Blane back to her.

  “I would want nothing more than tae be your wife,” she said, allowing the tears to stream down her cheeks. She let out an embarrassed laugh and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I never thought that we would marry.”

  “The alternative isnae acceptable tae me,” he confessed. “I couldnae stand tae see ye lose your sweet and innocent ways. I knew that if ye married my uncle, that special part of ye would die. I couldnae allow this tae befall the woman I love.”

  “Do ye really love me?” she asked in wonder.

  “Aye, with all my heart.” He placed her hand on his chest and covered it with his own.

  His sincerity made her heart burst with pleasure. She raised her palm and placed it on the side of his face.

  “I love ye too, Blane,” she whispered.

  His expression softened, and he drew her closer, not caring that an audience witnessed their private moment. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. And she responded to his kiss, offering him all the passion that she had to give. Despite the odds, she was able to have it all. She got the man she desired, and their people would enjoy the happiness, peace, and harmony that they all deserved.

  Thank You

  My heartfelt thanks for supporting an indie author. Your consideration in writing a review or even telling a friend that you enjoyed this story he
lps a ton.

  Also as a thank you, I’d like to give you a free digital copy of Heart of a Knight for signing up for my newsletter. The two characters featured in this story are very close to my own heart. Others have generously rated this story, and I hope you enjoy it too.

  Simply visit my website at the link below, and you can be reading this book in the next few minutes.

  Many thanks,

  Dana D’Angelo

  Acknowledgment

  Thanks to my husband, my friends, and fans your love and support of my works.

  About The Author

  Dana D’Angelo is the only girl from a family of nine children. As a teenager, there was a constant battle for the T.V. remote, which she lost, so she was forced to find her amusement in books. A friend got her into romances, and soon she read as many as ten romance novels per week, spending hours with her nose pressed between the pages, skipping meals and cutting out sleep. Life, it seemed, wasn’t as exciting or interesting as in the Medieval or Regency eras.

  It wasn’t until she was married with two young kids that she decided to take a stab at writing her own historical romance novels.

  She is intrigued by the idea of writing romantic stories that could bring hours of enjoyment to readers, help them escape from reality, and perhaps remind them how sweet love is and should be. These are the things that she enjoys as a reader, and these are the things that she wants to give back as a writer.

  Dana lives in a city east of Toronto, Canada. When she’s not writing or reading, she’s dining at local restaurants with her husband and kids, and enjoying spectacular foods of the world.

  Website: www.dana-dangelo.com