by Mia Pride
For Love of a Laird
Irvines of Drum
Book One
Mia Pride
© Copyright 2019 by Mia Pride
Text by Mia Pride
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
[email protected]
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition December 2019
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
ARE YOU SIGNED UP FOR DRAGONBLADE’S BLOG?
You’ll get the latest news and information on exclusive giveaways, exclusive excerpts, coming releases, sales, free books, cover reveals and more.
Check out our complete list of authors, too!
No spam, no junk. That’s a promise!
Sign Up Here
Dearest Reader;
Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from the some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.
Happy Reading!
CEO, Dragonblade Publishing
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mia Pride
Irvines of Drum Series
For Love of a Laird (Book 1)
Like a Laird to a Flame (Book 2)
Maid for the Knight (Book 3)
*** Please visit Dragonblade’s website for a full list of books and authors. Sign up for Dragonblade’s blog for sneak peeks, interviews, and more: ***
www.dragonbladepublishing.com
Amazon
Dedication
To my sweetie, who spared no expense and gave so much time helping me research for this book and series. Your support and efforts mean the world to me.
The Irvines of Drum series is very personal to me as the hero and heroine are my grandparents 14x removed, which I had not been aware of until I was researching my genealogy after having already plotted this story. Some things are just meant to be.
A special thank you to the lovely people of Drum Castle in Aberdeen, Scotland who took the time to answer my questions and send me research materials so that I may properly recreate Robert and Elizabeth’s world in 1411.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mia Pride
Dedication
Ballad of Gude Sir Alexander Irvine
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Excerpt from Like a Laird to a Flame
Author Note
About the Author
Ballad of Gude Sir Alexander Irvine
“Gude Sir Alexander Irvine,
The much renownit Laird of Drum,
Nane in his days was better sene,
Whan they war semblit all and some.
To praise him we sould nocht be dumb
For valour, wit, and worthiness.
To end his days he there did come,
Whose ransom is remedyless.”
Chapter One
Dunnottar Castle – Clan Keith lands
1411
The fire from the hearth leapt at the chance to devour the parchment, wax seal, and all. The moment her eyes saw the crest of the Laird of Drum Castle, home of their rival clan, her skin had begun to crawl. No doubt the missive had been delivered bearing the unwelcome news she had dreaded for years: that the time had come to marry a man more than three times her age.
As the second sister to the Marischal of Scotland, Elizabeth Keith had been betrothed to the old Laird of the Irvine Clan for years now, a means to an end and nothing more. Their clans had been at war for decades, but tensions had escalated beyond the theft of cattle and border disputes. It had been a bloody few years before her betrothal, aye. But no peace treaty was secure until she was wedded and bedded by the enemy, or so her elder brother William liked to remind her.
As the fire popped and hissed, Elizabeth licked her dry lips and stared into the dancing flames, burning the missive that had indeed borne bad news, only not the sort she had expected. Her betrothed, Thomas Irvine, had died in his sleep, peacefully, thank the Lord. Elizabeth made the sign of the cross and kissed the rosary around her neck, the one made of pearls that her mother had gifted her before she passed. Papa had always called it a sin to make a rosary out of something as fine as pearls. Morally corrupt, he had called it, but it was Elizabeth’s finest treasure and clenching her wee fist around the cool white beads, she said a prayer for Thomas’ soul, and for her own, for surely feeling relief over his death was a foul sin.
Standing up from her seat, Elizabeth smoothed her sweaty palms over the wool fabric of her bright blue dress and walked over to the narrow window on the other side of her chamber. The angry waves of the North Sea pounded upon the cliff below her window and on a clear day such as this one, Elizabeth could look straight ahead and see the horizon, wishing she could turn into a dove and fly away from the whims of men. But the wheel of fortune was always turning and her mother had warned her that no lady was safe from its wrath. One may rise in fortune, then fall at the stake. And her fortune had been declared today.
Her betrothed was not yet cold in his grave, nor even buried she suspected, yet she had already been promised to another, his eldest son. She had met the lad but once several years ago on the day of her betrothal to his father and he seemed kindly, if not boastful. He had been a man of twenty years, and she a lass of ten and four years. His brother Robert had been in attendance as well, though he had seemed more pensive and less in need of attention, the way a second brother should, she supposed. Still, she remembered his soft brown hair and deep blue eyes even now. He had spared her but a look before staring straight ahead and leaving the Drum Chapel without a word. Alexander, her newly betrothed, however, had seemed outspoken and prone to foolery, even at a time of ceremony. Aye, she remembered his dark blond hair and light blue eyes, as well.
; Sighing and gripping her rosary once more, Elizabeth closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds of the waves below. It was no great fortune to be a pawn in the game of war to be sure, yet she supposed if she must be married to the enemy for the sake of peace, it may as well be with a man closer to her age. She was a woman of ten and eight now and it was time she was married. Whether she wanted to be or not was not her choice to make. Alexander Irvine was as good a match as any, she supposed, and if it put an end to the senseless loss of innocent lives, she could see her duty as a greater cause.
A light rap on her chamber door had her spinning on her slippered feet, wondering if it was her maid come to ready her for the nooning meal or if it was William come to check in on her, as he tended to do more often as of late. “Enter,” she called and straightened her spine. She did tend to slouch, and her mother had always slapped her wrists for it, but only because it did make her look frumpy and less appealing, she knew.
“Ah. My wee sister,” William said with a smile, his reddish-blond hair glowing in the few rays of sun that seemed to beam in through her small window. He sniffed the air and smiled. “I am afraid burning the missive willnae change yer fate, Lizzie.”
“Oh, I ken that well enough,” she sighed and sat down once more, feeling her stomach clench in knots. “Still, ’tis verra satisfying,” she grinned widely. “A lady has but little control of her life. Burning the missive commanding my fate simply felt necessary.”
“It shall save thousands of lives. Ye are doing right by Clan Keith.” William walked in slowly, scratching his short beard before sitting beside her and taking her hand in his. “I confess that while I am saddened to hear of the loss of Thomas Irvine, I am grateful that our peace can still be maintained and my sister may marry a man her own age. I do want for yer happiness.”
“I ken that, as well, Will. I have always kenned I would marry where I was expected to. ’Tis my lot in life. I have never been filled with the whimsies of love. Arthur and Guinevere. Tristan and Iseult. They all end in despair, do they not?”
Sighing, William nodded and looked her in the eye. He had the same honey-colored eyes with a hint of moss green that she had inherited from their father, a handsome man most revered. “I do wish ye werenae already so disenchanted by life, Lizzie. Mayhap ye and Alexander will have a love like theirs, only not ending in treason or death.”
Snorting loudly and slapping a hand to her mouth, Elizabeth grimaced. That sound had gotten her in more trouble than her slouch over the years. “Och, I doubt we will ever be embroiled in treason… or love. But I shall be a good wife so long as he is a good husband. That is my best offer,” she said with a side grin.
Chuckling, William stood up and put out his hand, helping her to her feet. “That’s all I can ask of ye. I do hope ye attempt to care for him but ken that if he is brutish or treats ye poorly, I shall run him through and peace will be dissolved. However, despite my dislike for their family name, I dislike war even more, and I have heard nothing but satisfactory things about the man’s character.”
“Nor I. When last I saw him, he was being rather disrespectful in the chapel yard just before my betrothal to his father, but he seemed to keep himself in line once inside the sacred building.”
“He is merrymaking, so I hear. That cannae be all bad, Lizzie. He will be a fine husband. Now, shall I accompany ye to the nooning? Our hunt was most successful and we have boar roasting.”
Looping her arm into his, Elizabeth nodded and walked through her chamber doorway with her brother, the kindest and gentlest man she had ever known, at least when dealing with his sisters. On the field of battle and when dealing in politics, he was said to be comparable to a lion, but to Elizabeth, he was the greatest champion she could ever have asked for and she felt certain that if she should ever need use of his sword arm, he would ask a total of one question. Giggling, she cuddled closer to him and smiled.
“Ye seem rather happy,” William observed, descending the stairs beside her. “Already warming to the Irvine knight, Sir Alexander?”
“Och, nay. Just remembering the one question ye said ye would ask should I ever need yer sword arm.”
Scoffing, William nodded, remembering the conversation and they both repeated the question in unison before stepping into the great hall. “Where is the bastard?”
Dread gripping her gut, Elizabeth folded her last chemise and shoved it into the wooden chest at the end of her curtained bed. The old hinges groaned when she shut it with a resounding thud, the sound of her life at Dunnottar Castle coming to an end.
“Mistress Elizabeth, I told ye I would pack yer belongings for ye. Ye neednae labor so.” Matilda made a reproving sound and ran over to the chest, throwing open the lid to inspect its contents thoroughly. “All seems accounted for. Do ye have yer mirror and yer comb? Ye mustnae arrive disheveled.”
“Tilda. I can manage to pack my own belongings, ye ken.” Elizabeth smiled at her dearest friend. Though Matilda was her lady’s maid, they had grown up in the castle together and sometimes Elizabeth even snuck Matilda into lessons with her tutor, hiding her behind ancient tapestries so the lass could have an education, as well. T’was most unfair that the poor lot had no education and Elizabeth had wanted better for her companion. It was a fine idea until one day when the dust from a tapestry made Matilda sneeze and she was almost whipped by the tutor. Having no desire to see her friend punished for her doing, Elizabeth had confessed and accepted the lashing instead, and the sting on her arse still stayed with her years later. But, it had been worth protecting sweet Tilda.
“I ken well ye can manage, Mistress, but ’tis my only job to serve ye. When ye do it for me, I believe I am failing.” With a sigh, Matilda plopped on top of the chest and looked warily at Elizabeth. Her tight red ringlets escaped the confines of the white linen tied in her hair, and her freckled nose crinkled the way it did when she had something to say but was not sure of her place.
“Dinnae call me mistress when we are alone. I hate it verily. Ye are my best companion. I willnae make ye work for me or address me as yer mistress in private. Do stop. And I ken ye have something ye wish to say. Out with it, then.”
“How can ye tell?”
“Ye always wrinkle yer nose as if someone broke wind and ye are too polite to run in the other direction.” Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and smiled widely at her friend.
“Do I? Och, how unappealing. Verra well. I was only wondering if ye are slightly relieved not to have to marry such an old man. I hear Alexander and his brothers are verra attractive men.”
Clutching her rosary, Elizabeth sighed and sat beside her companion. “By my faith, ’tis but a sin to feel the way I do. But I am, indeed, relieved. He was a kind man. He betrothed me for peace but I ken why he never married me. I was young and though he had a right to my body, he never laid eyes on me more than necessary. He let me be yet kept to the terms of the peace treaty. There has been nay trouble between our clans since then. I am saddened he is gone, but aye, I am grateful not to have to bed him or bear his children. Do ye think they would be born already middle-aged?”
Matilda burst out laughing and covered her mouth quickly, before anyone heard her behaving inappropriately with her mistress. “I havenae any idea how such things work. My education was received behind dusty tapestries. I was fortunate to hear more than three words in all those years. But my mam was much younger than my pa and I was born a wee lassie. I dinnae believe ye will birth a gray-haired babe, nay.” She giggled into her hands and cleared her throat. “But now that isnae a concern, Lizzie. Ye shall wed and bed Sir Alexander, the fiercest knight. He fought in France ye ken!”
“I ken. So did every noble lad in the kingdom. ’Tis not so grand. I have met him and Robert, but I have never seen Reginald and wonder why he wasnae at my betrothal.”
“Mayhap we shall never ken.” Matilda shrugged and stood up. “We must ready ye for bed, Mist… Lizzy. We leave for Drum on the morrow. ’Tis not a long journey, I am told, exce
pt we will have a retinue of people and must take all yer belongings. Though ye shallnae be needing yer fine bed, now that ye will lie with Sir Knight.” Her brows waggled and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“Ye are much more excited about my private life than I am, sweet Tilda. I shall do my duty as a wife must, but truly, he is just a man, nay different than his father, simply younger.”
“As ye say.”
Matilda removed Elizabeth’s dress and under tunic just before slipping a fresh one over her head. Turning down the sheets for Elizabeth, Matilda stood aside as she climbed in, relishing the softness of her sheets against her skin. Sleep was a wonderous thing, yet she knew she would achieve little of it tonight.
“Now, ye try to sleep and if ye cannae, think of Sir Alexander and how long and hard his—”
“Tilly! Ye are a wanton lass, indeed! Haud yer wheesht!” Elizabeth blushed and put her hands on her cheeks.
“I was going to say sword,” Matilda shrugged and closed the damask curtains around Elizabeth’s bed, just before Elizabeth buried her face into her pillow to stifle her laughter.
Chapter Two
Watching as his brother clenched his fists under the table, Robert Irvine knew Alexander was doing his best to prevent lashing out at his men. It was not their fault he had to bury his father, take on the responsibilities of a laird, deal with his new bride, and now hear about impending war all in one cursed day. Pity for his elder brother clutched at Robert’s gut as he stood behind Alexander in the laird’s solar.
“Anything else?” Alexander asked slowly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Since the death of Father, Alex had been plagued with blinding headaches and Robert hoped another was not coming on. How glad he was not to be the eldest son, yet he would do all he could to support his new laird and their kin.