Historical Hearts Romance Collection

by Sophia Wilson

  She made her way under the stairs and waited until she heard the shuffling of the feet of Iona’s guard.

  ***

  Aiden knocked on Ewan’s door before entering in. He patted the head of the lion as he always did; a thing they had both done for years as a joke since they had once decided it was their pet cat. To others in the castle, the lion was a symbol of ferocity, but they secretly called it Ewan’s kitten.

  “So, tell me what your plans are, Ewan?” Aiden asked, collapsing comfortably on the chair.

  “What plans?” Ewan asked, uncertain of the matter at hand.

  “Come now, clearly you are preparing to marry her. Wallace’s girl. How are you going to be rid of Janet?” he inquired.

  Ewan was caught surprised.

  “Honestly, I haven’t worked it out in my mind. If I release Iona, I will likely never see her again. It could happen, but the miracle of her brother forgiving me for the capture is unlikely. I cannae keep her in the tower, though. I cannae do something so horrid any longer. I will discuss with the counsel again. Perhaps even confess my desire to set her free and marry her, but I cannae bear the weakness of my heart and having them see it so. Aiden, I’ve a real mess here,” Ewan confessed.

  “Indeed you do, my friend. So the question remains, how will you work through the tangles of this mess? How will you convince them to let you set her free, convince her brother to let her wed you, and convince Janet to release you from your bond? These are not small matters,” Aiden listed. In some ways, he wished to appear helpful, but he also greatly enjoyed the stress he was piling upon Ewan’s mind. In time, perhaps he could torture him with the dilemmas.

  “True though that may be, as difficult as these matters are, I have to believe that it will work out for us. I cannae lose hope for my future with Iona. You do not understand, Aiden, how deeply I love her. She is intelligent, she loves the books I love, and she is beautiful, and she understands the loss of her parents that we have experienced. She is strong yet vulnerable, and I am amazed by her resilience. She loves me in return, but is wounded by what I have done to her, the pain I have caused. It is unbearable for me to have hurt her so, my friend. I must undo it,” he said.

  “Then it will be undone,” Aiden said in false support.

  “And you will stand by me still?” Ewan asked.

  “Always.”

  Chapter Ten

  Janet hopped quietly back up the staircase and pulled the key from within her sleeve. She unlocked the door in a hurry and saw Iona lit by the candle. It was her first time seeing the girl in full form, and she hated her even more upon discovering what a beauty Iona was. She stared with malevolence for a moment before remembering her purpose in coming to the tower for Iona.

  “Come, come quickly!” she urged, her hand ushering the copper haired beauty forward.

  Iona had been pacing the room, awaiting this moment. Her stomach flipped time and time again, knowing how desperately she would miss Ewan. She felt agonized at leaving, but knew her brother had felt this same anguish since her capture. He had to know she was safe; he had to know she was well. Perhaps then she would manage to convince him to allow her union with Ewan. Of course, perhaps he would not.

  She wordlessly followed Janet to the landing between the two wings where she stopped short. Her eyes trailed up the West Wing, and she gazed with intensity.

  “Come!” Janet urged in a frustrated hush. “What are you doing? You must come quickly or they will find you.”

  “The servants’ entrance is down those stairs?” Iona asked, shifting her eyes to where Janet stood.

  “Yes, and we must be on our way!” Janet insisted.

  “I will find them. I have a matter to settle first,” she replied.

  “You foolish child, without me to guide you, you will be discovered and should that happen you will be dead!” Janet said, trying not to shout, but unable to keep her whisper soft enough.

  “Perhaps that is so, but I cannae leave just yet. I will find a horse outside, yes?”

  “Yes,” Janet resigned, choosing not to care anymore. She had alerted all the guards in the West Wing and those outside the servants’ entrance. She had only avoided the guards who might alert Ewan in his wing. There was no hope of Iona escaping with her life.

  The two parted ways, and Iona rushed to the West Wing for no other purpose than to see the lion marking his room and the scroll marking the study.

  The hallway was empty, and she saw the lion immediately. It was larger than she had anticipated, and carved from wood. It sat to the left of his door with its mouth wide open, a sign of fierce leadership. Yes, it suited Ewan very well.

  The scroll was beautifully carved, as well, and had an inscription written upon it.

  “O’ lover of mine,

  I cannae deny,

  You awaken my soul,

  In weakness, sweetened whole.”

  Iona recognized it from the poem she had loved so greatly. She knew she had to be fast and she had a greater task at hand, but the draw to the study was great, and she tried the handle to see if she might be able to peek inside.

  The door opened, and the dim light of the candles in the hallways illuminated the study just enough that she was able to scan the four rows of books that were held there. Ewan had said how much he had hoped to grow his collection of books, but the process of replication was so slow that it was hard for anyone to get many copies of literature.

  Some of the books had been ones he had already brought to her that she had read through, but she saw others that she had yet to read. Her brother had a study as well with some books, but there were many here she still desired to consume.

  Iona’s time was wasting, and she moved herself from the room. Closing the door silently, she took the three steps to the room beside her.

  She walked to the lion, resting her hand upon its angry head for a moment before running her hand along the doorframe. In her mind, she mourned to never see Ewan again. The thought was unbearable and left her wanting him more than she ever had until that moment.

  Her hand felt the handle of the door. She assumed it would be locked but the temptation was too great. She turned the handle and found it was miraculously open. A pause held her still before she pushed forward.

  The door opened silently and the bed lay empty. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, with only the light of the moon dimly flooding into the room. His bed had four posts, ornately carved with grand designs.

  She looked to the windows.

  A gentle wind blew the curtains, and Iona saw Ewan’s form on his balcony.

  ***

  Janet smugly made her way towards the door that led out the West Wing to the road near her home. Each step was more confident than the last as she waited for the sound of the guards announcing Iona’s demise.

  After a few yards, she looked up with her dark eyes and saw the shirtless figure of Ewan standing on his balcony. Behind him, and unknown to him, was a pale, copper haired maiden. With anger, Janet threw her hood atop her head and turned away.

  She could not handle the thought that her plans had been foiled. It was not too late. She could still instruct a guard to kill her. She could tell them she saw the Cameron girl sneaking into Ewan’s room to murder him. Yes, yes this was a good plan and this must be what she would do.

  A sound whooshed through the air, and Janet felt a sudden pain.

  The arrow from the East Wing servants’ entrance had pierced through her back and just above her cold and hateful heart.

  Within minutes, she had left the earth, Ewan being the last word on her lips.

  ***

  The light of the moon illuminated Ewan’s topless figure. Iona’s heart began to pound at the sight of him. She had come to say goodbye, but words were not needed in this moment.

  She stared longingly, not wanting to alert him to her presence for fear of his response at her escape from the tower. Surely, he would not have her killed; surely he would not force her to return. Yet the fear and doub
t began to creep in. Nevertheless, she had remained strong and brave thus far, she must remain so now, too.

  Stepping quietly closer to him, Ewan finally heard the sound of Iona. Turning, eyes locked on her, she approached cautiously.

  His arms wrapped around her, and she folded into his embrace before his lips found hers in a passionate, loving kiss.

  It lasted for an eternity, with the warmth of his breath on her mouth. Iona had never felt so comforted, so assured. She knew she had done the right thing, she knew she could not leave this man.

  They stood in an embrace and gazed at the moon and stars on the clear night. Below them, guards were dragging something dark, but they did not notice. Their love was the bond that held them captive to one another.

  ***

  Wallace woke early, knowing that the day would take much preparation. Later that night, the battle would rage and many would die. He knew this, and yet he needed his sister returned, no matter the consequence, no matter the body count.

  An urgent knock pounded on his door, and he opened it with irritation.

  “Sir! I bring news from the Clan Chattan. It is your sister…”

  “My sister! What of her? Are we too late?” he begged as fear pounded in his chest. The thought of being a mere day late crushed his spirit all over again.

  “No, sir. It is…” the spy hesitated.

  “What?” Wallace demanded. He was desperate to know what news had come.

  “She is to be married,” came the terrified reply.

  Wallace stood in shock.

  “Married?”

  ***

  At the rising of the sun, the announcement was made to the advisors that Ewan would marry Iona.

  Aiden was not present, anguished by the news of Janet’s body having been found. Ewan had not yet been told for his news became the spread of the entire clan. While some were angered by the union, most were relieved at the possibility that peace might finally reign as a result.

  The many who stood in support plucked flowers from their gardens and sprinkled petals around the castle to show their approval of the decision.

  Standing in Iona’s tower, gathering her few possessions to move to her new rooms, Ewan wrapped his arms around her again and whispered in her ear, “Let’s get you back to Wallace, and I will ask for your hand.”

  Epilogue

  Things had not gone smoothly. Wallace had been overcome with emotion at the news that Iona was alive but a jealous rage took over at the news that Iona was betrothed to the man who had held her captive, the laird of Clan Chattan.

  Many months went by before Wallace welcomed Iona back to the clan, refusing to meet with Iona and Ewan once he received news of the betrothal, which he considered a betrayal on Iona’s part.

  It was only when Wallace came down with Inbred Fever that he had a change of heart.

  Six months later, peace won out between the two clans. Iona and Ewan celebrated a joyous marriage as friends and family celebrated a union they knew God had held a hand in, for it was truly miraculous that Clan Chattan and Clan Cameron had achieved peace.

  ***

  One year later, Iona and Ewan sat gazing lovingly at their son, Finlay, and reflected over the last two years, both never expecting to be living a life as they were.

  For sometimes, they knew, evil overtook hearts, but good can most definitely come from evil, and peace can eventually reign. It took time, patience, love and fate to make things right, and for love to overcome everything for Iona and Ewan.

  The End

  Highland Betrayal

  ©2018 by Blair Keith

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  “My bath, Una!”

  Breathing deeply of the fresh morning air that flowed through Campbell Castle from its open windows and wide open main door, Blane pulled off his leather gloves and strode into the massive main hall. He shouted for his bath again, and one of the many servants running through the castle called back to him.

  “It’s ready in your chambers, Lord Blane!”

  He shouted back his thanks and made his way toward his rooms.

  Despite the early hour, his body thrummed with energy, still exhilarated from the long morning’s ride with his father. The muscles of his thighs and back burned from the two hour ride while his arms and shoulders ached pleasantly from the sparring session Laird Alastair had indulged him in much earlier that morning.

  At almost fifty years old, his father was still a strong and vigorous man, able to best the strongest of his own warriors on the practice field. Even though Blane himself was just past thirty years old, he was still grateful to have his father around as Laird Edinburgh. He still had a lot to learn before the mantle of Laird was passed on to him.

  And, he had a lot of the morning’s dirt to wash from his body as well. Blane walked faster, anticipation of the hot bath and the relief it would provide his sore muscles making him nearly groan. His morning bath was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself no matter what else was going on in the castle or in his life. Even when out in battle, he tried to find a stream or river where he could wash himself at least once a day.

  Near the stairs leading up to his rooms, the sound of a raised voice alerted him just before his uncle Duff appeared around a corner. The man strode quickly toward the courtyard where Blane had just come from. A scowl twisted his otherwise handsome face, and he berated the male servant walking just behind him.

  Blane nodded to the poor servant before greeting Duff with a loud "Good morning, Uncle."

  "Is it?" His uncle's ferocious frown made more fearsome by his eye patch and the raised scar beneath it made Blane want to indulge in something he'd seen the kitchen maids do much too often, a hearty roll of his eyes. If he or his father said the sky was blue his uncle would say it was black. His Uncle Duff, long a rival for his father's Lairdship, could find nothing to agree with Blane or his father about. Duff Campbell hated Blane but hated his own twin brother much, much more.

  "The morning is well enough for me," Blane said with deliberate cheer and made to pass his uncle.

  "Before you leave, there is a matter of the taxes on the farmers in the southernmost part of the valley that needs raising,” Duff said. “You should pass that on to your father."

  Blane raised an eyebrow. He would pass nothing of the sort on to his father. Alastair Campbell was laird of Edinburgh and he taxed his tenants how he saw fit. He did not raise taxes because he needed money for more horses, as Blane knew his uncle did. Although, he did not see to the everyday matters of the Lairdship, he received payments from it, even as the twin brother of the ruling Laird. He spent money far too much and, in a sly and underhanded way, tried to tell his father how much better he could see to the business of the Lairdship of Edinburgh, even though Alastair had been successfully taking care of all the clan’s interests in the twenty-five years since their father's death.

  "If you have concerns, you should address my father." Annoyed, Blane yanked the leather gloves from his belt and slapped them against the palm of one hand. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see to my morning ablutions."

  He kept walking down the hallway, his boots ringing sharply against the stones, without waiting for his uncle to acknowledge that he had been dismissed.

  The gall of the man was something Blane could not get over. More than thirty years ago, he had challenged Alastair—his own bloody brother!—to a duel, but lost that duel, the Lairdship, as well as the woman who went on to become Blane's own mother. Despite the passing of so many years, Duff still carried a lust for vengeance in his heart. This bloodlust was a thing anyone looking at him could see plainly in the features t
hat, except for the eye patch and scar slashing down one cheek, were identical to Alastair's. Over the years, though, Duff’s bitterness began to be reflected in those features the twins shared, his hair going gray many moons ago while Blane's father still had thick locks of the darkest pitch.

  Blane shook his head, sorry again that his father had a brother such as him instead of one who would support him. Still annoyed and distracted, he took the stairs quickly, heading for his rooms and the hot bath waiting for him. At the entrance to his chambers, he pushed the heavy wooden door open. And stopped in his tracks.

  There was an angel kneeling before his bath.

  She was bent low enough for him to see the slender line of her back and the soft curve of her backside. The sound of falling water and the scent of heated flowers—the maid filling the tub for his bath with a bucket—accompanied his vision of her. His breath stopped and other parts of his body began to take notice. The heartbeat that had slowed down with his uncle's confrontation began again in earnest as he looked at the girl, because she had to be no more than a girl, and took in every glorious inch of her he could see.

  She was slight, winter pale, and wore her long hair twisted at the top of her hair in a crown of plaits. Her face, in profile to him, was bewitchingly beautiful. Full red lips, soft looking cheeks he longed to touch, and a long neck he imagined would arch back in his bed as he taught her the ways of a lover. His body stirred, and he consciously willed it to calm down.

  Unaware of his presence, the fair maid hummed a song, something Blane was unfamiliar with but instantly wanted to know more about.

  He cleared his throat, and she jumped. The bucket she held dropped into the just about full tub and she jerked back, but not before the water splashed up and over her face, and down the front of her dress.