Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses

by Ceci Giltenan et al.

  A solitary tear dripped down her cheek as she pulled back to look into the gray eyes she’d come to adore. “Oh, Graeme, of course, I will. Nothing would make me happier than to have ye as my husband.”

  Graeme chuckled. “Oof, that will take some getting used to. It will be difficult to think of myself as anyone’s husband, but since I am devoted to ye completely it seems appropriate.”

  He gazed at her with tears glistening in his eyes and said, “I’ll ask permission from the laird right away.”

  Elspeth smiled brilliantly. “Good. I cannae wait to start my life with ye.”

  ~ * ~

  Three days later, Elspeth stood in the chapel of Kisimul wearing a sky-blue gown Bess gifted her for the occasion. Her golden hair was tied back with a ribbon underneath a silk veil as she walked toward the altar. The pews were filled to bursting, with so many in attendance the crowd had overflowed into the courtyard and beyond. She fought back tears of joy as Graeme stood across from her at the altar and offered her his hand.

  It was the happiest day of her life and everyone from their crew was present. Seamus, Alistair, Valan, even Bartholomew and Ian—all of them had come to celebrate their union. A hush fell across the service as the ceremony began and Bess wiped her tears away with a handkerchief.

  Elspeth’s heart skipped a beat as she turned to Graeme and lost herself in his cool, gray stare. The rest of the world seemed to fall away and it was just the two of them. Graeme took her by the hands as the priest brought out a ribbon and approached them. Her tiny fingers fit snugly into his as the clergyman wrapped their hands together and continued with the service in Latin. The fabric bound them together symbolically, in the eyes of God, and to all the people present. They were of one heart.

  “Elspeth, do ye take this man to be yer lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health fer as long as ye both shall live?”

  “I do,” Elspeth responded.

  “And do ye, Graeme, take this woman to be yer lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health fer as long as ye both shall live?”

  He smiled at her and said, “I do.”

  “Then I now pronounce ye man and wife,” the priest announced. “Ye may kiss the bride.”

  Graeme lifted the veil over her head and kissed her. A deafening cheer erupted from the crowd and she smiled against his lips. They faced the crowd together and lifted their hands up high into the air in celebration.

  Everyone clapped as they made their way down the aisle and white flower petals flittered down from the rafters. It was a whirlwind of celebration as they headed toward the door. Bess and Alistair both embraced them with a hug. Eventually, she and Graeme made it out into the courtyard and it was full of even more surprises. Kisimul had been decorated with flowers and boughs of foliage along the stairwell. Everywhere she looked, she saw smiling faces and people happy to share in their joyous ceremony. People filled the courtyard and all the way up the parapet, waving to them and calling out their names.

  “Congratulations, Graeme and Elspeth! We wish ye well!”

  “Aye, congratulations!”

  Elspeth couldn’t stop smiling as Graeme led her down the crowd toward the ship on the edge of the water. A rowboat just big enough for the two of them was filled with flowers and white silk, decorated for their honeymoon. She glanced over at him curiously and he shrugged. “Dinnae look at me. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “I did,” Claire announced. They both turned and found the Lady of Kisimul smiling from the castle entrance. “It’s my wedding present,” she informed them. “I wish ye both eternal happiness.”

  Elspeth eyes misted over as she nodded. “That’s most generous, lady,”

  Graeme caught her attention and gestured to the ship. “Well, my love. Shall we?”

  She took his hand and Graeme helped her into the ship by picking up all her skirts. Claire and Laird Thomas waved to them as she settled into the bench. Graeme sat down at the pair of oars and pushed them off the rocky outcropping. The boat drifted out into the water. Elspeth gazed out into the harbor. It was overflowing with similar ships and people who’d been unable to fit inside the castle walls.

  “I cannae believe this is happening,” she told him with a smile.

  Graeme grinned at her, pulling the oars back toward his chest. “Believe it, love. Our adventure has not yet started.”

  One year later…

  Epilogue

  Oban, the Coast of Lorne

  Elspeth sighed as she stepped out onto the wooden dock of Oban, placing her hand on a rounded belly. The village seemed so small after everything that had happened, and it brought a flood of strong emotions. A happy sob started to rise up in her chest and Graeme came up beside her to take Elspeth by the hand.

  “Are ye ready fer this?”

  She nodded with a teary smile. “I promised Hamish that I’d come back fer him.”

  He smiled back at her and nodded.

  Together, they walked down the pier and made their way out into the market. With every step, her stomach would flip and cause a thrill of excitement to rush through her. People would stop and stare at them as she walked passed. Her calfskin pants and linen shirt were not what the people here were accustomed to. She was nae the lass that they remembered.

  Elspeth was a pirate, wedded to a MacNeil and pregnant with his child. Her life had never been happier.

  Being married to Graeme was everything she never knew was exactly what she wanted. As they continued through the port, Graeme put his arm around her to help Elspeth up the hill.

  “Are ye well, love?”

  She nodded. “Aye, just a little lightheaded.”

  “Take it easy,” he encouraged. “We’re nae in any rush.”

  She smiled in response and gazed up at the dirt path that led to her father’s cottage. The rocky hill was difficult for her to navigate, but Graeme helped her ascend until they were standing in front of her old cottage. When they were in sight of the garden, Angus and her brothers came rushing outside to greet them. Hamish was wearing the silver necklace and when he caught sight of her rounded belly his face erupted into a smile.

  “I kent ye’d keep yer promise.”

  About Jennifer Siddoway

  Jennifer is an author from Tallahassee, Florida and a member of the Florida Writers Association.

  After receiving a degree in theatre from BYU and working as a scenic artist for twelve years, she changed careers to do what she really loves—writing. Jennifer believes that part of her job as an artist and story teller is to create a narrative that explores a fresh perspective and leaves the audience thinking.

  When she’s not busy writing or burying her nose in a book, Jennifer enjoys doing medieval reenactment with her husband and two children.

  You can find out more about Jennifer Siddoway and her books on her website: http://www.jensiddoway.com.

  Other Titles by Jennifer Siddoway

  The Earthwalker Trilogy (Young Adult Fantasy)

  Dealing with the Devil (Book 1)

  The Devil’s Due (Book 2)

  Down in Flames (Book 3)

  The Pirates of Barra: Highland Raiders

  Taken by Graeme (Book 1)

  Rescued by Valan (Book 2) – Coming Soon!

  The Highlander’s Secret

  Reviews are always appreciated!

  Highland Angels

  Fated Hearts Book 3

  By

  Ceci Giltenan

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, locations and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Copyright 2015 by Ceci Giltenan />
  www.duncurra.com

  Dedication

  To Eamon, the circle of your arms is my universe.

  My heart beats with yours.

  Our souls are entwined.

  Pronunciation Guide

  Curacridhe

  CURrahCREE (the MacLeod stronghold)

  Eoin

  OHwen

  Fiona

  feeOHna

  Isla

  EYE luh

  Loch Islich

  EYE litch

  Loch Uarach

  you AHR ahk

  Mairi

  MAHree

  Naomh-dùn

  NAYV DOON (the MacKay stronghold)

  Tasgall

  TASS gull

  Glossary

  Bairn

  (BAIRn) A baby

  Canonical hours

  The medieval day was ordered by these times, rather than clock times

  Vigil, Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, Compline

  compline

  (COMP lin) Night prayer, after sunset, before bedtime

  eejit

  A slang term meaning idiot

  lauds

  (LAWDS) Sunrise

  matins

  Just before sunrise

  none

  (rhymes with bone) Literally the ninth hour, about 3 in the afternoon

  prime

  After the first hour of daylight, about 6 in the morning

  quoits

  An ancient game similar to horseshoes except a quoit is a closed ring.

  sext

  Literally the sixth hour, noon

  sweetling

  An endearment

  terce

  Literally the third hour of daylight, about nine in the morning

  wheesht

  Shh, hush

  vespers

  Evening prayer, sunset

  vigil

  The night office, the period from compline to matins (just before dawn)

  “Angels whisper to our hearts. When we fail to hear them, they take pleasure in using the least likely people to magnify their voices.”

  Chapter 1

  Northern Highlands, Late February 1342

  Anna MacKay knelt with the child at the loch’s edge, looking up at the MacLeod warriors who surrounded her. Numb with cold from the icy loch water soaking her woolen léine, she was painfully aware she had made a terrible mistake.

  After fighting with her brother at the midday meal, she had been angry and just wanted solitude. Eoin never allowed her to ride alone, but as long as she was on foot and didn’t go too far, her brother believed she was safe.

  She had walked westward out of the village surrounding the MacKay stronghold, Naomh-dùn, then turned north once she reached the top of the bluff rising out of the east side of Loch Islich. She should not have gone that direction because it took her very close to the disputed MacLeod border. Her brother would be furious when he found out, but she had wanted him to be as angry as she was. It would serve him right. She also wanted to be alone, and no one would follow her onto the windy bluff on this bitter cold day. She hadn’t intended to actually enter the disputed land by the strait where Loch Islich and Loch Uarach joined together, but that was before she saw the wee lad.

  Lost in her thoughts, she had walked along the bluff until it began to slope more gently toward the northern tip of Loch Islich and the strait. Aware that she had come much farther than she intended, she started to turn toward home when the bright colors of his plaid caught her eye. He seemed to be alone, walking on the thick ice covering the strait. He wielded a wooden sword as he pretended to do battle with an invisible enemy. She was momentarily amused by his antics but became worried as he moved off of the thick ice covering the strait and farther onto the deep loch where the ice thinned dangerously. Anna had yelled at him to go back, but he hadn’t seemed to hear. There was nothing else to do; she lifted her skirt and ran headlong towards him, down the slope to the loch’s edge, straight into the disputed territory. Trying to get his attention, she waved her free hand and continued to shout.

  She was too late. As he lunged forward, thrusting his sword into his invisible prey, the ice gave way. He plunged into the loch, screaming and flailing, just as she reached the shore. She ran out onto the solid ice as far as she dared. Knowing she would need something dry to wrap him in, she pulled off her mantle and plaid, hurling them backwards. She threw herself onto the ice on her stomach, distributing her weight over as wide an area as possible before she slid to the broken edge. Her body weight pushed the sheet of ice under the surface of the water. It soaked her, but it didn’t completely give way. She was able to stretch far enough to grab the back of his tunic just as he slipped under the surface. Staying as flat as she could, she pushed backward, dragging him with her onto the ice, the edges breaking away as she moved.

  Finally reaching ice thick enough to hold their weight, she scooped him up, grabbed her dry clothes and carried him to the nearest shore, the east bank of the loch, MacKay territory. She whispered a prayer of thanks. The child was unconscious and blue with cold, but still breathing. Vaguely aware of the sound of horses approaching, she quickly pulled off his wet clothes, wrapping him in her dry plaid and mantle. She rubbed his limbs gently through the cloth, trying to warm him. His eyes blinked open and his little body began to shiver violently.

  She smiled at him. “Ye’ll be all right now, little one.” Looking up, she saw the source of the pounding hooves. Men on horseback thundered down the western side of the strait. In an instant a tall, broad-shouldered warrior with golden hair and angry crystal blue eyes was off his horse and had crossed the strait. Several of the others were not far behind him. The angry warrior pulled the child from her arms. These were clearly MacLeods, the clan with whom the MacKays had feuded for years. This was exactly why she wasn’t supposed to walk northward. In a moment of terror-filled realization, it became abundantly clear—she was staring trouble squarely in the face.

  ~ * ~

  While hunting, Andrew MacLeod, the eldest son of Laird MacLeod, heard the child’s screams coming from the direction of the loch and immediately turned with his men toward the sound. The screaming stopped after a moment, and his panic rose tenfold. When they broke though the tree line near the strait at foot of Loch Uarach, a lass knelt on the other shore. She was stripping wet clothes off of a small child. Filled with dread, he rode hard towards them before jumping from his horse and crossing the frozen strait on foot. It couldn’t be Davy; they were several miles from where the lad should be.

  Reaching them, his heart nearly stopped before anger supplanted his fear. The pallid shivering child, now wrapped in what appeared to be the lass’s plaid and mantle was his six-year-old son David, but the lass holding him was not Nessa, the maid charged with David’s care. One look at her fiery red hair and the terror in her green eyes told him she was one of the lying MacKays. In his panic he could not fathom how this MacKay wench had abducted David or how they had fallen into the loch, but he was not going to take the time now to sort it out. He wrenched his child from her arms, taking her plaid and mantle with him. He crossed the strait, shouting orders to the other men. “Cormag, Finlay, ride with me. Graham, bring her and see to the rest!” He mounted his horse, holding his half-frozen son to his chest. Wrapping his own plaid around David too, he leaned low over the horse’s neck, riding flat out for Curacridhe.

  As he rode, he tried to figure out what could have happened. David had begged for weeks to let him go hunting with the men. Andrew had finally given in. It wasn’t a real hunt, strictly speaking. It was really more of an outing for David. Nessa, the young maid who minded David, rode with them while they hunted small game in the morning. After securing a brace of rabbits, they built a fire in a sheltered clearing. Nessa and several men-at-arms stayed with David by the fire while Andrew and the other men left to hunt for larger game. How could a MacKay, a woman no less, have taken his well-guarded son in broad daylight, and what was she doing with
him on the MacKay side of the loch?

  ~ * ~

  On her knees, wearing only a wet léine, Anna was frozen and confused. As the MacLeod warrior rode away, the man he called Graham looked down at her. She read pity in his eyes for a moment before they turned hard and angry. Clearly the MacLeod warrior who had taken the child from her was furious, but she didn’t understand why. How could they be angry with her? After all, she had pulled the child from the loch. But they are angry. Run.

  Graham roughly pulled her to her feet but, taking him by surprise, she twisted out of his grip, running towards the bluff. He easily caught her. “Nay lass, the only place ye’re going is Curacridhe.” He too had blond hair and blue eyes. Although he was shorter and had a slimmer build than the other warrior, he still had no trouble subduing her as she struggled against him. He lifted her and carried her effortlessly across the strait to his horse. “Things will go better for ye if ye cooperate and aren’t responsible for injuring any more MacLeods today. So, how many men are with ye?”

  “M-m-men?” What was he talking about? In her confusion she stopped struggling.

  He frowned at her, giving her a shake. “Aye, men, lass. How many men attacked so ye could abduct the lad?”

  She heard the question but her frozen brain refused to process his words. Why did he think someone abducted the child? Trembling with cold, she could only stare blankly at him.

  Graham growled. “Fine, have it yer way. Ye’re bringing on yer own suffering. Rory, ride with me. The rest of ye, go back to the clearing where we left David and Nessa. Be cautious. We have no way of knowing what happened there.”