A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander

by Maddie MacKenna

  Roseann’s heart started to beat faster, and a surge of anger coursed through her veins. She didn’t know what she wanted to do yet. She had never wanted to be Domhnall’s whore. She had given herself to him because she deeply loved him and wanted to be his wife.

  And now, this woman was gazing at her as though she was a strange bug she was just about to step on. As if she were a whore, who could expect no less, instead of the valued lover of the Laird, who wanted to make her his wife.

  “I am not a whore,” she spat, her eyes glittering dangerously. “The Laird and I are in love. He wants to make me his wife…”

  She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. If Lady Sineag had been disdainful of her before, it was as nothing compared to now. Her gaze was full of contempt.

  “Then ye are a bigger fool than I first took ye for,” the woman breathed. “Is that what he told ye, to get ye to lie with him? Ye are an innocent, are ye not? Men will tell women anythin’ to get what they want, and ye fell for it.”

  “It’s true,” said Roseann, her eyes filling with tears. “If it wasn’t for you, and your prior betrothal, then he would have made me his wife!”

  Lady Sineag stared at her pityingly. “Ye can believe anythin’ that ye want. But the fact remains that I want ye out of this castle. The Laird will understand eventually, and see that I have done the right thing…”

  Roseann couldn’t help it. The tears that had been threatening suddenly started to fall. Appalled, she desperately tried to stop their descent, but it was as useless as trying to stop the ocean from lapping against the shoreline.

  “Save yer tears,” the woman said in an even voice. “They will nae work with me, my dear. My faither, the Laird of Lios, made a pact with the Laird of Greum Dubh. He will get his fighting men to stave off the attacks from the English renegades, only if he marries me. That is the way of our world. How is it that ye are so naïve that ye honestly believed that ye would marry him?”

  Roseann put her hands to her face, desperately wiping away the tears. How she wished that she had never lost control like this in front of this woman. How she wished that she could tell her that it wasn’t true and that somehow, in some way, she would wed the Laird.

  But it simply wasn’t true. Domhnall had tried to put off the betrothal for her sake, even though he knew he was fighting a losing battle. The Laird of Lios would not honor his side of the pact without a formal announcement of the betrothal. It was as black and white as that.

  Only last evening, before it had happened, she had stood outside that banquet hall with a heavy heart, knowing that he must do it for the sake of his people. She had known, deep in her heart, that their love was doomed. She could not be responsible for the deaths of innocents. She would not have that blood on her hands.

  But now, with this cold woman calmly telling her that she was a whore who must skulk away from Coirecrag with her tail between her legs, her anger grew. She hadn’t made up her mind if she wanted to stay on here or not, but this woman was trying to force her hand.

  She has got what she wanted. She is betrothed to him. I can never be his wife now. Why must she treat me like this?

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Then she gazed at the woman.

  “I will not leave,” she said slowly. “At least, I will not leave under your command. I am in service to the Laird, and he is the only one who has the right to tell me that my service is no longer needed.”

  The woman’s face darkened. Suddenly, she leaned over the table, her blue eyes glittering.

  “Strong words,” she said. “But I am afraid that ye cannae battle with fire, my dear. Not in this instance, at least.”

  Roseann blinked rapidly. “You cannot make me leave. You cannot make me do anything that I do not want to do. You have no authority over me in the slightest. If I decide to leave, it will be my choice and mine alone.” She felt almost incandescent with rage.

  This woman was a Scottish noble lady, but she was an English one. Her father was a baron. She had been well brought up, and she was an equal to the Lady Sineag. The woman had no right to treat her like an inferior.

  To her surprise, the lady started to laugh.

  “I almost admire ye,” she said. “Ye are nae as feeble as I thought ye! Ye want to fight for the Laird.”

  Roseann took a deep breath. “I will not go on your command.”

  Suddenly, the laughter stopped. Lady Sineag took a deep breath.

  “Ye will go,” she said slowly. “Ye will go without a complaint, and without tellin’ the Laird.” She took a deep breath. “Ye told me yer home is called Loughton Hall, near Berwick. If ye daenae pack up and leave, then I shall find yer family and make their lives hell.”

  21

  Roseann stared at her. Her mouth dropped open.

  “What did you say?” she breathed. “Are you threatening me?”

  Lady Sineag smiled. “Indeed, I am, lady. If ye daenae do what I command, then I shall find yer family. My faither is rich and has many men under his command. It would be a simple enough thing to find them. Ye daneae want anythin’ untoward to happen to yer folk, ye ken.”

  Roseann blanched. She simply couldn’t believe that this woman had stooped so low as to threaten her family if she didn’t leave Coirecrag.

  Her first instinct was to stand up and rush out of the room. She should find Domhnall, this instant, and tell him what this woman had just said to her. He would be appalled and tell the Lady Sineag that she couldn’t use threats like that. He would protect her. She knew that he would.

  But slowly, her heart sank. She couldn’t do it to him. He was so preoccupied with what was happening on the Gruem Dubh lands and the threat that his people were under. He had enough on his plate without going into battle for her. And how could she stay here, anyway, with the woman threatening her like that?

  She started to shake. The woman might be lying, but she didn’t know that. What if she stayed here, standing her ground, and the Lady Sineag ordered something terrible to happen at Loughton Hall? Her mind started spiraling with all the dark possibilities. A fire could suddenly break out. Her parents’ food could be poisoned. Anything and everything was suddenly on the table.

  She couldn’t risk it. She just couldn’t. Her mouth went dry, thinking about her parents at risk.

  She stared at the woman, loathing her, more than she had ever loathed anyone in her life.

  “What kind of a person are you?” she whispered, quivering harder. “How can you just say things like that to get your own way?”

  Lady Sineag sighed, standing up. “My dear, I get what I want. It is as simple as that. It is nae even personal, ye ken. In another life, perhaps we might have been friends if the situation was different…”

  Roseann shook her head vehemently. She felt sick to her stomach.

  “I could never be friends with a person like you,” she said in a low voice. “Never!”

  Lady Sineag smiled slightly. “So, we are agreed, that ye shall leave Coirecrag castle, then?”

  Roseann glared at her. She didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction of winning like this. But what choice did she have? She just couldn’t risk anything happening to her home or to her family.

  Domhnall, she thought desperately, blinking back tears again. I have no choice but to leave you.

  She slowly stood up, facing the woman.

  “I agree,” she said slowly. “If I leave, then you promise not to do anything to my family or my home?”

  The lady nodded slowly. “Aye. But ye must leave without sayin’ a word to anyone. No farewells. And especially not to the Laird. Do ye agree?”

  Roseann sighed deeply. Her heart was so heavy she felt like she could barely breathe. “Yes. I agree.”

  Domhnall ran a hand through his hair distractedly, staring at the men across the table. His head had started to thump slightly, and he was vaguely aware that his stomach was churning with hunger.

  They had been locked in his study
for hours, going over strategies for the upcoming battle with Howard and his men. But without the Laird of Lios here, it was all conjecture, at this point. He simply didn’t know how many warriors he had.

  “Ambush,” growled Fearghas, banging his fist onto the table. “We should steal into their camp and slit their throats while they are sleepin’. The element of surprise…”

  MacCain rolled his eyes. “Ye are a dobber, Grannda! Their camp is growin’, by the day. More English are joining them.” He turned to Domhnall. “Our best bet is to draw them out with the Lios men, into a full-scale battle. And then the Gruem Dubh men should attack from the flank…”

  Domhnall sighed wearily. “We cannae ambush them and slit their throats while they sleep,” he said slowly. “All that King Edward will hear is that Scots have killed Englishmen without provocation, and then he will send reinforcements.”

  Fearghas stared at him disbelievingly. “They are renegades, Laird. They are nae operating under the King anymore!”

  “I ken that,” growled Domhnall. “But the English king doesnae need an excuse to spill Scottish blood. If we battle them as warriors, then we are only defending our lands, ye ken?”

  “They pillaged Keelieock!” said Fearghas, raising his voice. “The English king will understand that we are only defendin’ our other villages from similar attacks…”

  Domhnall sighed again, straightening. They needed to take a break. It was just going around in circles now, and nothing could be decided until they knew how many men they had at their disposal.

  “Take an hour, lads,” he said slowly. “Have some grub, and we will re-convene after it, ye ken.”

  The men slowly dispersed, walking out of the room. Domhnall stared after them. He was bone-weary after the unexpectedly late night. He had been forced to drink more than he wanted to. His men kept topping up his goblet to drink to his forthcoming marriage, and it would have been churlish to refuse.

  His heart clenched. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Roseann, after what the Lady Sineag had done. She had disappeared last night, and he had been too intoxicated to seek her out after the mead had finally stopped flowing. He had stumbled to his bed in an intoxicated stupor, passing out as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

  He walked slowly out of the study towards the kitchens. He needed food, just as much as any of the men. As he strode down the stairs, his eyes darted left and right, searching for her. But she was nowhere to be found.

  Roseann walked slowly into her bedchamber, gazing around as if in a dream. It all seemed slightly unreal now. Had she really just been threatened by the Lady Sineag to leave Coirecrag castle?

  Sighing, she walked to the window, peering out on the courtyard below. It was a hive of activity, as always. A tinker had just come through the castle gates, shouting out his wares for sale. One of the castle cooks was haggling with the old man over the price of a brass pot.

  Roseann smiled slightly as her heart tightened. She would no longer see this anymore. Life at Coirecrag would continue without her; she would be hundreds of miles away, with no knowledge of what was happening here. The thought was so painful that she stifled a sob, turning away from the window, unable to look at it anymore.

  In a fit of despair, she threw herself across the bed, punching the pillow. She didn’t want to leave Coirecrag. She didn’t want to leave Domhnall. But she had no choice, now. The Lady Sineag had forced her hand, well and truly.

  The lady had left the details of her flight from Coirecrag up to her; she had told her that if she left quickly, and without telling anyone at the castle what her intentions were, then she was free to decide. But she did make one specification.

  “It must be done within the next two days,” she had said, gazing at her with her cold blue eyes. “I am leaving Coirecrag to return to my own home, in preparation for the wedding, and I want ye out of here before I depart, ye ken.”

  Roseann rolled over onto her side, thinking about it.

  Two days. She had only two days before she must leave this place forever. And she couldn’t tell a single soul about her departure. She couldn’t explain to anyone that it hadn’t been her choice to go, or why she had left so abruptly.

  They will believe me a coward, she thought darkly. They will think that I have deserted the Laird in his time of need, or that I have chosen sides, and do not wish to align myself with someone who is about to spill English blood.

  The thought was so painful that she sobbed again, clutching her arms around her as if to ward it off. She didn’t want the people of Coirecrag to think badly of her, but they would. She couldn’t even tell Cormac or Mairead what she was doing. The boy would be hurt; she knew that he had grown to love her, just as she had grown to love him.

  And then there was Domhnall.

  The Laird of Gruem Dubh. The man who had stolen her heart so unexpectedly. The man who had shown her what it was to be a woman. The man who had awakened such violent passion within her.

  Her heart beat faster, just thinking about him. She pictured him in her mind, standing before her, tall and rugged, dressed in the pattern of his clan. His long wavy red hair and piercing green eyes…

  Abruptly, she started to squirm a little on the bed. Even thinking about him caused an involuntary reaction in her body. Despite her sorrow and despair, her hips were arching, just a little, with that curious hunger that always overwhelmed her when she was around him. And slowly, that wet warmth started to flood out of her. That wetness, that was just for him.

  She smiled through her tears. She had asked him about it once, as they had lain satiated in each other’s arms after lovemaking. She had turned to him and asked him why her body did this.

  He had trailed a finger along her collar bone, where the sweat still clung to her skin. His green eyes had been amused.

  “It is so ye can receive me,” he said, his mouth twitching. “If a woman doesnae have that wetness, then it can hurt her, ye ken? The wetness makes it more enjoyable for ye.”

  She had nodded. It made sense. Then she had smiled, staring down at his manhood, resting limply between his legs. She had reached out a hand and touched it lightly, causing him to groan slightly. Before her very eyes, it had started to change and grow.

  “It is the same as you, then,” she had said, stroking him gently as she stared at him in the eye. “If your manhood is not hard enough, you cannot come into me. The wetness is a welcome. We each have what the other needs…”

  She hadn’t been able to finish her sentence, for abruptly, he had pushed her back down on the bed, hot and urgent against her.

  Roseann gasped, thinking about that wild lovemaking. She was so aroused she twisted on the bed, aching with need.

  The thought that she would never make love with him again was simply unbearable.

  She sat up, staring around the bedchamber. Lady Sineag had told her that she wasn’t allowed to tell the Laird that she was leaving. She must skulk off like a thief in the night without saying even one word to him about her departure.

  The thought of it caused her so much pain that she gasped involuntarily. How could she leave here without speaking with him again? Without at least gazing into his beloved face one more time? Without even touching him…?

  Slowly, through her tears, she smiled. She was going to see the Laird of Greum Dubh, for one last time. She must see him for one last time. The need was so imperative that it was like a physical ache within her.

  She took a deep, ragged breath. If it was going to be the last time, then she would make very sure it would be a time to remember.

  22

  Domhnall walked swiftly down the hallway. It was late into the evening. He heard the soft hoot of an owl that had perched on one of the battlements. Its call seemed a haunting reminder of everything that was before him. Of the people who had been lost, and of the people who he might still lose if he didn’t make the right decisions.

  He stopped abruptly, leaning out of a still open window, breathing in the night air. This
was the first chance he had to reflect all day. He had been so busy that he had barely had time to scratch himself. He had even excused himself from the banquet hall for the evening meal, eating something at his desk, as he had pored over old maps of his lands.

  He had been searching for anything that might give him an advantage on the terrain that he knew so well—some of the old maps indicated secret tunnels, or old roads long out of use, that were merely tracks now. The English might be highly skilled in warfare, but they didn’t know the land as the Scots did. It was one potential advantage that he was determined to use if he could.