A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander

by Maddie MacKenna

  After about thirty minutes of cutting one another, Naomhan suddenly grabbed Stephen by his armed wrist and slapped him so hard across the face that he fell and released his sword to Naomhan.

  “I willnae slay ye but I need ye to allow me to go. It is the right thing,” Naomhan told him.

  “But ye would die,” Stephen begged him still. “Ye are not me enemy. Run, Naomhan, run.”

  “I have defeated ye. Ye have no choice. Would ye help me or wouldnae ye?”

  Stephen held his hand out and Naomhan helped him onto his feet.

  “I willnae go with ye. I willnae have that on my conscience. Ye have my sword so I cannae stop ye. All I can dae is warn ye and not let ye die as little as I can try. All I can tell ye is that the Queen’s men are everywhere. The farther from the palace they catch ye, the less likely it is that they take ye to Her Majesty. There is a path, however, that isnae so patrolled…” Stephen told Naomhan and hugged him for his final goodbye.

  Naomhan gave his cousin back his sword and walked away, headed for the foot of the mountain.

  “Naomhan,” Stephen called his name one last time and Naomhan looked back. “Ye never asked how the guards ken to look in the mountains.”

  “It didnae matter. Only ye, me, me faither, mother and Logan knew, and none of ye would talk. It was by chance. The mountains are always the best place to hide,” Naomhan answered.

  “Rose told them,” Stephen told him.

  For the second time that morning, Naomhan had been caught by surprise.

  Rose had been Naomhan’s love interest. Unlike most women, she had been better at hiding her attraction to him and that had driven him mad over her. He had been driven to win her heart more than anything else.

  Rose had been sweet, with breasts so pale that he had been a slave to them. She had been a timid woman but not so much when they were within closed doors. He had made her that way and had taken her innocence in the first instance. She had loved him and he had also loved. Though Rose had been quite a mysterious woman, one thing he had known about her, he had her love which bore loyalty to him.

  It made no sense that she would tell the guards about the mountain. The thought of it bothered him greatly as he descended the mountain but he knew Stephen would not lie to him. He tried to think out the circumstances around her confession. Perhaps she had been threatened, as well as her old mother, he told himself. But he needed to know for sure. So he decided that he was going to go by her house to look in her eyes. He had to know before he placed himself at the Queen’s mercy.

  True to Stephen’s words, there had been no guard on the path he had told him about. Disguising himself as much as he could, he made it through the day without calling attention to himself. At night, he covered as much ground as he could before finding a place to rest and stare up at the stars. Over the period of time he had to himself in the mountains, he had grown more acquainted with the heavenly bodies. Through them, he felt a link with his family and those he loved because he knew the same stars that looked down on him looked down on them, also.

  When morning came, he walked some more before he came to Rose’s home. She lived in a cottage with her mother in the woods. Looking around to be certain there was no one around, Naomhan walked towards her house. Sneaking in through her window as he used to when he had been a free man, he got into her house.

  She wasn’t in her bedroom, so he walked out into the rest of the house. He could hear the heavy snore of her mother as he walked past her room and came to the kitchen where he found Rose sweeping. Her face held shock when she saw him, as though she had seen a ghost. She just froze there, unmoving, until he opened his arms to her and she ran into them.

  Her arms squeezed him so tight that he had trouble breathing. He wanted to ask her if she had told on him but he couldn’t bring himself to as she was crying against his chest. His arms wrapped around her for he had missed her greatly.

  “I have betrayed ye, Naomhan. I told them—” He held her closer to his chest when she started to speak. He had come to hear this, hoping to challenge her for her wrongdoing. But seeing her and holding her frail form in his arms had stolen his will for vengeance or anger.

  “Ye daenae have to tell me,” he told her but she pulled away from him.

  “Ye should’nae have come. The Queen’s men are watching me. They ken ye would come. Soon, they will make their way through my door to take ye,” she told him. He stepped back from her, finding his anger again.

  “Why?” he asked her.

  “I had no choice. Believe that I loved ye but—” The sounds of hooves stopped her words. The guards were riding fast to them.

  “Just tell me why and I promise yer me forgiveness,” he told her, holding her arms tenderly. He wanted to make her know that he understood; that he did not doubt her love despite what she had done but he couldn’t because she held more guilt.

  There was more that she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t because she wanted to save him. It took a moment to realize that she was dragging him towards the back of the house and they were running into the woods together. The sounds of ranting men inside the cottage, not far enough behind them, gave his reason. He ran.

  They came to a clearing where there was another cottage and a horse was tied in front. “Take that horse and ride away. They will kill ye if they catch ye. There is a bounty on yer head. Even the people would take yer head to the Queen,” she told him.

  He grabbed her hand as she tried to run back. “Come away with me, Rose. Ye will be in trouble if ye return,” he begged her.

  “I cannae—” she pulled her hand from his grip “—I betrayed ye for me lover. I am sorry, Naomhan. I am safe, he will protect me, but he will kill ye, as would the guards. Go as far away as ye can. I only hope with time, ye will come to forgive me,” she said, as she began her run back to the cottage. Naomhan looked at her as she began to disappear gradually from his view.

  She loves another, he repeated the words as he turned back and headed towards the horse with a dwindled spirit.

  Soon, he was back on the road riding out of Scotland—for his family, for those he loved, and for his broken heart.

  3

  1690, England

  Naomhan had been calm enough to pick clothing that would not stand out before entering the new country, losing his kilt and sporran. It had taken him four days at the border trying to evade both the Scots and the English soldiers. It only dawned on him once he was on the soil of England that he was a man without an identity—by the feel of the ordinary clothing clinging to his skin—and country.

  England was different to Scotland. The air was different, lighter, and there weren’t as many high landscapes like in his homeland. The oddest thing he noticed about the country was the populace. England seemed more populated than Scotland. Back home, he could have ridden on his horse for hours, just him and the wind, but it was not so in England. He encountered people the farther he rode, but he could not stop riding until he was as far as he could get from the borders of Scotland.

  It was a strange land, so he could not simply wander into the woods to scavenge for fruits. He ventured into the towns whenever he was hungry and asked to do odd chores for food. A few times, he was lucky to find fighting bouts where he earned enough to buy himself meals, but he never stayed in a town long enough to become famous.

  In his third week, he was overcome with sickness and had to stop by a little town, the Protestant town of Embleton. He had enough to afford a medicine man but he had to find one first. The fever came and broke as it willed. That morning, he was strong enough to handle the reins of his horse but he knew the fever would overcome him again in a few hours. The easiest place to find a guide was always the market square.

  When he had almost arrived at the market, he saw three men gathered around a frightened old man.

  “Is somethin’ the matter, sir?” Naomhan bellowed to the man atop his horse. The four pairs of eyes fell on him.

  “I am not in trouble, thank you,�
� the old man said, trying to speak as calmly as he could. Naomhan knew he had not misread the fear in the old man’s eyes, which was a clear contrast against the menace in the eyes of the three younger men. He knew he could beat up the three men quite easily and easier even if he used his sword.

  “I have heard ye, sir, but—” he started to get off his horse “—I would need directions to yer town’s medicine man.”

  “The old man said there was no trouble. You should leave,” one of the three said, pulling out a knife.

  “What if I decide nae to?” He held out his arms to the three, daring them to come at him.

  “Please, you should go. I will handle this,” the older man pleaded. Naomhan wasn’t having any of it. He had been spoiling for a fight ever since he had left Scotland and had a lot of anger within himself to get rid of.

  The one with the knife charged at Naomhan. Naomhan dodged his swing and grabbed his hand when he was fully stretched—the seconds before he could right himself—and twisted the knife out of his hand, twisting his arm behind his back. He slapped the lanky man away and engaged the other two. They were easily beaten. With two beaten to the ground, he grabbed the liveliest of the trio by the neck and held him up.

  “Never beat on the helpless, ye hear me?” Naomhan asked the man who fiddled for his pockets. Naomhan just stared at the man, like a predator who had his prey against the wall. The man was already beaten and weak and would be too slow to harm him, so he wasn’t bothered.

  He saw the knife too late before it was thrust into his side. He dropped the wiggling man and fell onto his knees as the sun seemed to burn him hotter. The three men fled and the old man rushed to his side.

  “Do not pull out the knife,” he instructed Naomhan before screaming for help. “You will not die,” he kept assuring Naomhan. But Naomhan wanted nothing more than to pull it out. The old man frowned at him, scolding when he saw his hand on the knife.

  And for some unknown reason, Naomhan stopped. There was something about the man’s face that just prompted obedience from him. It was the last time he ever saw Father Damian Odell frown. The next time he awoke, he was in the Father’s house, being tended to by the priest himself.

  “You just rest, don’t move. The cut has been stitched together. You are a tough man to kill, I will give you that. The fever is another problem. But by God’s grace and help, I know we will conquer that also,” the man said, with a smile on his face. “Let me get you something to eat.”

  Naomhan stopped the man as he was about to get up.

  “Why didnae ye fight or run?” he asked the Father.

  Father Damian sat back down with a heavy sigh. “Violence is like a chain. It will continue unless someone stops it. Be it the wrongdoer or the one being wronged, one has to save the other. You should rest for the days to come.”

  But Naomhan didn’t rest. Many mornings, Father Damian would find Naomhan slumped by the gate or along the path towards the gate, helpless to make his way further because of the fever.

  “What do you seek out there?” Father Damian asked him one night while they shared supper.

  “I need to outrun my bloodlust, me thirst for vengeance. I cannae touch them now, so I have to run lest I turn back and do something stupid because I am a dobber,” Naomhan answered.

  “You cannot run away forever. You need a new purpose and you can find one here. I will make you an offer. If you stay here, you will have so much to do that you would lose your bloodlust,” Father Damian offered and Naomhan burst into laughter.

  “That makes no sense.”

  Over the next two years, it made sense to Naomhan and he took the last name ‘McDonald’. His bloodlust was gone and was replaced with a sense of duty as a deacon.

  During this time, Father Damian offered to help him send letters to his family in Scotland. He was a priest and thus, his letters were considerably safe. No one bothered to cast suspicious looks at a letter submitted by a priest. So his mother wrote to him at times, as did his brother, telling him of the things that went on at home. It kept him sane but it wasn’t easy.

  Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of the story.

  https://amzn.to/2Q2tVJt

  Thank you very much!

  Also by Maddie MacKenna

  Thank you for reading A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander!

  I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean the world to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!

  Some other best sellers of mine:

  Under a Highlander’s Spell

  Highlander's Sinful Desire

  Highlander's Hidden Destiny

  Highlander’s Untamed Bride

  Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full Amazon Book Catalogue HERE.

  I am so grateful that you are part of my journey as a published author! God bless you!

  Maddie MacKenna

  About the Author

  Maddie McKenna had always been passionate about Scotland. It all started with an old picture of her grandfather wearing a kilt and a sporran. She used to look at that picture and imagine stories taking place in the mysterious Highlands...

  When she visited Scotland for the very first time, it was love at first sight. Both the country’s breathtaking landscape, and the warmth and livelihood of the locals made her realize why her distinctive red hair was not the only thing that made her blend with them. She took her motherland’s memories back home to Minnesota, holding them forever in her heart while using them as an inspiration for her novels.

  Maddie McKenna has a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. She started writing articles for travel magazines but soon the romance world won her over. When she isn’t writing, Maddie loves painting and taking long walks with her hubby.

  Join Maddie in the unforgettable world of brave Highlanders and their bonnie lasses—a world full of passion, intrigues and steamy lovemaking, that will make you feel like you are part of the story yourself!