From the moment he first sees Sela Seton, Connor Grant is drawn to the woman known as the Ice Queen. Although his cousins assume she’s as guilty as the men she serves, the unscrupulous smugglers of the Channel of Dubh, Connor is convinced she’s being coerced. His mother was abused and controlled, and he suspects the same is true of Sela.
For five years, Sela has known only misery, with one exception: her sweet daughter, Claray. But her love for her bairn has been used against her in the worst way possible—the men who run the Channel use Claray to ensure Sela does their bidding. The last thing she’s liable to do is trust a man, any man, let alone fall in love with one. But Connor Grant is the son of the great Alexander Grant, and he's every bit as fierce, noble, and protective as his sire.
If Sela helps Connor and his cousins, they stand a chance at crushing the nefarious Channel of Dubh once and for all. But what does the future hold for Sela and Connor if they succeed? Is a second chance at life possible for someone who’s been forced to do horrible things?
Table of Contents
Family Tree
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Other Novels By
About the Author
To the reader
This is one of my favorites.
I hope it will be one of yours, too.
THE GRANTS AND RAMSAYS IN THE 1280s
GRANTS
LAIRD ALEXANDER GRANT and wife, MADDIE
John (Jake) and wife, Aline
James (Jamie) and wife, Gracie
Kyla and husband, Finlay
Connor
Elizabeth
Maeve (adopted)
BRENNA GRANT and husband, QUADE RAMSAY
Torrian (Quade’s son from his first marriage) and wife, Heather—daughter, Nellie (Heather’s daughter from a previous relationship) and son, Lachlan
Lily (Quade’s daughter from his first marriage) and husband, Kyle—twin daughters, Lise and Liliana
Bethia and husband, Donnan—son, Drystan
Gregor
Jennet
Geva (adopted)
Emma (adopted)
ROBBIE GRANT and wife, CARALYN
Ashlyn (Caralyn’s daughter from a previous relationship) and husband, Magnus—daughter, Ishbel
Gracie (Caralyn’s daughter from a previous relationship) and husband, Jamie
Rodric (Roddy) and wife, Rose
Padraig
BRODIE GRANT and wife, CELESTINA
Loki (adopted) and wife, Arabella—sons, Kenzie (adopted) and Lucas, daughter, Ami (adopted)
Braden and wife, Cairstine—son, Steenie (Cairstine’s son from previous relationship)
Catriona
Alison
JENNIE GRANT and husband, AEDAN CAMERON
Riley
Tara
Brin
RAMSAYS
QUADE RAMSAY and wife, BRENNA GRANT (see above)
LOGAN RAMSAY and wife, GWYNETH
Molly (adopted) and husband, Tormod
Maggie (adopted) and husband, Will
Sorcha and husband, Cailean
Gavin and wife, Merewen
Brigid
Simone (adopted)
Beatris (adopted)
MICHEIL RAMSAY and wife, DIANA
David and wife, Anna
Daniel and wife, Constance
Crisly (adopted)
Mariana (adopted)
AVELINA RAMSAY and DREW MENZIE
Elyse
Tad
Tomag
Maitland
Chapter One
“Stop that woman!”
Connor Grant cursed because the small crowd in front of him ignored his plea. Hellfire, but he’d been searching for the woman with that white-blonde hair for the past day. He’d been up and down every street in South Berwick to no avail. Sela, it seemed, could be elusive when she wished.
He shoved the men out of his way, easy since he was at least a head taller than all of them. His sire had taught him that while it was best to keep a cool head, certain situations called for a show of strength. His height and bulk gave him an advantage, and he used it now, pushing bystanders out of the way in his haste to get to Sela. He was determined not to lose her this time.
Reaching the end of the street, he cursed again.
She had disappeared.
“Thorn!”
He spun around, searching for his wee friend or squire, as he preferred to be called. “Where the hell are you, Thorn?”
The small, dark-haired lad appeared out of the crowd and stared up at him with a worshipful look that humbled him. “What next, my lord?”
He hated it when the eight-year-old addressed him that way, but since he was in such haste, he allowed it. Nothing mattered as much as finding Sela. “Find the blonde woman. She was just ahead of us.”
Thorn took a quick glance and immediately pointed to the left. “You mean that one?” She’d just darted out from behind a group of bystanders.
“God’s blood, but she rankles me,” he said, biting his tongue against a litany of curses. “Aye, that one. Follow her.”
He took off toward Sela, knowing Thorn would be right behind him.
They ran and ran until Connor thought his chest would explode. She’d glanced back at them twice, hurrying her steps each time—which meant he and Thorn had needed to do the same. If only he could convince her to run toward him instead of away from him, but her expression was wary.
She moved around the corner of an alehouse, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If she intended to enter the building, he’d be able to catch up with her.
But she fooled him again. He stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner—the long alley next to the alehouse was empty. Before he could turn around, he was set upon from behind by five men. He kicked two of them and punched another two out cold, but there were too many and he couldn’t unsheathe his sword fast enough. Five men wrestled him to the ground, and although he managed to stab two of them with the dagger from his boot, the weapon was knocked out of his hand as his face hit the ground. His hands were yanked behind him.
A moment later, tightly bound, he heard a young voice call out to him, “Master, they’re kidnapping me. The Dubh men. I’m on a brown horse heading north.” Thorn’s voice fell away as the distance between them increased. “Help me, Connor!”
A sick feeling welled inside him, but he couldn’t do anything. The men who’d ambushed him continued to punch and kick him, laughing as they did so. After a time, they walked off, one of them saying, “Not bad for one man, but you cannot fight a dozen, can you?”
The bastards could steal lads and lassies in the middle of town, and no one cared enough to stop them. They probably handed out gold coins to all the vendors who promised to keep their mouth shut about what they saw.
Their world had surely changed for the worse, and it was up
to Connor and his cousins to set it to rights.
A rage set on him that he wished to let loose, but he thought of another piece of advice his sire had given him: “When you’ve gotten yourself in trouble, ’tis time to set the emotion far away.” His sire was right. Forcing himself to tamp down his fury, he started working on the rope binding his hands.
To his delight, his outlook changed abruptly.
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” His cousin Roddy jumped off his horse and rushed to his side, pulling out a dagger to cut his bindings. His cousins had caught up. They’d all been patrolling the city together, looking for signs of unlawful activity, when Connor and Thorn had caught sight of Sela. She’d ducked into the market, making it impossible for him to follow her on horseback, and so they’d jumped down and gone off in pursuit of her. There’d been no time to inform the others. “Did not think I’d ever see the day you’d be beaten,” Roddy continued.
“Save the taunting for later,” he grumbled, rubbing his hands after the rope fell away.
Their cousin Braden rode up behind Roddy, his eyes wide with surprise when he caught sight of Connor’s injuries.
“Stay on your horse, Braden. Channel men kidnapped Thorn,” he said. “We have to get him back. Now.” A quick search of the area turned up his sword, and to his surprise, Midnight Moon trotted out from behind Braden.
“Many thanks to you, Braden,” he said, knowing his loyal stallion would not have accompanied just anyone.
Once they were all mounted, Connor pointed north. “He yelled out the direction they were taking him while they pounded on me.”
“How many?” Braden asked.
“Around a dozen.” They left the alley, entering the chaos of the main thoroughfare. It was market day, and everywhere Connor looked there were booths selling fresh fish, pastries, and ale, each of them crowded by customers.
“Your sire was right,” Braden said, echoing his thoughts. “South Berwick is much busier than Edinburgh or Inverness. Out of my way!” he bellowed at the throng of people.
Connor’s horse was such a magnificent beast that the onlookers stepped out of his way quickly, which pleased him because he didn’t wish to worry about trampling bairns under the black horse’s powerful hooves.
Accustomed to patrolling Grant land together, the cousins settled into their usual fast pace. Once they cleared the crowd, they soon caught up to the group of thieves. South Berwick drew many during market day, but once outside the busiest area, the crowd thinned quickly.
They were the only ones on this particular path, which made Connor wonder where they were taking Thorn. The Channel’s quarters outside of Berwick must be well isolated.
“Kill the bastards,” the one carrying Thorn yelled. The laddie whooped—the Grant war whoop, which Connor had taught him on the way to Berwick—and promptly bit the man’s hand. “Ow, you wee bastard!” Unfortunately, the villain kept a tight hold on Thorn and maneuvered away from the Grants, putting several other men in front of him.
Braden, Roddy, and Connor spread out, quickly surrounding the group. All three of the cousins had learned from a young age to swing their swords from one side of the horse to the other, something their opponents could not do. The Grants fought hard, squeezing their horses forward, their method crushing their enemies. Metal clashed, blood flew, and bodies fell screaming off horses. Finally, Connor made his way to Thorn’s kidnapper, who’d retreated to the back of the group. The man took one look at him, hopped to the ground, and ran as fast as his legs would take him.
Connor plucked the lad off the horse and settled Thorn in front of him in the saddle. Once they had the lad, they galloped hard back toward Berwick. A couple of the thieves had recovered enough to follow them, but they couldn’t match the pace of their war horses.
“You are the best fighter ever, my lord!” Thorn shouted, cheering the victory.
Connor couldn’t help but grin at the lad’s cheekiness. “’Tis not me alone, lad. My cousins and I were trained by our sires, and we’ve practiced many moons together. Now we fight like a team.”
“Aye,” Roddy said with a grin, “and those fools who kidnapped you did not even attempt to work together.”
Braden chuckled. “’Tis proof the English have not yet learned how to fight.”
Thorn asked, “Will you teach me someday?”
“Aye,” Connor said, enjoying the lad’s exuberance. “But you must work hard first.”
“I will. I promise. As soon as I get my own sword, I’ll practice with the three of you.”
When they were no longer being followed, they turned into a clearing and dismounted to decide on their next activity.
“Thorn, you are hale?” Connor asked, still slightly out of breath from the battle. “No wounds?”
“Aye, my thanks for saving me. The Dubh men would have sold me. They…” he paused, finally taking a breath.
Connor put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Slow down, lad. We’ll not allow them to take you again. ’Twas my fault for leaving you alone.”
Braden took a swig of ale from his skin, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then asked, “Why’d you go off alone with the lad, Connor? I’ve not seen you move that quickly before, even in battle. I turned around and all I saw was your back.”
Roddy nodded his agreement. “What could have been so important?”
“Not what,” Braden said, “but whom? Who could make you leave without assistance? I think we know the answer.”
Thorn, quick to defend his master, said, “But we saw her. We saw Sela. She looked back at us, then disappeared into a big crowd of people, right in the middle of the market vendors. We had to follow her.”
“Thorn, did you ever see her when you were taken captive? Was she with any of those men?” Connor asked.
“Nay, she was not with us, but I heard them. I spied and I know where she is.” The lad took on the self-important look he often wore when he thought of himself as his namesake—the son of Thor. An orphan, Thorn prided himself on his speed and deftness. He and his wee friend Nari had been living just outside of Edinburgh, hungry and destitute, when Connor and Gregor, another cousin, had stumbled upon them. The lads had quickly agreed to help them with their cause: ending the Channel of Dubh, the group of smugglers who stole lasses and lads and sent them across the waters.
The Grant and Ramsay cousins had been fighting the Channel for nearly a year now, and the end was finally nigh. In Edinburgh, they’d discovered one last shipment was being planned—a massive one—and it was going through Berwick. Gregor and Nari had stayed behind in Edinburgh, waiting for more help to arrive from the Band of Cousins, while Connor and the others had come straight to Berwick. Connor had also been driven by another motivation. It was an open secret among the cousins that he had a fascination with Sela. She’d been taken there under duress, and he’d followed.
Connor was convinced Sela knew the secrets of the Channel, and although she had worked with them in the past, he suspected she had been coerced. The way she’d been brought to Berwick—bound—seemed to confirm it, although she was free now. She’d played a part in this ambush, but again, he doubted she’d been a willing participant. The looks she’d given him—which had clearly read go away—seemed to support that.
“Well done, lad. Where is she?” Connor got excited for a moment, then reminded himself this was a young boy, not an adult, so the explanation may not be as useful as he hoped.
“In a castle.”
He groaned and massaged his forehead. How many castles were there in all of Scotland and England? Too many to search.
Thorn continued, “The big one by the water in Berwick.”
Connor smiled because the lad had just helped their search tremendously. “Now that’s helpful.”
“Does he mean the castle that was built by King Edward?” Braden asked.
“Aye, they said he’s letting them use it.”
Surely the English king couldn’t know what he was permitting, b
ut Connor could not focus on that just yet. Had the lad learned the names of the leaders of the Channel of Dubh, the bastards who stole lads and lasses and sold them across the water?
Roddy spoke at the same time as Connor. “Them, who?”
Braden, apparently as anxious for the information as Roddy and Connor, said, “Out with it, lad, tell us exactly what you heard. Who’d they say was at the castle?”
“Those two bastards.”
***
Sela sat in a chair in the solar, waiting for Guy and Dee, the leaders of the Channel of Dubh, to speak with her. She’d been given strict instructions about what she was to do after she completed her assignment. There was to be no tarrying around the place where the lad had been taken. She was to return to the castle immediately once the men had accomplished their objective.
Guy and Dee wished to crush the band of Highlanders who’d successfully crushed their operation in Inverness and elsewhere in Scotland, and Connor Grant was the tallest, strongest member of the group. The most handsome, too, although Sela didn’t wish to think of him that way. When he’d shown up in Berwick, Guy and Dee had been adamant that the time had come to stop him and the others.
Sela had hoped with all her heart that Connor and his wee friend would avoid the kidnapping scheme, which had been designed to lure Connor out of the city—and her heart had sunk when the lad had instead been captured.
And yet, according to the rumblings she’d heard, Connor had somehow come out ahead. He’d saved himself and the boy.
If only she trusted Connor Grant could save her.
She wanted no part of the Channel of Dubh, but they wielded an impossible power over her—one that meant they could coerce her to do anything.
Anything.
Although Guy and Dee had always been wicked men, they’d only developed their current operation—the Channel of Dubh—a year ago. Sela had been sent to Inverness to handle the women they’d taken captive, women who were forced to fight, or whore, for money they would never see. She’d been put in charge of the whole operation, and much to her shame, she’d excelled at convincing the lasses to do her bidding.
Highland Brawn (The Band of Cousins Book 8) Page 1