Highlander's Sinful Desire (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance)

by Maddie MacKenna

  Taran said, “Why did ye keep this secret from me?”

  She said, “Taran, there is more. Two weeks ago, my father sent word that he had arranged for me to be married. To that man . . . there . . Earl Strongbow.” She pointed at him.

  Taran glanced at Earl Strongbow, who was still leaning against the side of the wagon. Taran turned back to Rowena. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

  She continued. “I could not bear the idea. So I ran.”

  Earl Strongbow shouted from the wagon. “Take your hands off of her, Highlander!”

  Taran heard Strongbow’s order, but kept his eyes gazing into Rowena’s. “Save yer breath! Ye’ve nay authority here, man!”

  Rowena said to Taran, “I need to speak with my father.” She turned to go. Taran told Malcolm, “Keep yer eyes open. Watch me back.”

  They walked together toward the wagon. They could see Earl Strongbow’s expression screwing up with rage as they neared. He threw his oozing, bandaged thigh over the wagon side, and groaned. Rowena noticed it and caught the unmistakable smell of infection.

  Taran saw him make a move, too, and pointed his sword at his torso. “Hold yerself right there! Dae nae make another move or ye’ll die.”

  Earl Strongbow froze. He grimaced as he pulled his leg back into the wagon and leaned on the side.

  Rowena rounded the rear where her father was. She pulled herself up on the back of the wagon and embraced him. “What have you done to your leg?”

  He said, “Tis’a minor fracture. Mother Lenora tended to it. Nothing to worry about. But what of you? Why have you defied me?”

  “Father, I wanted nothing more than to become a nun. I love you. And I love serving God. When Mother Lenora said you had arranged for me to marry Earl Strongbow, I felt as if the world had crashed down around me.”

  Lord Kensley said, “I see. Do you understand that the arrangement I made is to afford you the best life you can have?”

  “Is it, Father? Is it really?” Rowena’s eyes flashed at her father. “I rather suspect the ‘arrangement’ as you call it was to afford you and Earl Strongbow the best lives you can have.”

  “It will work for all of our benefit, daughter.”

  Earl Strongbow could not stand by in silence any longer. It was humiliating having the impertinent young Rowena casting him aside this way. She had no right to do it—she was bound by the agreement her father made. He scolded her. “Lady Rowena. You have no say in this matter. The law authorizes your father to give you away to whomsoever he chooses.”

  She looked at him with icy cold eyes but said nothing. He was correct about the law, and she knew it.

  At that moment, Earl Strongbow’s eyes fluttered. He began to sway, and then he collapsed onto the floor of the wagon. Rowena gasped, then hopped onto the wagon and peered into his face. She could see his face was flush with fever and it felt very hot. As she bent over him, she could smell the putrefaction coming from his thigh wound. She unwrapped the bandage and nearly wretched at the sight.

  “This wound is badly infected.” She turned to Taran and said, “Taran, Malcolm, get him inside to an empty room and I will treat it. Please. He will die out here.”

  Malcolm said, “Let him die. So what? He’s nothin’ but trouble.”

  “Nay,” Taran said. “I cannae have a Sassenach laird die on me land if I could have saved him. Think of the war it could bring here. Help me get him inside. Maybe Rowena can save him. She saved me.” He glanced at her and winked.

  * * *

  Rowena had treated a variety of infected wounds back at St. Martha’s. She knew too well that infections were a common health threat and could quickly result in death if not properly treated. Most people believed that inducing bleeding, either with leeches or by cutting open a vein, would treat an infection, but the sisters at St. Martha’s did not follow that course of treatment. Instead, they focused on regularly cleaning the wound as thoroughly as possible, bandaging it with antiseptic material, and changing the bandages daily.

  Earl Strongbow’s condition was visibly improved by the next morning. For the next three days, Earl Strongbow received medical treatment that Rowena had learned from the sisters of St. Martha’s. Her herbal remedies combined with the wine from Taran’s cellar began to clear up the infection almost immediately.

  During his treatment, Taran allowed him to occupy a large spare room in the castle. Rowena’s father shared the room with Earl Strongbow as they both recovered from their injuries under Rowena’s oversight. On Taran’s orders, two of his soldiers guarded the room and would not allow either one of the Englishmen to leave. The knights had been allowed to camp on the castle grounds while the two earls recovered enough to make the journey back to England.

  By the third day, Earl Strongbow’s leg had begun to heal well, and he no longer had a fever. Rowena came into their room with a servant bearing the men’s supper on a tray. With a roar, Earl Strongbow knocked the tray to the floor. “Enough! Enough of this lying about! I demand to be released immediately!”

  Earl Strongbow got up and began punching the servant. Rowena shrieked. On hearing all of the commotion, Taran’s guards charged into the room, swords drawn. “Silence!” They commanded. “Control yerself Earl Strongbow or we will tie ye up!”

  Earl Strongbow would not submit. “How dare you hold us prisoner?!”

  One of the guards drew back a fist and punched Earl Strongbow in the gut. “Ooofff!” He groaned, doubled-over to catch his breath.

  “Shut yer mouth or we’ll knock yer teeth out of yer head!”

  Earl Strongbow sat down on the edge of his bed and shouted, “You will pay for this! You will all pay for this! Summon your Lord Taran, immediately, I command you!”

  One of the guards went to find Taran while Rowena cleaned up the food from the floor. Her father touched her arm and said, “Rowena, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  She took his hand. “Father, the Lord says we must forgive all who wrong us. Of course I forgive you. I love you!”

  Taran burst into the room with Malcolm and the guards behind him.

  “What do ye want with me, Strongbow?” Taran asked.

  “I demand that you release us immediately, Highlander! You have no right to keep us imprisoned here!”

  Taran was quick to respond. “Is that so? Ye have nay right to be on me land! I’m tellin’ ye, I’ll release ye provided that ye take yer men and get out of here right this moment! In fact, me knights will escort ye back to the border.”

  Earl Strongbow did not expect that response. He anticipated that Taran would try to hold them all against their will for a ransom payment of some sort from King Richard.

  Earl Strongbow stood up and began gathering his boots and weapons. “Get up, Lord Kensley. We’re leaving.” To Rowena, he said, “Get your things. You’re coming with me.”

  Rowena gasped. “No, please!”

  Earl Strongbow grabbed her arm. “Like I told you before, you have no say in this matter! Now get moving!”

  Taran stepped forward and shoved Earl Strongbow back onto the bed. In a threatening voice, Taran admonished him. “But I have a say in this matter. Lady Rowena belongs to me now. Whatever arrangement ye two gentlemen have made between yerselves has no relevance here. Ye’re in Scotland.”

  Earl Strongbow grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet. Malcolm, along with Taran’s guards lunged forward, but Taran held up a fist, signaling them to stop.

  Taran stood tall and jutted his finely chiseled chin at Earl Strongbow. “I gave ye a chance to leave here in peace. I gave ye refuge while ye were sick. Instead of showin’ yer gratitude for what we done for ye, ye threaten me men and ye lay claim to me lass. Ye’re a menace to the land.”

  Earl Strongbow held his ground. “I challenge you to a duel, Taran.

  Taran answered defiantly. “If it’s a duel ye want, Strongbow, it’s a duel ye will have! Name the time and place!”

  “Dawn. In two days’ time. On the bridge.
It’ll be my pleasure to kill you in front of your own castle.”

  Taran said, “Count on it.”

  Earl Strongbow said, “And Taran, prepare to die.” He snickered. He presumed that Taran was not aware that Earl Strongbow was, if nothing else, one of the most accomplished swordsmen in England.

  34

  The messenger kept his large, able-bodied stallion on the main roads from St. Martha’s back to the castle Frenich. On her sturdy but slow palfrey, Sister Prudence kept up as well as she could. She had once been a skilled horsewoman, but those were many years ago. Now she was rusty, stiff, and grateful that her mount was level-headed.

  The trip should have taken them only three days, but it took them four. They slept in barns alongside the sheep and horses, as neither of them had the money to pay for a room. Sister Prudence had brought plenty of bread and fruit from St. Martha’s kitchen, and that is all they had to eat on the road.

  By the time they arrived at Frenich, both of them were exhausted, as were their horses. Sister Prudence could hardly walk and the sun was low. Still, she made the messenger stop in the lane when the castle came into view. The setting sun cast a glow on the high stone walls and reflected off of the moat. The clouds, backlit by the sun, shimmered in halos of light.

  “It’s breathtaking, is it nae?” She asked.

  The messenger shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  As they approached the castle bridge, two guards came out of the keep to greet them. They recognized Taran’s messenger. “Elae. Been gone a while this time.”

  “Aye,” the messenger said.

  “I’ll let Taran ken ye’re here. Wait inside the keep.”

  Sister Prudence walked in a daze through the castle entrance. She looked at every window and ran her hands along the stone walls. She spotted letters carved into a window sill and traced them with her fingers. Inside the doorway, they stood in the vestibule. She studied everything.

  The messenger said, “Ye ever been inside a place like this?”

  Sister Prudence gave him a vague, far away smile and said, “Aye . . . . A long time ago.”

  She peered into the passageway leading to the great hall. On the far side, she could see a fire burning in the hearth, with kettles and servants silhouetted in front of it. Overhead, chandeliers of candles hung from the ceiling.

  Then a figure of a man approached from the hall. Sister Prudence could not see his face in the dim light. But she recognized his form. Then she heard his voice for the first time in almost ten years. She stepped into the shadows so her own face would be hidden.

  The man was Taran. “Elae, laddie. Ye’re late getting’ back. Did ye run into trouble?” He asked the messenger.

  The messenger said, “Nay, but had to run a detour. Had to take a message to St. Martha’s in Jarrow. Mother Philomena said ye would nae mind.” He motioned to Sister Prudence, still standing in the evening shadows trying to conceal her face. “The sister here wanted to come along.”

  Taran looked astonished. “St. Martha’s! This cannae be a coincidence. Ye’re here lookin’ for Sister Rowena?”

  Sister Prudence lifted her face and looked right at Taran. What a handsome man he had become since she last saw him. “Taran. . . dae ye nae recognize me?”

  Taran squinted at her, searching her face. He shook his head slowly, trying to remember. She resembled someone he knew a long time ago but could nae place her face. Then it began to dawn on him who it was.

  She slipped the veils off of her head. Her rich dark red hair, now shot with gray strands, fell to her shoulders. It was the same color as Taran’s. She saw his expression change from confused to wonderment as he began to realize who she was.

  “F-f-fiona? “ He asked.

  Sister Prudence smiled wide, tears filled her eyes. She nodded, so filled with emotion was she that she was unable to speak. She reached out and tenderly touched his cheek.

  “Fiona!” Taran shouted, and threw his arms around her. They embraced each other for a long, long time, sobbing with joy and disbelief. One of his long lost sisters had come home.

  Taran escorted Sister Prudence into the hall. It was empty now except for the servants tidying up. He instructed someone to bring Fiona some bread and wine, and another servant to go find Auntie Lili and Rowena and bring them to the hall.

  As brother and sister celebrated their reunion, Auntie Lili and Rowena came through the door.

  As soon as Rowena saw Sister Prudence in the great hall, she shrieked, “Sister Prudence! Oh, my Lord, Sister Prudence!” She rushed to her good friend and embraced her firmly. “What brings you here?”

  “Tis’ a bit of a long story, Sister! Never mind that. What a miracle it is to see ye here. Ye’re in good hands, here with me brother, Taran!”

  “What!” Rowena exclaimed. “Taran is your brother?”

  Sister Prudence laughed. “Aye, he is.”

  Auntie Lili squeezed between the three of them. “Me Laird! Fiona! Is that really ye? By God’s hands, let me touch ye, child!”

  Sister Prudence buried her face in Auntie Lili’s shoulder. “Tis’ so wonderful to see ye, Auntie Lili! Tis’ been so long!”

  Auntie Lili said, “Ye must tell us what happened to ye. All these years, me word!”

  Rowena looked back and forth between the two. “It’s a miracle, indeed Sister Prudence!”

  Taran looked confused. “Sister Prudence? Is that what ye call her now?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” Rowena said.

  “This is me sister. Her name is Fiona.”

  Sister Prudence said, “I changed me name when I became a nun, Taran. I did nae want me betrothed to ever find me. Tell me, is he still livin’?”

  “Last I ken he was livin’ in Edinburgh. I have nae heard of him in many years,” Taran said. Then he went on. “Fiona, I wish ye would have told me where ye were. I missed ye so. I thought ye had been taken by the English and were dead!” Taran gave his older sister another warm embrace.

  One of the servants brought them each a cup of hot mead. They sat at the supper table reminiscing and getting reacquainted for the next hour. Auntie Lili was just about to excuse herself to retire to her chamber for the night when the gate keep bustled in.

  “Me Laird,” he said to Taran. “Ye have a visitor at the gate. She says ye are nae expectin’ her, but she believes ye will want to see her.”

  “What is her name?”

  “Mother Philomena, the abbess of St. Columba’s, from the Isle of Iona. Shall I let her in?”

  Sister Prudence and Rowena both jumped up at the same time. Rowena exclaimed, “Mother Philomena! Here!”

  Sister Prudence said, “Aye! Aye! By all means let her in!”

  Taran and Auntie Lili looked at the two women with confusion. Taran said, “What is goin’ on here?”

  Rowena said, “I wrote Mother Philomena, remember? The first night I was here. We sent the ring to her.”

  Taran remembered that. “But did ye tell her where ye are?”

  Rowena frowned. “No, as a matter of fact I did not. I suppose your messenger told her?”

  Sister Prudence then said, “Nay. She wrote to me. She said it was urgent that I come here as soon as possible. Dae ye ken why?”

  Taran shook his head. Auntie Lili said, “I dae nae ken anythin’ about what we’re talkin’ about.”

  Taran told the gatekeeper to show Mother Philomena in. Moments later, she appeared in the great hall entry. The resemblance between her, Sister Prudence and Taran was unmistakable. They shared the same dark red hair, twinkling green eyes, and soft freckling across their noses and cheeks.

  Sister Prudence stood, and the two sisters locked tear-filled eyes. “Elsbeth!” Sister Prudence cried, and ran to Mother Philomena and threw her arms around her.

  “Fiona! Fiona, me dear sister! I’m so glad ye could come!” The sisters held each other for several moments.

  For a moment, Taran was stunned at the sight of Mother Philomena. He slowly got to his feet,
watching the two women greet each other. The two sisters. His two sisters. The sisters that he thought had been kidnapped and lost forever many years ago on their wedding day.

  “Elsbeth? Is that ye, too?” He asked. Auntie Lili was now on her feet, too. They were both so overwhelmed with joy and confusion that they could hardly speak.

  Mother Philomena looked at Taran and Sister Prudence with a glowing smile. “Aye. Aye, tis’ me! Tis me, finally, I have come home!”