The Highlander's Fiery Bride: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

He could see his sister’s eyes run over Magdalene’s bruised face and her eyes softened. “Welcome to our home, Magdalene.”

  Relieved, Angus gestured for a stable boy to come over and take their horses. He still had his hand on Magdalene’s lower back as they entered the front of the fortress. From the corner of his eye, he saw Magdalene look up in wonder at the massive iron chandelier hanging there and the large shield with two massive swords crossed over it, nailed to the far wall.

  “Me grandfaither’s shield and swords,” Angus explained to her as they walked past it. “He was able to fight with two hands and gained the name Camulos, a war-god, till the day he died. He told his son, me Faither, to place his swords in his hands as he died and then, when he passed, to put them right there.”

  “Why?” Magdalene asked.

  Ailsa giggled. “To scare our men into acting right. He swore that his spirit would haunt any soldier of ours who dinnae do his best in guarding us. He loved battle, Magdalene, he even played war games with us as children—well, Angus and Malcolm. I was too young for such things.”

  “Oh,” Magdalene went quiet. Angus kept shooting concerned looks at her while ignoring the piercing ones he was getting from Ailsa.

  They crossed the great hall and there he stopped. “Ailsa, where is Mother?”

  “Oi!” The loud yell of his brother Malcolm’s voice echoed through the room, only to make Magdalene flinch. Instantly, Angus was cross. He had not gotten over Malcolm’s foolish attempt to go storm the fire witch’s stronghold and now that he had made Magdalene nervous, Malcolm was adding more ire to his fire. “Who’s this?”

  “None of yer business,” Angus said darkly before Magdalene’s hand rested on his arm and she spoke.

  “Magdalene Crompton…you must be Malcolm,” Magdalene said quietly.

  The young Scot’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline and his blue eyes swung from one to the other. “Ye brought a Sassenach home? Eh, Angus, I kent ye went to Edina to get some knowledge of another woman, nae come home with a different one and an Englisher, even more.”

  “Which woman?” Magdalene asked but Angus brushed her off.

  “Nae of yer concern, lass,” Angus said and glared at Malcolm. “And ye need to keep yer gob shut. Where’s Mother?”

  “Right here,” the soft voice of Lady Isobel came from behind them. Angus spun to see his mother coming closer, her eyes loaded with the same inquisitiveness his brother and sister had. “And who do we have here?”

  “Mother, this is Magdalene Crompton,” Angus said. “Lass, this is my Mother, Lady Isobel Williamson.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Magdalene said. “Pleased to meet you all.”

  Lady Isobel’s eyes went to his as he said, “Mother, if you would, please find a chamber for Magdalene, give her a bath and some of your healing salve. I’ll explain all ye need to ken soon, thank ye.”

  “Of course,” the lady said with a smile, too large and knowing for Angus’ comfort. “Follow me, darling.”

  Darling?

  Angus watched her walk away from him with a strange feeling settling in his chest. It felt downright wrong to have Magdalene away from him, knowing the closeness they had forged in the last few days. He turned away, deliberately avoiding the looks of his sister and brother. He had to speak with his council as soon as possible to discuss what he had learned on his trip to Edina. He only hoped Magdalene would be comfortable while he was busy.

  “So…that’s her, eh,” Malcolm grinned at him, eyebrows waggling. “Is she yer new wife…or yer new plaything?”

  New wife…or plaything.

  “I dinnae have playthings,” Angus said tightly while moving off. But wife…well…

  Chapter 11

  The promise of a warm bath sounded like heaven on earth as far as Magdalene was concerned. Angus’ mother, Lady Isobel, had taken her to a room that was large and spacious.

  The bed was wide, resting on blocks to keep vermin from crawling up. A large hearth was dug out in one wall, and two chairs sat aside each other bookending a small table between them. A wooden chest with latches was pushed up to a wall and beside it was a screen, probably hiding a bathing tub from the room.

  “Here ye go, darling,” Lady Isobel said and Magdalene could feel a striking similarity between Angus’ mother and hers, one of strength. She knew where her mother’s strength came from—prayer—but she was not sure of Lady Isobel’s source.

  “Thank you,” she said, while going to the nearest chair and sinking into it with now unsteady legs. Her body was suddenly so weak.

  Lady Isobel sat in the other and said, rather matter-of-factly, “Me son, he saved ye from something, didn’t he?”

  Taken aback, Magdalene was very hesitant to answer in case there was condemnation but she saw only understanding in the lady’s eyes. “He did, and I cannot be more grateful for it.”

  “Ah, that’s Angus for ye,” Lady Isobel smiled. “I raised him right.”

  Magdalene’s hands were on her lap and so were her eyes, “You did, thank you. You’re…you’re not going to ask me how?”

  “Nae if yer nae ready to speak of it,” Lady Isobel said calmly. “Darling, Angus is like his Faither, he cannae see a woman in distress and nae act. But chivalry is nae rare in our home. I cannot say for all of Scotland but the Williamson men are raised to be generous to all women-folk.”

  “I have to agree,” Magdalene added. “Angus was very generous.”

  Lady Isobel stood, “I’ll send for some water for ye to bathe and some of me own clothes until we can get ye some of yers.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Lady Isobel laughed. “Even though me son might have made a claim on ye by making ye wear his clothes, I ken something more ladylike is in order, aye? And I’ll send up some food, too. I think Cook made a batch of fruit pies this morning. Do you like sweets, darling?”

  “Yes, I do,” Magdalene said, knowing it was rude to refuse what was being so generously offered. “Thank you.”

  A soft hand was pressed on her head, “I’ll be back soon.”

  The closing door made the reality of her situation come into crystal-clear focus. She had made it to Scotland unharmed, thanks to Angus, and was now resting in his home. She reached out and touched it all, feeling the rough wood of the chair and the cold stone under her feet, but it still felt like a dream.

  How far she had come—from being frightened and bracing for rape by two predators, to know what a warm, caring kiss felt like, what safety resting in warm arms felt like, and being offered a temporary home by the man who had saved her. It felt like a myth, a fantasy tale.

  She pushed herself to her feet and went to the windows covered with furs. Parting the thick cloth, she looked out far to see land. Large spates of land, rising up in gentle knolls to the west and thick forest to the east. Her eyes then dipped to see an inner courtyard, littered with wooden swords and other training machinery while young men, soldiers-in-training, she supposed, came around and picked them up.

  She felt a sudden dip in her spirit, a deep feeling of missing her mother came upon her. She had run away from home to escape a loveless marriage by her Uncle. Now, this feeling with Angus was making her wonder if she had been wrong in doing so. Angus had been just a stranger to her as Sir Irgon was. But she had fled from him and not Angus. Why?

  The door was opened and she jumped only to see women carrying large buckets of water towards the screened off, wooden tub. She pressed a hand to her breast and breathed in to calm her slight panic.

  Those buckets looked heavy and she doubted she could even lift an empty one much less two of them filled in with water as those women did. Maybe the English were the weaker race.

  She thanked each one as they left, and on their heels, came Lady Isobel with Angus’ sister, Ailsa, beside her. Now that Magdalene got a good look, the young girl was just as Angus had said, tallish for her age and slender. She used a moment to look over their shoulder, seeing if it was
possible that Angus had joined them. It was a move the other two did not miss.

  “Lady Isobel?” She asked and was rewarded with the older woman handing her a few garments—two gowns, a nightgown, and a robe. She also handed her a tub of salve and a wooden comb. Ailsa was holding a thick towel.

  “Gowns and the ointment for ye that Angus requested. Ailsa here has volunteered to be yer helper and companion when yer here,” Lady Isobel said. “I personally ken ye’d like a female presence around here while Angus is otherwise occupied.”

  Her stomach dropped and her disappointment was heard, “He’s going to be occupied?”

  “He is the Laird, Magdalene,” Ailsa said. “Once he sequestered himself in Faither’s old meeting room for a week straight, trying to sort out a problem we have with border reivers who had strayed a bit too far from home. Mother had to order him to come out to get some sunshine and a bath. He smelled something awful.”

  “Ailsa,” Lady Isobel warned and the young woman huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Fine, fine, I apologize,” Ailsa said non-repentantly. “He didn’t stink. Angus swims the lochs every morning and every night. Been that way since he was a boy. If he was nae a man, I’d ken he was a kelpie.”

  “A what?” Magdalene asked, completely befuddled.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Lady Isobel said, while leveling a censuring look to her daughter. “And Ailsa, stop making fun of yer brother. We’ll leave ye in peace to bathe, that is if ye’d like Ailsa to help ye?”

  It was not a hard decision and she felt a soft pull to the other girl. “I’d like that, thank you.”

  “Wonderful,” Lady Isobel smiled then narrowed her eyes with another warning, “Ailsa.”

  Magdalene barely held in a laugh. Though she and this family spanned countries and cultures, it was getting clearer and clearer that Lady Isobel and her mother were very alike. The one-word warning the Scottish lady had spoken to her daughter evoked memories of when her mother Larie had done the same to her.

  “I’m sure she will be fine,” Magdalene said. “I would really like the help.”

  “I’ll leave ye both then,” Lady Isobel nodded and folded her arms, another warning to Ailsa. “Good day, ye two.”

  Eyeing the tub of warm water, she got up and went behind the screen to disrobe as it was a habit of hers. While pulling off the belt and letting the trousers fall to the floor she said, “And I don’t mind any tales about Angus.”

  A delighted gasp came from her words and Ailsa giggled after. “Oh, are ye sure about that?”

  Wrapped around with a towel, Magdalene stepped out towards the tub. “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

  The furs had been closed over the windows and Ailsa had lit a fire before sitting on one of the chairs with her knee lifted to her chin and wrapped her arms around it.

  “Do you Scottish women wear pants often?” Magdalene asked.

  “Some do,” Ailsa affirmed with a wrinkle of her nose, “But for me, I am the third child with two brothers ahead of me. It’s only natural that I got handed down boys’ clothes even with gowns. At seven I realized I liked pants better ‘cause I ride a lot and gowns make galloping a bit difficult.”

  “I had never worn a male garment until your brother saved me,” Magdalene admitted as she went the tub, and with a level of hesitation discarded the towel. Ailsa was a woman as much as she was but being naked in front of others was a bit embarrassing to her.

  She got into the tub with her eyes down and sighed in relief at the feel of the water. Again, she got the feeling that the question of what she had been saved from was being held back and Magdalene could only assume that Lady Isobel had warned her daughter not to ask. However, she felt it was time to speak. What good would it do to hide it?

  “I came here to go to my Aunt because my Uncle was about to marry me off to a man I did not know,” she spoke, with her eyes closed. “Angus came across me when two men were about to… rape me.”

  Ailsa’s sharp inhale made Magdalene smile wanly. “He fought them off with a fierceness I had not expected to come from someone who I have never met but he did. I…I was so terrified, that I fainted on him.”

  Her mind went back to the faint memory of Angus carrying her. “He took me to an Inn and cared for me. He got me food, clothes, shoes, and a bath.”

  A blush crept up her neck when she remembered how Angus’ eyes had run over her as she had made to step out of the tub. Hopefully, if Ailsa did see it, she’d think it was because of the steam the water produced. “And then, after I told him about my Aunt, he offered to accompany me here but told me it would be wise to heal up first before going to her.” Magdalene finished.

  “Eh, I am not surprised,” Ailsa’s snort was unladylike. “Angus cannot ignore a righteous cause and even more, me brother is nae all that subtle, Magdalene. He used yer bruises as an excuse to take ye here so that ye can be near him.”

  Green eyes shot open. “Pardon? He did what?”

  Ailsa did not even hide her amusement. “Angus is nae one to hide his feelings much, Magdalene. Surely ye can see that he is drawn to ye?”

  “Erm,” she hedged, not sure how to answer Ailsa’s declaration. “I might have…I mean, I think it... I don’t think that is really why he carried me here…”

  The young woman’s laugh was light and Magdalene flushed. Ailsa had seen right through her bumbling excuse. “Mayhap ye are the best one for Angus, ye cannae hide yer feelings, either.”

  “Isn’t it wrong?” Magdalene asked, looking down at her limbs, slightly distorted by the water. “I am an Englishwoman. Isn’t a Scottish woman, well, better for him in every way?”

  “Ye might ken so but Angus… me brother, well…he doesnae follow those old rules much,” Ailsa said. “He goes where the tide leads him.”

  The water was getting cold and Magdalene pushed Ailsa’s words to the back of her mind as she asked the girl to come over and help her comb out and wash her hair as she cleansed her person.

  Ailsa turned topics and began telling her some stories of Angus’ youth, some she had witnessed herself and some Malcolm had told her. Magdalene snickered at images of a gangly, thirteen-year-old, thin-as-a-reed, Angus, wielding their father’s double-handed steel sword only to topple over. His pride had to have stung.

  “He decided to bulk up from that same day,” Ailsa said, while combing through her wet hair. “The next morning, he began to swim every day and use big stones to lift. He was up before dawn and went to bed later than everyone else, training until his limbs were weak, and slept like the dead every night until he adjusted.”

  With the last portion of her hair combed out, Ailsa worked a handful of soap lather into Magdalene’s hair, who sighed in relief when the youngest Williamson dug her hands into her scalp and scrubbed.

  “Mother would scold him every day but he dinnae stop. One more thing ye should ken about him, me brother is the most stubborn man ye’ll ever meet,” Ailsa said. “There was this one time he and Malcolm had a contest with food doused with wild garlic, the leaves of the water pepper plant, and black peppercorn. Though he was red in the face and I swore I saw steam coming out of his ears, he still ate until Mother had to pry his jaws apart. She had to force concoction after concoction down his throat to heal his scalded tongue.”

  “Why would they have a pepper-eating contest?” Magdalene asked appalled.

  “They’re men,” Ailsa sniffed while reaching for a pitcher to fill with rinsing water. “Who kens what kind of foolishness goes through their heads?”

  Mirth was prodded out of Magdalene in little spurts. The girl was so much older than what she looked to have that opinion of men. “I wouldn’t.”

  Ailsa stopped filling in the pitcher and looked at her. “Eh, ye are…. oh, oh!” Realization lit her blue eyes. “Ye did say ye ran away from the man yer Uncle was about to force on ye. I ken I understand… but how do ye nae ken anything about men?”

  Twisting the wet locks into a braid, Magdalene said, “The on
ly men that were around me were men my father’s age, in mid-fifties, and they only spoke about laws and battles. I was as sheltered as they come, my mother kept me hidden in my room and church. There was no place for me to know what men think. You probably know more than I would.”

  She lifted herself out of the tub and dried off with towels Ailsa had carried over and slipped the nightgown on her. “Thank you, Ailsa.”

  “Ye don’t have to,” Ailsa grinned as she popped the lid off the salve and dabbed some on Magdalene’s cheek. She was cautious as she smoothed some up her hairline. After a few moments, she stepped away and eyed her handiwork, then smiled and closed the tub.

  “Let me go get some food. I hope there will be more than one pie left cause Malcolm inhales sweets like he breathes air. I’ll be back soon.”