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

by Lydia Kendall

  “Could you get me some tea, please?” Magdalene asked and received a happy nod. With Ailsa gone she drifted to the window and parted the furs to look outside. The crescent moon was rising from the horizon and then the exhaustion from the last few days, that she had held back somehow, swamped her. She felt like a piece of driftwood sinking under a strong tide. Staggering back to the bed, she crawled up on it. Her head fell on the pillow and her eyes fluttered.

  “Just a few moments,” she whispered to herself. “I’ll rest just for a few moments.”

  Ten minutes later she did not hear the door open or see Ailsa look in with a tray of food in her hands, as she was dead to the world.

  Chapter 12

  Night had come faster than Angus had anticipated. He had requested his mother to take care of her but she had whisked Magdalene away faster than he had bargained for. It was as if he blinked and she was there and with another blink, she was gone. Perhaps it was for the best, his control was already dangling by a thread as it was but he refused to let his urges command his mind.

  The lass needs to be safe, not trade one problem for another.

  Through the trip back home, he had found his gaze being drawn to the lady more times than he could afford. Being distracted was equivalent to a death sentence for a trained soldier. Instead of looking for threats, he had allowed himself to fantasize, thinking of what could be between him and the lass when the probability was that nothing could grow from it.

  And that was wrong of me.

  He had more knowledge of the fire witch and he had to share that with his council. He had sorted out some immediate issues with the clan’s soldiers, gave directives to the kitchen staff and lastly, wrote up letters to his council members. His council was made of five elders, two of which were old soldiers. The letters were polite summons asking them to come to a meeting so he could tell them what he had learned about the witch, and his plans for dealing with such witch.

  He sent for Malcolm and made a mental note to reward O’Hagan. If it wasn’t for the advice that had led him to Edina, which then had led him to Magdalene, lovely Magdalene, he would not have found her. A sudden craving to see her had him out of his seat but he stopped halfway to the doorway. If she had not come to see him—night was falling, after all, so she probably wasn’t going to—that was fine. He’d see her in the morning.

  He retreated back to his desk, and grabbed a quill to twist idly while he pondered. It felt strange having Magdalene out of his sight, which she had been in for the last five days. How was it possible to get attached to another person so quickly?

  “She’s a fair lass, I’ll give ye that much,” Lady Isobel said while walking in. “I commend ye on taking care of her, son.”

  “It was the only right thing to do,” Angus said. “Faither would have risen from the dead and slapped me silly if I hadn’t.”

  Lady Isobel gave him a look that only mothers had in their arsenal, a knowing look that made him want to fidget. “But that was nae all of it, was it?”

  Angus decided to play ignorant. “What else could there be?”

  His efforts earned him a slap over his head. “Don’t try to play me for a fool, boy. Ye felt something more about the lass, and ye took her here to figure out what ye felt.”

  “Mother—” Angus began, only to groan as Malcolm walked in. His brother’s eyes took on a fiendish light seeing their mother’s hand still hovering in the air from the slap she had given Angus.

  “Why am I always late when ye discipline him, Mother? Cannae ye take me entertainment into consideration?” Malcolm grinned, only to sober when he was treated to twin glares. “Sorry, er, what did ye call me here for again?”

  “I now know more about this witch,” Angus said, his tone slipping from casual to authoritative. “Settle in, the council is coming tomorrow but I think it’s best to let ye in on it now.”

  Sitting straighter Angus said, “I went to the town of Seabhag Crag and met an elder called O’Hagan. He told me the woman came from Edina and that she was a widow. Ye all ken I went there to pin down who she is and I found a church where she buried her husband. The witch’s name is Perse Fenton. Faither Buchanan told me the woman was at odds with the man, that he had told her she was too old for his likin’. She even spat in his grave.”

  “Ach,” Malcolm groaned. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, eh?”

  “Aye,” Angus said. “But, clearly, she dinnae hate her husband enough to refuse the house he left her, which is the same one she’s killing from.”

  “Did ye hear anything else?” Lady Isobel asked. “Why she would be doing this at all?”

  Slumping into his seat, Angus sighed and pressed his fingertips to his left temple. “That I cannae figure out. I ken it’s time for me to see a Druid, to ken what is really happening with this witch and how truly dangerous she can be.”

  A look passed among the three of them but only Malcolm was brave enough to ask. “Are there any Druids around here anymore? If I recall, they’re a dying race. The churches chased them out.”

  “They are, seldom, but they are,” Angus said. “If we are going to fight fire with fire, we need to ken what the mage can tell us. I am nae Moses. I cannae summon plagues out of the air by lifting me rod in the sky.”

  A salacious grin crossed Malcolm’s face and just as his mouth opened, Angus slanted a lethal narrow-eyed glare to him. The middle Williamson child shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked. He then cleared his throat and amended his words, “And where would ye find this Druid?”

  “Last I heard there was one at Càrn Eighe,” Angus replied, knowing the moment he uttered those words, his mother and brother would be calculating his trip in their heads.

  “Càrn Eighe! That’s nearly a week and a half worth of riding, brother, back and forth,” Malcolm said. “Over dangerous terrain, too. Ye’d need a guard party.”

  “Nay,” Angus shook his head. “A guard party would only slow me down. It’s quicker if I take it alone.”

  “And when do you ken to take this trip, Angus?” Lady Isobel asked her voice one of reasoning.

  “I…” he hesitated, thinking of Magdalene. Could he leave her so quickly? Aside from his family, she did not know a single person here and he was her only buffer.

  Many of his clan were accommodating with outsiders but there were a few that were not. He knew he could rely on many to treat her kindly but what happened if she ran into one that did not while he was off into the wilderness?

  On one hand, he had to think of the people of Seabhag Crag and the dangerous witch they had in their midst. What if he went off, took a longer time than anticipated and Magdalene decided to go to her aunt? But on the other, what if he waited too long and more dead bodies turned on his doorstep, staining his conscience with their blood? He wanted to stay but he needed to defend his people. He was being pulled in opposite directions hard enough that he could split down the middle.

  He scrubbed his face, “I dinnae ken.”

  Lady Isobel rested her hand on his shoulder, “Ye just came back from a long journey, son. Yer head must be a bit muddled. Go get some sleep and mayhap, things will be clearer to ye in the morning, aye?”

  “Mayhap,” Angus agreed while managing a small smile. “Thank ye Mother. I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”

  Lady Isobel said her farewells while walking out and Angus was about to send Malcolm off too when his brother spoke. Malcolm was hardly serious but this time he was, his posture and tone showed it, “I can make the trip for ye if ye dinnae want to leave the lass alone. Ye ken I can dae it for ye.”

  “I dae,” Angus said reluctantly. Malcolm had a penchant to take everything for a lark but Angus was not going to deny his brother’s change of attitude when it came to serious missions but this—getting rid of the witch—felt deeply personal to him.

  A derisive scoff dragged Angus out of his musing. “But yer nae going to, are ye?”

  “Nay,” Angus said quietly. “Mayhap I can hold off on goi
ng to see the Druid for a few days. I’ll have to pray that the witch goes cold for a while. The lass just got here, if I up and leave, she’ll feel like I abandoned her.”

  “Ahhh,” Malcolm’s grin was sly. “The lass got ye that tied up, eh? Never thought I’d see the day a woman has ye jumping through hoops again. But where does she land between wife and plaything?”

  “Get out,” Angus ordered. “Now.”

  With a grinning Malcolm leaving, Angus went back to planning the next couple days that he could dare use to spend with Magdalene. What could he do to entertain her? He already knew she could ride, but what else would she enjoy?

  “But I was not strong enough to do so. I am sure one of your people would have had no problem escaping or even defending themselves.”

  “Nae all Scots are born with fighting ability,” he had said. “It takes training to do so. Is that’s what’s worrying ye?”

  “I…if anything would happen to me again like that, I’m not sure I could survive…I feel weak.”

  “There’s an easy fix for that, lassie…We can train ye…if ye want.”

  Now, it was his time to smile. If Magdalene wanted to learn how to defend herself, he was sure that he could give her some lifesaving techniques over the next couple days.

  But who could he trust to train her? It would look very strange for him to be training her, so who else? Ailsa possibly?

  His sister would jump at the idea, he was sure. Making a mental note to ask his sister if she would do it the next morning, he went to his chambers, and closed the door. Then, he went to his cupboard, and took out a hidden treasure. He uncorked a skin of old sweet but strong cider and drank a heavy mouthful.

  In three long strides, he tugged in a door, went to the terrace, and settled into a seat he had placed there. He propped his feet up and let the hand still holding the wineskin drop to his side. This high, the cool mist rising from the nearby loch was thickening to fog and the moon up above was a thin reddish sickle.

  He smiled to himself, remembering the nights he would sneak out of the castle and into the lochs to swim till dawn. One night, after he had come up from a deep dive, he had surfaced to see his mother standing at the river bank with a switch in her hand, ready to tan his hide when he came out.

  Scared out of his mind, he had lingered in the water until dawn came. His mother had not moved and when he did dare come, she grabbed him by his ear and laced his behind. He noted that day that wet skin made switching worse.

  He lifted the wineskin to the moon and grinned, “Never got caught ‘cause I never went back… well, as much, as Mother kens anyway.”

  The stars—little that he could see of them—were vibrant, glittering like loose gems scattered on a vast table. Speaking of gems, Magdalene’s eyes were a shade of green he had never seen before. She may not realize it but her eyes told of her emotions better than her words did. They seemed to change hues with every emotion that ran through her.

  Malcolm’s words about Magdalene possibly being his wife or his plaything came back only to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. His brother, though blunt, had a point. Where exactly was he trying to get with Magdalene, knowing that he might get backlash if he initiated anything deeper? And secondly, his record would prove that relationships were not his strong suit.

  Another swig of cider went down his throat and his head lolled back. He had to figure out what he was truly aiming for having Magdalene there but he could feel a headache begin to throb at his temples so he decided to schedule that line of contemplation for tomorrow. Tonight, he needed some good sleep.

  The howl of a lone wolf cut through the air and sent shivers running down his skin and a look at the moon’s position told him time was getting late. Swinging his legs down, he went back to his rooms, closing the door behind him. Shucking his shirt and boots, Angus used a bucket of water to wash his face before dabbing it dry.

  His bed, as he got into it, was so very empty. There had been nights when he felt it but never this acutely before—like a hollow in the middle of his chest His arm stretched to the other side and his fist clenched over the pillow.

  They’re too cool. Someone should be laying here next to me. A woman… my wife.

  Retracting his arm, Angus drew it close to him and tucked it under his head. Staring emptily at the space above him, his lips twisted wryly. “If things had not taken a turn for the worst a few years ago, I wouldnae be in this position.”

  He sat up, hoping that the witch would not act up and force his hand before that train of thought changed into planning how to speak to his council about her. As he drifted off those thoughts vanished and a pair of lovely green eyes took their place.

  Chapter 13

  Soft hands coaxed Magdalene away from the deepest sleep she could say she ever had. Not willing to crawl away from the soothing darkness of dreamless sleep, she blindly batted the hands away and buried her head further into the pillows.

  “Come on, Magdalene,” a soft voice said over her head. “Ye need to wake up. I ken yer tired but ye’ve been sleeping for nearly a day now.”

  The words slowly registered and when they did, she nearly did not believe them. Had she really been sleeping for nearly a day? Was she that tired? Forcing her eyes open Magdalene saw Lady Isobel sitting on the edge of her bed and looking down on her with concerned eyes.

  “A day?” Magdalene said, wincing at the roughness in her voice.

  “Aye,” Lady Isobel nodded. “And ye didn’t get to eat the food Ailsa brought ye, either. I have some nettle tea here for ye and buttered bread, something easy on yer stomach.”

  Yawning, Magdalene covered her mouth and cringed at the smell trapped by her hand. “May I wash up?”

  “Right over there,” Lady Isobel said, pointing to a basin resting on a table with a rag neatly folded beside it. Quickly, she cleaned up and rinsed her mouth before going back to one of the chairs and sitting.

  “Thank you,” Magdalene said as the lady handed her the tea. “Did I really sleep for a day?”

  “It's nae unheard off,” the lady spoke. “Sometimes, the body doesnae listen to the worries of the mind when it kens it needs to heal. In yer case, it was to get here as quickly as possible. My husband, God rest his soul, was the same way.”

  Sipping the sweet tea Magdalene asked, “That was Angus’ father?”

  “Aye, his, Malcolm, and Ailsa’s too. He would take a party out to rid the countryside of reivers and stay awake for days. When he came back, he was a little over a dead man and slept like one, too. When he got back to his senses, he would go straight to work again.”

  “How did you deal with that?” Magdalene asked. “Surely, you would have liked to have some time with him?”

  “Eh,” Lady Isobel shrugged. “Before we got married, he took me on a walk and explained that he was the kind of man that took his duties as Laird very seriously. He told me that there would be days I wouldnae see him, and for the days when I did see him, there would be little time I’d get from him.”

  “That’s awful,” Magdalene said, a bit aghast. “And you still married him?”

  “I did, and why?” Lady Isobel smile was nostalgic. “The little time he did spend with us was priceless. He taught Angus and Malcolm how to treat women by how he treated me and the women around him. He taught them to be strong by taking them on hunts and pushed them to be soldiers. He dinnae let them take advantage of his position or let them use their status as the Lairds sons to get preferential treatment. He taught them to be wise leaders by having them listen in on his council meetings and showing them how he dealt with his people. He wasnae faultless, but he was best for us.”

  Magdalene felt that Lady Isobel was trying to tell her something but she didn’t have time to think it through. “My father was like that but he was not as present as I would have liked him to be as I grew up. He was a Baron and made sure that his men came first. He left me and my Mother for long times while he looked about his barony.”

  “It’s a conce
ssion some of us have to bear,” Lady Isobel said dryly. “Powerful men come with powerful responsibilities.”

  Settling the cup on the bedside table, Magdalene reached for the bread and broke it. Her head was down when she asked. “Is that what Angus will be then…when he has to marry?”

  “There is a good chance,” Lady Isobel said. Magdalene felt the older woman’s stare in the side of her head. She kept her head down, suddenly afraid to meet the woman’s eyes. “Has he kissed ye yet?”

  An invasive question like that made her cheeks warm but having lived with her mother who had a sixth sense, Magdalene knew it was futile to lie so, a bit abashed, she nodded, “Yes, he has.”

  “I suspected,” Lady Isobel snorted. “The boy came asking for ye about ten times today and I had to tell him to leave ye be. He’s grown so protective of ye so quickly it amazes me. Angus is a friendly person but he doesnae make ties deep as the one he has with you this rapidly, or with any woman, well nae for the last couple years, anyway.”