Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1)

by Adamina Young

  “If Brisbane makes a move in that three-month period, I willna be responsible for my actions,” Errol sneered. “Otherwise, I agree.’

  Lachlan didn’t believe that would be a problem. Gair gripped the table tightly but he nodded as well.

  Peace had been brokered and just like that, Lachlan found himself betrothed to the strange woman who heated his blood and prattled on about locks on doors.

  * * *

  When her father didn’t summon her down for breakfast, Sloane sat by the window and gazed out below. The morning meal was over and the village below was full of life. More than a few men stumbled along and Sloane even saw one heaving up his guts. The guards had divided themselves by clan but were roughhousing and challenging each other. When they raced off, Sloane could only assume they were going to put those challenges to the test.

  Her chambers had been far more luxurious than anything that she’d ever slept in before. A gorgeous tapestry of a stag drinking by the water hung on the stone wall above a large fireplace and a brown bear-skin rug was spread out between the door and the bed. She’d always run along the stone floor either barefoot or in slippers and she spent a long time rubbing her feet on the rug. The bed was dressed in a ridiculous number of pillows and blankets and the chestnut armoire, painted in blues and golds, was far too large for her meager belongings.

  It was a room fit for the mistress of the keep and she felt like a charlatan sleeping there.

  A knock at the door drew her attention away, but when she answered it, there was no servant on the other side. Instead, Maggie MacFarlane, in her quiet and elegant way, greeted her warmly. Sloane recognized her instantly from the night before. “My dear, we were concerned when ye didna come down to join us. Are ye feeling all right?”

  Surprised, Sloane cocked her head. Her stomach had turned a bit after such a large meal combined with the wine she wasn’t used to, but that’s not why she missed breakfast. “I apologize. I was waiting for my father to send for me.”

  “Send for ye? Yer father has been sequestered in a meeting with the other lairds. Come. I will see that ye have eaten. I have been eager to have a moment with ye as I have not seen ye since ye were a wee baby.”

  That piqued Sloane’s interest and she picked up her skirts and followed the older woman. “Does that mean that ye knew my mother?”

  “We will get to all of that,” Maggie said airily. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun, but it only looked sophisticated on the woman. Other than her nanny, Sloane didn’t have much experience with older women, but Maggie looked much like Sloane thought her mother might if she had survived: beautiful and poised. If Sloane hadn’t seen the way the woman’s hands shook during dinner the night before, she would have thought the woman to be in perfect health.

  Sun streamed through the large east-facing windows of the small room and there was an impressive spread of bread, fruit, and cheese on the round wooden table. “I get a little nervous around big crowds, so I picked at my own plate this morning,” Maggie explained as she sat down. “I hope you doonae mind if I join ye. My appetite has returned.”

  “Of course.” Maggie was in her own home. She had no reason to explain or beg forgiveness for eating a second breakfast. Although her own stomach was still twisted, she didn’t want to offend the woman, so she dutifully added food to her plate. “I didna get a moment to speak to ye yesterday. I should have extended my condolences for yer nephew, but there was so much going on. Please allow me to do so now.”

  “Thank ye.” Maggie smiled faintly, but there was sorrow on her face. “I am afraid that I always knew Quinn would meet his end at a young age. He often threw himself into dangerous situations. I think he knew it too and ’tis why he never settled down. He believed that he could help bring an end to the fighting and maybe with his death, he has made that happen.”

  “Fighting?” Sloane murmured politely.

  Maggie blinked at her. “Aye. The feud between the Fentons and the Brisbanes. Did ye not know, child?”

  Embarrassed, Sloane shifted around in her seat. “My father doesna share with me the details of clan politics,” she tried to explain, but even she knew how that sounded. It was humiliating that she was the daughter of the Laird and didn’t know that there was a feud involving her clan.

  “Yer father protects ye?” Maggie said softly. “’Tis sweet. Ye didna overhear anything though?”

  “Oh, I doona share my meals with my father or his men. I stay to my own wing within the keep. I doona believe I heard the servants mention fighting. Ye believe that my father is responsible for yer nephew’s death?”

  “I believe the feud is responsible.” Maggie straightened. “I doona point the finger at a single individual.”

  There was an awkward silence as Sloane bit into the bread and tried not to stare at the older woman. When her curiosity overwhelmed her, she broached the subject again. “Ye knew my mother?”

  “Aye.” Maggie’s eyes lit up. “Ava was a beautiful woman. I see her in ye. She came from the lowlands and her marriage celebration was an event that I will never forget. I struck up a friendship with her then and we continued that friendship until her illness took her. I bounced ye on my knee when ye were a child and I have thought of ye often.”

  But she didn’t visit. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why, but Sloane knew how much it angered people when she asked too many questions. Instead, she stuck to the conversation that she knew was safe. “I doona know much about my mother. The servants who worked for my mother while she was still alive are gone. The new ones didna know her. I know that ye are busy hosting the celebration, but if ye find the time, I would love to hear stories about her.”

  “My dear,” Maggie sighed. “I do none of the hosting now. I have passed those duties to Freya more than a year ago. I am afraid that I doona move as quickly or as easily as I used to. Until Lachlan marries, Freya has taken over the duties of mistress of the keep. I would be happy to share stories of yer mother. She was quite a character.”

  Before Maggie could launch into those stories, the door flew open and Lachlan and Calder strode in. Sloane’s fingers trembled when Lachlan’s eyes settled on her. “Mother,” he said quietly. “I have been looking for ye, although I suppose Lady Sloane has already shared the news.”

  “News?” Sloane asked without thinking as she picked up her water glass.

  “Aye. Our impending marriage.”

  In shock, Sloane gasped and let the glass slip through her fingers. It shattered as it hit the stone floor. With a cry, she immediately pushed back her chair and kneeled to pick up the shards. An apology bubbled up her throat, but she couldn’t get it out.

  Instantly, large fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her away. “Doona do that. Ye will cut yerself,” Lachlan said softly.

  “I have made a mess,” she said dumbly.

  “Aye. It happens. Doona concern yerself over it.” He searched her face. “Yer father is out watching some challenge brought forth by our guards. I assumed that he had spoken to ye before he left. I have assumed wrong. Ye didna know and I have dropped it on ye like a stone.”

  “’Tis all right,” Sloane said carefully. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the notion that this man was going to be her husband.

  “All right?” Maggie sounded far more distressed. “Lachlan, what are ye talking about?”

  Lachlan was still staring at Sloane, so it was his father who spoke. “To broker the peace between Brisbane and Fenton, Lachlan has agreed to marry Sloane in two days and after the mourning period is over, Freya will marry Brisbane.”

  The room was quiet and Sloane felt everyone staring at her. She hated it. The servants had always told her that she was lovely and when her father finally chose a husband for her, the man would be lucky. Ever since she’d reached the age of sixteen, she’d waited for the announcement. Now, at twenty, Sloane assumed her father had dismissed the thought of marrying her. She couldn’t untangle the fear and excitement that coiled
in her belly and she hardly felt like the beautiful bride. They were staring at her like she was a stain on the floor.

  Dear Lord, she’d accused him last night of belittling his future wife. Now she was to be that future wife.

  “Sloane?” Maggie said finally. “Are ye all right?”

  “Of course.” Turning her head, she smiled at the woman who would soon be mother-in-law. “I have always known that I would marry for the good of the clan. Now, I will marry for peace. I am sure that you three have much to discuss. If ye will excuse me, I will be in my room. I am sure my father will come to me soon enough and let me know what he expects from me.”

  “I am to be yer husband,” Lachlan reminded her. “’Tis my expectations that ye should be waiting for.”

  Sloane colored even darker. She would bungle the whole thing up. “Of course. Would ye like me to not return to my chambers?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Mother. Would ye give me a minute of privacy?”

  “Lachlan,” Maggie said in a warning tone.

  “A minute, if ye please,” he snapped.

  She looked hesitantly at Sloane before she nodded her head and left the room. Alone with the man who would be her husband, Sloane clasped her hands in front of her body. “You doona have to point out the irony of the situation. I am well aware that I accused ye of being a poor husband last night and now, ye are to be my husband.”

  Lachlan smirked. “’Tis not what I wanted to discuss with ye. As my wife, ye will be mistress of my keep. As the daughter of the Laird, ye should have that experience and yet, ye take all yer cues from yer father. Normally, I would see that as obedience, but in this case, I fear that yer father has done nothing to train ye.”

  Swallowing hard, she turned her head and averted her eyes. He was blatantly pointing out that she would make an unsatisfactory wife. “If ye are so unhappy with me as a wife then perhaps ye should choose someone else,” she grumbled.

  “I didna say that ye were unsatisfactory and I doona have a choice to take ye as a wife. I am trying to prepare ye for what to expect,” he said calmly.

  “Perhaps ye should be taking into account yer own expectations,” she muttered under her breath, but there was a fire in his eyes and she knew that he heard. “Perhaps I am not so inexperienced as ye might think. While ’tis true that I have no formal training in how to run a castle, much less a castle of this size, my own company were the servants of the keep. I understand their positions better than I understood my own. I should have no trouble learning the flow.”

  “True as that might be, I doona need someone who understands the servants. I need someone who understands how to organize the servants and that is an entirely different thing. Freya has been acting as the mistress of the keep since my mother’s mobility was hindered by her age. The two of them will teach ye what ye need to know.”

  “Verra well.”

  “I willna be adding a lock, Sloane.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she planted her hands on her hips. “I didna expect a man like ye to change yer mind about anything.” She tried to move past him, but he reached out and snagged her arm. “Ye will excuse me. I have much to do before my wedding.”

  “Is that a demand?”

  “Of course not. I wouldna demand anything of the man who would be my husband. ’Tis merely a request.”

  With a sigh, he released her arm. “Ye may go where ye wish, Lady Sloane. I will speak to ye later.”

  “Of course.” Bending into a curtsy, she turned and fled.

  * * *

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  About the Author

  Since she was a child, Adamina was inspired by stories of true love overcoming every obstacle! So, she started writing her first book at the age of 23!

  A few years later, she met her own “Highlander” During their honeymoon, they decided to travel to Scotland. And then everything changed...

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  DISCLAIMER:

  This book is a work of fiction. Some of the characters are real historical figures, but the others exist only in the imagination of the author. All events in this book are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.