by Gwyn Brodie
Also by Gwyn Brodie
The Highland Moon Series
Beneath a Highland Moon: A Scottish Historical Romance
Once Upon a Highland Moon: A Scottish Historical Romance
Chasing a Highland Moon: A Scottish Historical Romance
Tempted by a Highland Moon
MacGregor's Daughter: A Scottish Historical Romance
Table of Contents
Also By Gwyn Brodie
Tempted by a Highland Moon (The Highland Moon Series, #4)
License Notes
Dedication
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
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Also By Gwyn Brodie
Tempted by a Highland Moon
Gwyn Brodie
Lady Kila Murray learns her father, before his untimely death, betrothed her to Laird Colin Monro, a man she had previously met and thought to be most attractive. She agrees to the marriage and is soon on her way to Whitestag Castle to wed. While staying at an inn, she is kept from being trampled to death by a handsome Highlander, Duncan MacDonell. She is quite taken with her rescuer, and cannot push him from her thoughts.
Unbeknownst to Kila, Lady Verona Murray, her devious young stepmother, poisoned Kila's father, and is now bent on doing away with Kila anyway she can—as she has fallen in love with Laird Monro herself—and the only way to have him is to get rid of her stepdaughter, leaving the path to the altar open for herself.
While on his way to see the Earl of Riverglen, Duncan MacDonell ends up rescuing the beautiful and enticing Lady Kila Murray, for whom he has an undeniable attraction. Finding himself alone with the desirable lass, he ends up kissing her—which was the wrong thing to do—for now he can't get her out of his mind. Thinking he'll most likely never see Kila again, he is surprised when the earl asks him to escort her to Whitestag Castle and hand her over to her betrothed. Duncan soon finds himself in love with Kila, and realizes he'd rather die than see her married to Monro.
Tempted by a Highland Moon
By Gwyn Brodie
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright 2016, Gwyn Brodie
License Notes
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, locations and events are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or from this writer's imagination.
Dedication
To my husband, Michael, for always being there when I needed him.
To my friend, Vonda, for her unfailing encouragement and motivation.
Tempted by a Highland Moon
By Gwyn Brodie
PROLOGUE
Dundee, Scotland, June, 1607
Lady Verona Murray, along with her younger brother, Balfour, stood at the bedside of her sick husband, Laird Larson Murray. Her stepdaughter, Kila, sat on the bed, next to her father, holding his hand. Verona needed to find a way to get her out of the bedchamber. "Kila, have a servant fetch a bit of broth for your father. 'Twould certainly aid him in fighting this sickness he's acquired."
Larson suddenly moaned, and tossed his head back and forth on the bolster.
Verona raised a brow. Had her husband discovered what she was about?
Kila lifted his hand to her lips. "I'll only be a moment, Father."
He somehow had the strength to grab his daughter's arm. "Nay," he said hoarsely.
She gently placed his hand beside him on the bed. "I'll be quick about it. I promise."
As soon as Kila was gone, Verona slipped the poison, made from the berries of the deadly nightshade plant, from her bodice, and poured every last drop into his goblet, along with a sip of wine. Unfortunately, Larson was a man of large build, and had required more poison than the others to make him ill, and she had long ago grown weary of his lingering. She carefully lifted the goblet to his parched lips.
Though near death, he tried to shove it away.
"Balfour, hold him," she whispered.
Her brother came away from the bedchamber door, where he'd been watching for Kila's return, and held Larson's head still, while she poured it down his throat.
He coughed and sputtered, then lay back on the bolster.
Verona smiled. "'Twill be over soon, husband of mine," she said, wiping the evidence of her deed from his beard.
Kila hurried into the room with a cup, and sat down on the edge of the bed, "Father, I've a bit of broth for you, and I've word the healer will be here soon." She lifted it to his lips, but he was unable to drink. She put it aside, and smoothed his gray hair away from his forehead. "Please dinnae die, Father," she said, tears streaming down her face.
"Kila," he whispered hoarsely, then lay still, and breathed no more.
She shook him. "Father! Father!" She screamed, then dropped her face into her hands and wept.
CHAPTER ONE
As the sun slowly sank behind the tall mountain peaks, gloaming settled over the land. From her bedchamber window at Windmere Castle, Kila stared out at the two graves in the nearby kirk yard, one recent enough that the green grass had not yet found its way over the dark earth. Her mother had died when Kila was but a child, her father—less than a month ago.
She wiped a tear from her cheek, and unable to bear the pain any longer, she turned away from the window. Except for a stepmother, less than eight years her senior, who did naught but ridicule Kila, her Uncle James, who became the Laird of Windmere Castle upon her father's demise, and his wife, Inna, she had no one, and had never felt so alone.
A knock sounded at the door and she dried her eyes on her sleeve. "Aye?"
"'Tis only m'self, m'lady," answered her lady's maid.
"Come, Wyn."
The maid slipped inside and closed the door. "The laird sent me to fetch ye." The maid busied herself turning down the bed covers. "He's in the library waiting for ye."
Her father's smiling face came to mind, and she winced. He could never send a maid to fetch her again, nor would she ever read to him in the library again. The two of them had been so close, and now he was gone.
She'd not yet grown accustomed to the staff calling her Uncle James "laird." She knew she'd have to, sooner or later, for he'd but taken his rightful place.
When she reached the library, the door was open and she peered inside. "You wished to see me?" Her uncle was a good and kind man, like her father had been, and would make a fine laird to her people, as he had already proven in the short time since her father's death.
He smiled and nodded. "Aye. Please, sit down, Kila." He gestured to the settle near the fire, then closed the door. After retrieving a sealed missive from the desk, he took a seat beside her. "Your father, God rest his soul, left this in my care a few weeks before his death, asking me to present it to you, if he were to die before he was able to give it to you himself. Even then, I believe he knew he had but a short time left on this earth. I am well aware of its contents, as he discussed the arrangements with me bef
orehand." He rose to his feet. "I'll leave you to read it for yourself." He squeezed her shoulder." I'll be in the solar. Come see me when you're ready," he said, then left her alone.
Kila sat holding the missive, speculating over and over about what it might contain. She sighed, realizing she could guess all she wanted, but would never truly know its contents until she opened it. With trembling hands, she broke the familiar Murray seal, and began the read. Once she finished, with heart pounding, she read it twice more just to be certain she clearly understood its meaning. Her father had betrothed her to Colin Monro, the young Laird of Whitestag Castle. He had introduced her to Colin when the laird had been a guest at Windmere several weeks before his death. "A business arrangement," he'd said, when she'd asked him why Laird Monro was spending so much time there.
She blew out a breath and placed the missive beside her on the settle. Colin had been pleasant enough, and indeed handsome, with his vivid green eyes and long black hair. He was tall, and towered over her father, who had been no small man himself. And a bit older than Kila's twenty years—perhaps closer to her stepmother's age of twenty-eight. In fact, Verona had seemed quite taken with their guest, escorting him about the castle and grounds during his stay. They'd even gone out riding on several occasions.
Her father had always wanted what was best for Kila, and would have put a lot of thought into choosing the man he wished her to wed. Where her welfare was concerned, he'd have not taken the situation lightly, and must have known Colin Monro would make her a good husband. And though she did not love the man—nor even know him very well, she would follow through with her father's wishes.
Besides, it was not as if she had suitors coming out of the alcoves. After her father wed, four years earlier, his new wife made absolutely certain it was she, and not Kila, who was noticed by the young men who came to call.
She'd seen the hurt in his eyes as he'd watched them twirl his much younger wife around the room whenever they entertained guests, which had been quite often, as Verona loved naught more than being the center of attention. Several years earlier, her father had been thrown from a horse and badly injured his leg, which, of course, made dancing with Verona himself out of the question. Aye, it had bothered him, but he had chosen to ignore his wife's most improper behavior.
Kila's stomach was in knots when she finally picked up the missive and went to the solar to find her uncle. She prayed she was doing the right thing by agreeing to the marriage. But what other choice did she have? She didn't want to live with her uncle and his family forever. Besides, she'd always known she would marry one day and start a family, and perhaps Colin would make a good husband and father of her children. She took a deep breath and knocked.
"Come."
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
He poured her a goblet of spiced wine and handed it to her. "After reading the missive, lass, what are your thoughts on the matter?"
She sighed. "I will go through with the marriage, as 'twas my father's wish." Her legs suddenly felt weak, and she sat down.
He smiled. "I'm most pleased you're no' upset about the contract, Kila," he said. "Your father wanted you to be happy, and I do as well."
She forced a smile. "I ken—and I will be." At least, she hoped she would.
"Larson truly believed Colin Monro to be a good fit for you, and that he would treat you well, which was very important to him."
She nodded, smiling through the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes. "Aye, 'twould have been."
"I'll send a missive to Laird Monro first thing on the morrow to let him ken of your decision. Once I receive a return missive from the laird, you will leave here and travel to Port-na-craig, where lodgings for the night will be obtained at The Black Bird Inn. After which you will journey to Stonehill Keep, in Perthshire, where you will be guests of the Earl of Riverglen. The earl will be the one to make the final arrangements to see that you arrive at Laird Monro's castle safely."
She nodded. The earl and his wife, the countess, were dear friends of her family, and she trusted them completely. It had been quite a while since Kila had visited Stonehill Keep and she couldn't wait to go there again.
"Once I receive word that the marriage has taken place, Monro will be sent the substantial dowry your father provided you." He blew out a long breath. "I dinnae ken how you feel about it, but your stepmother has insisted on being your chaperone on the journey. She's of an opinion your father would have wished it." He sat down beside her and took her hands in his. "I ken that you and Verona dinnae always see eye-to-eye," he whispered, "but remember that once you are wed, and become Lady Monro, you'll never have to fash about what she says again."
She nodded. "Aye." No longer having to deal with Verona on a day-to-day basis was definitely a positive side to getting married. Once she reached Whitestag Castle, her stepmother would be out of her life forever, and her vile brother, Balfour, as well.
He frowned. "I must say I'll be most glad to have her gone from here, and that arrogant brother of hers as well. Your dear aunt cannot bear the sight of her, and Balfour keeps the castle in an uproar over one thing or another." He shook his head. "I dinnae ken how your poor father stood it all. I'm praying that upon her return from Whitestag, she'll decide to seek out her own clan, instead of remaining here at Windmere. She refuses to stay in the dowager house, as it apparently doesnae meet her high standards." He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
She chuckled. She'd heard her stepmother's low opinion of the place on several occasions, when she had referred to it as being no more than a cottage, when in fact it was but a much smaller version of Windmere.
Kila blew out a breath. She couldn't say she was at all pleased to have Verona as a chaperone, and in fact, was surprised she wished to be one at all. And, of course, wherever his sister went, so did Balfour, who was devious, untrustworthy, and his gaze as cold as a winter's night. She shivered. Being the second son, he'd received but a small inheritance, and that had been wasted long ago on gambling and wenching. But Verona always saw to it that her younger brother received whatever he wished—no matter the cost.
"I'll have Wyn ready my belongings for travel. Will you let Verona ken of my decision, or shall I?"
He nodded. "I'll do so first thing in the morning."
She rose from her seat. "Then I'll bid you goodnight."
He gave her a peck on the cheek. "Good night, lass."
With her head reeling, Kila returned to her bedchamber.
"Wyn, ready all my belongings for travel. We will be leaving Windmere in a few days' time."
The maid's eyes widened. "Is something amiss, m'lady?"
Kila sat down on the settle, and stared into the fire. "Before his death, Father betrothed me to Colin Monro, the Laird of Whitestag Castle."
"Saints above! Are ye happy to be marrying the laird?"
She sighed. "To be honest, Wyn. I dinnae ken."
Later, as she lay in bed thinking about her upcoming nuptials, a wave of excitement suddenly washed over Kila. This marriage could be the best thing for her. Love would certainly come later, as well as many children. She'd be the lady of the castle, and would once again be able to oversee a household, as she had after her mother's death—that is, until her father married Verona. She rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes. Her life was about to change.
VERONA RAPPED HER KNUCKLES against her brother's bedchamber door for a third time, growing more impatient by the second. "Balfour, open this door at once," she ordered.
Her brother groaned as he threw open the door, wearing only the wrinkled knee-length shirt he'd slept in. "What is it you want at such a dreadful hour, sister?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as he staggered back across the room.
She snorted. "'Tis nigh time for the midday meal," she said, following him into the room and closing the door behind her. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of stale whisky, and God only knew what else. "Where were you last night? You certainly weren't here."
He sat down on the edge of the crumpled bed and looked up at her through narrowed eyes. "Spying on me now, are you? Anyway, 'tis none of your business where I was. I dinnae have to tell you every move I make, Verona. Now, tell me what is so important that it couldnae wait until later?" He scratched the dark stubble covering his chin.
"You'll no' believe what my dead husband did."
He raised a brow. "Which one?
"Dinnae be daft. 'Tis Larson I speak of."
Balfour shrugged. "How was I to ken which one? You've had three and they're all dead, but please, continue."
"He betrothed Kila to Colin Monro several weeks before his death. Apparently, that was the real reason for the Laird of Whitestag being here, and, of course, she has agreed to become his wife."
"You knew naught of this arrangement?" he asked, one brow raised in question.
She shook her head. "Nay, no' until last night when James informed me. The old bastard kept it from me, for what reason, I dinnae ken." Such a statement from her did not surprise Balfour, for he well knew she'd not married Larson Murray for love. The man had been more than twenty years her senior, but he'd had a fine castle and great wealth. And he had lavished her with whatever she desired for the four years before his death. But none of that had mattered—once she met Colin.
Balfour raked his fingers through his long black curls, and grinned. "I was under the distinct impression 'twas you who wanted in Laird Monro's bed. Or have you already been?"
She looked down her nose at him. "I'd no' be telling you if I had. But I'll make one thing clear. Kila will never get there, I'll see to it."
He snickered. "And just how do you plan on doing that?"
Verona smirked. "I've insisted on being her chaperone—poor Larson would have wished it—and you, dear brother, will be coming along with me."
He narrowed his dark eyes and leaned forward. "Just what is going on in that devious mind of yours?"