by Terry Spear
“Ye still think the alliance with the MacKays will secure our future?”
“First, we must get them to trust us. That MacKay dog will nae even know his daughter-by-marriage betrayed him,” said her father. “I’ve been trying to seize MacKay lands for years, and now they’ll be mine for the taking. ʼTis about damn time.”
“And if your daughter fails? Ye could always kill the MacKay and his son like ye did your brother and his wife. Shouldnae be too difficult to make it look like an accident or as if another clan was responsible.”
“Donna worry about Sorcha. She will nae fail. She’ll do anything that her father tells her to do.”
Sorcha gazed down at the journal that was now stained with her tears. She was breathless with rage and hurt. She swung open the door, not giving a damn who was behind it. She glared at her father and Raonull with burning, reproachful eyes. Fury almost choked her.
“Daughter, whatever are ye doing, and what do ye have there?”
She shut the door behind her with a heavy blow. “Sit down, Father.” The long look the two of them exchanged incensed her even more. Her expression became thunderous. “Ye too, Raonull. We all need to have a wee chat."
Chapter 9
Luthais reined in his mount beside Ceana as the sun started to rise above the horizon. He’d never seen her look as beautiful as with her tousled hair and swollen lips. Satisfaction pursed his mouth, knowing he was responsible for her appearance. He winked when he caught her eye.
“Ye didnae sleep in your bed last eve. Will your sister be worried? Mayhap your uncle will send men out to find ye.”
“I doubt anyone, including my uncle, will even notice that I’m gone.”
He gathered his thoughts before he spoke again. “Are ye all right? Did I hurt ye?”
“The only part of me that aches is my heart. I’ll truly miss ye, Luthais. I wish there was a way we could be together.” She straightened herself in the saddle. “But my cousin will soon be your wife, and ye have a duty to your clan.”
He offered her a comforting smile. “There still may be a chance for us.”
“And what is that, pray tell?”
“We kissed, and we both touched na tursachan at the same time. Mayhap fate will save us both and we’ll be husband and wife, be as one.”
Ceana waved him off. “If ye’re going to tell me that my fallen tears will turn the heather beneath my feet white, then I’m glad we didnae wed.”
“Pardon?”
She shrugged. “Malvina.”
“I donna understand.”
“Nor do I when people believe in legends and tales of kissing at a stone when they should know better. Fate is what ye make it.”
Luthais couldn’t say that he disagreed. When they reached the border, he stopped and dismounted. He assisted Ceana from her horse and didn’t miss the touch of sadness that crossed her face. His fingers brushed her cheek.
“I donna think it wise for me to travel any farther. This isnae right, lass. I took your innocence. Ye should be my wife. If ye are with child—” He heard his voice and it sounded unnatural.
“And your clan would be warring with mine if ye refused to wed Sorcha.” She grabbed his hand and closed her eyes. “I want to take a moment longer. I want to remember our time together, ye, and the way we are now.” Her gaze met his. “Luthais, I—”
Ceana flung herself away from him at the sound of thundering hoofbeats and at the sight of his betrothed.
***
Ceana watched in horror as Sorcha dismounted and approached them with a wicked smile. Good God! What could Ceana possibly say now since she’d been caught in the arms of her cousin’s betrothed? She shifted from foot to foot and stole a quick glance at Luthais as he stepped forward.
“Mistress Gunn, what a pleasant surprise to see ye—”
She held up her hand. “Please save your words for someone who believes them.” Sorcha’s accusing gaze was riveted on Ceana, but then she turned and narrowed her eyes at Luthais. “Do ye love my cousin?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Pardon?”
“I donna have time for games. I asked ye a question, and I deserve an honest response.” She placed her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.
“I only met your cousin yester—”
“I know ye kissed her at the loch, and I also know that Ceana’s ne’er felt this way before about anyone. Ye made her heart ‘sing with delight,’” said Sorcha in a singing tone. “Those were your words. Were they nae?” She turned, smiling at Ceana.
“How could ye possibly know that?” Ceana didn’t realize that her voice went up a notch or two. Sorcha walked to her mount and ruffled through a satchel. As she came back, she lifted a brow and held out Ceana’s journal. “Bàs an fhithich ort!” May you suffer the death of the raven!
“To be truthful, I’m surprised ye didnae curse me with hawks, Cousin. But aye, I spent the night reading your journal. In the future, ye may nae want to write down all your thoughts so anyone can find them, or at least find a better place to hide your book.” She handed Ceana back her journal. “But that’s nae the reason I’m here.” Sorcha turned to Luthais and placed her hand on his arm.
He stiffened at the gesture.
“I know ye’re going to be verra disappointed with what I’ve come to say, but I’m afraid that I simply cannae marry ye. Ye must know that I’ve had many suitors from which to choose. I’m ashamed to admit that I havenae really given this subject the amount of thought that I should. In short, I’ve agreed too hastily to be wed. I dare say we are now in quite the quandary.”
Sorcha turned to Ceana and sighed. “The Gunns have made an alliance with the MacKays, and now that the betrothal is broken, I’m afraid so is the agreement. Unless of course, Mister MacKay weds another Gunn.” She shrugged. “Then I suppose the alliance would be restored and all would be well.”
A warning voice whispered in Ceana’s head. “What is this about, Sorcha? I donna understand what ye’re doing. Does Uncle John know about this? He would ne’er let ye—”
“What about my father? He’s aware that I refuse to wed Mister MacKay.” Sorcha smiled at Luthais. “Please take nay offense.”
Luthais’ eyes shifted from Sorcha to Ceana.
“Father has even given ye his blessing to marry Mister MacKay. If Mister MacKay wants to wed ye, of course.”
“I want naught more in this world.” Luthais smiled at Sorcha. “Please take nay offense.”
Ceana’s mind raced with new ideas, but she was in too much shock to even put two words together to form a coherent sentence. This was all occurring so fast. What could’ve possibly happened from last eve until now to have Fate change its fickle mind—and her cousin’s?
The standing stones.
Sorcha brushed her hands together. “Good. Now that that’s settled, Mister MacKay, might I have a private word with ye?”
***
Luthais had no idea what Sorcha was about. A voice in the back of his mind whispered not to trust her. Now that Ceana had left them, he intended to find out the truth. He whirled on Sorcha.
“I swear if ye—”
“Please save your threats, Mister MacKay. I released ye from your troth, but in return ye must do something for me.” Something cautioned him not to ask, and when Sorcha lifted the edge of her skirts, he averted his eyes. “I want ye to take this.” When he looked back, she handed him a letter that was sealed with wax. “Ye will hide that document as if your life depended on it. And please realize that keeping it under the mattress of your bed isnae a good place.”
He wasn’t about to admit that was the first thought that came to mind.
“Give me your word that ye will nae read or open that letter. If ye do, ye place in danger the lives of those who ye love the most.”
“Aye, I give ye my word, but what are the contents?”
“If something befalls me, then and only then may ye read the letter and show it to Ceana.”
He lifted a br
ow, and a puzzled expression crossed his face. “What could possibly befall ye? Are ye in danger?”
“I’m afraid that I’ve treated my cousins terribly.” She started to walk back toward her mount and turned her head over her shoulder. “I am making things right, Mister MacKay.”
***
A fortnight later Ceana stood at the altar with Luthais, pinching herself twice to make sure this was real. He looked so handsome in his MacKay plaid. His long hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. She could’ve done without the leather that was strapped to his arm, but at least he’d removed the ones at his shoulders before their wedding.
She smiled at her sister and Samuel as they sat in a pew side by side. She shook her head at Aunt Marta chanting some new incantation under her breath. And she even smiled at Sorcha who was sitting next to brooding Uncle John. Ceana wasn’t sure how her cousin had managed to convince the man to become so agreeable, but she was glad she had. Perhaps there was hope of saving Sorcha’s soul yet.
When the priest asked for the rings, the doors to the chapel swung open with a loud bang, and Luthais’ large, redheaded friend gave a nod in the breadth of the doors. Ceana almost laughed because the man barely fit between them.
Luthais shouted, “Trobhad!” Come!
Mac na Bracha flew in through the open chapel doors and landed on Luthais’s arm. The bird carried a small bag around its neck.
Luthais lifted his arm to Ceana and smiled. “Ye’ll need to remove the rings, lass.” As soon as Ceana untied the tiny bag, he said, “Dèan às!” Be gone! The hawk flew out the doors, and Ceana heard a large gasp. She wasn’t sure if the sound came from the Gunns or the MacKays who were in attendance.
She thought she had spoken her vows. She vaguely remembered exchanging the rings. The only thing Ceana knew for certain was that she and Luthais were now husband and wife. His hands slipped up her arms, bringing her closer.
“Come here, Wife.”
As though his words released her, Ceana flung herself against him. “I love ye, Luthais.”
“And I love ye.”
He lowered his head, and their love was sealed with a kiss or by a standing stone. For the first time in her life, Ceana wasn’t sure which.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A very special “thank you” goes out to the following people:
To my family, who supports me through thick and thin. I could never do this without your love and support.
To Mary Grace, my rock and the woman who never hesitates to tell me this is the best or worst thing she’s ever read.
To my street team, Bad Girls of the Highlands, thank you for all that you do!
To my readers, for your posts, emails, and pictures, and for being so incredibly supportive. Thank you for helping me bring my love of Scotland to life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Victoria Roberts writes Scottish historical romances about kilted heroes and warriors from the past. RT Book Reviews named her “one of the most promising debut authors across the genres,” and she was also a 2013 RT Reviewers’ Choice award winner for X Marks the Scot. Victoria is a member of Romance Writers of America and several local chapters, as well as a contributing author to the online magazine Celtic Guide. When she’s not plotting her next Scottish adventure, she’s dragging her clan to every Scottish festival under the sun. Visit Victoria at www.VictoriaRobertsAuthor.com .
Ready for more adventures with men in kilts? Find out what happens when an English lady spy is sent to the Highlands to uncover nefarious plots against the Crown in My Highland Spy.
MY CAPTIVE HIGHLANDER
The Highland Adventure Series
Vonda Sinclair
About My Captive Highlander:
Can unexpected passion and a little ancient magic turn enemies into lovers?
During a fierce storm on the west coast of Scotland, Shamus MacKenzie barely survives a galley wreck only to be captured and held for ransom by the enemy MacDonalds. Aided by the gift of second sight, Maili MacDonald, sister of the ruthless chief, senses the handsome, dark-haired stranger will somehow be important in her life. Compelled to help him, she insists on providing him food and a healer to see to his injuries. She knows she is daft to fall in love with this captivating warrior after one forbidden kiss but cannot help herself. With each visit from Maili, Shamus finds his thoughts consumed by the enchanting lass. Can he convince her to help him escape the dungeon and prevent the impending battle between the two clans?
Other Highland Titles by Vonda Sinclair:
The Highland Adventure Series
My Fierce Highlander (Alasdair and Gwyneth)
My Wild Highlander (Lachlan and Angelique)
My Brave Highlander (Dirk and Isobel)
My Daring Highlander (Keegan and Seona)
My Notorious Highlander (Torrin and Jessie)
My Rebel Highlander (Rebbie and Calla)
Letter to Readers:
Thanks to all of you for reading my books! In my view, love is the most powerful force in the universe, and I find it rewarding to explore this belief in my stories. I'm crazy about Scotland and love being able to transport readers there. I hope you enjoy My Captive Highlander. It is a special romantic novella, brimming with conflict and adventure, along with a fun touch of paranormal, set in one of the most beautiful places on earth. It is a part of my Highland Adventure Series.–Vonda
DEDICATION
In memory of my wonderful, loving and encouraging husband. You showed me what a true hero is. I will always love you.
www.vondasinclair.com
Chapter 1
August 1619
The twenty-oar birlinn sliced through the rough waters off Scotland's west coast. The cool wind lashing at him, Shamus MacKenzie glanced up at the dark clouds hovering over the gray-violet sunset. A storm was fast approaching.
His oldest brother, Cyrus, Chief of Clan MacKenzie, had sent him and his two brothers, Dermott and Fraser, along with full crews on their two galleys to escort the Earl of Rebbinglen to Glasgow. Having accomplished their task five days ago, the brothers and clan members were now on their way home. The weather had been calm until this night.
Black clouds rolled in faster and faster. Lightning flashed, near blinding him. They were in for a thrashing.
"Whose canny idea was it to leave Inveraray?" Fraser grumbled behind him.
Shamus turned, barely able to make out his younger brother's blue eyes and black hair in the dimness.
He well knew Fraser would've liked to have stayed at Inveraray for a fortnight with all the lovely ladies. "Cyrus wanted us to return home forthwith," Shamus said loudly enough to be heard over the rising wind. If they'd stayed any longer, no doubt his irritable older brother would've sent a fleet of galleys to fetch them home.
Though now, he wished they had waited a day or two to continue their journey north.
Thunder boomed and the western wind off the sea blasted them. The oarsmen heaved and grunted, trying to stay the course as the galley rode up and down through the giant swells.
"Stay away from the rocks!" Shamus commanded. The white caps and swirling currents betrayed the dangerous hidden boulders closer to shore.
The helmsman shouted something Shamus couldn't hear over the wind.
Drops of rain stung his face, and a moment later, pounded him in cold sheets.
Saints, he'd never been at sea in such a quick and terrible gale. Blood pounded in his ears as he tried to figure out a course of action. How could he keep his younger brother and his clansmen safe?
Dermott manned the other galley. During a lightning flash, Shamus' gaze scanned over the rough waters and he glimpsed the other vessel some distance behind them.
"May God protect us all," he whispered, salty seawater splashing into his mouth.
Torrents of chill rain drove against them. Though the sail was down, the fearsome wind, along with the enormous waves, propelled the birlinn eastward, toward the shore and the treacherous unseen boulders j
ust beneath the churning surface.
"Stay the course!" Shamus commanded, scrambling over two thwarts and joining the helmsman in the stern. He grabbed hold of the rudder, helping to steer. He squinted through the rain, able to see only the outline of the mainland. The torches on shore they'd been using to help gauge their route had recently been doused in the downpour. The brilliant flashes of lightning revealed little but the violent sea.
A massive wave crashed into the birlinn and sent it careening into a deep trough. Shouts sounded all around him as Shamus grappled to keep his hold on the slippery rudder, his stomach dropping.
Was this the end? Would they all die this night?
"Hold on, Fraser!" he yelled.
The oak hull crashed against the rocks and splintered. The massive jolt knocked his hands from the rudder and Shamus plummeted overboard into the icy depths.
Despite the shock, he forced himself to hold his breath, kick his feet and swim toward the surface. Fear for his brothers and the crews of both galleys infused him with strength. Fortunately, most of them knew how to swim, but if some had been hurtled into the rocks, they might be badly injured.
When his head broke through the seawater, he barely had time to inhale before another powerful wave crashed over him, driving him down again. The water roared in his ears. Flailing, he propelled himself to the surface with his legs.
After inhaling a breath of air, he yelled, "Fraser!"
The lightning overhead illuminated naught in the dim gloaming but the giant boulders protruding from the sea. Had their clan's other birlinn been smashed to pieces, or had Dermott and the crew managed to stay offshore enough to avoid the peril? Where were Fraser and his own crew?