by Victoria Zak
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Glossary
Highland Burn
Guardians of Scotland Book 1
By: Victoria Zak
Highland Burn: A Guardians of Scotland Novel
Copyright: 2014
Text Copyright by Victoria Zak
Cover Copyright by Victoria Zak
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the author and publisher.
All characters, events, and locations in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or living, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design by JAB Designs
Editing by Julie Roberts
Acknowledgments
When I set out to pursue writing my first novel, I knew it had to have a few key elements in order for me to stay focused and entertained. I wanted to write what I was passionate about… dragons. And the next element had to be romance. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to write a romance novel, that was a given. And I knew what I didn’t want… a vanilla romance with no exciting toppings.
I wanted a Rocky Road romance covered in sweetness. A story line that had an interesting flavor leaving your taste buds wanting more. A hero and heroine who added that special secret ingredient… magic. And secondary characters who would sparkle, topping my story with sprinkles.
When the first scene hit me, of course I was mopping my floors at the time, and stopping to take notes seemed like a great excuse. Well, a man and woman at a loch came into view. They were destined to be together, but didn’t know it yet. Wait? What? A loch? Then mountains and mist began to appear and a man’s voice said, “Lass, what are ye waiting for? I have a story to tell ye.” A Highlander? Great, I have a Scottish romance novel to write. But what about my dragons? Being that my main character was a true Highlander, he wasn’t keen on the whole dragon shifting abilities and paranormal magic. But after a few bribes, and an extra sex scene, he agreed and off I went to write a Scottish medieval paranormal romance.
Along this roller coaster of a ride they call writing a novel, I couldn’t have conquered my dream without the love and support of a few angels. I’m honored to have each and every one of you in my life.
My husband – Thank you for your love and support and the countless times you stayed up late listening to my crazy ideas. I love you more then you could ever know.
My wonderful and beautiful kids – Thank you guys for being patient with mommy. You guys are my heart.
Suzan Tisdale – You’re truly my inspiration. Thank you for your support and friendship. And guess what? I wrote that damn story.
DL Roan – Thank you for your support and friendship. How many text messages did I send you?
Josette – Thank you for helping me with edits and smoothing out the rough edges. Hey, where’s my dragon drink?
Julie Roberts – You are amazing!! Thank you for all your hard work whipping Highland Burn into shape.
My Elite Alphas – You know who you are. I’m honored that you guys stuck around with me through this incredible journey. I’m forever indebted to you.
Prologue
Before Scotland was Scotland, two powerful societies ruled the region together. Two kingdoms, intertwined and complementary; one could not flourish without the other. One kingdom belonged to the Scots and the other to Dragonkine. The Kine were a powerful and ancient race, borne by the masters of old. They possessed both a dragon and human spirit and could take the form of each. As legend would have it, they were created to provide balance to the world and heal the wounds of the ‘pre-history’.
Throughout their rule, Dragonkine had proven their worth far more than any riches or coin. They were masters when it came to the lay of the land. Because of the magic their inner dragons held, they knew where to plant fields so that harvests would flourish. They knew where to build temples, and with their strength they could build sturdy, lasting villages. The Scots depended on the Kine greatly.
Fierce warriors, Dragonkine defended their realm with unstoppable power and merciless strength, yet they were not infallible. Without a mate, their inner dragons were unstable. Only a Dragonkine female possessed the power to calm the beast inside. Kine women were a rare race of their own. Though their bodies did not take possession of a dragon, their beauty was beyond exquisite, it was magical. Beautiful elegant Celtic knotwork patterns marked their flawless skin from the forefinger up beyond the shoulders, stopping just short of the breast. A mated female was even more alluring. Once mated, the markings on their skin would assume the color of their mate’s elemental power. The women were valued as Goddesses and were worshiped by all Dragonkine. If it weren’t for their female's grace and their ability to calm the beast inside, a warrior’s dragon would take over and unleash hell on Earth.
Together the Scots and Dragonkine fought off many Viking attacks and tribal conflicts, and maintained peace between the kingdoms. They ruled together for over a hundred peaceful years until a sacred bond was broken. Since the time before time, it was forbidden for a human to mate with Dragonkine.
Trouble began when both kings’ heirs became of age and were pressured into finding the proper mate.
King Drest, the Dragonkine king, had a beautiful daughter, Vayla Blue. Being that she was of marrying age, her beauty had attracted many strong and wealthy Kine suitors. Not only was the princess appealing, Vayla had the grace of a queen and a loving heart. She was adored by all of her people, but most of all, she was the sparkle in her father’s eye.
King Drest loved his daughter more than life itself. Being as she was his only heir to the throne and to carry on his lineage, he protected Vayla and kept her safe, mayhap a little too much. Five elite warriors, who seemed to never leave her side, followed her wherever she went. And when she wasn’t being followed, her mother relentlessly dictated to her as to how a proper princess should act and taught her well, for Kine women were the backbone of their society.
One summer morning King Drest called a royal meeting and by midday his great hall was filled with top ranked warriors from both realms including King MacAlpin, the king of the human realm. Urgent business regarding a neighboring tribe crossing borders and pillaging its villages was the discussion at hand.
“Mac, are we to wait for yer son to show up or do we start without him?” King Drest was starting to become impatient with the young lad. Mac should teach his son some manners when it came to being on time.
MacAlpin ran his hand repeatedly down his plaited beard as he stood by the window sternly eyeing his son hastily making his way through the bailey, winking an eye as he passed by a group of Dragonkine females. “He’ll be here,” he grumbled.
Constantine, King MacAlpin’s son and heir to the throne, charmed the ladies with his vivid green eyes, chiseled jaw, and long sandy blonde hair with war braids framing his boyish face. As beautif
ul as he was, the Gods had blessed him with brawn and brains, yet his maturity was still questionable.
MacAlpin glared at Constantine as he entered the great hall. He loved his son, but the boy needed discipline. Not that he wasn’t honorable or respectful, but trouble just seemed to find him. MacAlpin blamed his wife for allowing Constantine to run amuck, for he could do no wrong in her eyes.
Once everyone was seated, King Drest called the first order of business. Constantine became bored with the mundane arguing and found himself looking out of a window daydreaming, when a beautiful woman came into view. Her long tawny hair streamed down her back in parted waves enticing his eyes to feast upon her. A white gown outlined in gold hugged her body, revealing her slender figure and full round breasts. His head perked up when bright blue eyes caught his stare. Constantine was too busy admiring her curves to notice a small green dragon perched on her shoulder. She was feeding him some kind of fruit.
Constantine thought he would never take another breath when she flashed him an irresistible smile. He knew right then and there that this woman, nay this magnificent woman, had to be his wife. He wouldn’t settle for less.
The meeting took forever; at least for Constantine it did. He couldn’t wait to track his woman down and it didn’t help that he was as hard as a rock. He kept shifting in his seat trying to relieve the stiffness. He even tried thinking about their hag of a cook back home, naked, but nothing was going to satisfy his need until he claimed his obsession.
Once the meeting was over he found her. She playfully led him back behind a rowan tree where they tore off each other’s clothing, their hands exploring each other as he kissed her like no other, soft and slow, building up to an unquenchable rapture. Vayla surrendered to her own needs as Constantine backed her up against the tree and claimed her ever so sweetly.
As lust was finally sated, Constantine laid her down upon lush green grass and made love to her again, but this time he took his time discovering her luscious body. He couldn’t get enough of her soft skin, womanly curves, and her long lean legs.
After they had their fill of each other, Constantine fell asleep with his head on Vayla’s lap. As she watched Constantine sleep, she made a small cross out of twigs from the rowan tree and bound the sticks together with strands of her golden hair. This was forbidden. Dragonkine women were never to marry or bed a human. They both knew that, yet their hearts knew no boundaries.
Before Constantine left, she placed the cross in his hands. “May this protect ye until we meet again.” It was as though she knew what the outcome of this beautiful rebellion was going to be. He kissed her and headed back to his home. It would be the last time he saw her.
Chapter 1
The Loch
Late summer of 1314
Medieval Scotland
“Fergus, the water is verra refreshing. Why don’t ye join me?”
The white stallion inhaled deeply then snorted, as he ate from a patch of lush green grass.
“Well, ye dinnae have to be rude about it.”
Long white hair with streaks of gray fell over his muscled neck as the fine steed shook his head and stomped his hoof. He pulled on a blade of grass, indicating that he was perfectly content grazing near the loch’s edge.
A slight giggle escaped her mouth as she splashed at her horse.
Abigale Bruce had ridden hard and fast through the glen most of the morn. Since her father’s recent successful victory over the English at the battle of Bannockburn, Abigale had been freed from the nunnery. Her excitement of finally being able to explore her new-found freedom was too much to hold back as she charged through the forest. Now she rewarded Fergus with a patch of grass while she cooled off in the loch. Oh how she cherished these moments; they were few and far between.
Eight long years at Dunfermline Abbey wasn’t the ideal place to grow up, but she had no choice in the matter. Her father, Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, had placed her there in order to keep her safe from his enemy, the English. Throughout her time at the Abbey, King Edward, the King of England, had gotten close to capturing her a few times, but the small secretive community of nuns had held true to their oath and kept her hidden well.
Unhappy about the newly crowned King of Scotland, the English had captured Abigale’s step-mother, half-sister, and her two aunts, and had also beheaded three of her uncles. Humiliated, held prisoner behind iron bars of a bird cage, and hung from the Tower of London had been the women’s fate. Even though her freedom was taken away, Abigale knew it was nothing compared to what they had endured.
Abigale’s trouble had started as soon as she walked through the gates of the abbey. Robert Bruce had given Dunfermline Abbey a generous contribution to repair part of the church that had been attacked by King Edward. In return he requested that Abbot Benard take his daughter in and protect her. With such a gracious amount of coin given, the Abbot could not refuse. Therefore Abigale, at the wee age of ten, had been left at the abbey and placed in the cruel hands of Abbess Margaret.
Since Abbess Margaret was in charge of twelve nuns, she declared she had not the time to look after the wee brat, so she left Sister Kate in charge of Abigale. Abbess Margaret was a beautiful middle-aged woman with short, raven hair, and possessed the ability to inflict the cruelest of punishments. She watched and waited for Abigale to slip up so she could take pleasure in punishing her. Abigale knew why the woman hated her; she was jealous and thought it unfair that she had special treatment just because she was the king’s daughter.
Abigale was afforded a few exceptions to the rules. Because of her lack of interest in taking the vow to become a nun, she didn’t have to cut her hair like the other sisters. Furthermore, she could marry, and own property. Although there was one rule that had to be followed; she had to be obedient. And Abbess Margaret took great pride in punishing a disobedient Abigale. Sending Abigale on a daily pee pot cleaning always seemed to make the corners of her thin lips twitch. “Ye’re no princess, a bastart child who her own father has abandoned."
After a few missed visits from her father and daily tongue lashings from Abbess Margaret, Abigale started to feel pushed aside and abandoned, yet her spirit held firm.
Sister Kate had kept a watchful eye on Abigale, keeping her work-load full so she would stay out of trouble, but trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went as if she was born into it. Abbey life wasn’t the life for her. She grew to hate the prayer bells, for they rang eight times during the day starting at the wee hours of night. The blasted bell would ring either when she was sound asleep or assisting a monk in surgery. More times than not she was late to prayer and being tardy was frowned upon. The consequences were harsh, in fact they were harsher than falling asleep during worship. Abigale knew this all too well; she had fallen asleep in a choir stall one night. Sister Kate had been the circator that night, pacing up and down the aisle as she shined her bright cresset lamp into the stalls checking if anyone had fallen asleep. A sharp point with a stick to her ribcage had woken Abigale up quickly. Of course she got a rap on the legs for that one. Thank God it was Sister Kate, for she showed her mercy.
Now that she was home, her father was more than ever adamant about keeping his family safe. He vowed to never allow another Bruce woman to be captured by the filthy Sassenach. Just as Abigale thought she’d regained her freedom, here she was once again with it ripped away from her by an arranged marriage to her father’s first in command. Who better to protect her than the Bogeyman himself?
Trepidation crept over her, sending a shiver through her body as she thought about the man her father had arranged for her betrothal. “The Black Douglas,” she thought. A man with a reputation that would make the Devil himself shudder with fear. A ruthless warrior who had fought in many battles with her father. The English feared him terribly, making up nursery rhymes warning their wee bairns to “hush before the Black Douglas will get ye”. She’d never met the man before, but the deal was done. Her father had arranged the marriage and Abigale was to
abide by his orders.
Abigale turned to Fergus who was chewing on a blade of grass. “At least ye don’t have to marry the Bogeyman.” She shuddered. Saying it out loud made it all too real.
For a moment she wondered just what the Black Douglas would look like. Could her father be so cruel as to wed her to an evil, battle-worn old man? Nay, who could possibly be scared of an old man? Then again, a warrior’s reputation lived on even after death. Or mayhap he really was a monster of some sort, a mythical creature of the night that lurked under your bed waiting to nip at your heels. Abigale was letting her imagination get the best of her. Shaking those thoughts from her head she dipped down into the coolness of the loch, washing away every bit of worry. Today was her day and she was going to enjoy the peace that the loch gave her before it was taken away from her.
Coming back up she lay her body out flat to float on top of the water’s surface. Her light linen shift clung to her petite body, long dark auburn hair spread out and floated with the ripples of the water. Closing her eyes, she opened her arms out wide allowing her fears to fall from her body and sink to the bottom of the loch.
A snapping of twigs alerted Abigale that she wasn’t alone. Quickly she dipped her body down into the water to hide from what was lurking in the woods. Panic pricked up her spine as she searched the glen’s wooded edge for some kind of movement. Nothing… no movement at all. It must be a small animal frolicking through the thicket. Another snap. This time it sounded too close and too loud to be a small animal.
Abigale turned and faced Fergus.
Ears pointing in the direction of the snapping sound, Fergus let out a gut deep neigh.
“Ye heard that too?” she whispered, trying not to draw attention to herself. Abigale slowly moved toward the water’s edge, not making a sound. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by a wild animal or worst yet… a rogue Highlander.
Dripping wet and cold, Abigale stepped out of the water and headed straight for the huge boulder covered in green moss where her dress and her dirk lay. If instincts had taught her anything, it was to never let your guard down and never leave home without your dirk.