A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
Senara agrees to work as a lady's maid at Castle of Park to help ease the financial burden of her beloved family. She does not expect to have such a wicked mistress any more than she expects to find a handsome laird...or a ghost with a burning need for retribution.
Gavin vowed on his father’s death bed to watch over his aunt, and regrets it every day. Especially when her new maid arrives. The woman is extraordinarily fascinating which stirs his cruel aunt’s ire. Can he protect the woman from his aunt? Even more important, can he keep himself from giving into his longing for the country lass?
Theirs is a journey of treacherous pasts, painful loss, hidden longing and vengeance.
Previously released in Once Upon a Haunted Castle and Romantic Legends
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
A GHOSTLY TALE OF FORBIDDEN LOVE
Copyright © 2016 Madeline Martin
Excerpt from THE MADAM’S HIGHLANDER copyright 2017 by Madeline Martin
Cover design by Teresa Spreckelmeyer, The Midnight Muse
Cover photo by Period Images
Vector images by Zhaolifang on Vecteezy
All rights reserved. The author has provided this book for personal use only. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For information, address Madeline Martin at http://madelinemartin.com
Chapter One
Banff, Scotland June 1604
Senara had never fought against four men at once, but she wasn’t about to back down from the challenge.
“Give us the horse and we’ll leave ye be.” The taller of the men gripped her fingers where she held Norbert’s reins. His hand was as large as both of hers combined.
Norbert huffed out a breath of warm air, as if he found the idea preposterous. For indeed it was. She’d no sooner give up her horse than she would her father’s sword.
Her parents had been generous to gift her with both prior to her departure. She’d rather die than lose either.
“I’ll be damned if I give ye anything.” Senara swept a dagger from her waist and drew the razor-sharp tip over the man’s thumb.
He loosed a curse and jerked his hand back. “The cat’s got claws, lads.” The look he gave the others was not one of caution, but of malice.
Of foul intent.
Senara glanced at the swells of purple heather surrounding the trail and at the heavy green trees beyond. It did not appear there were more men.
Four men would not be impossible.
She edged in front of Norbert.
“That’s quite a blade ye got there, lass.” A man with a tangle of blond hair grinned at the first man. “Did she stick ye with her poker?”
The other two laughed.
Senara slid free her father’s sword from the leather scabbard. The steel glinted in the afternoon sun, embodied with all the strength and bravery of her father.
“Does she even know how to use it?” the blond asked.
Senara didn’t answer.
They would see.
The man with the injured hand – nay, the injured pride – charged at her. Senara stepped aside from his clumsy attack.
The others laughed.
The tall man’s face went red. This time he pulled out his own sword – a terribly large thing he had to hold with two hands.
Her heart skittered against her ribs, but she tamped down the swell of fear. She’d done mock fights with her father and brother many times.
Norbert, she reminded herself. She was doing this to save her sweet Norbert.
The tall man swung his blade down toward her head. She crossed her sword and dagger against one another and stopped the lethal blow. The clang of metal was almost deafening, and the vibrations carried up her arms and near rattled her back teeth.
She shoved the man’s blade from her and lashed out with her own sword. He moved to block her assault, which was exactly what she’d wanted.
In a deft move, she attacked with the dagger, plunging it into his side. She pulled the blade free and a warm wash of blood gushed out over her hand.
Surprise showed on the man’s face. He staggered back with a hand to the wound.
Though not a mortal hit, it was a warning.
She was no lass easily defeated.
Two of the men lunged toward her at once. She arched her sword through the air as her father had shown her and both their blows were blocked with a metallic ring.
Senara knelt and stabbed with the blade, catching one man in the thigh and swiping the other on the rump.
Truth be told, she hadn’t meant to hit him there, but it was the only flesh within reach. And if it came down to his injured bum or saving Norbert, well – she’d save Norbert.
The man howled in offense, rightly so, and drew back.
A shadow blotted out the summer sun behind Senara and chilled the warm day. Her skin prickled with the nearness of a new arrival.
Perhaps she ought to have feared him, attacked him even, but the open mouths of her assailants gave her a sense of comfort regarding the stranger.
The blond man had been moving toward her before the new person arrived, and his momentum continued to carry him toward her. Senara lifted her sword to halt his attack.
Her block was unnecessary.
A form moved in front of her with such fluid speed, she barely recognized it for a man. In the time it took to suck in her breath, the new arrival had her attacker on the ground with his sword arm jerking back to deliver a killing blow.
“Stop.” The word left Senara’s mouth before she’d even thought it.
The new man was taller than the four others, and shoulder-length black hair obscured his face. His clothes were fine and immaculate despite him being on the same dusty open road as she.
“Why should he live?” He kept his gaze fixed on his defeated foe as he spoke. “He attacked a defenseless woman with three other men. He’s a coward.”
Ire plucked at Senara. She tucked her dagger into her belt and approached him with her free hand cocked on her hip. “Defenseless, ye say?”
His gaze lifted toward her sword, and a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “Aye, well, armed then.” He pulled his blade from where it hovered threateningly at the blond man’s throat. “Off with the lot of ye or I’ll have ye hanged.”
By the time the defeated man had scrambled to his feet, his companions had already limped off.
The dark-haired man turned toward Senara. “Are ye hurt?”
“Nay, because I’m more than armed – I know what I’m doing.” Senara pushed her sword into its scabbard. The heavy weight of it fell against the side of her right thigh, reminding her of how many times she’d seen her da with it slung in exactly the same way. It made her feel invincible and powerful and…and horribly homesick for her family.
“Ye held them off well, I’ll give ye that,” the man said.
She turned her attention to Norbert rather than give in to the sudden tightness in her throat at the thought of her family and the familiar thatched home set back in the mountains. “I’ll have ye know I dinna need yer help.”
For his part, Norbert had been quite brave in how he’d stood staring at the men with his dark, soft eyes. She’d make sure to find something sweet for him later.
When the man didn’t speak again, she tur
ned and found him watching her with his brow lifted.
He had rather nice brows, for a man. Not too arched like a lass, but not so flat as to make him low-browed and angry. Just enough of an arch to lend his deep brown eyes a look of sincerity.
Senara realized she was not only staring, but also had not properly thanked him for his aid – even if she hadn’t necessarily required it. “But thank ye for stopping – it was kind of ye.”
He nodded, his expression unchanged from that pensive, sincere stare of his. “I’ll help ye onto yer horse, so ye can be on yer way.” The rich timbre of his voice matched his gaze – even and deep.
And entirely pleasing, if she was being honest.
She waved away his offer. “Ach, no – I’ll walk.”
He didn’t reply and in the end, it was the stretch of silence which pressed the answer from her.
“Norbert has carried me the better part of the day and I’m no’ expected to arrive until nightfall.” She let her gaze skim the swells of deep purple and the sunlit fields.
The warm day had turned the scent of grass into something lush and sweet beneath the perfume of heather. A smile tugged at her lips. “This is the perfect sort of day to tarry, dinna ye think?”
He slid a side glance to where she’d been gazing. “I assume ye were walking when ye were attacked.”
As he’d made the statement rather than asking an actual question, Senara didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she lifted her face toward the warmth of the sun and closed her eyes against its caress.
Perhaps it hadn’t been the wisest of choices to not be riding Norbert, but she knew well enough how to fend off attacks. Even Da always said what an incredibly lucky lass she was as she could always seem to manage herself out of awful situations.
“I’ll walk with ye.” The man’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Senara opened her eyes and regarded him. His dark hair was not actually black, but a deep, deep brown with threads of red-gold, which near glowed in the sunlight.
“It isna necessary.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and only then realized it’d come loose during the fight.
“As ye can defend yerself.” He finished the sentence for her and went to claim the reins of his horse in a stubborn demonstration of his intent.
“I dinna need ye to walk with me,” Senara insisted.
“Perhaps I also prefer to tarry.” He said it with such a straight face, Senara couldn’t help but laugh.
“Fine,” she conceded. “I’m Senara. If we’re to be tarrying together, we ought to know one another’s names.”
He gave a courteous nod. “Gavin.”
Gavin.
It seemed a good name for a man so beautiful.
Aye, he’d be a fine travel companion for the rest of her journey until it ended at Castle of Park and her new life would officially begin.
*
Gavin MacDuff had given only his name. Perhaps providing his full title would have seemed too pretentious a thing when Senara’s lack of wealth was so obvious with her simple gray cloth gown and her tired steed.
It also may have had to do with the assumption she wouldn’t care.
Gavin had rescued other women before. They’d all been grateful and eager to show their appreciation, especially after a shrewd assessment of his costly horse and clothing.
Though the lass had eventually remembered to thank him, she’d been ruffled at his interference.
“Ye’ve a fine sword on yer hip.” He nodded toward the leather-clad blade swinging beside the long line of her leg.
Her hand settled over the exposed hilt in a caring, protective gesture. “It was my da’s. He was a knight when I was a babe, but the king dinna much care for him speaking his mind and took it all away.” She spoke of her father’s loss of favor as if it were unimportant.
In a world dictated by the wealthy and the titled, her nonchalance offered a very foreign perspective.
Foreign and fascinating.
In fact, she’d never regarded his horse, or him, with the same assessing gaze other women did. Instead, she seemed to watch him with quiet observation. It made him wish he could see through her glass green eyes and into the sequestered thoughts beyond.
“He trained me with it when I was a wee lass,” she said. “Me and now my brother, Geordie.” She let her fingertips skim along the tops of the heather, leaving a ripple of purple flowers wavering in her wake. “They’re why I came all this way.”
“And why is that?” Gavin asked with genuine interest.
Even Senara’s posture was relaxed, as if she were without burden in her life. He envied her that.
No lairdship was stacked on her shoulders, no need for an heir pressing on her daily, no damn rejection to a marriage proposal to Colina MacKintosh.
Though it’d been a perfect match and could bring perpetual peace between their clans, her father had been adamant in his refusal without even listening to Gavin’s offer.
The very thought of it made his muscles tighten with frustration.
“My parents are without wealth.” Senara’s soft voice broke through the ugliness of his thoughts. “I know my staying with them strains their stores. They never will admit it, mind ye, but I know I’m too old to be living with them. I’ve no wish to marry, and so I found employment.”
She glanced back at him with a conspiratorial smile. “I plan to save up all my coin to buy Geordie a knighthood.”
Knighthoods were expensive. Whatever type of employment she had aimed for would need to pay well to afford such a position for her brother. But he was not so crass as to bring up the impossible height of her lofty aspirations. The unfortunate ticking of time would handle it harshly enough.
“Why do ye have no wish to marry?” he asked.
She turned and looked at him. The sun shone behind her and lit her hair like a halo of golden fire. Her eyes were green as the leafy trees beyond and wide with the goodness of those who lived a country life. “I dinna want to marry because I’m no’ in love.”
It was so easy a response, so light and innocently stated, he wanted to laugh. Instead, he hid his mirth with a wry twist of his lips. “People dinna marry for love.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “But they should.”
“Marriage is meant as a contract,” he pressed. “An agreement between two people for wealth or title, or even both.”
She met his gaze. “That’s verra sad though, when ye think on it.”
A prickle of irritation raked over him. He, who had already been so disenchanted with his failed attempts to find his own suitable bride. He, who played by the rules as they’d been dictated.
He, whose hold on his lands died with him unless he had a legitimate heir.
The last thing he wanted was the wistful woman he’d just met to make him feel as though his choice in marriage was faulty.
“Are ye sure?” he asked. “What if ye could wed and have yer parents be wealthy and comfortable and yer brother in a knighthood? Would ye still no’ marry without love?”
She nuzzled the rounded tip of her nose against the white patch of hair on her horse’s forehead and tilted her head in thought. “I canna think I would if I dinna love him. My family is happy and has well enough for what they need. I can always buy a knighthood. But love…”
She spun in a circle, which sent her blonde hair fanning out around her. Her hands pressed to her small bosom and she gave a smile which parted her full, pink lips and revealed perfect teeth. “Love is too special to be bought no matter how much wealth ye have.” She shrugged her slender shoulders again. “Besides, it doesna matter.”
He frowned. “Why is that?”
Her grin turned playful. “Because I’ve no’ anything to my name but Norbert and a sword. They’re worth the weight of my heart, but I know my fortune. No man will marry me for anything but love.”
With a decisive smile, she began walking again. Castle of Park became visible in the distance, powerful and grand. Senara pointed t
oward it. “What would ye do if ye owned that castle?”
Gavin mentally ticked off the massive list of his responsibilities. “I suspect I’d ensure the staff was all paid and cared for while properly maintaining the people on the land.”
“Then ye’d be a good owner of the castle.” She nodded silently to herself.
“And what of ye?” he asked.
She gave a soft laugh. “No’ anything as grand and right as what ye said. I was thinking if I owned that castle, I’d stuff vases full of heather in every room until the entire castle was near bursting with purple.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her hurrying through the rooms with armfuls of heather. It was not so difficult an image to procure. “Ye’d need a lot of vases.”
“Aye.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Is that Castle of Park, do ye think?”
Her horse stopped and nipped at some tender bits of grass. “It is.”
Senara stopped as well and ran a slender hand over Norbert’s glossy brown neck. “Then I suppose our tarrying has come to an end. I’ll be working there, as a lady’s maid to Lady Edana.”
Gavin gritted his teeth.
Edana was his father’s sister, the last of the family Gavin had left, and the only reason he tolerated the old woman. Age had left her bitter and hard. Were it not for his father’s dying wish for Gavin to keep Edana close and safe, she’d have been married off long ago.
But then Gavin’s father had never seen the side of Edana she showed the rest of the world. He’d harbored sympathy for her, stating life had dealt her an unfair hand.
“Do ye know Lady Edana?” Senara asked.
He nodded. “I do.”
Senara was too gentle to be subjected to his aunt. The lass could fight decently enough, but a sword wouldn’t help against the cut of Edana’s sharp tongue.
Senara ran her fingertips over the horse’s chin where several scraggly white whiskers jutted from his velvety fur, and the beast resumed walking once more. “Do ye think she’ll like me?”
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love (Highland Passions Book 1) Page 1