Highland Warrior

by Evie North

  Highland Warrior

  The Campbell Brothers Book 1

  Evie North

  Copyright © 2019 by Evie North

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Coming Soon

  Other Books By Evie North

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  ELSPIT

  Castle Tighe, Scotland, 1698

  He was coming.

  She could hear the scrape of his boots on the stone outside her window, the rattle of tiny pieces falling far down below. Her heart beat faster and she went to open the shutters, peering down.

  Ewen stared up from his precarious hold on the tower wall, handsome, strong, and despite his youth every bit the warrior. And then he grinned and she melted. Golden hair hung loose about his face and his blue eyes were fierce beneath straight dark brows. His white linen shirt was untied at the throat, giving her a keyhole view of his strong chest, and one knee was pressed hard into a niche in the stonework, his kilt barely covering his firm thigh.

  Her breathing picked up and her fingers clenched on the sill, knuckles white, as she pictured him falling. In the eleven months he had been climbing the wall of the tower he had always reached her safely, but that did not mean tonight would not be different. And to lose Ewen Campbell was unthinkable.

  And yet he made the climb seem easy. Another step upwards and he reached out, fingers hooking over the grey stone of the sill where she stood, and began to haul himself in. His muscular legs kicked as he came over, his kilt flew up, and she had a glimpse of firm strong buttocks, then he was through the window and into her chamber.

  He promptly rolled over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the effort, and looked up. He was still grinning, and his blue eyes shone with laughter.

  “One day,” Elspit warned him, her voice trembling, her heart still racing.

  He tangled his fingers in the hem of her nightgown, giving it a little tug. “Come here,” he said, his voice deep and warm. He might only be eighteen, but Ewen Campbell was a man in every way.

  And he was her man.

  She knelt down beside him and the light in his eyes changed to a blaze. His hands closed over her waist as she swung her leg over his hips, straddling him, with her palms flat on his chest. Then she bent down and pressed her mouth to his.

  Instantly he pulled her down so his lips could work hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth, and she whimpered. He tasted of his father’s whiskey and of potent male, while Elspit suspected she tasted of the sweet honey in the syllabub she had for supper ... and infatuated girl.

  He groaned. His hands closed over the globes of her bottom, squeezing, and he arched his hips against her. The hard line of his cock rubbed against her and suddenly she was aching, wet, wanting him so much she felt as if she was dying.

  She had known Ewen Campbell for three years, from the time his father and brothers arrived in her father’s lands, and for the last eleven months they had been playing these games. Teasing, tantalizing, pushing themselves to the limit and then stopping. It was torture. Elspit had begged him more than once to take her, but he wouldn’t. His self-restraint was admirable and frustrating at the same time, and nothing she said could sway him.

  And the reason he would not make her his entirely and completely? Ewen wanted to marry her and he wanted their wedding bed to be the place where they consummated their love.

  In her heart she knew he was right. The Laird of Tighe’s daughter was a prize. Ewen was determined to stand beside her as her legal husband, but Elspit’s father had different ideas.

  “My father does not believe in love and happy ever afters,” she had warned him again and again.

  “We will win him around,” Ewen had promised, those brilliant blue eyes gazing down into hers, the rough skin of his palm against her cheek as he held her gently. For such a big man, who was already on his way to being the Laird’s champion, he was always tender with Elspit. “Lass, I will win your hand and overpower his objections.”

  She hoped it was true, but her father was a greedy and violent man, and although Ewen might be a valuable asset to him, he was also the son of a landless clan chief. When his father and three brothers had come to Castle Tighe, it was because a clan battle had scattered their kin far and wide. The laird had taken them in, begrudgingly, and they had proved loyal. They were also painfully honest when it came to commenting upon her father’s actions, something that did not go down well.

  Ewen’s father and his brothers were determined to regain their lands and rebuild their fortune but it was not something that could happen in a moment. They had petitioned their powerful relative, the Duke of Arran, but it seemed that currently he had better things to do, although his authority was such that even the laird was wary of it. Meanwhile they must wait and suffer Laird Tighe’s insufferable behaviour, and Elspit was worried a tipping point was fast approaching.

  One thing Elspit hadn’t told Ewen was that her father had been pressing her to marry their neighbour, Donald Grant. The man was old and dried out, and she thought he was at least seventy. He had worked his way through several wives and children who had predeceased him. He was on the lookout for a new wife, one young enough to finally give him an heir. On the other hand, marriage to Elspit would bring the Grant estates to Tighe and that was what her father craved. He could never have enough land.

  Ewen’s hands tightened on her rounded flesh, his fingers squeezing. It felt good. Everything he did felt so good. Her body hummed and heated, desperate for his, and she shifted again, finding the hard length of him beneath his kilt, and ground down.

  Some relief, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

  “Elspit,” he groaned her name into her mouth, his hands tightening to slow her movements. He tipped her to the side, so that they lay adjacent, and then he gazed into her eyes.

  “I burn for you,” he growled.

  “Then take me.”

  His eyes closed and it was like the sun blinking out, and then they opened again and her world had colour. “You know I will not,” he said. “Not until we are wed.”

  “Ewen ...”

  “But we can do other things,” he went on, wickedly.

  She smiled at that, and he touched his nose with the tip of hers. Reaching down to the hem of his kilt, Elspit began to inch it up, disclosing his muscular thighs and then the thick, hard length of his cock. It was a magnificent thing—not that she had seen many, only sometimes when the boys were bathing naked in the loch, and none of them had looked like this.

  Eagerly she wrapped her small hand around what felt like an iron rod with the softest covering of velvet, or as much of it as she could manage. Ewen’s eyes burned at her touch, and then he was kissing her again, finding the weight of her breast beneath her nightgown, his thumb sliding back and forth across her hard nipple.

  It was bliss. She arched into him, but he was already lifting her thin nightgown, his hand finding naked flesh, fingers easing between her thighs.

  She was wet, eager, and she opened willingly as he slid his hand between the plump folds, finding all the places they had discovered gave her delight. These past months had not been wasted when it came to their pursuit of pleasure.

  “Ewen,” she sighed, her hand moving on his cock in the way she knew he crav
ed. His hips thrust against her and she might have crawled down over him to take him in her mouth, but that would mean he would have to stop pleasuring her and she was so close. A rub of his thumb, the friction of his fingers, stroking against her.

  “Elspit,” he groaned, his mouth finding hers again, hot and desperate as he pushed her toward her peak.

  They were so completely preoccupied that they did not notice the door open.

  The first hint that they were discovered was a big hand clutching hold of Ewen’s jacket and dragging him upwards and away. The next thing was her father’s red and furious face staring down accusingly, his dark eyes glittering through the folds of fat enclosing them.

  “You young cur!” he roared. “I have you now!”

  Ewen was as shocked as Elspit. He struggled, trying to free himself, but the laird was still strong, despite his advancing years and increasing bulk. Behind him were some of his most trusted men, leering down at her. Quickly she put her nightgown to rights, hands shaking with fear.

  Because this was not good. Not good at all.

  “I want to marry your daughter!” Ewen declared in a loud, ringing voice. Everyone in the room held their breath.

  And then her father and his henchmen burst out laughing.

  Ewen’s face flamed with fury and hurt pride, but they did not give him time to say more. They dragged him out of the chamber and down the curl of the narrow stone stairs, right down into the heart of the castle. Just before he disappeared from sight he turned his head and found Elspit. Just one look, but she read the longing and worry in his eyes.

  Then her father slammed the door. He stood before her, taking up a great deal of space.

  She knew her face was white and her lungs were struggling to take in enough air.

  “You are a fool, daughter! Why give up your maidenhead to a man with no lands and no money?” he sneered. “A romantic fool, just like your dead mother.”

  There was nothing to say to that, except that it was true. She was a romantic like her mother, and that character flaw had never made the laird’s dead wife happy. Was Elspit about to suffer the same fate? She raised her chin and stared back at him, trying to be strong. Because Ewen was in grave danger and she would do anything to save him.

  “Ewen Campbell deserves to be flogged,” he said, every word dropping like lead shot at her feet. “And then he deserves to hang.”

  All her courage vanished. “Please don’t hurt him, Father,” she begged. Elspit might hate herself for being such a craven coward, but this was Ewen, her love, her sweetheart, the boy she had adored since the moment his family first came to Castle Tighe. She had been fourteen and she still remembered seeing him at that moment, weary and beaten, yet taller than all his brothers, standing with such dignity before her father in the hall.

  Now her father was staring at her in a way that made her heart sink even further. “Tell me what you will do to save him, Elspit? If I were to banish him instead of flogging him and hanging him? If I sent him and his family away from Castle Tighe …”

  “No!” Was that her voice, hollow and full of pain? “I love him.”

  Her father shook his head at her as if she was a halfwit. “What has ‘love’ to do with anything? Your husband has already been decided.”

  “Ewen will not leave me,” she said it proudly, knowing it was true.

  The laird leaned in closer and she could smell the pungent, unwashed scent of his body beneath his fine clothes. “Then you must make him,” he hissed. “I want him and his self-righteous kin gone, Elspit. I am tired of being told my ambitions are wicked and unlawful, and having their lofty relatives rubbed in my face. Have no doubt though, I will be rid of him if you do not tell him you are going to marry our neighbour. Make him think that Grant is wealthy enough to give you your heart’s desire, and that heart’s desire is not this boy. Make him believe you, Elspit, or else I promise you he and his brothers will die, whatever the repercussions.”

  I cannot do such a thing, she told herself. Surely it would be better to die? But while she would gladly give up her own life, she could not do that to Ewen. She must save him and set him free, and if that meant he would hate her forever more, she would still do it.

  All the while her brain was twisting and turning as she returned her father’s implacable gaze. There must be a way ...there must be a way ... But there wasn’t, and eventually there was nothing left to do but admit defeat.

  “Very well,” she whispered through trembling lips. “I will do as you ask. Only please do not hurt him.”

  The dungeon at Castle Tighe was gloomy and rank and seeing Ewen chained in there broke her heart all over again. When he saw her he began to pull against his restraints, calling her name and desperately trying to reach her.

  She might have gone to him but she noticed the red mark on his cheek. Someone had struck him. There would be more of that if she didn’t get him away to safety.

  Elspit stood aloof, just out of reach. She was alone. Her father had told her she must do this on her own, so that it would not appear she was being coerced. Besides, he knew she had no choice. She would do anything to save the boy she loved, even deliver herself into the hands of another man.

  “I have come to tell you that you and your family must leave,” she told him, swallowing to lubricate her dry throat. “You will be released and then you must go.”

  He had been struggling but now he stilled and stared at her as if she was a stranger. “He is making you say this!” he declared angrily. “I will not leave you, Elspit. I will never leave you.”

  Elspit had rehearsed her lines so many times but now they stuck in her throat. She had meant to lie to him, tell him she did not care for him after all, and that she wanted a wealthy husband and not someone poor and landless. She had meant to be cruel, so cruel that he would hate her forever more. But now the time had come she found she could not do it.

  “Ewen,” she said, her voice trembling. “You must go. I am marrying Donald Grant. It is arranged. My father wishes it because he wants Grant’s land just as he wants all our neighbours’ lands. He has no honour. Your father is honest and brave, he is not like mine, and he is not afraid to say what he thinks. Lately his words have been turning some of my father’s men against him. That is why you must leave. If you do not then … I fear you will all die.”

  Ewen was white faced and shaking with rage. “If your father touches any of us he knows the duke will crush him. He would not dare, Elspit. It is a lie. Stay strong. I will not let this happen.”

  “Oh Ewen,” she whispered brokenly, “how can you stop it?”

  “I will not go,” he said stubbornly, watching her tears as if each one washed away a piece of his heart.

  “You must or you will die. And not just you, but your father and brothers too! He says he will slaughter you all and take the consequences. Please, let me do this for you. Let me save you, Ewen.”

  He shook his head and he kept shaking it, but as she continued to beg and coerce, his expression began to change from stubborn determination to miserable acceptance. She watched his eyes grow dull.

  She had won, and Elspit was relieved. At the same time her pain was almost more than she could bear. He was leaving her, and she was glad of it, but his going meant she would never be the same girl again. Something inside her would die because Ewen was her sun, and without him she would live in endless darkness.

  “I will come back for you,” he vowed, his voice low and hoarse with emotion. “I will marry you.” He was staring at her as if he were a flint and she the tinder. Elspit burned with longing.

  “No. You must live your life,” she said. “Go to your duke and ask him to give you work so that you can restore your lands. I want you to.”

  “I don’t care how long it takes, I will come back.”

  She tried to smile, praying he would do as she asked, and then she turned and walked away.

  He did not see her once she was outside the cell, slumped against the filthy wall, her leg
s giving way, her hand over her mouth to stop the sobs. He could not know the agony she was feeling. She kept telling herself that Ewen and his family were safe now, that she had saved them, and it did not matter what happened to her.

  With Ewen gone, nothing mattered.

  And yet she remembered his burning look, and his angry words, and although she knew it was impossible and she would never see him again, she yearned to be wrong.

  Chapter 2

  EWEN

  1708, 10 years later, Castle Tighe

  Ewen’s armour was heavy and he couldn’t wait for Robbie, his squire, to remove it. He circled his aching neck and rubbed at his gritty eyes. There was blood ingrained into the pores of his skin. It had been a hard battle but he had won it.

  Castle Tighe was his.

  He staggered a little, suddenly light headed. It wasn’t just weariness. This victory was one he had lived waking and sleeping for ten long years and now it was over. It was as if he had lost a part of his life and for a moment he felt adrift. But then he reminded himself it wasn’t entirely over. The best part was yet to come.

  Elspit.

  Since her father had driven him away like a scabby sheep with its tail between its legs—at least that was how it had felt to him—Ewen had been in the household of his kinsman the Duke of Arran. It had taken time for his family to gain the duke’s trust and support—Tighe had tainted them with his dishonest ways and they had had to prove themselves. As the days and months turned into years, Ewen had wondered whether he would ever achieve his heart’s desire. He had sworn he would return for Elspit and instead he was kicking his heels and dreading what was happening to her.

  His father, knowing how Ewen felt, had reminded him that Elspit had married elsewhere. He thought his son should set aside the past and look to the future. There were advantageous marriages to be made, and willing women to bed. Although Ewen had resisted marrying, he was a young and healthy male, and he had been tempted by the women.