Brenda Joyce, Terri Brisbin, Michelle Willingham

by Highlanders - The Warriorand the Rose; The Forbidden Highlander; Rescued by the Highland Warrior

  Juliana looked at her sister gratefully.

  For a long moment, Alexander stared at Mary and Juliana. “I am to believe his promises? While you bring him Lismore and your lands in Argyll? Even if I took back Coeffin Castle, he still holds Achanduin Castle. And he is out of favor with King Edward!”

  Juliana wet her lips. “I want to marry him. I am asking you to bless us.”

  Alexander darkened impossibly. “He is a damned MacDonald—my worst enemy—and a Bruce supporter! I refuse! How could you think I would even consider his offer? How could you think to marry my enemy—and become my enemy?”

  “We would never be enemies,” she whispered.

  “Maybe such a marriage would bring peace to our families,” Mary said. “How will we know, if we do not try?”

  Alexander was incredulous. “He brings nothing to such a union! Nothing except promises only Juliana believes!”

  “I believe them,” Mary said.

  Jeanne stepped forward. “I think you should meet with him again.”

  Alexander gave his wife an incredulous look. Cursing, he strode out of the hall.

  * * *

  “I AM FRIGHTENED FOR you,” Mary said.

  It was a moonlit summer night. Crickets sounded from the woods behind them as they stood upon a strip of sand in the cove below Dunstaffnage Castle. William was with them, and two Highlanders were below, freeing a small galley from its moorings. Occasionally, an owl hooted.

  Will reached out to clasp her shoulder, his smile reassuring. “You must love him very much to go against Alexander as you do.”

  Juliana nodded, shivering. Could she truly do this? She was defying her brother, the laird of Clan Dougall, who was as much a father to her as anything else, the man who had cared for her, nurtured her, succored her, during her entire life. “God, I pray he will forgive me.”

  Mary hugged her, hard. She was crying. “Oh, Juliana! I know you love Alasdair, but he doesn’t even know what you intend, and what if Alexander never forgives you?”

  Juliana swallowed her own tears. Alexander had dropped the subject of her affair with Alasdair, but she knew he remained angry with her. She also knew he planned to marry her off to Sir James Umfraville against her objections. She simply could not passively await and accept such a union. “Then I will have my husband to love—and you.” She somehow smiled.

  Mary hugged her again. “You will always be welcome at Castle Fyne and Castle Bain,” she said.

  “She needs to go, before we are discovered,” William said, moving between them.

  Mary nodded. “Once Alexander calms, I will send you your belongings.”

  “Thank you, thank you for being the best sister I could have,” Juliana cried, hugging her again. And then, , she turned away and stumbled to the small galley that now rocked in the shallow waters of the cove. The two Highlanders helped her climb in. Wiping her eyes, Juliana sat down, as both men took up their oars. There was no wind, so they would row the vessel to Lismore.

  Juliana stared at Will and Mary, trying to smile, as she was rowed away from the shore. Her sister and her husband waved, becoming smaller and smaller, until she could see them no more.

  Coeffin Castle—July, 1287

  JULIANA STOOD AT a tower window, her heart pounding. Below the castle walls she saw dozens of mounted Highlanders approaching, the blue-and-red MacDonald banner waving high in the sky above them.

  She could barely believe it. Alasdair had come.

  She saw him, galloping well ahead of his men upon a gray warhorse, his dark hair streaming in the wind. Tears of happiness and joy filled her eyes, blinding her.

  She turned and ran from the tower, down the stairs, and outside. As she reached the bailey, he was galloping across the drawbridge. He thundered up to her and vaulted from his mount before it had even halted. Juliana was swept into his hard arms.

  For one moment, she stood still within his embrace, taking in the feel of him, the scent of him, and the sound of his pounding heartbeat. In that moment, the comprehension washed over her—he was home.

  And then he set her back, and their gazes met, his blue eyes blazing.

  Juliana cried out as he kissed her—and she kissed him back.

  And so much urgency erupted, accompanied by such great love. They kissed for a few more moments, and then Alasdair released her. He was breathing hard. “Ye defied yer brother fer me.”

  She somehow nodded. “Yes, I did...I have missed you!”

  He clasped her face. “I have missed ye, too!” He kissed her again. “Ye inflamed him.”

  She nodded, biting her lip. “He meant to force me into marriage, Alasdair. I had no choice.”

  “Most women would have meekly obeyed. I am proud of ye, Juliana. Ye still amaze me!” He hugged her, hard.

  She now pulled back. “Did I make matters worse? Will he hate us both now?”

  He began to smile. “Oh, ye made matters worse.... I have just come from yer brother. He is as stubborn as ye!”

  She could not understand his smug smile. “You have spoken with Alexander again?” She was stunned.

  He grinned. “We did not really speak—we argued.”

  “I can imagine.” Why did he seem pleased?

  “Can ye?” He grinned again. “We even came to blows.”

  “Alasdair!”

  His smile faded. “And we debated, Juliana, fer many hours, and in the end, I won.”

  She felt time stand still. Could he mean what she thought he meant? “Surely, you did not convince him to bless our union?”

  “I did.” He laughed, lifting her into his arms. And briefly, he twirled her about, as if in a dance.

  She began to laugh, too. “But how is this possible? He hates you, and he is furious with me!”

  He set her down, slowly. “But he is a shrewd man, Juliana, and there is advantage to be had, when Dougall and Donald join. I have convinced him of those advantages.”

  He was right. Still, she was stunned. She thought of Alexander and his wife and their children—and Mary, William and their family. How she loved them all. “Did you promise to refuse to raise arms against my brother—against my family?”

  “I cannot turn my back on my father or my brother, but I will not raise arms against Alexander—or William.”

  Hope began. “Will that even be possible? When there will surely be some new war, pitting the clans against one another?”

  His smile faded. Very seriously, he said, “It will be a difficult task—but if that is the price I must pay to take ye to wife, then I will gladly pay it.”

  He reached for her and Juliana moved back into his embrace, this time pressing her cheek to his hard chest. She loved her sister and brother so much, but she loved Alasdair more than she had imagined it possible to love anyone. And she knew there would be another war rending the land, sooner or later—she knew how difficult it would be to keep such a promise. But Alasdair was a man of honor, a man who kept his word.

  And he was the strongest, bravest proudest man she had ever met. If anyone could navigate such a treacherous path, it was Alasdair. She knew it would not be easy, but she had faith—as never before.

  She looked up at him. “Then you must make an honest woman of me, soon.”

  “Oh, I think there is a church close by—a cathedral.” He grinned at her again, this time lifting her into his arms and carrying her towards the front doors. And he whispered, “And Juliana? I did not give up Coeffin Castle.”

  She gasped, thrilled that she would bring her dowry with her in her marriage. And then she realized that she was not surprised—of course Alasdair had won. “I love you,” she whispered.

  His eyes darkened. “Then we are truly one.” And he carried her swiftly into their home.

  * * * * *

  Look for Brenda Joyce’s next Highlander romance,

  A ROSE IN THE STORM—an epic story

  of undying love and forbidden desire...

  coming soon from Harlequin HQN!

 
; Dear Readers,

  Alexander Og MacDonald, whom I have called Alasdair, married Juliana MacDougall sometime before 1292. Nothing is recorded of how this marriage came to be.

  This novel is a work of fiction. However, I have tried to portray historical events and historical figures as accurately as possible. But this period in Scotland’s history is filled with conflicting accounts and huge gaps in information, leaving me to pick and choose what I want to write, and where I wish to fill in the blanks. It is also a period of myriad and ever-changing politics and alliances. I have done my best to sort through what must seem to be terribly confusing characters and events. Any errors in fact are mine.

  Clan Donald and Clan Dougall were blood enemies at this time. The enmity between the clans might have begun during the reign of “Alasdair” Og’s grandfather, Donald, when he killed his uncle, Dougall. In the late thirteenth century, Clan Dougall was closely allied with the Comyn and Balliol families, through many marriages. In this time period, the Highlands were largely independent fiefdoms, with the Scottish crown repeatedly attempting to assert its control and authority over the various Highland chiefs, who fought against one another to maintain their own kingdoms. These two clans were usually on the opposing sides of every conflict.

  Robert Bruce did attempt a brief rebellion in 1287, but it was poorly supported and it failed. His grandson of the same name, who would become king in 1306, was thirteen at the time. Bruce again claimed the throne after the death of little Margaret, the Maid of Norway, as did John Balliol and a great many other noblemen. In the end King Edward adjudicated the issue in favor of Balliol, who became King John in 1292.

  Clan Dougall supported Balliol; Clan Donald supported Bruce.

  Little is known about Alasdair and Juliana. In 1291 Alasdair gave his oath of allegiance to the King of England, which may or may not have had meaning to him. (As mentioned, allegiances were tricky then. For instance, Robert Bruce the grandson swore homage to King Edward in 1305 upon the death of his father, and a year later was in rebellion, and then seized Scotland’s throne.)

  Some historians believe that Alasdair Og died in the Massacre of Clan Donald in 1299, which was led by Alexander MacDougall. Other historians believe he was captured by Robert Bruce in 1308, after bitterly fighting against him, and that he died in captivity shortly thereafter. According to these historians, Alasdair had allied with Clan Dougall and the great Comyn family against Bruce, because of his wife.

  I would like to note that while Bruce was seizing the throne in 1306, Angus Og supported him, while there is no mention of Alasdair Og doing so.

  But Bruce punished his enemies, and Alasdair’s lands were given to his brother, Angus Og, who became Lord of the Isles and chief of the entire clan.

  I have based this novella upon two historical figures from warring clans about whom so little is known. It seemed likely to me that Alasdair and Juliana fell in love, against all odds, and that attaining such a marriage would be incredibly difficult, with each side gaining so little, except for the lovers. I could imagine Alasdair wanting both Juliana and her lands, just as I could easily imagine that, after their marriage, her lands would be in dispute. For surely, old hatreds die hard—and Alexander MacDougall might not want to give away his sister’s lands! But it also seemed to me that Alasdair would try his best to avoid conflict with his old enemy, for his beloved wife’s sake....

  I hope you have enjoyed the story of Juliana and Alasdair! Please look for my next Highland romance, A Rose in the Storm, coming soon.

  Happy Reading,

  Brenda Joyce

  “Joyce’s tale of the dangers and delights of passion fulfilled will enchant those who like their reads long and rich.”

  —Publishers Weekly on The Masquerade

  If you loved “The Warrior and the Rose” by New York Times bestselling author Brenda Joyce, don’t miss A Rose in the Storm—an epic story of undying love and forbidden desire in the Highlands…

  A Rose in the Storm (July 2013)

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  The Forbidden Highlander

  By Terri Brisbin

  About the Author

  TERRI BRISBIN is wife to one, mother of three and dental hygienist to hundreds when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England.

  Readers are invited to visit her website for more information at www.terribrisbin.com, or to contact her at P.O. Box 41, Berlin, NJ 08009-0041, U.S.A.

  Other titles available from Harlequin® Historical and Terri Brisbin:

  The Dumont Bride

  The Norman’s Bride

  The Countess Bride

  The Christmas Visit: “Love at First Step”

  The King’s Mistress

  The Betrothal: “The Claiming of Lady Joanna”

  The Duchess’s Next Husband

  The Maid of Lorne

  Taming the Highlander

  The Earl’s Secret

  Surrender to the Highlander

  Possessed by the Highlander

  One Candlelit Christmas: “Blame It on the Mistletoe”

  The Conqueror’s Lady *

  The Mercenary’s Bride *

  His Enemy’s Daughter *

  The Highlander’s Stolen Touch +

  At the Highlander’s Mercy +

  And in Harlequin Historical Undone! Ebook:

  A Night for Her Pleasure *

  Taming the Highland Rogue +

  And in Harlequin Historical Royal Weddings ebook

  What the Duchess Wants

  * The Knights of Brittany

  + The MacLerie Clan

  Contents

  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 ONE

  Scottish Highlands

  1370 A.D.

  IT WAS ONLY a touch of his hand, the slightest and briefest of touches, and forbidden, but she desired it. Glancing up, she met his gaze and saw something there she dared not to hope she would see. Her throat tightened and her mouth dried, no words able to come out.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered as he rubbed his thumb along the inside of her palm.

  The sound of her name on his lips sent shivers and chills through her body and brightened her heart. Elizabeth MacLerie enjoyed the sensations for the moment, knowing that none of it could continue.

  Their game of chess complete, he stood from the stool and stepped away from the table, waiting for her to follow. And, damn her heart, she did. Trying to let nothing of her nervousness show to those whom she—they—passed, Elizabeth understood that something had changed between her and James in that momentary caress.

  A line had been crossed, one they both knew should not be breached. But, with only a touch of his hand and a whisper of her name, they had.

  She had been in love before, just once, and it had come upon her like a storm—with wildness and breathlessness and foolishness and danger. This time, love had crept up on her, surprising her with its quiet, silent approach. Though, this time as that, the danger remained a constant.

  Elizabeth followed James, hoping to speak to him, but his father called to him and she watc
hed as he joined his parents and Ciara Robertson in some discussion.

  Elizabeth now knew what heaven and hell were like—she was living them both. Glancing across the clearing and meeting his gaze, she saw the possibilities of both in his blue eyes as they each paused for a moment before looking away.

  Her heart pounded and her body ached every time they spoke. His calm manner and deliberate actions appealed to that part of her that wished to avoid any of the melodrama that had threatened her happiness and her place in her family just a year before. His polite and careful approach to her, never overstepping, never demanding, promised that life with him would find her content and happy. Now on the road, journeying back to her home in Lairig Dubh and spending so much time in his company, she could convince herself of everything working out in her favor.

  She could hope.

  All it took, though, was one glance across the clearing to show her that she’d really entered the realms of hell. James Murray was betrothed and contracted to marry her closest friend, Ciara Robertson, and not her. Elizabeth was the first to look away, as Ciara claimed his attention once more.

  His betrothed.

  Her closest friend.

  If she had looked away at that moment, she would have missed the glance Ciara threw in another direction. Elizabeth did not have to turn to know who stood in the shadows at the edge of the camp. The expression that flitted across Ciara’s face just then, a mix of longing and love and loss, meant that Tavis MacLerie watched them even as she did.

  It would not surprise Elizabeth to hear the stern voice of Father Micheil echoing through the clearing and warning all of them about the cost of the sins they so eagerly committed and would so eagerly commit if given the chance. But the one thing that held them back and kept all their wayward, sinful longings—each for someone not meant to be theirs—under control was honor.

  Ciara had broken off a number of betrothals and she was, Elizabeth understood, determined to follow through with this one. Not because she loved James, for she did not, but to uphold her promise to her parents and the others depending on this marriage and the benefits it brought to two families and other allies.