Highlander's Trials of Fire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  “Aye,” Laird MacLagain said, nodding his large head. “It sure has.”

  That odd response was enough to make Matthew think that things had not gone as well as he had hoped. Leaving the goblet on a nearby end table, he made his way out the room. He was hoping to linger outside to perhaps listen on what they would say, but then he saw the guard waiting for him outside.

  That… wasnae good.

  Matthew had not expected this to be easy, but he definitely had not expected to leave feeling so unfulfilled. Miss Jonet’s instant refusal had been his worst-case scenario, yet he was certain that he would be able to overcome that with his smooth words.

  There was something else. It had almost felt as if she hadn’t trusted him and did not want to. Her dislike was not something he could fathom. He wondered if his plan was truly as good as he thought.

  The moment the insecure thought popped in his head, he dismissed it. This was his livelihood. This was what he had spent nearly all of his adult life doing. Conning people out of their money. Now that Matthew wished to put his past behind him and live an honest life, there was only one final con he had to pull off.

  To persuade the Laird’s daughter to accept his proposal was the first step.

  “Pa, I cannae believe ye!”

  Laird MacLagain heaved a sigh so great, Jonet was surprised it did not rattle the walls. She did not cower in the face of it, however, like so many other men would. To her, her father was not the imposing man who lorded over his lairdship, he was the concerned parent who was only doing what he believed to be in her best interest.

  For that, she could not be mad. She knew he was only trying to help her. After the deaths of her first two betrothed, the Laird had been ridden with his own guilt and wished to do anything to relieve his daughter of the pain within her. Jonet was no stranger to his feelings, nor his intentions.

  Though when it was expressed like this, she had to put a stop to it.

  “He seemed like a fine man,” her father argued. “Ye dinnae even give him a chance.”

  “Ye dinnae even get to ken him before ye accepted him! Can any man walk in here and marry me simply because they ask?”

  “Of course nae, me dear.”

  Her father’s uncharacteristically soft tone was what calmed her spirit. She too sighed, though it was much gentler.

  “I understand yer intentions, Pa. Truly, I do. It would do us both good to have me married as quickly as possible. But nae to him…”

  “Why nae?” he asked, his tone twinged with curiosity. “Ye seemed so opposed to him before he even had the chance to get to ken him. With Murdock, ye were eager to be married to him the first time ye met.”

  Because she had instantly liked Murdock. He was so open, so honest with his feelings and his intentions. She had been willing to marry him the day she met him and when she got to know him a bit more, she was happy too.

  Matthew did not seem honest. He seemed… perfect. Too perfect. Saying the right things that would have made any other woman fall instantly for him. Jonet supposed she would have too, captured by his good looks and his smooth tongue. Now, however, she chose to listen to instincts, the ones that told her he was not all he seemed.

  He hadnae mentioned anythin’ about me curse. He must ken, I’m sure.

  That was what baffled her the most. The fact that he had come all the way here after hearing rumors of her beauty, rather than the rumors of her curse, felt improbable to her. Surely, he knew of the fact that anyone who was betrothed to her was destined to die. Surely, he was aware of the danger he was putting himself in harm’s way by even asking for her hand. Yet, he had pretended as if he hadn’t a clue. That was another reason why she could not trust him.

  “He does seem as if he has a wealthy trade, Jonet,” her father said. “Ye will nae be marryin’ someone who lacks in wealth if that’s what ye’re afraid of.”

  “I’m not.”

  How can I get him to understand?

  “I simply daenae trust him, Pa. And I’ve learned nae to ignore me instincts.”

  “Then will ye at least consider courtin’ him, then? After ye get to ken him, maybe he will nae be as bad as ye think.”

  Jonet relaxed her shoulders with an inaudible sigh. She could see the worry in her father’s eyes. Jonet knew that he only hoped she was not alone for her own future. Being married would not only dispel the rumors but secure the inheritance of the Lairdship. This was not only about her.

  She stepped into her father’s arms. It had been some time since she had last embraced him like this; since he had last wrapped his arms around her. Though once they were embracing each other, it felt as if no time had passed at all. The last time had been as she had cried following the death of her betrothed. Now, she wished to comfort him, to let him think she was all right even though she truly wasn’t.

  “I understand that ye worry for me, Pa,” she spoke softly into his chest, dwarfed against his massive stature.

  “How can I nae?” he asked as he stroked her hair. “Ye are me lovely lass who’s gone through so much already. I only wish to make ye happy.”

  “I am happy,” she lied.

  Laird MacLagain did not respond, as if he also knew it was a lie. He continued to stroke her hair while they held each other.

  Then, she relented, “As ye wish, Pa. I’ll try to court him at least. But when I show ye the reason I daenae trust him, ye must put aside any thought of our betrothal away, all right?”

  Laird MacLagain chuckled. “Aye, lass.”

  Jonet smiled against his chest. They simply held each other for a while longer, comforted by the other’s presence. Jonet did not want to admit to herself the other reason why she was so opposed to marrying him, why she would be opposed to marrying anyone.

  The guilt she carried around with her was a jar of worms she did not dare to open.

  Chapter 5

  Jonet had another terrible dream. Filled with the horrors of the past, she had seen the faces of the men she had led to death, the men who had pledged their life to her only for it to be taken in the end. She lorded over their bodies with such anguish, tears streaming down her face and a twisted smile. She could not escape them. She could never be rid of the terror.

  She woke in a sweat during the breaking dawn, gasping loudly into the air. She shot upward in her bed, and for a moment, she was unaware of her whereabouts. She could only see their faces and the fear that struck her was beyond anything she had felt before. Her rapidly beating heart was fast beginning to hurt and she clutched it out of desperation, hoping to ease the pain.

  After a few moments, she began to calm down. Her bedroom swam back into focus, and her heartbeat slowed to a gentle throb. Jonet wiped her hand over her face as she slipped out of the bed.

  She had not even noticed until she was halfway across the room that tears had wetted her cheeks. Her first intention was to go down to the scullery, knowing that Christal was awake. She always had a knack of calming her down, but never had her dreams brought real tears to the fore.

  This is only getting worse and worse.

  Wiping desperately at them, she left her room and headed straight to the scullery. Sure enough, Christal was already there, humming away while she worked on breakfast. She glanced up at Jonet’s approach.

  The moment Christal saw her red cheeks and puffy eyes, she rushed over to her.

  “What happened to ye, lass?” she demanded to know, sitting Jonet down on one of the stools nearby.

  “I had another dream,” Jonet explained. “This one was worse than the others.”

  “I can see that,” Christal said worriedly. “Ye want auld man’s milk?”

  “Nay,” Jonet responded. She did not want anything more than to simply go back to bed. That was the only thing she could think of doing to be rid of the rising memories, but she was also afraid of those dreams returning. They did not occur every night, yet whenever they did, it would put Jonet in a state of fear.

  “Ye’re gettin’ it anyway.�
�� Christal went off to make the milk. “Ye need the strength if ye wish to get through to today.”

  “I could always go back to bed.”

  “That willnae happen,” Christal spoke sternly. She had already brought out the eggs. “If ye wish to go back to that time when ye wouldnae leave ye bed for anythin’ then ye’ll have me to deal with.”

  Usually, Jonet would smile at her threats. Now, she did not have the strength.

  “Ye’re right. I doubt I’m goin’ to be able to sleep like this.”

  Christal paused and sent her a despondent look. “That wasnae what I said at all, ye ken?”

  Jonet nodded. Wishing to change the subject, she moved on to the only other thing she could think of.

  “Do ye ken that me Faither wants me to marry a wealthy merchant? He asked for me hand in marriage just yesterday.”

  “Is that so?” Christial sounded as surprised as she looked. “And I guess ye daenae wish to marry him.”

  “I told me Faither I wouldnae marry a soul. Clearly, he ignored it.”

  “He’s being understandably stubborn considerin’ the position he’s in.”

  Jonet sighed. Just as she wanted, this topic was distracting her from her dream, but she did not know if thinking about the mysterious Matthew was the best thing for her. “I ken. But I daenae want anythin’ to happen to—”

  “Don’t ye say it,” Christal warned. “Ye ken better than to give in to such silly rumors.”

  “Maybe it isnae a rumor,” Jonet murmured.

  “So ye really think ye might be cursed?” Christal sounded incredulous. “It was only a coincidence, dear. That had nothin’ to do with ye. Ye weren’t there. Ye didn’t touch them. Ye didn’t tell Mr. Luther to go huntin’ for ye and Mr. Anderson went to sleep without ye.”

  “But they were both me betrothed,” she murmured. “And now they’re…”

  “Dead, aye,” Christal’s voice was blunt. “But it still isnae yer fault. Ye had nothin’ to do with it.”

  Jonet wasn’t sure she could be so certain about that.

  “But,” she went on, “the merchant dinnae even mention the curse. He acted as if he dinnae ken.”

  “It wouldn’t be very nice of him to do so, would it? I imagine he’s tryin’ to make a good impression on the Laird. God knows that man is terrifyin’.”

  “He dinnae seem scared of me Faither, either.”

  Jonet watched as Christal put the final touches on the milk. “Ye daenae know what he might have been thinkin’. He could have been sweatin’ in his boots for all ye ken.”

  “Aye,” Jonet responded, trailing off. “Ye’re right.”

  “I am right. Now, here. Drink this.”

  The sharp tang of whiskey in the milk was enough to make Jonet’s nose itch, but she knew how much weight Christal put on the drink, thinking it to be the perfect way to start the day and so she downed it in one go.

  The effects hit her instantly, a hum throughout her body that did revitalize her more than before.

  “What did I tell ye?” Christal asked with a broad grin. “It’s great for when ye feeling down.”

  “Aye,” Jonet handed her back the cup. “The same thing ye’ve told me many times before.”

  “Oh, hush, ye. Now, ye go on up and get dressed. And ye better nae crawl back into bed again.”

  “Ah, ye caught me.” Jonet hopped off the stool, raising her hands. “I will come down to bother ye, instead.”

  “Ye think ye are tryin’ to get me riled up but I would welcome the company.”

  Jonet laughed. “What of the other maid that helps ye?”

  “She is much too young and innocent,” Christal said. “She gets startled whenever I open me mouth.”

  Jonet hummed. “I cannae imagine why.”

  “Oh, ye be quiet, lass,” Christal ordered sharply, making Jonet laugh again. “Ye ken I always try to make the maids feel comfortable whenever they’re workin’ with me.”

  “I ken, I ken,” Jonet sang, and smiled broadly when Christal’s face went red with annoyance. Christal never understood that she was not as approachable as she thought she was and Jonet never failed to poke fun at that fact.

  Jonet lifted a hand as she made her way to the steps, still grinning from ear to ear. As she had expected, being in Christal’s company had cheered her up, but she did not think it would have put her in this good a mood. At that moment she thought she was really ready to take on the world.

  “Thank ye for the milk, Christal,” Jonet said in farewell. “I think me steps will be much lighter thanks to that.”

  “Oh, God,” Christal called from behind, her voiced laced with both humor and horror. “Ye dinnae get drunk, did ye?”

  “Ye will never ken,” Jonet chirped as she headed up the steps. Her continuing laughter echoed around the closed walls and for a few moments, she no longer remembered the reason she had been so upset. Though bit by bit, second by second, the dream kept creeping back to the forefront of her mind and it forced the smile right from her face.

  She would never be able to escape them, she knew. They were a part of her now, settled into the section of her heart that held love—and the section that held pain. Jonet couldn’t help giving in to the rumors, couldn’t help wondering if perhaps she had been the reason for their deaths in the first place.

  After all, Murdock had been completely fine. A healthy, handsome, happy man. It was not until they had been betrothed, not until she was rooted in his life that he died so suddenly. As for Henry, he was a man who had spent nearly all his life hunting wild animals, yet he disappeared the day he told her he would bring her back her favorite meat. Jonet could not help wondering if she truly was cursed and if she was destined to be alone.

  If that were the case, she would never marry again. She had said as much to her parents and, though she knew they were disappointed by her decision, she thought they understood. Jonet did not think she could live with herself if there was another death on her hands. She would not be able to look herself in the mirror.

  That is why I cannae marry Matthew, nay matter what Faither says. Whether I trust him or nae, he will only die if he is betrothed to me.

  Jonet nodded to herself, determination coursing through her body. She would reject his advances and fight her father every step of the way if so be it. She could not be married, not if the curse truly were real and he would only die as a result.

  The comforting stone walls passed by in a blur. Her father’s many spoils hung between the large open windows, as a soft breeze wafted by her and made the large doors they passed shudder. Above her head, candles waited for nightfall to be lit, but for now, the hallways were filled with white sunlight of the airy castle.

  “If ye keep talking to yerself like, ye will run right into a wall.”

  Jonet drew to a halt at the familiar voice and she smiled. It was her uncle, her father’s brother, Dougal MacTavish. By his side was his nephew, from his late wife’s side.

  “It wouldnae be the first time,” Jonet replied.

  Dougal’s face folded into a mass of lines as he gave his wide-toothed smile, his eyes virtually disappearing from sight. He greatly resembled the Laird, with deep, unruly red hair that he allowed to grow as it wished, and dark brown eyes. “Aye, ye’re right, lass. Though, I suppose those times havenae made ye see that ye should take yer head out the clouds and focus on the world around ye.”

  “Come now, Dougal,” said the man by his side, in a gentle, amused tone. “Ye ken her absentmindedness is her best trait.”

  Jonet turned her attention to him. His name was Jonathan Barcley, a fact that had taken her quite some time to remember when he had first come to live in the castle. He had arrived to train under Dougal to become a war chieftain. Jonathan had been living in the castle for a few years now, but Jonet had never had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with him. She had only spoken with him at length a few times, usually during dinner, and had learned that he was quite nice, albeit a bit quiet for a man aspiri
ng to be a war chieftain.

  She supposed it had something to do with his upbringing. He was the last child of a family of ten, and so he had expressed to her how he had been a little neglected. Which was why he wished to be trained in the first place.

  “Me best trait, ye say?” she repeated, tilting her head to the side. “Ye think so?”

  “I ken so,” Jonathan said confidently, holding her gaze with his brown eyes.

  She focused all her attention on Jonathan, a feat she had never cared to do before. “Nae me humor or me kindness, but the fact that me mind wanders,” she watched as Jonathan’s warm smile widened.