Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose

by Laurel O'Donnell

Violetta fought a pang of dismay. “But—”

  “Your mother has been very worried about you, as I was. She will want to see you are well and be told all of what has happened.”

  Violetta hated to think her mother had been so upset, but she didn’t want to leave Osric. She couldn’t, until she knew for certain she’d be permitted to see him again. “I will go with you, as long as I can visit Osric tomorrow.”

  Her sire frowned. “’Twill depend on your ankle.”

  “Father—”

  “Please do not be unreasonable,” he said firmly. “I will consider your request on the morrow, but for now, you will come home.”

  Did her sire consider her relationship with Osric to be finished?

  Part of her insisted she should stubbornly refuse to leave Coltingstow. Yet, ’twould put Osric in a difficult position. ’Twould also threaten the newfound peace, and that would affect many more lives than her own.

  Torment gleamed in Osric’s eyes. But, when his lips formed an encouraging smile and he nodded to her, silently telling her to go, hope blossomed inside her.

  Somehow, she knew exactly what he was thinking: Worry not, my love. I promise, I will never let you go.

  A Knight and His Rose

  Catherine Kean

  Chapter Eleven

  Twelve days later

  “Do not open your eyes yet, all right?”

  Violetta sighed as she continued to stroll alongside Osric through the field, her arm linked through his. “You did make me promise not to peek.”

  He stole a sidelong glance at her, and in the light of the burning reed he held to guide their way through the darkness, she did indeed appear to still have her eyes shut.

  Osric’s heart squeezed in his chest, for he loved that she’d trust him so completely. He loved, too, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him; the way she kissed him with such soul-deep passion; and the way she’d brought light into his days from the moment he’d become reacquainted with her at the stone circle. He’d made many mistakes in his lifetime, but rescuing her was not one of them.

  Neither was ending the years of enmity with the Molineaux family. Over the past days, Osric had been invited several times to dine at Darringsleigh Keep, and after sharing good meals and insightful discussions—even one about possibly dismantling part or all of the old wall—Osric now considered the Molineaux to be allies and friends. Soon, hopefully, they’d become as close as family.

  “Careful.” Osric guided her to the right to avoid a rabbit hole.

  “Is it much farther?” Violetta asked.

  Ahead, torchlight shone from within the stone circle. Osric fought a rush of anxiety. What if she wasn’t pleased with the surprise he’d planned? What if—?

  “Osric.”

  “Aye, love?”

  “Will we be there soon?”

  “Fairly soon.”

  “’Tis lucky my ankle is mostly healed; otherwise, you would be carrying me to wherever we are going.”

  Concern made him draw her to a stop beside him. “Are you in discomfort? And nay, do not dare open your eyes.”

  “I am fine. Just yearning to know why you have been so secretive about tonight.”

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “As I said before, ’tis a surprise that I hope you will like very much.”

  “I shall strive to be patient.”

  “Good.” He resumed walking, drawing her along with him.

  “You do know that putting me in such suspense means you will have to kiss me more than usual this eve?”

  He laughed. “Is that possible? Lately we have spent more of our visits kissing than talking.”

  “I know.” She giggled. “I am not complaining.”

  “Nor am I.” They neared the outer stones. “Just a few more paces, and we will be there—but do not peek. Not until I say you can.”

  A groan broke from her. But, she let him guide her past the outer circle and to a spot near the fallen monolith. Osric’s gaze traveled over the flaming torches set into iron holders servants had brought from the castle earlier; the linen cloth spread out on the stone; the goblets, jug of wine, willow basket of food, and vase of blue roses in the middle of the cloth. All was exactly as he’d asked.

  He unlinked his arm from Violetta’s and slid his torch into the empty iron holder. “All right. You can look now.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced about in wonder.

  “Do you like it, love?”

  “’Tis beautiful. Very romantic.”

  Smiling, he gestured to the monolith, inviting her to sit.

  “The first night we met, you encouraged me to sit there.”

  “I remember.” He’d never forget that night.

  She sat, tucking her cloak in around her, while he took his place opposite her then poured them both wine; he’d asked the servants for the finest in his cellar. He handed a filled goblet to her, and as her fingers closed around it, she murmured, “I recognize this goblet.”

  “Your father let me keep them for tonight. I had them cleaned and polished.”

  “They gleam so beautifully in the torchlight.”

  He held Violetta’s gaze. “I did not think Jacqueline and William would mind us using them.”

  “Jacqueline and William might even be with us now in spirit, watching over us,” Violetta said softly.

  The fine hairs on Osric’s nape prickled, for he’d wondered the same. ’Twas another thing he loved about Violetta: they often had similar thoughts. “How about a toast to them, then?” Osric raised his vessel. “To our ancestors; sworn enemies who found love together.”

  Violetta raised her drink too. “To our ancestors.” They touched goblets then sipped.

  With a sigh that sounded like contentment, Violetta rested the goblet on her lap and studied the stars.

  “What are you thinking?” Osric put aside his drink to open the basket packed with fare. He set out linen-wrapped parcels, while the scents of roasted chicken and fresh bread wafted.

  “I am thinking that I am incredibly happy,” Violetta answered. “That I want to be this happy for the rest of my days.”

  As do I. “No regrets about climbing over the wall?”

  “Only one.”

  “And that is…?”

  Violetta fingered hair away from her cheek, a hint of sadness in her expression. “Well, that if Jacqueline was even a fraction as happy as I am now, that she didn’t get to marry her true love. That she was forced to wed another man.”

  Osric stilled in setting out the last of the food. The drumming of his heartbeat filled his ears. He’d decided to wait until they’d enjoyed their picnic, but now seemed the ideal moment to do as he’d planned. “Regrettably, their chance at forever-after love was lost. Ours, however, is not.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Osric rose, reached into the bag at his hip then knelt on one knee in front of her, his cloak spreading around him on the ground. She’d set down her goblet, and he gently took hold of the fingers of her left hand.

  His hand shook. Damnation, he hadn’t anticipated being quite so nervous.

  Violetta’s fingers curled inward around his, a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

  And love, he hoped: the same precious, consuming love that he felt for her.

  “You and I can ensure the Seabrook and Molineaux families are never enemies again,” he said, “if ’tis what we both want.”

  He opened his right hand to reveal a gold ring.

  She gasped.

  “Will you agree to spend the rest of your life with me, Violetta? Will you…marry me?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she gazed upon the ring he’d commissioned from a local jeweler. Osric had spoken with her father first, not just to get her sire’s permission to marry her, but to be sure she’d like a betrothal ring shaped like a rose in full bloom. “’Tis exquisite,” she said.

  “It pleases you?”

  “It does. It pleases me, even more, that you wish to wed me. Da
ys ago, I would never have thought….”

  “Aye?”

  “That so much could change, and for the better. But, it has.”

  He had to know her answer. “So? Will you…?”

  Smiling, she kissed him on the mouth. “Osric, my love, I am honored to become your wife.” She kissed him again. “Aye.” Kiss. “Aye.” Kiss. “Aye.” Kiss.

  A growl rumbled in his throat, and he quickly slid the ring onto her finger. Then his hands were burying into her hair, and he kissed her with the hunger burning within him. She matched him kiss for kiss, and only long moments later did their mouths part. He rose to sit beside her on the stone and wrapped his arms around her.

  She set her head against his shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured.

  He kissed her hair. “I love you, too. May we never grow weary of watching the stars together in this ancient place.”

  “Or kissing.”

  He chuckled. “Or kissing.”

  A Knight and His Rose

  Catherine Kean

  About Catherine Kean

  Bestselling, award-winning novelist Catherine Kean is a Kindle Unlimited All-Star author of medieval romances. Her love of history began with visits to England during summer vacations, when her British father took her to crumbling medieval castles, dusty museums filled with fascinating artifacts, and historic churches. Her love of the awe-inspiring past stuck with her as she completed a B.A. (Double Major, First Class) in English and History. She completed a year-long Post Graduate course with Sotheby’s auctioneers in London, England, and worked for several years in Canada as an antiques and fine art appraiser.

  After she married and moved to Florida, she started writing novels, her lifelong dream. She wrote her first medieval romance, A Knight’s Vengeance, while her baby daughter was napping. Catherine’s books were originally published in paperback and several were released in Czech, German, and Thai foreign editions. She has won numerous awards for her stories, including the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Her novels also finaled in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards and the National Readers’ Choice Awards.

  When not working on her next book, Catherine enjoys cooking, baking, browsing antique shops, shopping with her daughter, and gardening. She lives in Central Florida with two spoiled rescue cats.

  A Knight and His Rose

  Catherine Kean

  Connect with Catherine Kean

  Website

  Facebook

  Goodreads

  A Knight and His Rose

  Catherine Kean

  Also by Catherine Kean

  A Knight’s Desire (A Kindle World of de Wolfe Pack Novel)

  A Knight to Remember (Novella)

  A Legendary Love (Novella)

  Bound by His Kiss (Novella)

  Dance of Desire

  My Lady’s Treasure

  One Knight in the Forest (Novella)

  One Knight Under the Mistletoe (Novella)

  One Knight’s Kiss (Novella)

  That Knight by the Sea (Novella)

  Knight’s Series Novels

  A Knight’s Vengeance (Knight’s Series Book 1)

  A Knight’s Reward (Knight’s Series Book 2)

  A Knight’s Temptation (Knight’s Series Book 3)

  A Knight’s Persuasion (Knight’s Series Book 4)

  A Knight’s Seduction (Knight’s Series Book 5)

  Boxed Sets

  Charmed by a Ruby (includes novella One Knight in the Forest)

  Charmed by an Emerald (includes novella A Knight to Remember)

  The Knight’s Series: Books 1-4

  Scottish Rose

  (Second in Command Series)

  By

  Elizabeth Rose

  Scottish Rose

  Elizabeth Rose

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.

  RoseScribe Media Inc.

  Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  Edited by Scott Moreland

  Scottish Rose

  Elizabeth Rose

  To my readers:

  Scottish Rose is another book in my Second in Command Series. It is based on my novel, Aidan – Book 2 of my MadMan MacKeefe Series. In that story, Coira MacDuff, my heroine from Scottish Rose, is a secondary character and the sister of Effie, the heroine from Aidan. You will find out more about the Stone of Destiny and about my characters, the Madmen MacKeefe, who guard the stone by reading this series.

  It is not required to read Aidan to enjoy Scottish Rose, but it is always better to read the original story first to get more background on what happened before this story takes place.

  Each of the books in my are spun from secondary characters of one of my original series.

  Enjoy!

  Elizabeth Rose

  Scottish Rose

  Elizabeth Rose

  Chapter 1

  Glasgow, 1368

  “Coira MacDuff, stop bein’ so restless and let Zara read the cards for ye.” Effie MacKeefe rubbed her very pregnant belly, sitting at a table at the Horn and Hoof as they waited for the wedding to begin.

  “Effie,” said Coira, wringing her hands together as she paced the floor. “I’m no’ sure I want to do this after all.”

  “I’m yer older sister, and I say that ye need to relax. Ye always worry too much.”

  “That’s right. Sit, Child,” said the old, English, gypsy woman, Zara, nodding toward the bench. She shuffled her oversized cards and placed the deck on the table. “It’s just for fun while we wait for your betrothed to show up. If he ever does.”

  “That’s what I mean,” said Coira, feeling sick to her stomach. She glanced back at the tavern door. It was late. Nightfall would be here soon. Hopefully, her betrothed wouldn’t show so she wouldn’t have to marry him after all. That would solve all her problems. Coira seated herself on the wooden bench next to her sister, thinking that perhaps she’d head back home without having to make any vows after all.

  “Cut the cards,” said Zara with a slight nod. The small bells on the edges of her headscarf tinkled with every move she made. A stray curl of grey hair peeked out, resting above one eye.

  Coira did as told, not even paying attention to what she was doing. “Effie, ye’re the strong one, no’ me. We both ken it. I canna marry an Englishman who is naught but a stranger to me.”

  “It’s to maintain alliances with the Sassenachs over the border.” Effie’s husband, Aidan, told her, walking up with his two good friends, Ian and Onyx at his side. The three of them had grown up together, and danger was something they craved. They had done so many crazy things that they were referred to as the MadMen MacKeefe.

  They all had smiles on their faces and tankards of old Callum MacKeefe’s Mountain Magic in their hands. Callum, the grandfather of Chieftain Storm MacKeefe, brewed the most potent whisky in all of Scotland. He was older than dirt but didn’t let that slow him down. Callum owned the Horn and Hoof. Since Storm married an Englishwoman, the tavern was a place where Highlanders, Lowlanders, and the English could meet without a fight.

  “That’s right,” said Ian. “The MacKeefe Clan, as well as Clan MacDuff, will be aligned with Lord Lance de Selby because of ye, Coira. It will make the borders safer for our wives and bairns.”

  Kyla, Ian’s wife and also Aidan’s sister joined them, overhearing their conversation. “I feel safe just bein’ around ye, Ian.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him on the lips. Coira had been at their wedding and liked the fact that lifelong friends had turned into lovers.

  “Who’s watchin’ the bairns, Kyla?” asked Ian with concern in his voice.
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  “Lady Lovelle wanted to hold baby Grant since she is excited about bein’ bairned again,” said Kyla, speaking about their one-year-old baby boy and the fact that Lovelle was pregnant. “Her son, Charles, is watchin’ Finn and Quinn.” Kyla waggled her fingers at their three-year-old twin boys across the room.

  “Lovelle’s holdin’ the bairn?” Onyx’s head snapped around, and he stretched his neck. “I had better go help her.”

  As he started away, Kyla looked up at Ian and shook her head. “Ian, dinna let Dagger touch the bairn,” she said, using the name Onyx’s close friends called him. He will throw the laddie into the air like he’s tossin’ a caber, just like he did with his children, Creighton and Davina, when they were bairns.”

  “Och, ye’re right,” said Ian. “Let’s go stop him.” He headed away with his arm around Kyla.

  “Mayhap I can collect bets on how high Dagger is goin’ to throw the bairn.” Aidan chuckled and hurried after them to get in on the action.

  “Thank guidness they all left,” said Effie, still rubbing her stomach. “Now, let’s get back to the cards, Coira.”

  “Choose a card,” Zara told Coira, fanning out the cards face down.

  “I – I dinna ken which one to choose.” Coira had never been any good at making decisions. She stared at the cards, feeling anxiety course through her.

  “Pick one, Coira,” scoffed Effie. “If ye take any longer, I’m goin’ to birth this bairn before ye even decide.”

  “But – what if I choose the wrong one?” asked Coira, feeling her rapidly beating heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to do the wrong thing. “And what if Lord Lance de Selby is the wrong husband for me? I dinna even ken him. Effie, are ye sure this is helpin’ the clans and that I shouldna have waited and married a Scot instead?”

  “Waited?” Effie blew a puff of air from her mouth and pushed a red lock of hair behind her ear. “Coira, the rest of us have many bairns already. Ye are well past marryin’ age, so I think it’s about time ye wed.”

  “I am only nine and ten summers,” said Coira in her defense.

  “Ye ken that lassies normally are married and have several bairns before they are yer age. Now, dinna fret about it,” said Effie. “Ye told me ye wanted to help the clan and this is the best way to do it. Yer brave action is goin’ to bring about a powerful alliance.”