Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “I’ll tell you true, I’ve thought a great deal about her motives since she spirited us out of the castle, and I cannot make sense of it either. But this I ken in my heart: If Gran had wanted to see you dead, her musket would have had a smoke coming from its barrel and you would be in a shallow grave.” Alice grasped his arm and squeezed. “I must go inside with you.”

  MacGregor returned with three tankards frothing over. Quinn held up his palm, requesting silence. He couldn’t let the lass inside until he knew for certain she’d be safe. “Let me enter first. Once I understand their purpose, I’ll send for you.”

  She pursed her lips. “I do not like it.”

  The big Highlander set the ale on the table. “What do you not like, miss?”

  Quinn wrapped his fingers around a handle. “I’ve decided to walk across the drawbridge of Rothesay Castle alone.”

  “That hairbrained idea again? Have you lost your bleeding mind?” MacGregor planted his beefy hands on the table and leaned in. “They’ve already shot you once.”

  After taking a long drink, Quinn licked the foam from his lips. “I’ve made up my mind and nary a soul can change it.”

  ***

  Once he crossed the bridge alone, the Lamont guards took their time searching Quinn for weapons.

  “I reckon we ought to tie his hands,” said one—a skinny whelp who looked as if lifting a Highland sword would be an effort.

  Quinn held up his palms. “I came across carrying the black flag of parley. Even a Lamont would honor such a request to talk.”

  “He’s right,” said another.

  “Aye?” The lanky one sauntered too near and inclined his lips toward Quinn’s ear. “Not to worry. We’ll have so many muskets ready to fire, if you make one errant move, we’ll fill ye full of lead.”

  Quinn’s shoulder throbbed, reminding him exactly how it felt to be shot. Still, even with his injury, he could strangle the maggot for his insolence. It would be easy to grab the dirk dangling from the man’s belt and plunge it into his belly while using his body to block an attack from the other lout.

  Quinn splayed his fingers. “I’m not here to fight. But when the time comes for battle, I’ll nay forget your pimpled face.”

  The coward raised his fist. “I ought to—”

  “Save your ire,” barked the more reasonable of the two. “Come.”

  They led Quinn to the center of the circular courtyard. He expected to meet their leader, or Alice’s grandmother, or at least someone who was ready to talk. But he was met by two-dozen musketeers training their muskets on him from around the perimeter of the courtyard. For the better part of an hour he stood alone, by the minute growing more certain of his impending death. At last with the screech of medieval hinges, a man wearing a mismatched plaid jacket and kilt marched from the tower like he owned the castle. Shaggy, obviously having gone without a shave for the duration of the siege, the black-haired varlet was flanked by twelve men, six on each side. Evidently, they weren’t taking any chances.

  “I’m Rory Lamont,” he said, his voice gruff.

  Looking the man in the eye, Quinn gave a nod. “I assume you ken my name.”

  “So, the heir has come for a polite conversation, has he?”

  Quinn glanced beyond him. “Where’s the old woman?”

  “She’s lost her nerve.”

  “I need to see her.”

  “Why?” asked Rory. “She’s naught but a female.”

  “She’s the wife of James Lamont. If anyone has a bone to pick with me, it is she.”

  The man clamped his hand atop the pommel of his sword. “I have enough grievances for the lot of us.”

  “I’ll oblige you and listen once I see the woman is unharmed.”

  “Oh, for the love of God, Rory, he’s right!” Alice’s grandmother hastened from the keep, her wrists bound, a gag around her neck.

  The shaggy Highlander frowned. “Fergus, I thought I told you to keep her quiet.”

  In the doorway, a guard spread his palms and shrugged. “You watch over her next time.”

  Rory gestured to Alice’s grandmother with his thumb. “So, you see for yourself Lady Lamont is well. I demand you return the lands stolen from the Lamonts after your kin backstabbed us at Dunoon.”

  The woman’s title caught him unaware for a moment, but it was right. Her husband had been a knight. Presently, titles made no difference. Quinn took note of his odds—not good if things grew bloody. “Apologies, but my father possesses the deed, not I. He has not granted me leave to negotiate on his behalf.”

  The man smirked. “Then we’ll hold you hostage until the earl arrives.”

  “You would take a chance on inciting my father’s ire?”

  “I don’t give a fig about your father.”

  “And he mightn’t give a fig about me,” said Quinn, planting the seed of doubt.

  “You lie. All Campbells are liars.”

  Rory motioned to his guardsmen. “Seize him!”

  Quinn ran to the far wall. Using it as a barrier, he turned and threw a fist into the first guard’s jaw while reaching for the man’s dirk. Just as his fingers brushed the hilt, a vicious strike came from behind, jarring his wounded shoulder. Bellowing in pain, he spun to face his attacker. A wooden pole slammed across his neck, dropping him to his knees.

  Two men held Quinn’s arms while a third wrapped a rope around his wrists.

  “Stop this!” Alice shouted, marching in from the hidden gate—blast—their only escape route revealed. How the hell did she escape from MacGregor?

  Highland Knight of Dreams

  Amy Jarecki

  Chapter Twelve

  “There is another way,” said Gran, pushing Rory and the guards aside.

  The Lamont man scowled and stepped beside her. “I think—”

  “You have bungled this enough.” Gran pulled Alice in front of Quinn. “I’d hoped the rose would have—”

  “Cease this nonsense about the rose.” It was not up to her grandmother to lead their kin. And if Alice didn’t act now, all would be lost…again. Taking charge, she threw up her hands and turned full circle, commanding the attention of every being in the courtyard. “I am Alice MacDonald Lamont, granddaughter of the slain James Henry Lamont. I am your clan chief and you will obey me.”

  She took another turn, slower this time, eyeing every man. “Lord Quinn entered these walls in good faith and we would be as underhanded as the Campbells if we did not honor his request.”

  Gran took a step toward her. “But—”

  “Nay!” Alice stopped her with a determined stare.

  “Hear my supplication, Alice, chieftain of the Lamonts!” Gran shouted so loudly the courtyard turned eerily quiet.

  Alice gave a nod. “Since you have recognized my authority, you may speak.”

  “Where is the rose?”

  For the love of God, why was the silly rose so important? Alice stamped her foot. “You ask about a flower when our kin have broken the protection of parley?”

  “Is it still alive?”

  “Aye,” Quinn said, rising to his feet. “It grows more beautiful by the day.”

  Gran hobbled forward and removed his bounds. “More beautiful than my granddaughter?”

  Alice gripped the woman by the shoulder. “You are speaking nonsense.”

  “I will answer.” Rubbing his wrists, Quinn took Alice by the hand. “Nothing of this earth can ever surpass the beauty of Miss Lamont. She is bonny within and without. She may not think she possesses magic, but she has bewitched my heart and it belongs to this woman and only this woman.”

  To the sound of her grandmother’s gasp, tingles spread throughout Alice’s entire body as she stared into the kindest, most loving eyes she’d ever beheld. “Truly?”

  Quinn squeezed her hands. “Truly.”

  Gran’s sigh echoed between the walls. “The rose blooms to turn enemies…”

  “Into lovers,” Quinn finished. He grinned as wide as the sea. “I do
not believe in the power of the rose, but I do believe in this woman standing before me.”

  “In the name of the Earl of Argyll, throw down your arms!” a shout bellowed from the wall-walk.

  At least a hundred Campbell men stood elbow to elbow, ready for battle.

  Boom!

  A cannon fired. The entire castle shook.

  “Stand down!” Quinn ordered. “I have committed to a peaceable resolution.”

  “Without consulting me first?” Archibald Campbell sauntered into the courtyard, wearing a courtier’s periwig and a bold plaid. “You might be my first-born son, Lord Quinn, but I am still earl.”

  “You are, but there are circumstances to which you should be aware.”

  “Oh? Pray tell afore I order the execution of these miscreants.”

  “I have a question to ask first.” Keeping one of her hands between his palms, Quinn kneeled. She started to pull him to his feet, but stopped when he grinned. “Alice MacDonald Lamont, you have brought me back from the brink of death. You have shown me kindness when you had every right to hate. Before God and our clans, I ask you. I beg you. To be my wife.”

  Gasping, a myriad of emotions swelled in her breast—bewilderment, a wee bit of fear, surprise and finally joy. Suddenly it all made sense, Gran’s rose, sending her to him in the dead of night, and helping them escape at the fête. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she smiled and nodded. “’Tis right for us to marry.” And by the warmth spreading through her entire body, she knew for her entire life she had been fated to marry this man.

  Standing, Quinn faced his father. “I have chosen my bride, the future Countess of Argyll.”

  The earl clutched his hand atop his chest, looking as if he’d taken an arrow to the heart. “A Lamont?”

  Quinn tightened his grip on her hand. “My Grandfather—your father wronged these people. All they want is to return to their rightful lands.”

  “My lands.” Argyll pointed his finger. “You cannot give away that which is not yours.”

  “Perhaps, but the only wedding gift I ask for is the lands of Dunoon. If you grant me this one thing, I will see to it the fishing industry is restored and the crofts pay our coffers tenfold what they earn now.”

  By the narrowing of his eyes, the earl was actually considering Quinn’s proposal. “And how do you propose to guarantee this turn of fortune?”

  “If I do not return these profits within five-year’s time, I forfeit my title, but Dunoon will remain in the hands of the Lamont clan.”

  “Hmm.” The earl paced for a moment before he met his son’s gaze. “This is not the alliance I would have wished for you to make, but given you are willing to put so much on the line, I agree to your terms.”

  As shouts of joy rang around the courtyard, Alice pulled Quinn into an alcove. “Are you certain about this?”

  “I am.”

  “But we barely know each other.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Did you propose merely to avoid bloodshed?”

  “That was a secondary reason. And I ken my father. He would fight to the death to keep Dunoon in the family. Our marriage serves two purposes.”

  “To unite Lamont and Campbell forever.”

  “Aye, but there is something more important.”

  Alice’s tingles returned tenfold as she smiled, encouraging him to continue.

  “I’m in love with you.”

  “Truly?”

  Quinn cupped her cheeks and kissed her mouth like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. “I meant every word I said. I love you and I want you to be mine with every fiber of my being.”

  Sliding her fingers to his waist, Alice drank him in, reading the love in his eyes. And in that moment, she knew she would never want to be parted from this braw Highlander in all her days. “I love you, too.” Throwing her head back, she laughed. “How did it happen so quickly?”

  He surrounded her in a heavenly embrace that filled her with warmth. “I think it may have had to do with a damask rose and something about wisdom and the reversal of a curse.”

  “Nay, ’twas no curse that came between our kin. ’Twas the hate between two men who took a clan feud too far.”

  “And together we will mend our differences and our children will grow stronger, their hearts beating with the blood of Campbell and Lamont.” Quinn tilted her head back, his dark eyelashes lowering as he captured her mouth in a slow, claiming kiss. A kiss powerful enough to douse the fires of hell. A kiss that would end hatred in their corner of the Highlands once and for all.

  Highland Knight of Dreams

  Amy Jarecki

  About Amy Jarecki

  Award winning and Amazon All-Star author, Amy Jarecki likes to grab life, latch on, and reach for the stars. She’s married to a mountain-biking pharmacist and has put four kids through college. She studies karate, ballet, yoga, and often you’ll find her hiking Utah’s Santa Clara Hills. Reinventing herself a number of times, Amy sang and danced with the Follies, was a ballet dancer, a plant manager, and an accountant for Arnott’s Biscuits in Australia. After earning her MBA from Heroit-Watt University in Scotland, she dove into the world of Scottish historical romance and hasn’t returned. Become a part of her world and learn more about Amy’s books on amyjarecki.com.

  Social Media Links:

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amyjarecki/

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/amyjarecki or @amyjarecki

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  Highland Knight of Dreams

  Amy Jarecki

  Other Books by Amy Jarecki:

  Highland Defender & Lords of the Highlands

  The Highland Duke

  The Highland Commander

  The Highland Guardian

  The Highland Chieftain

  The Highland Renegade

  ***

  The Fearless Highlander

  The Valiant Highlander

  The Highlander’s Iron Will (a Novella)

  Guardian of Scotland Series:

  Rise of a Legend

  In the Kingdom’s Name

  The Time Traveler’s Christmas

  Highland Dynasty Series:

  Knight in Highland Armor

  A Highland Knight’s Desire

  A Highland Knight to Remember

  Highland Knight of Rapture

  Highland Force Series:

  Captured by the Pirate Laird

  The Highland Henchman

  Beauty and the Barbarian

  Return of the Highland Laird

  And look for the Devilish Dukes Series:

  Prelude: The Duke’s Fallen Angel

  A Rose Among Thistles

  B.J. Scott

  A Rose Among Thistles

  B.J. Scott

  Copyright

  A Rose Among Thistles Copyright © 2018 B.J. Scott

  All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its author, B.J. Scott.

  The characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  A Rose Among Thistles

  B.J. Scott

  Dedication

  To my husband Steve, whose love, encouragement, and support keeps me writing and sharing my Highland Tales.

  A Rose Among Thistles

  B.J. Scott

  Acknowledgments:

  Thank you to my husband, family and friends for their continued support and encouragement.

  Thank you to my Clan Scott street team for your support and getting the word out about my books.

  Thanks my readers. Y
our support has helped me to realize my dreams as a author and make writing a pleasure.

  A Rose Among Thistles

  B.J. Scott

  Chapter One

  Logan MacAllen squatted beside the fire, then doused the flames with some water and stirred the smoldering embers with a stick. On a mission for his father—the laird of Clan MacAllen—he and his cousin Brodie were charged with negotiating an alliance with Clan Dunning. Determined to do his father’s bidding, Logan was prepared to do whatever was necessary to secure the pact. Even if it meant marrying the Dunning’s daughter.

  Fortunately for Logan, the Dunning hated the MacRyans as much as his father did, so the discussion of a marriage never came up. He was equally relieved to learn that his daughter, Elsa, was already betrothed.

  “I will be glad to get home and sleep in a bed, rather than spending another night on the cold hard ground.” Logan pressed a hand to his aching back.

  “It could have been worse, cousin. You could be sharing your pallet with Elsa Dunning.” Brodie tossed back his head and laughed.

  Logan closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought of the unattractive lass. She couldn’t have seen more than fifteen summers, not to mention she was as round as she was tall.

  “I already thanked the Lord for the stay of execution.” Logan released a heavy sigh. “I will just be happy to get home, give da the good news about the alliance, then down a tankard or two.” While the MacAllens were a powerful clan, one could never have too many allies. His father would be relieved to know that in addition to the other neighboring clans, the Dunnings would come to their aid should the MacRyans attack.

  “If you had listened to me, we could have ridden on to the castle last night. We were already on MacAllen land and only had a short distance left to travel.” Brodie shook his head and clucked his tongue. “But you never listen to me. Sometimes I wonder why you bother taking me along.”

  Logan rose and brushed the leaves and dirt from his trews before responding. “Stopping was the right thing to do, and you know it.” By the time they reached the edge of his father’s land, it was nearly midnight, the horses were spent, and he believed it was safer to travel the rocky terrain in the daylight. He wiggled a brow as he shot Brodie a mischievous grin. “I know Jenna’s bed has been cold for nearly a fortnight, but just think how happy she will be when you do get back. Hell, I will be lucky if I see you again for a sennight.”