Highland Games Through Time
Page 1
HIGHLAND
GAMES
THROUGH TIME
A Time Travel Romance
Boxed Set
by Nancy Lee Badger
Includes:
My Honorable Highlander
My Banished Highlander
My Reluctant Highlander
And a bonus novella:
Award-winning
Dragon in the Mist
Copyright © November 2016 by Nancy Lee Badger
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review
to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. AMZ
Cover illustration copyright ©2016 Paul A. Crust
Dedication
To all the wonderful people who take time out of their busy lives to gather in various locations around the world to share their Scottish heritage with the world. A special thanks to those who give their time and energy to bring these games to life. I also want to thank my readers for returning again and again to my stories, and leaving reviews to keep me writing.
Please enjoy the BONUS NOVELLA Dragon in the Mist, my award-winning story based mainly in present day Scotland, along the shore of Loch Ness.
Table of Contents
Dedication
MY HONORABLE HIGHLANDER
The Story
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
MY BANISHED HIGHLANDER
The Story
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
MY RELUCTANT HIGHLANDER
The Story
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
DRAGON IN THE MIST
The Story
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
About the Author
Books by Nancy Lee Badger
Connect with Nancy Lee Badger
MY HONORABLE
HIGHLANDER
A Time Travel romance
Book #1 in the
Highland Games Through Time
Series
by Nancy Lee Badger
The Story
My Honorable Highlander
Bumbling present day herbalist, Haven MacKay, gets more than she bargains for when her love spell goes awry, is cast back in time, and meets her true love -- Laird Kirkwall Gunn.
Kirk’s plans go slightly off course when he falls in love with a woman wandering through the Scottish Highlands. After all, he has pledged to marry another, from an enemy clan, in order to end a century-old feud.
CHAPTER 1
Northern Scotland, 1598
Bleak apprehension flooded Kirkwall Gunn, for he feared he led his men to their deaths. Eager to take up his sword, his right fist tightened. He shook off negative thoughts as death was only one possibility. The odds against him and his warriors loomed, but their mission started out as a peaceful one. He grumbled at the prospect of disappointing his clan should he not survive to see it through.
As he rode ahead of his men, his mount’s muscles bunched for flight. Kirk held him steady by easing the tension upon its flanks. Leaning over, he whispered a few soothing words in the animal’s ear. The dun-colored beast snorted as another steed’s hooves thundered closer.
“Torturing your mount, cousin?”
“My poor beast senses my worries.” Kirk glanced at Cameron Robeson’s face. Through the falling dusk, his cousin’s amber eyes twinkled with amusement. Cameron’s bushy, golden eyebrows wiggled and the weathered skin around his mouth stretched wide. Streaks of waning sunlight peeked between storm clouds. They lit upon the brawny man’s blond locks, heralding their clan’s Nordic ancestry. Cameron rode next to him in silence as if gathering his thoughts, then glanced skyward. The threat of rain bode ill for their mission. Even the heavens crackled with discontent.
“Aye. The beast knows a drenching rain hurries our way. The storm’s fury shall swallow us, with or without the luck my sister tossed our way,” Kirk said.
“Skye and her potions have their place as long as she keeps her talents hidden.”
“I have warned the wee wench many a time. I do not like how she flaunts her witchery. Some might believe her power comes from dark magic. Even she, a child, tests the leniency of our people.”
“She’s a young woman, nay a child, and she is no witch. She grows herbs for healing. Ye do not approve of her use of potions to comfort our sick and wounded? The very people she has saved since the death of our older, wiser, male healer?” Cameron paused, staring at Kirk’s face. “God’s teeth, ‘tis worse. Yer sister’s powers scare ye.”
“Nay. Naught scares me, cousin. I worry she will be discovered dabbling in what must stay hidden. Any who appear to practice witchery could die, truth or not.”
“She is a smart lass and you worry too much.” Cameron chuckled and shook his head.
“That, she is.” Kirk sighed. He pulled his plaid around his shoulders, barring the chill from slipping inside his leather jerkin. Pleated to cover his thighs and waist, at the beginning of their journey he had wrapped the excess up and over one shoulder and fastened the faded wool with a tarnished silver penannular clasp.
“Thunder clouds approach, cousin. The rain to follow may slow us more than the treasure we protect. I do not care for a night spent in sodden clothes. Say the word and I will see to setting up camp.”
“We may die on this trip, yet ye think of comfort.” Kirk pulled at the reins of his agitated mount then scratched his day’s growth of beard.
“Your warriors would never let anything deter them from a good fight, but wet, hungry men cannot fight their best for ye or yer gold.”
“The treasure belongs to our clan.” Kirk turned away, grumbling.
“Until ye turn it over to the Keiths.”
“And then I will have nothing to give my men, but my gratitude and my personal sacrifice. Each man volunteered to attend me on this journey, yet some…” Kirk paused and inhaled a deep breath of chilled, damp air, then lowered his voice.
“Some predict a less than victorious outcome. My men might die. What kind of leader am I?”
His cousin shook his head.
“The men love ye. Even Balfour, our grumpy ale master, would give his life to save yours. Such devotion comes neither from filling a man’s stomach nor covering his palm with coin.” With a wink, Cameron turned his big, grey stallion around and galloped toward the treasure carts stationed at the rear of their group.
Sturdy Highland workhorses struggled to haul the wheel-less sledges over the rocky ground, open moors, and heather-strewn meadows. As they entered a forest split by a worn path of dirt and pinecones, tall evergreens rose up and blanketed them in shadow.
Kirk grinned as he shook his head. Cameron would protect the carts with his life. If their cargo did not reach Castle Ruadh, no wedding would take place.
My wedding.
He chuckled at the irony then sat tall and straight in the saddle.
I am most certainly not in want of a bride.
Ever since Cora’s death, he lived his life alone and away from the grip of love’s bite. An ache under his left cheek forced his smile to abate. He felt every pinch of the scar that zigzagged up his face, from his lip to just below his left eye. Phantom pain reared up at the sudden memory of a blade as it nearly sliced his face in half.
He frowned and remembered the bastard who had given him the deep wound during a midnight attack. The enemy raiders, aided by a traitor in the Gunn clans’ midst, swept through their sleeping village like hungry wolves. The village healer had died in the attack, and the traitor discovered.
Kirk and his council banished the conspirator from their lands. He had no love for a man who would betray his own people. Such a deed left Kirk with a hollow feeling; a feeling raw, bleeding, and as lasting as the scar that remained.
Kirk’s path of self-appointed solitude seemed clear before the contract offer materialized. Clan Keith’s messenger arrived from Wick a month past. The message chilled his blood especially when he sensed the outcome had been preordained. Their king demanded peace and Laird Keith gave Kirk a way to comply. Many of his kinsmen had also reminded him of his need for an heir. Even so, he could not shake the notion that he marched toward his doom.
Will I die quick by the hands of brigands after our gold? Or, slow, locked in marital strife hidden under the guise of matrimony.
He pulled at the lower edge of his leather jerkin. It offered little protection from the coming rain, so he yanked his wool plaid up and over his head. The clink of metal rings and the slap of leather reins against another’s mount brought his mind back to the present.
His foster son, Reid MacRob, rode to his side perched on a smaller Highland pony. Sporting pale skin dotted with freckles, the washed-out color was in stark contrast to the boy’s flame-red hair. The gangly lad hailed from an outlying village and had arrived when seven years of age.
“A storm comes. Say the word, my chief, and a soft pallet and warm fire will appear. Yer tent will keep the rain at bay. I shall see to it personally. Not a drop shall muddy yer boots.”
“Aye, a soft bed and a hardy meal would do me good, though the rain might keep the fires spitting and smoking all night.” Kirk’s complaint did not wipe the smile from the proud young man’s face.
“Cook packed cheese and crusty loaves of yeasty bannock, and I strung skins of wine to my saddle. Poor fare, but plentiful.”
“Such a repast will suffice tonight. Restlessness has eaten at me all day.” His fingers opened and closed as he fought to relax. Kirk smiled at the lad. “A time for rest approaches.”
“I am at yer service and only strive to make ye comfortable on this journey.”
Kirk faced the journey’s end with dread. The future of his village and possibly his entire clan rested on his wide shoulders and healthy body. An heir would mean peace between two clans whose feud had lasted too long and killed too many.
“Are ye anxious to see yer betrothed? Lady Fia of Clan Keith is a beauty, I am told.”
“Aye, that she is.” Thumping his fist against his thigh, he cursed the Keiths. A deep breath did not cleanse away the thought of buying peace with the flesh of his children. Still, he agreed a marriage between two warring clans would bring lasting harmony to both sides. If only he could conjure a simpler solution.
“Are ye looking forward to yer wedding night?” A soft chuckle slipped from the young lads lips.
“When you are older, young Reid, you shall realize beauty in itself does not make an acceptable bride.”
“Cameron says a bonny face makes the bedding a pleasant tussle.”
Kirk could not help the smile that tugged at his mouth.
Reid grimaced. “I do not care to tussle with a wench. Not until I prove myself as a clan warrior who fights beside ye and Cameron and Balfour. Only then shall I have my pick of the best in the valley.” Reid’s toothy grin heralded at the truth behind his words.
Despite the pinch of his scar, Kirk laughed aloud. He found little reason to laugh ever since he had agreed to his fate. A future he would never have chosen of his own free will awaited behind the walls of Castle Ruadh. As a more polite response broached his lips, an arrow whistled past his ear.
“Attack!”
Deep-throated cries split the early evening air at the same time black clouds spewed icy raindrops. Mounted warriors burst from a copse of trees followed by men on foot. Each rider brandished a huge sword. The Warriors on foot carried dirks and shields and shortened the distance between both groups in seconds. Remnant sunbeams from the setting sun, peeking through clouds, glinted off swords. Wet metal sliced through raindrops as the battle commenced.
Within a mere heartbeat, a sword sliced across the breast of the man to Kirkwall’s left. Reid screamed to his right. Kirk whirled his mount around as he unsheathed his powerful broadsword from its leather scabbard. He stared at the lad’s bloodied fingers as they clutched the shaft of an arrow piercing his shoulder. The lad’s horror-filled gaze latched on Kirk’s.
“Do not pull it out. Ride to the carts! Warn them!” The cries of clashing swords and thunder booms gave him no time to ensure the boy obeyed. With a shake of his head, he tossed off his hood to clear his vision then let loose a war cry of his own.
Several of the enemy faltered. His heart quickened at their fear and his thrill for battle. Two mounted warriors spun toward him with swords raised. Their attention now on him, they ignored their previous quarry. Wariness washed over him before he rushed them.
They are after me and I have a feeling I know who sent these dogs.
He swung his sword. He felt everything; the weight of the steel, the slam of each heartbeat, and the drag of wet wool across his damp body. Icy rain streamed down the back of his neck. His mount’s powerful haunches obeyed his body’s commands. The power behind his attack dismounted b
oth men. His beast reared then stomped one bleeding warrior into the mud. The other ran into the trees.
A quick glance at the battle proved no man needed Kirk’s sword arm. Blood poured from wounded arms and legs, staining many a Gunn clan plaid, but several of their opponents lay dead in the mud.
He squinted toward the back of their party, but saw nothing of the treasure wagons hidden by the curve of the road. His cousin and fellow guards would defend the contents.
“Coward, do not run from me.” Kirk galloped after the man escaping on foot. The sky darkened and dumped buckets of freezing rain, but he pushed away the sensation. His mount’s ears lay flat while its thick brown mane whipped him in the face, obscuring his vision. He ignored the sting.
With his attention on his target, he squinted through the thick shadows at the forest’s edge. Plunging through the underbrush, he urged his mount to run. Dodging roots and low branches, he listened for his quarry. Nearly blinded, his other senses sprang into action.
A horrible thought intruded. The enemy used arrows as their first line of offense, but not one of the attacking warriors carried bows. A prickle along his damp neck warned Kirk that he had become the hunted. Flicking his eyes to the trees, he hunched low over his steed’s broad neck. A smaller target might live longer. Caution won out.
There is safety in numbers. I must return to my men.
Kirk kneed his beast and headed back. He growled at his futile attempt to run down his enemy. Though not bent on killing him, a few well-placed strikes with the flat of his sword might have loosened his tongue. His pulse pounded with no recourse; with no outlet to stem his rage at having to quit the hunt. Instead, he vowed to name the bastards who attacked.
Rain splashed the tips of his eyelashes and dripped down his chest. He yanked his plaid back up and over his head. A heavy downpour and a flash of lightning suddenly blinded him. He wiped a bloodied hand across his face as another streak of fire sparkled across the sky, Kirk reined in his mount before nearly plowing into a dark figure astride a huge black beast.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”