Pledged to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy (Book 1)

by Donna Fletcher

  “Then it’s time to find out—together.”

  He reminded her time and time again she wasn’t alone and she did the same for him. They both needed that reminder after having been torn apart for five long, empty years. They no longer needed to do things alone, they had each other once again.

  “I guess I have been avoiding it,” she admitted.

  “Trevor has sent me endless messages that started out demanding you return and speak to his wife to his last one yesterday, pleading for you to return and talk with a heartbroken Demelza.”

  “She’s all right, isn’t she?” Oria asked, worried for the petite woman. “I should have never yelled at her, especially with her not feeling well and being so close to delivering her bairn.”

  “You had every right to feel as you did and I doubt Demelza is as fragile as her husband believes. She couldn’t possibly be, being wed to Trevor.”

  Oria smiled and unlocked her fingers from his, then hurried out of bed. “I’ll get dressed and we can be on our way.”

  Royden admired his wife’s nicely curved backside, the gentle sway of her hips, though her sway was anything but gentle when his shaft was buried deep inside her.

  He stood, his shaft feeling as if it stood before he did, he had grown hard so fast. “We have time for a quick roll in the bed.”

  “No, we best get going,” she said, not looking his way.

  He took hurried steps to her, grabbing her shift from her hand. “You say no to me?”

  “This is important. We must see to it right away,” Oria argued.

  “Aye, you’re right, we must.” He scooped her up in his arms and had her down on the bed and slipped inside her before another protest could slip from her lips. It was when she grinned at him that he realized she had tricked him into getting what she wanted.

  “Damn, wife, you did that on purpose,” he said, annoyed but much too snug inside her to deny either of them.

  “Aye, I got you right where I want you,” she said and began to move against him.

  Royden had no willpower to deny her or himself. “It will be a quick one.”

  “Aye, a quick one,” she agreed with a wider smile.

  It was an hour later that Royden picked his garments up off the floor and got dressed yet again and with Oria’s stomach grumbling, it was another hour before they took their leave.

  Parlan and Wren once again joined them and as they neared MacGlennen village, Oria drew her horse near Wren.

  “You seem worried for Demelza. Have you seen something? Does she have a difficult delivery?” Oria asked.

  “There’s something that precedes the delivery I cannot see, which could mean any number of things,” Wren said. “I sensed when I met her that she would have five bairns, but that doesn’t mean she won’t lose any bairns, just that five bairns would survive.”

  “I didn’t help by arguing with her,” Oria said, feeling guilty.

  “Demelza is far from a fragile woman. She was far more upset with the way you learned about your true birth. She had hoped you and she would become friends first and that would ease the burden of the news. She was born two years after you were taken. Her mother had told her stories about you and they both hoped that one day you would be reunited with the family. There is much she wishes to tell you.”

  “I will listen, though I don’t know how I will feel about it,” Oria said.

  “Listening is all you need to do right now,” Wren said.

  “What else did Demelza confide in you?” Oria asked.

  “Give Demelza a chance to tell you. She has longed for the day she could do so and longed for the day she would get to know her sister. This was not her family’s fault nor the family who claimed you as their own, loved you, and kept you safe.”

  “Then whose fault is it?” Oria asked, looking for an answer.

  “The slave who took you? Those who made her a slave? Your true mother who let a slave care for you? Or had fate simply intervened? There is no definitive answer, nor an answer that would satisfy the pain and hurt that stirs in you. The most important thing for you to remember is that you were loved by the parents who raised you and you’re loved by the parents who lost you.”

  Wren’s words remained with her as they entered the village that had once been her home, a loving home with loving memories. People smiled at her, waved, called out greetings and she returned them in kind as she had always done.

  “Are you all right, Oria?” Royden asked, his horse plodding along beside hers.

  Her smile remained as she turned her head to face him. “Aye, I am. I can do this. I want to do this.”

  Royden was glad to see her eyes spark with renewed confidence and he was relieved and happy that she’d regained it for herself.

  Trevor and Demelza stood at the top of the keep steps and Oria almost chuckled seeing the tight arm Trevor kept around his wife’s waist to keep her from rushing down the stairs.

  Oria was grateful for the snug fit of her husband’s hand around hers as they climbed the stairs. She was also glad for her returned confidence that had her speaking before anyone else could. “I hope you can forgive me for my rude behavior the last time I was here. I’d like for us to talk. I’d like to get to know you, Demelza.”

  Demelza broke free of her husband’s arms and flung herself at Oria, tears running down her cheeks.

  Oria hugged her not because it was the mannerly thing to do, but because she felt the need to hold her sister tight.

  “I am so happy to hear that. I want so badly to know you better,” Demelza said, easing the hold she had on Oria. “We can talk in my,” —she stopped abruptly to correct herself— “your mother’s solar.”

  That Demelza acknowledged the woman who raised her as her mother touched Oria’s heart. “It is your solar now just as Royden’s mum’s solar is now mine.” She smiled. “And one day will be our daughters. Time doesn’t stand still for anyone.”

  “Then let us not waste a minute,” Demelza said and took Oria’s hand.

  Wren stepped forward from where she stood to the side with Parlan. “If you have need of me, I will be tending those in the clan who require my help.”

  Demelza nodded. “I will see you later, Wren.” Then she sent her husband a smile as she hurried past him with Oria and entered the keep.

  Trevor looked to Royden. “I appreciate this.”

  “I do this for my wife and for your wife,” Royden said.

  “You still have my gratitude and I am in your debt.”

  “Good, then settle the debt now and tell me what the Beast has planned for this area.”

  Happy and loving memories welcomed Oria like a comforting embrace as soon as she entered her mum’s solar.

  “My mum died when I was only eight years, but I have wonderful memories of her. I hope I can be as good and loving mum as she had been to me,” Oria said, needing Demelza to know how much her mum meant to her.

  “I’m glad a good woman found you and raised you with such love,” Demelza said and pointed to a chair worn from use, for Oria to sit.

  Oria didn’t hesitate. It had been her mum’s chair and she recalled sitting on her lap and listening to endless tales of brave Highland warriors and strong Highland women.

  “Our mother is a good mother as well. Every day she prayed to the gods that you were kept well and that you were loved. She was so pleased and relieved to know that her prayers had been answered.”

  It was strange to hear her say our mother, but Oria made no comment. She took Wren’s advice and listened.

  “She so looks forward to meeting you and is quite upset that our brother, Wolf, forbid it until things were settled here. He felt it wouldn’t be safe for her or me to travel here until then. Our father agreed with him, the plan to reclaim our land having taken years to execute and with you being safe, neither felt there was any reason to risk failure.”

  Oria was actually grateful for that decision. She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d been swept away
from the only place she’d known as home and risk Royden never finding her.

  “I must admit I was thrilled when plans were suddenly changed and Trevor was ordered to come here and establish a home with me. Móŏir, mother in our language, and I talked endlessly about me meeting with you. The one thing she wanted you to know was how her heart broke when you were taken from her. How she missed you suckling at her breast and the way you would curl your tiny finger around hers and hold on tight even as you slept, as if you knew you didn’t have much time with her. She so loves you. We all do.”

  Oria fought back tears, hearing the pain her abduction had caused her family, that was foreign to her yet loved her so much.

  Not knowing what to say, she let her thought speak aloud for her. “I don’t know any of you.”

  “I realize it will take time for you to accept us as family and so does Móŏir, not so much Wolf. To him you are family and he was more than upset when your King and our King ordered him to release your husband, his brother, and the clan warriors that had been taken captive.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Oria said. “Why did they do that?”

  “Wolf refused to say. I only know that plans changed after that and while our brother will get what he wants—the land that is ours—how he obtains it won’t be as he planned.”

  “You know nothing of why that is?” Oria asked.

  “No, and neither does Trevor or so he says. It seems Wolf was sworn to secrecy by both Kings.”

  “You think your husband keeps the truth from you?” Oria asked.

  “Trevor and Wolf have been friends since they could walk. They confide everything in each other. I can’t believe Wolf didn’t tell him all of it, but I also know if he gave our brother his word not to say anything, then Wolf’s secret is safe with him.”

  “Secrets, promises,” — Oria shook her head— “I’ve had enough of them.”

  “I’ve always resented being sent from the room when the men gathered to discuss things,” Demelza said. “Mother wasn’t. She’d entered whether invited or not and Father never chased her out. She told me one day I would be given the same respect, but that day hasn’t come. I believe it’s because my petite size makes me appear fragile and so everyone thinks they need to protect me. I may be petite, but I’m not weak. I am like our grandmother, the one born here in the Highlands. She was petite and stronger than any woman I have ever known. She dared to love a Norseman and dared to believe that one day the land that had belonged to her clan and had been unjustly taken away, would one day belong to her family once again.”

  “Seanmhair, grandmother in our language,” Oria said, a strength rising in her that Scot blood still ran through her.

  “I believe our seanmhair would be proud of us both,” Demelza said.

  “I believe you’re right,” Oria agreed with a smile. “I also believe our husbands are discussing things right now that we should hear for ourselves.”

  Demelza sighed. “I agree, but Trevor would never permit it.”

  “I have a friend who taught me how to sneak and have a listen without being caught. Shall we see what we can find out for ourselves?” Oria challenged with a grin.

  “I never got to sneak about on my own when I was young. Wolf always kept a watchful eye on me.” She chuckled. “Though when Trevor and I fell in love we found a way to keep it from my brother, certain he wouldn’t approve.”

  “What happened when he found out?” Oria asked, knowing how ruthless the Beast could be.

  “At first he looked ready to kill and Trevor shoved me behind him ready to battle. Then Wolf laughed, not a sound often heard from him. He’d known all along what we’d been up to and was glad that I had fallen in love with a man strong and brave enough to keep me safe. And Trevor certainly has done so—to a fault.”

  “Then let’s change that. I’ll teach you the skill I learned from one who was a master at it,” Oria said and stood, stretching her hand out to Demelza and going to her side to help her out of the chair when she saw her struggle to stand.

  “Finally, I have a sister I can plot with just as Wolf plotted with Trevor,” Demelza said with excitement.

  Oria thought how she hadn’t wanted to like Demelza even before she had met the woman. But that had changed quickly and she had found she liked the petite woman who handled her demanding husband with strength and patience. She hadn’t known what to think when she had discovered Demelza was her sister, though anger had reared its head. But for some reason, she continued to like the woman. There was something about her that made her feel like she’d known her longer than the short time since they’d met. Perhaps it was the same blood that ran through them both, that connected them, that made them sisters.

  They walked to the door arm in arm, smiling. Oria opened it and quickly rushed Demelza behind her when they were met with a dagger pointed at them.

  Chapter 29

  “Firth?’ Demelza said from behind Oria.

  Oria hadn’t recognized him at first, the scar her husband had left on him red and angry, not fully healed and leaving him difficult to look upon.

  “Shocked I managed to escape my guards?” Firth asked with a sneer. “There’s one thing I learned fighting for the Beast. Trust no one and always be prepared for the worst. I’ve built myself a sizeable troop of disgruntled warriors. Ones the Beast himself discarded.”

  That alarmed Oria. If the Beast had rejected them there had to be something seriously wrong with them. She couldn’t let him take them out of the keep. If he got them out, they were as sure as dead.

  “I heard you talking in there. I wasn’t going to take you,” he said with a nod at Oria. I intended to leave you with your throat slit and your face slashed for your husband to find you.”

  The thought turned Oria’s stomach and Demelza’s as well since she heard the petite woman gag.

  “I only wanted the Beast’s sister, but now I have his two sisters. That should get his attention,” Firth said, the scar making his grin appear grotesque.

  “You don’t want to do this, Firth,” Demelza said. “The Beast will make you suffer horribly for it.”

  “I’ll have my revenge and he’ll pay well to get his sisters back,” Firth said. “Though he won’t know until it’s too late how much me and my men enjoyed them.”

  Oria felt Demelza’s hand rush to her stomach, concerned for her unborn child.

  “Let’s go,” Firth ordered and gave Oria a good poke in the chest with the tip of his dagger. “And if you think to fight like you did the last time, know that as soon as you do, I’ll slice your sister’s stomach open and let the bairn spill out.”

  Demelza gasped in fear.

  “I won’t fight you,” Oria said, having stifled the pain she’d felt from the jab of his dagger and now feeling the blood soak into her shift and tunic from the wound he’d left.

  “Move,” he ordered, stepping away from the open door to let them out.

  When Firth pulled his hood up, Oria saw that he wore the brown garment of a monk and surmised that was how he had gotten past everyone. It was how he would make it out of the keep with them, no one paying a monk mind, if she didn’t do something.

  Firth stepped in front of them to go down the stairs and ordered Demelza to go behind him.

  Oria kept herself protectively in front of Demelza. “She is uneasy on her feet. She may fall into you and then what. Alert everyone to your presence? Let her follow me so I may help her.”

  He didn’t argue, but he ordered them to hurry.

  They entered the Great Hall and Oria was disappointed no one was about. At least someone would have seen them, but then what did it matter. She had to stop them from leaving the keep. Once outside, he probably intended to take them around back where they wouldn’t be seen and into the woods. His men were probably waiting for him there, and if he managed to get them there, all would be lost.

  Oria recalled something she had promised her husband, that she would call out to him if she was ever in danger
. She didn’t hesitate. She turned quickly wrapping herself around Demelza, to protect her and the bairn, and screamed out her husband’s name.

  “ROYDEN!”

  She felt the blade slash along her arm, but she didn’t release Demelza. Her head was suddenly yanked back and the dagger was at her throat.

  “Let her go,” Firth ordered.

  Demelza pushed at her, urging her to do as he said and when she did, Oria was yanked back.

  “Release my wife now!” Royden demanded, his heart pounding wildly and his anger soaring along with fear for his wife.

  Even with the knife at her throat, Oria felt safer now that her husband was there.

  “Come to me, Demelza,” Trevor ordered.

  “Go to him and I’ll slice your sister’s throat and I’ll have just enough time to slice your belly before your husband can reach you.”

  “You’re a dead man,” Trevor warned, fighting with all his strength not to charge at the man.

  “Maybe, but these two will be dead as well if anyone dares to make a move,” Firth threatened.

  Royden saw the spot where the blood soaked at his wife’s chest and that her sleeve had been sliced open, blood soaking the material around it and running along her hand. He wanted to rush the man and strangle the life out of him, but Firth would slice her throat before he could reach her. He had failed Oria once, he wouldn’t fail her again.

  “All will be well,” Royden said, his eyes on his wife.

  “I know,” Oria said without an ounce of doubt in her response.

  “Your husband lies,” Firth said, raising his voice in anger. “You both will come with me or the three of us will die right here.”

  “Oh, goodness!” Demelza cried out and looked down. A pool of liquid was gathering at her feet.

  “Demelza!” Trevor shouted and went to rush to her,

  “Stop!” Royden warned, seeing Firth ready to slice his wife’s throat.

  Trevor forced himself to heed Royden’s words.