Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  Either way, you will be able to understand and enjoy this book without prior knowledge of the others.

  And back by popular demand from Lady Renegade of my Legacy of the Blade Series, you will see Storm MacKeefe and his family nine years after his story ended.

  Now sit back and enjoy your visit to the Highlands, Lowlands, and medieval England, and the story of a man thought to be dead.

  Elizabeth Rose

  Table of Contents:

  Prologue

  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

  From the Author

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Blackpool, England, 1341

  Fenella MacKeefe waited in the shadows, watching as one of the earl’s guards stood on the docks trying to convince the ship’s captain to take whatever it was in the small chest that he held in his hands.

  The captain shook his head furiously and waved him away, obviously not wanting to do it. She moved closer to eavesdrop on their conversation. She’d been trying to get aboard the ship all day, knowing it was going to Scotland. If she didn’t get out of England and back to her clan in the Highlands soon, she was going to be caught and sentenced to death.

  She’d come to England for vengeance on the Englishman who had killed her husband, and she’d succeeded. She’d made sure to discard of the rest of the poison she’d put in his wine so they couldn’t trace the murder to her. She would have made it away without being spotted if she hadn’t stopped to pilfer a few objects along the way. It was a habit of hers she never could break. She was addicted to taking what she wanted, especially the finer things in life held by nobles who didn’t deserve them anyway.

  She needed to get home to her clan now. She could not die before she returned with her newfound treasures. But she had no coin to buy passage on the ship, and had no horse to ride to the Highlands herself, as it had been stolen by ruffians while she was securing her way into Worcester Castle.

  Earlier, she’d cleverly stowed away, hidden on the back of a merchant’s cart just to get to the docks of Blackpool, but now she needed to get aboard the ship. She knew this was her only way home. She moved closer, pretending to be looking into the travel bag on her shoulder, but really listening to the conversation of the two men.

  “I’ll not be cursed by taking that bloody thing aboard my ship,” spat the captain. “Now leave at once, and do not ask me again.”

  “I’m willing to pay you well,” said the guard. “I have a rare, gold guinea as well as several shillings in my pouch.” He took the coin pouch from his waist and held it up, jingling it to prove it was true. “It’s all yours if you just do as I ask.”

  The captain almost seemed to consider it for a moment, as that amount of money was tempting to anyone. Then he just shook his head and started away, approaching the ship and instructing the dockman to remove the boarding plank and shove off to sea.

  Fenella heard the king’s men searching for her. The man she killed had been a baron, and with her rotten luck, the king had approached for a visit just as she was leaving. They called out to the villagers asking if they’d seen her. She knew it was now or never. If she didn’t get aboard the ship, she may as well kiss her life goodbye.

  “I’ll take it,” she told the guard, holding out her hands anxiously.

  “Who are you?” the guard grumbled, trying to get a good look at her under her cloak. She’d made sure to secure it around her tightly in order to hide her plaid. She’d also been doing her best to try to sound like an Englishwoman instead of a Scot.

  “I’m . . . ” she looked up to the ship, seeing the dockman preparing to take the plank away. “I’m the healer, and I need to get aboard the ship afore it leaves.”

  “They don’t seem to be waiting for you,” said the guard, looking at her suspiciously, then back toward the ship.

  “They don’t realize I left the ship. To get this . . . my healing herbs,” she told him, pointing to the travel bag slung over her shoulder. She hoped he wouldn’t ask to see what was in it, or she’d have some fast explaining to do.

  “Well,” he said in thought, stroking his chin, “I suppose so. But don’t mention it to the captain, as I don’t think he will like the idea.”

  “Give it to me quickly,” she said, hearing the king’s men asking questions from behind her. She reached out and grabbed the chest with the curved, carved lid. It was heavier than she’d expected.

  “Now be sure to dump it into the sea,” he told her in a low voice. “But wait until the ship is at least halfway to Scotland.”

  “Of course,” she said, having no time to even look inside the box. She held out one hand, and he looked at her curiously. “The money,” she spat. “Give me the money, and be quick about it.”

  “But you are only a healer,” he protested.

  “I’m someone who will be doing your dirty work, now hand it over if you want the job done.”

  “I’ll give you a shilling,” he said, reaching into the pouch.

  “I’ll take what you offered the captain. All the coins in the pouch. Nothing less.”

  “I can’t do that.” He made a face and shook his head.

  “You can if you want this deed done badly enough. Now are you going to give me the pouch or am I going to give this box back to you? And I urge you to decide quickly, as the ship is about to leave.”

  “All right,” he said. “Just take it, and rid me of that damned, cursed box already.”

  He’d no more than reached out the money pouch to her when she’d snatched it from his hand and headed away. “God’s toes, dinna give a lassie so much trouble e’er again,” she said under her breath, hurrying from his side. She opened the travel bag and put the chest inside to hide it from the captain’s eyes.

  She glanced once over her shoulder at the king’s men, who were now stopping the guard she’d just left, and questioning him. She could only hope the task he’d paid her to do was more deceitful than her own. If so, he wouldn’t turn her in.

  “Wait!” she cried out, as the dockman started to pull away the boarding plank. “I need to get aboard the ship.”

  “Sorry,” he said, with a shake of his head. “’Tis too late.”

  She didn’t see the captain, nor his crew in sight, and she knew that dockmen could usually be tempted by money.

  “I can pay,” she said, shaking the pouch of coins at her side.

  “Go away, wench,” he growled. “The halfpenny you plan on giving me isn’t goin’ ta get you aboard this ship.”

  She noticed the king’s men coming her way. She wasn’t sure if the guard said anything, but either way, it would be mere moments before they discovered her.

  “You are running from them, aren’t ya?” The dockman obviously noticed her glancing in their direction. “You are the girl that they’re looking for.”

  “I don’t know what ye mean, laddie.”

  “Laddie?” The man reached out and pulled her hood from her head, exposing her shoulders as well. His eyes fastened to her purple and green plaid thrown over one shoulder.

  “You’re a bloody Scot,” he said. “There’s no way you’re getting on this ship ta escape back to yer kind.” He raised his hand as if to motion to the king’s men, but she gripped his wrist tightly to keep him still.

  “There’s several shillin’s in it f
or ye if ye help me,” she said in a low voice.

  The dockman blew air from his mouth and shook his head, chuckling. “I saw you take the chest from the guard and put it in your bag after the captain refused to have it on board. And I also heard how much is in the pouch. So don’t think a couple of bobs is goin’ ta win me over.”

  “All right. I’ll give ye the gold guinea instead.”

  “I want all of it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  She clenched her jaw, not wanting to give up any of the coins, but she knew she was going to have to agree or she would never make it home alive. “Fine. The entire pouch o’ coins if ye promise to stay quiet aboot everythin’. They’re all yers if ye just get me on that ship and promise te keep me secret.” With her identity now revealed, she no longer tried to sound like an Englishwoman.

  “There must be a reason they’re searching for you.” The dockman looked over his shoulder and squinted into the sun as the king’s men got closer. “There may be a reward in it fer me if I turn ya in to them.” He scratched the back of his neck as he spoke. “So, tell me, is there?”

  “Ye know as well as I, they’ll say ye’re only doin’ yer duty te the king. Now take the damned pouch. With this kind of coin, ye can do a lot. Think aboot it.” She slammed the pouch into his chest and held it there.

  The dockman looked back to the king’s men, and then up to the ship. He frowned, then slowly his lips turned upward into a smile. He spoke in a low voice, talking from the side of his mouth. “Ya keep yer bloody mouth closed about this as well,” he said, “and I’ll do it.” He snatched the pouch from her hand and hurriedly glanced inside it to inspect its contents. He then stepped aside, and let her pass.

  “Dinna worry aboot me keepin’ a secret,” she grumbled, pulling her hood back up over her head. “Fenella kens how te keep her mouth shut.” She hurriedly ran up the plank to board the ship. The dockman quickly pulled the plank away once she’d boarded, giving the ship the order to shove off quickly.

  “Ya do know what’s in the chest,” he called out, “don’t ya?”

  “I dinna care,” she said, waving her hand through the air, just happy to be getting aboard and away from the guards.

  The king’s men approached him, and she saw him scratching his head and shrugging his shoulders. Thank the heavens she was going to get away with this after all. Her heart thumped rapidly against her ribs, and as she turned back around, she crashed into the chest of none other than the captain.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing aboard my ship?” he asked.

  “I’m – the healer,” she said, hoping they didn’t already have one for their travels.

  “I don’t remember hiring a healer to escort us to Scotland. And this is a trade ship. There are no women allowed.”

  She looked over the side of the ship, and knew since they were leaving port, the guards couldn’t catch her anymore. But she needed to make certain the captain didn’t decide to dock again and leave her on shore, or that could all change in an instant.

  “I was sent by the king,” she blurted out, holding up her hand and pretending to wave to the guards. They shouted and waved their fists in the air, and she knew that bastard dockman must have told them her secret after all. “King Edward has a . . . sick . . . cousin in Scotland. He sends me with you, to get there quickly to heal the man before he dies.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

  “He just received the missive this morning,” she told him, once again pretending to wave to the king’s guards. She hoped the captain wouldn’t realize they weren’t shouting words of well wishes for her journey. “That’s why the king’s men are here – to escort me safely to the ship.” The dockman, the slimy bastard, waved back at her. She threw him a daggered look and quickly turned and talked to the captain. She pulled at her hood, once again trying to cover her Highland attire.

  “All right,” said the captain with a nod. “You can bed down on the deck and eat with the crew. But I am not responsible for what happens to you. And I don’t like the idea of having a woman aboard. It is almost as bad as that guard trying to get me to dump the Earl of Blackpool’s dead baby into the sea. I’m not going to be the one cursed for getting rid of a demon child.”

  He walked away, leaving her at the rail. Suddenly, Fenella wondered if in her haste, she’d agreed to something that was almost as bad as her doomed fate had she’d stayed ashore.

  She dug out the box from within her travel bag and balanced it atop the rail. She shivered, thinking a dead baby may be inside, and if so, she didn’t even want to gaze upon it. She was about to dump it over the edge and go find something to eat, when she heard the slightest whimper from inside the chest. Curiosity got the better of her.

  Her heart almost stopped. She gazed down to the carved openings in the lid, and could see an orange eye peeking out at her. That was shocking enough that she’d almost dropped the box.

  She quickly clutched it to her chest, looking around to make sure no one saw her. Then she hurried beneath the forecastle of the ship, hiding next to a few barrels tied together with rope. She sat down with the box in front of her, being sure to keep her distance. With one shaking hand she reached out slowly, then flipped open the lid and scooted backwards quickly.

  Her body stiffened when she saw what was inside. A newborn babe, naked, and with a blue tinge to his skin. He looked up to her and smiled. Then, as he blinked, her gaze fastened on his one black eye, and the other of orange.

  “Ye are a demon child,” she whispered, “’tis true.” Her hands covered her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out. She had half a mind to slam down the lid and take it back to the rail and dump it overboard anyway. But something about the boy touched a place in her heart.

  She had no children. She had no husband anymore, nor had she taken a lover. Neither was she respected by the rest of her clan, with her little vice that always led her to trouble. And she wasn’t even sure if her chieftain would even accept her back into the clan of the MacKeefes, especially if he ever found out she’d just killed an English baron.

  Fenella had been an orphan, and also an outcast her entire life. She could see within the haunting eyes of this discarded baby, that he needed love – to be accepted as well. It was up to her now if he lived or if he died. She knew if the captain found out, he’d throw the boy overboard himself, as he already thought the baby to be ill luck and also a demon. Not to mention, he’d think she was a curse, being the only woman aboard the ship. He’d probably throw her overboard too.

  Nay, she couldn’t tell him. And neither could she say anything when she got to Scotland. The king’s men were already looking for her, and there’d be no way she could return this baby to the earl of Blackpool. By the captain’s words, it sounded as if they all thought this baby was dead anyway. Aye, she decided, this was another treasure of the nobles that she would add to her collection.

  She gingerly picked up the naked body of the baby in her hands, and cuddled him to her chest. The Earl of Blackpool was the one who had given the order to dump the babe into the ocean, the captain had told her. Well, anyone who gave an order like that was not to be trusted with a baby, nor did he deserve it. This was one more treasure she’d collect upon her journey and keep for herself, since she never shared. And this time she didn’t have to steal it – as it was handed right to her.

  As far as anyone knew, the baby was dead and at the bottom of the sea, so she was sure no one would ever come looking for the boy. She was safe where that was concerned. The baby’s mouth made sucking motions and she knew the poor thing was hungry. She was happy that he never seemed to cry. If so, their secret would be revealed.

  She looked back into the small chest and spied an ornate dagger that had been hidden under the boy’s body. With one hand cradling the newborn, she plucked the dagger from the box gingerly and held it up in front of her. Her heart started beating even faster with excitement of her new find.

  It was breathtaking.
’Twas an etched metal in two tones, with a black stone embedded into the hilt. This was no normal dagger, as it looked to be very expensive. She had no idea why anyone would throw it away.

  She laid it on her lap and ran her finger over the cracked stone, surmising the jagged, orange line running through it. Then her gaze settled back on the boy. His eyes were just like this dagger’s stone. Black and orange. And more or less crazy. She recognized the stone as a black onyx, as she had stolen many gems in her lifetime from the nobles. But while she’d sold some of her treasures in the past, the ones she’d collected on this journey would stay with her forever.

  “Onyx,” she said softly, and the baby cooed happily and reached out for the dagger. “Ye like thet, dinna ye, me little bairn?” She let him grab her finger instead of the sharp blade. “Well, then I can see thet’ll be what I name ye. I’ll call ye Onyx,” she said with a smile, and noticed the baby smiling back at her. “And this dagger will be me first present I ever give ye – Son.”

  This was a good omen, not a bad one, she decided. And she knew from this day on, her life was only going to get better with her new baby boy – Onyx, at her side.

  Chapter 1

  Glasgow, Scotland, New Years Eve, 1361

  Onyx MacKeefe lay sprawled out across the floor of the Horn and Hoof Pub, unconscious, having fallen from his wooden stool after he’d downed his twentieth dram of Callum MacKeefe’s potent mountain magic. One dram for every year of his life, as it was his twentieth birthday.

  “Well, I guess I still hold me title of the man able to drink the most of me grandda’s mountain magic and still stand afterwards.” Storm MacKeefe, the clan’s chieftain, banged his cup on the table and pushed to his feet, swiping back the long, blond braid at the side of his head, and let out a loud belch.

  “Storm!” His English wife, Wren, pushed through the crowd with their two-year-old daughter, Heather, in her arms, and their seven-year-old daughter, Lark, next to her. Lark held tight to the hand of her four-year-old brother, Hawke. “Stop all this nonsense and come to bed,” said Wren. “I’m going above stairs with the children. Now come tell them goodnight as it is very late. I am not sure I should have agreed to leaving the castle with them and spending the night in a pub in the first place.”