The Highlander's Keep (Searching for a Highlander Book 2)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Books by Bess McBride/Minnie Crockwell
About the Author
A Train Through Time
I brought my attention back to the present as I heard Debra’s voice.
“Here we are!” she said. “Dun Eistean! I know you can’t see the remains of the keep yet, but it’s there—I promise you. Isn’t this great? You’re going to love it here! It’s one of the reasons I’m studying at the University of Glasgow.”
We had crossed onto the sea stack, and my heart slowed now that I stood on terra firma once again.
“Is that you, Debra?”
I heard a male voice. A tall, slender man appeared out of the mist like a mythical figure.
“Dylan! Good morning! Let’s hope this fog breaks today.”
“Aye, it is thick. And who is this?”
“This is the new student, Cynthia Dunnon. Say hello to Dylan. He’s the field team leader.”
I stuck out my hand, admiring his handsome Nordic blond looks.
“Just call me Cyn. How do you do, Dylan?”
“Very well, thank you. Welcome to Dun Eistean. I hope you enjoy your time here. Are you all set up at the MacIvers’ then?”
“Oh yes, they’re lovely. Thank you!” I was boarding with a sweet older couple nearby.
“I know that Ann found the MacIvers to be very hospitable last year as well,” Dylan said.
“Ah, Ann Borodell!” Debra said. “Another American student. Yes, there was some mystery about her. I never did figure it out, and Dylan won’t say.”
“Really?” I asked, slightly intrigued. “What mystery?”
“She disappeared for a while, or was it permanently? Like I said, Dylan won’t say, will you?”
THE HIGHLANDER’S
KEEP
Bess McBride
The Highlander’s Keep
Copyright 2017 Bess McBride
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the publisher and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover art by Tara West
Contact information: bessmcbride@gmail.com
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For archaeologists everywhere, much love!
And especially to those who worked on Dun Eistean. I have taken so many liberties with the findings at the site, but without your work, how could I have even begun to fictionalize it?
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Books by Bess McBride/Minnie Crockwell
About the Author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing The Highlander’s Keep. The Highlander’s Keep is book 2 in the Searching for a Highlander series of Scottish historical time travel romances set in the Outer Hebrides. As many of you who read my books know, I enjoy incorporating my ancestors into my stories.
For the Searching for a Highlander series, I fell in love with the idea that my Morrison ancestors may have once lived in the Outer Hebrides, maintaining a medieval stronghold on a tiny intertidal sea stack off the coast of the Isle of Lewis, called Dun Eistean. Then again, my Morrisons may have been lowlanders. Nevertheless, my readings on the archaeological digs and history of Dun Eistean inspired me to begin this new series of Scottish historical time travel romances.
Please note that I have taken numerous liberties with the findings of the digs and with the history of the Clans Morrison, Macleod and Macaulay. This is a work of fiction. In other words, I’m making it up! Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously. That being said, I hope you enjoy the figments of my imagination!
Cynthia Dunnon, graduate archaeological student, heads off to the remote Western Isles of Scotland to work on a dig of the sixteenth-century island stronghold of the Morrison clan. Just as she is packing her bags to leave, her longtime boyfriend ends their relationship, claiming that her love for him lacks passion and romance. Cynthia, the daughter of an absentee irresponsible archaeologist father, wants a steady, reliable relationship devoid of drama.
No sooner does Cyn set foot onto the foggy tidal sea stack of the Morrison stronghold than she falls headlong into a deep hole, all that remains of the keep that served as a lookout tower from rival feuding clans. A metal object slows her fall, the hilt of a medieval dagger.
Cyn finds she has fallen not only in space, but in time, when she awakens in a world of rugged Highland Scotsmen who stand ready at all times to fight for their home, their women and children, their very lives. Steady and reliable they may be, but they are fiercely passionate about everything they hold dear.
Cyn finds a sympathetic companion in Ann Borodell, the time traveling wife of the laird. But it is the wild ginger mane and compelling blue eyes of the brooding Highland warrior that capture her reluctant heart.
Thank you for your support over the years, friends and readers. Because of your favorable comments, I continue to strive to write the best stories I can. More romances are on the way!
You know I always enjoy hearing from you, so pleas
e feel free to contact me at bessmcbride@gmail.com or through my website at http://www.bessmcbride.com.
Many of you know I also write a series of short cozy mysteries under the pen name of Minnie Crockwell. Feel free to stop by my website and learn more about the series.
Thanks for reading!
Bess
Chapter One
The mist parted for a brief instant, and I saw Dun Eistean emerge like an island lost in time. Then the fog closed over it again, and all I could do was follow Debra’s back as she stepped onto the metal bridge that connected the intertidal sea stack to the mainland.
“Careful,” she said in an American accent. “The bridge is slippery when the fog is this thick.”
“No kidding,” I said, stepping carefully. I heard waves crashing below, but thankfully I couldn’t see them. I was terrified of heights. I had known that I would have to traverse a steep drop to the ocean floor below every day when I volunteered for the dig. But I loved the idea of coming to romantic Scotland, and although I would have preferred an archaeological site in the Highlands within the Cairngorms National Park, Dun Eistean was the only thing available.
“The Highlands!” My boyfriend, Josh, had laughed outright at my small dinner table two days before. “With your fear of heights, you want to go to Highlands? You get how weird that is, right?”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be hanging on the precipice of cliffs or anything. It’s not like Highlanders were cliff dwellers. There are plenty of moors and meadows and lakes in the Highlands. But that point is moot because there aren’t any digs there. The only dig I could get is Dun Eistean, which is on a sea stack off the Isle of Lewis.”
“That sounds interesting! A sea stack?”
“Yes, it was used as a fortress by the Clan Morrison during their ongoing feuds with the Clans Macleod and Macaulay. It overlooks a strait called The Minch between mainland Scotland and the Outer Hebrides. It should be pretty interesting.”
“So, do you have to get out there by boat?
“No, they told me a bridge was built in 2002 to connect the sea stack to the mainland.”
“A sea stack off of an island off of a bigger island. That sounds pretty remote, Cyn. Are you sure you’re up for that? That’s pretty cold up there, isn’t it? You hate the weather here in Buffalo.”
“I know! I do hate the cold here. But I have to do it to finish my degree, so I’m off!”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning!” I gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know this is last minute, but if I want the dig, I have to go now!”
“Tomorrow?” he exclaimed. “For how long?”
“Just six weeks. The digging season is short because of the weather. You knew I had to go somewhere this summer. It just came up unexpectedly, and I jumped on it. It’s Scotland or Guatemala. I picked Scotland!”
“I thought you were studying Mediterranean archaeology.”
“I am, but there’s nothing available over there this year. Funding problems, I guess. Anyway, I’m actually looking forward to this! I’ve got to read up on late medieval Scotland on the plane, I guess. I know nothing about it!”
I couldn’t help but grin. Highland warriors and clan feuding and Viking boats and Celtic mythology! It would have hardly interested my archaeologist father, whose passion had been Greek civilization in Turkey, but I thought it would be a wonderful break from worrying about the Greeks, Romans and Ottomans. I had already done a couple of undergraduate digs in Turkey and Greece several years before, and frankly, I wondered if I wasn’t burning out on the area.
“Okay,” Josh said pensively. “The thing is...” He paused.
I waited to hear what he was about to say, simultaneously admiring his closely cropped well-groomed medium-brown hair and clean-shaven face. I had once teased him about his preppy look, but I actually liked his meticulous grooming. I wasn’t a fan of ill-kempt men or those with unruly beards and hair that didn’t look like they had been professionally cut in years.
Josh drew in a shaky breath, and my heart skipped a beat. Was he about to break up with me? He’d been a bit quiet over the past few days. What better time to move on than when I was leaving town for an extended period?
I didn’t want to ask, but I forced myself to do it. My father had always taught me to face my fears. As an archaeologist, he had been largely absent from my life while he traveled the world, but I remembered the lesson he had taught me.
I also remembered that he had been one of those men who cared little how long his hair or beard grew. How he could stand that scraggly mess, I’d never understood.
I spoke up as Josh hesitated.
“What is it, Josh? Are you breaking up with me?”
His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened.
“What? No!”
Relief flooded through me. I really wasn’t up for an upheaval in my personal life at the moment. I had to pack and leave early in the morning to catch my flight to Glasgow and then on to a tiny airport in Stornaway on the Isle of Lewis.
I leaned across the table and laid a relieved hand on Josh’s cheek. He took my hand in his and lowered it, staring at my fingers.
“Well, actually...”
My shoulders slumped.
“I could probably have waited till you got back—”
I snatched my hand away and jumped up.
“Yes, you could have!” I said, storming into the bedroom to grab my suitcase from the walk-in closet. I hauled the case out and threw it on the bed.
“I’m sorry, Cyn.” Josh followed me to the bedroom, pausing to lean against the doorsill.
“Don’t be sorry. These things happen. Men leave all the time. You are leaving, right? I mean...you don’t plan to live in my apartment while I’m gone, right?”
“Well, I didn’t mean today exactly!”
“Oh, what? We’re going to break up in a week, is that right? When I’m gone, lost on some remote island in Scotland? You’re just giving me a heads-up?”
“Oh, come on. Be reasonable. I can’t just move out today! I have to find a place!”
Furious, hurt and all too happy to hate men again, I rummaged through dresser drawers and threw shorts and tank tops into my suitcase before I realized what I was doing. I pulled them out again and leaned over my suitcase, fighting back the all-too-familiar tears of abandonment.
“You’re right. You’re right,” I whispered. “Take whatever time you need. But please be gone by the time I get back.”
I retreated to the closet to pull myself together. I stared at the storage shelves with tear-filled eyes. Warm clothes. I needed sensible waterproof warm clothes for June in the Western Isles. Summer had just come to New York, the days had finally warmed up, and I didn’t want to think about the need for cold-weather clothing again so soon after the recent harsh winter.
Josh appeared at the door. I turned my back to him so he wouldn’t see my tears.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
“I know.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to leave, but then he paused.
“Don’t you want to know why?” he asked.
“Why you’re breaking up with me?”
“I hate to say it that way.”
“Well, that’s the way it is.”
“Okay, but don’t you want to know why? You didn’t even ask.”
I shrugged helplessly. Men left. That was what they did, at least in my world. I tried to drag myself out of the world my absentee father had left me in, and I refocused on Josh again. He looked sad, not happy or relieved. His expression even suggested guilt. Busy with school, I must have missed something. I hadn’t been home a lot, but had he been gone quite a bit as well? I couldn’t remember.
“You’re seeing someone?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“No, not really. It’s just...I don’t think we have a future. I don’t think you love me.”
Hope sprung up in my chest, and I whirled around.
>
“I do love you, Josh. I do! Is that all this is about?”
“Just the way you ask ‘is that all this is about’ tells me a lot about how you feel about me, about what I’m saying. This isn’t trivial. I’m ready to settle down. I want a wife who loves me. I want kids, a house. And I haven’t even gotten the first part yet—a wife who loves me. Admit it—you don’t really love me. Sure, you like me. I know you like me, but you don’t love me.”
“What do you want from me?” I cried out. “I’ve been faithful to you. We’ve had fun times. We get along. What’s missing?”
Josh seemed to think about it, and I swallowed hard against the knot in my throat. I wasn’t really serious about asking how I had failed him.
“Passion, I guess,” he responded. “I want a girlfriend, a wife, who would love me beyond all reason, who would give up everything for me if she had to.”
“That’s unfair, Josh! What should I give up? Have you ever asked me to give up something? What is it that you want me to give up to prove I love you? Going to Scotland? I have to go there for my degree. Should I give up my degree?”
“No, no, that’s not what I want at all, Cyn. I’m proud of you and all that you have achieved. I just want you to let go once in a while and lean on me, let me believe that I am the most important thing in the world to you.”
I stared at my no-nonsense, sensible, intellectual preppy boyfriend. What had gotten into him?
“Josh, this isn’t some wildly improbable Scottish Highlander romance novel! Despite where I’m going. This is real life. People don’t really give themselves completely up to another human. What if that person left? Well, look at you! You’re taking off. It’s a good thing I didn’t fall for you body and soul, as they say.”