Highland Nights

by Donna Grant

  HIGHLAND NIGHTS

  By

  Donna Grant

  © copyright May 2006, Donna Grant

  Cover art by Eliza Black and Dan Skinner, © copyright May 2006

  ISBN 1-58608-912-9

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  For Mom and Dad -

  Thank you for giving me my love of

  reading and for the endless supply of books.

  But most of all, thank you for telling me I

  could do anything I set my mind to.

  And for Steve-

  I love you, Sexy!

  In a time of conquering

  There will be three

  Who will end the MacNeil line

  Three born of the

  Imbolc, Beltaine, and Lughnasad Feasts

  Who will destroy all at the

  Samhain, the feast of the dead

  PROLOGUE

  Sinclair Castle, Highlands

  February 3, 1607

  "Hurry," Fiona urged her older sister, Moira.

  Moira stopped and turned so fast the candle flame narrowly missed Fiona's face. "If you don't hush, I'm going to return to our chamber and leave you alone."

  "All right. I promise to be quiet, but, please, hurry. I want to see her again."

  "Her" was the newest addition to their family, a baby girl Fiona had only seen for a brief time. Now she wanted to be able to sit and stare at the tiny, beautiful babe for as long as she wanted. She wouldn't disturb her parents, for she would be quiet as a mouse.

  It hadn't taken long to talk Moira into walking with her, either. She would have gone by herself, but she didn't like venturing into the dark hallways where things might jump out at her. Not that they ever had, but one never knew.

  Moira stopped again and held up her hand. Fiona brushed past her. Moira was forever acting like she knew everything, but Fiona didn't have time to find out what she was up to now. She had a baby to see.

  "Fiona, stop," Moira whispered loudly.

  She sighed, hoping Moira would realize she didn't want to play now. "What is it?"

  "I heard something," Moira mumbled and raised the candle above her head so it would cast more glow in the hallway.

  Fiona waited for her to say more, but as she turned to continue to their parent's chamber, she heard it also.

  The clanging of swords.

  "Something is happening," Moira shouted as she grabbed Fiona's arm. "Come. We must see to our cousins."

  "What about our sister?"

  "Da will take care of her and Mother. Come," Moira ordered and ran back to their chamber.

  Fiona quickly followed, her bare feet making nary a sound as they ran. But as they neared their chamber they heard the screams of their cousins. And the sound of men laughing. There was no doubt in her young mind that her cousins would not live through the night.

  She didn't see Moira stop and hide in the shadows as she began to run to their chamber in hopes of helping her cousins, until Moira jerked her back against the wall.

  "We must get to safety," Moira whispered urgently.

  "We can't just leave them."

  "Remember what Da said," Moira said urgently. "We must get to the woods. Now."

  Fiona couldn't understand why soldiers would want to hurt their cousins, but she didn't think on it as Moira dragged her away. Not obeying their father wasn't an option. She kept pace with her sister as they found the secret door that would lead them through the castle undetected.

  Even in the passage they could hear the battle that raged in the bailey and great hall. The terrified screams reached them. When Fiona covered her ears with her hands and stopped, Moira got her moving again with a gentle yank. They didn't stop again until they reached the door that led outside the castle walls. To a place no one would find them.

  Slowly Moira opened the door and peeked out. After a few moments, she motioned to Fiona and they quickly ran to the hiding spot their da had shown them in case something like this ever happened.

  They reached the spot, but all Fiona could think of was their tiny sister. "We left her," she wailed to her older sibling.

  "Nay," Moira shook her head. "I'm going back to get her."

  But as she turned to leave, a shadow fell over them. They gasped and looked up to find Cormag MacDougal, their father's longtime friend and confidant.

  "'Tis glad I am I found the two of ye," he said and stuck his sword in the ground to wipe the blood off. "We must go. There's no time to waste."

  "Nay," Fiona and Moira said in unison.

  "I must get the babe," Moira stated. "Watch Fiona until I return," she said and slipped past Cormag.

  Fiona tried to run after her older sister, but Cormag's strong arms came around her. "Nay, lass. We'll wait for yer sister."

  She buried her face in his neck and cried as they waited for Moira. The time past when Moira should have returned.

  "We must go," he said, his anxiety clear, even to a child of Fiona's age.

  Then, out of the clearing came a man Fiona had seen only once before. He was Frang, a man her parents had talked with frequently and respected mightily.

  "You cannot wait," Frang said, his voice low as he glanced around them. His gaze turned to Cormag. "Take Fiona. You know what to do."

  Without another word Cormag turned and hurried to his horse. "Nay," Fiona yelled and thrashed against Cormag's barrel chest. She couldn't believe her sister had left her.

  "Shhh, child," Cormag said.

  She ignored him and continued to struggle in his arms. To her relief, she managed to get free. She dashed toward the castle when Frang stepped in her path. He knelt down, and she ran into his arms.

  "Please," she begged as he held her tight.

  He put his hands on her head and said words too hushed for her to hear, but she found herself becoming very sleepy. Then, Cormag pulled her into his arms and mounted his horse. He settled her against him, and Fiona found it difficult to keep her eyes open. She gave up the struggle and shut her eyes, but she didn't sleep.

  "Hurry," Frang said. "Time is running out."

  "How did this happen?"

  "I don't know, but the children must be kept safe. I will find Moira."

  "What about Duncan and Catriona?"

  A loud sigh. "They're gone. He's taken the baby."

  "Saint Anthony," Cormag cursed. "You know where to find me. I will keep Fiona safe and raise her as my own."

  No more words were spoken as Cormag nudged his horse. Tears coursed down Fiona's face. She had just gotten her little sister and now she was gone. Someone had taken her and killed her parents, but how was that possible?

  And why hadn't Moira returned like she promised? How could Moira have forgotten about her?

  CHAPTER ONE

  MacDougal Castle, Northwest Highlands

  June 1625

  "You must be a fool then. 'Tis the only explanation I can come up with."

  Fiona ignored Bridget, and tried not to roll her eyes as they walked amid the men of clan MacDougal. Bridget constantly fell over any man who would glance at her, and she didn't understand why Fiona didn't do the same.

  But there were lots of things Bridget didn't understand.

  "Besides," Bridget continued, "you aren't getting any younger. How many more men are you going to refuse?"

  The day had begun gloomily, and it seemed Fiona's mood would follow the sun and stay behind the clouds. She turned and looked at Bridget. She was rather pretty with dark auburn hair and eyes the shade of a
mber, but the lads didn't pay her much attention.

  It could be because she made a complete fool of herself anytime a man was near. It was on the tip of Fiona's tongue to tell Bridget just that, but why should she take her irritation out on Bridget? Instead, Fiona shrugged and continued her walk through the crowded bailey.

  "I haven't found a man to my liking," she lied. No need to explain the true reason.

  "Well, 'tis a good thing Uncle Cormag dotes on you like he does. My mother says he and Aunt Helen should have insisted you find a husband some time ago. It shouldn't matter that you aren't their real daughter," Bridget stated before waving and shouting to a lad who had smiled at her the previous week. "It must be because you are the only child they've ever known," she said over her shoulder.

  The lad ducked his head and quickly walked out of sight. Fiona didn't think she could stand another "you should be married" lecture. 'Twas the same thing every day, and she didn't know why she put herself through it. But she wasn't going to sit by and get another earful.

  She turned to retrace her steps back to the castle, but was caught by a swarm of children that ran in front of her. It was just enough time for Bridget to catch her.

  "If only you would try a little harder you might find someone that would accept you, despite your old age and that wicked tongue of yours."

  "Bridget," Fiona began before her eyes landed on a newcomer that had ridden through the castle gates.

  In all her years watching the men of her clan, she had never seen one sit so comfortably on a horse, and with such control, as this stranger. He pulled up slightly on the reins and the horse instantly halted.

  He looked casually around the bailey until his eyes roamed her way. Her breath caught in her chest, and the disappointment that filled her because he hadn't noticed her disturbed her more than Bridget and her lectures. Then his gaze jerked back to her and she stood rooted to the spot.

  For a second, he stared at her before continuing his perusal of the bailey and its occupants. She had the odd sense he was looking for something, or someone, but also studying the people.

  Seemingly satisfied, the man clicked to his horse and rode toward the castle. He didn't wear a kilt so she didn't know of which clan he held from, but she would wager her finest gown he was a Highlander, kilt or no.

  With Bridget still on her tirade, Fiona left her and followed the man. He intrigued her, and she certainly wanted to meet a man who could quiet the bailey so quickly with his mere presence. Even the guards were craning their necks to get a better look at the man who emanated such power.

  Her pace quickened when the stranger stopped his horse before the castle steps and her foster father emerged from the castle. She reached the steps as the stranger and her father clasped forearms.

  Their words were spoken in a hushed tone and she couldn't make any of them out. She was about to walk closer when her foster mother put a hand on her arm.

  "Nay, child. Let them have a moment," she said quietly, and almost dejectedly. Her usually bright gray eyes held such sadness that it surprised Fiona.

  Helen and Cormag had raised her as their own, and as far as they knew she remembered nothing of the night her parents were killed and Moira had abandoned her.

  And she hadn't told them differently.

  "Come into the hall," Cormag said loud enough to reach her ears. Fiona turned toward him, and his usually jovial face was lined with worry.

  Her eyes moved to the stranger who had caused such distress to her foster parents and stared dumbfounded at the man before her. Her mouth almost dropped open. She had never seen anyone so handsome.

  His blonde hair hung loose and wavy to just past his shoulders except for two braids that ran from his temples to meet in the back. Blonde brows ran straight above eyes as black as a raven's wing. His jaw was hidden by a shadow of a beard, but Fiona could see his wide, full mouth through the mustache.

  She wasn't usually partial to facial hair, although most men sported it, but on this stranger it was devastating. It might also be his leather-encased legs that bulged with muscles. The leather jerkin and tunic he wore allowed her to see his broad shoulders and arms bursting with muscle and power from years of training.

  He raised a blonde brow at her inspection and held the door for her to enter. Fiona let her eyes pass once more over him and noted the sword slung across his back and the hilt of a dagger out of the top of his boots.

  "Sit, Fiona," Cormag said. Her foster father had never spoken to her so gruffly before, and she hurried to take a seat at the table in the main hall.

  Whoever the stranger was, he had caused Cormag's iron calm to crack, and in Fiona's world that was enough to put her edge.

  To her relief, Helen sat beside her, but it was the absence of any servants that alerted her that something was about to happen she probably wouldn't like.

  "Fiona," Cormag started after he cleared his throat. "This is Gregor. He's come to take you to your rightful place."

  Her stomach plummeted to her feet. "What?"

  "We should have told you long ago," Helen said as the tears rolled freely down her face.

  Cormag raised sad brown eyes to her. "Fiona, we aren't your parents."

  Is that all that was the matter? "I know. I have always known."

  "You have?" Helen and Cormag said in unison.

  Helen's brows furrowed. "You never said anything."

  "I know," Fiona said. "You made such an effort to make it seem I was your child and I didn't wish to talk about what happened, so I kept silent."

  "Oh, you poor child," Helen cried and buried her face in her hands.

  "Regardless," Fiona continued and looked Gregor straight in the eyes, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm happy here, and I want to stay."

  To her amazement, Gregor didn't say a word. Instead, he looked to Cormag who seemed to be stunned by her words.

  "Fiona, lass, I know we have indulged you. Since we were not blessed with children of our own, we thought of you as our child."

  "I know that," she told him. "And for that I will be eternally grateful. I don't know what would have happened to me that night had you not come along."

  "You were so young," Helen murmured. "We never expected you to remember that night. I was afraid of the pain it would cause you to speak of it."

  Fiona reached for Helen's hand. "Don't worry about it. I've been very happy here. However, I'm not leaving."

  "You were always a good child. We never had any problems with you. I'm surprised you are giving us one now." Cormag stopped and ran a hand down his face. "Still, you must go with Gregor."

  "Nay," she stated softly and gained her feet.

  Gregor leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn't known what he had expected when he had finally reached the MacDougal's gate, but it wasn't the feisty brunette with blazing green eyes. She had first caught his gaze as he surveyed the bailey. Caught and held it.

  It had been the green gown she wore. He'd always been partial to green, and he had wanted a closer look at her.

  He had gotten it when she had practically run to the castle steps. Her dark hair hung down to the middle of her back in a thick braid, but it had been her woodland green eyes that had held him captive.

  When he had finally torn his gaze from her eyes, he found a pert little nose, stubborn chin, and lush pink lips. His eyes had also noted her abundant curves that her gown accentuated perfectly. He had never cared for skinny women. He liked his woman to have curves, and this one certainly did.

  Now, as he sat and watched the flurry of emotions that crossed her face at the news that she had to leave with him, he imagined she would be quite the temptress for any man. Of course, judging by her age, she was most likely married, and he refused to think about the disappointment that caused.

  "Aye, you will," Cormag ordered. "You don't have a choice, lass. I'm ordering you to go with Gregor. It was the promise I made when I took you."

  The fire that sparked in her green eyes almost brought a
smile to Gregor's lips. The MacDougal's might have coddled her, but that spirit was inbred in her, just as it was in her sisters.

  "And just where is he," she said with the slightest glance toward Gregor, "supposed to take me? Back to my home?"

  Gregor sat up and spoke to her for the first time. "To MacInnes Castle."

  "Why?" she asked Cormag, ignoring Gregor all together. "I won't marry this laird Gregor is taking me to, whoever he is. I told you I don't want to marry. I've no need of a man."

  Cormag coughed and gave Gregor an embarrassed look. Gregor cocked his head to the side. "That might be hard considering Laird Conall has recently married."

  "Oh," she said softly and slowly sank into her chair. "Tell me why I must leave?" she begged Helen.

  Helen glanced at her husband. "We knew this day would come. I've been preparing you for it."

  "Lass, 'tis your destiny," Cormag said, his eyes mysteriously misty. "You have to go."

  Gregor felt as though he had intruded on a private family discussion and wished he could leave, but Cormag had stated he wanted him there. One did not simply disobey a powerful laird like Cormag, but Gregor did things his own way.

  "I will leave you three alone to talk," he said and began to rise to his feet, but Cormag placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "You need to be here," he told Gregor. "I think it best that you leave with Fiona immediately. The threat has been growing. I've no wish to chance an encounter."

  "Are you so eager to be rid of me?" Fiona said, her voice trembling with rage and fear.

  Gregor wanted to explain the need for them to hasten away, but she wasn't his foster daughter. That job fell to Helen and Cormag. But what would one more night matter?

  He had ridden fast and hard to get here, back-tracked to make sure he wasn't being followed, and ridden in several different routes to confuse anyone to his destination. Although he didn't need the rest, he would stay one night for Fiona's sake.

  By the saints, he would have to do something about this sudden generosity that had sprung into his life. He had been just fine until Conall had offered him friendship, and Glenna had reminded him of his dead sister.