Capturing the Reluctant Highlander
He was more dangerous than she thought, she was more intoxicating than he could imagine...
Kenna Kendrick
Contents
Thank you
Lasses of the Kinnaird Castle
About the book
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
But there’s more…
Afterword
Lasses of the Kinnaird Castle
Do you want more Romance?
A Highlander Forged in Fire
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Thank you
About the Author
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Lasses of the Kinnaird Castle
Book#1
Capturing the Highlander's Heart
* * *
Book#2
Capturing a Highland Rogue
* * *
Book#3 (this book)
Capturing the Reluctant Highlander
About the book
The same passion that unites them is the reason for them to be apart...
Ruth Browne has been bestowed with a wonderful and rare gift: freedom. Having escaped her controlling father, she is now living with her sister Marianne and her husband William, in the beautiful Scottish Highlands. However, Ruth's unyielding spirit is not yet content and she is dreaming of adventure and traveling in unknown lands. But her life will get even more exciting after she meets a roguish-looking minister.
Troy Ferguson thought that the worst was behind him. Having buried the demons of his past, he is now living the quiet life of a minister. But even the cloth cannot hold away temptation and Troy is about to face the biggest one. Ruth Browne is the only woman capable of waking up his passion and stirring his desire. In a moment of weakness, he reveals his former flirtatious self and from that moment on they are both playing with fire. For in truth, being with Troy is much more dangerous than Ruth ever imagined.
How will this minister stay away from the seductive lass? And what are the secrets that he guards with his life?
He was more dangerous than she thought, she was more intoxicating than he could imagine...
* * *
Prologue
Early 1749, off the coast of Inverness
Rain pelted down so hard it seemed it could almost wash away what was soon to happen here. Troy Ferguson, or Captain ‘Bloody’ Ferguson, stood, transfixed by the sight in front of him. They were lucky to have come at nightfall and during a rainstorm to capture the British ship. His bloodied sword hung at his side, and he could lift it no longer. The road had been long and hard as they fought against the British in their own way, and it could not be undone, but it had undone Troy. He watched as the redcoats struggled for their lives against the more skilled Scottish pirates. Captain Kidd would have been proud, he thought morbidly. So would my Father.
In his pause for breath, a redcoat spotted him and rushed toward him, yelling, bayonet at the ready. It all seemed like it was happening in slow motion. Troy could sense the figure coming towards him, yelling at the top of his lungs, but he could not yet see his face. That was good. He hated to see their faces as they died by his sword, bleeding out into the already blood-soaked wood of the ship. The cabin boy would have a hard time of it come morning.
Troy couldn’t move. He heard the beats of the rushing footsteps, ready to take, ready to kill for what they believed to be their country now. The Scotsmen were as bad as wild beasts in their eyes. This land was not theirs, and it would never truly be theirs. But Troy could no longer go on killing. He had reached a fearsome level on the seas, and now, at last, by the land of his true home, he could do it no longer. The Scottish shore seemed to call to him. Behind the man, he could see his crew fighting with their last breaths. They pillaged towns and took what they could from the British, but he knew the true cause that lay in their hearts as they plunged their swords into their enemies. The cries of agony that rang up into the sky that night finally broke him. Culloden was bad enough with the Butcher of Cumberland taking away everything that the Scots had known. And now, for him, the bloodshed had only continued from the islands of Scotland to those of the Caribbean.
The man was closer now. He would soon be here. Troy could let him win, let the man run him through with his bronze bayonet, the sound of rain pinging against it as he died in the darkness. Or, he could…
Troy’s hand moved to hold something that hung from his neck. He dropped the sword with a clang upon the wet boards, and before the redcoat could reach him, he turned and jumped off the starboard side, plunging himself into the sea.
Chapter One
Late April 1752
“It will be your birthday soon. Is that not enough?” Ruth repeated her sister’s words as she sat upon the hill, pen and drawing paper in hand. William Fraser, her new brother-in-law had gifted her with some drawing materials as an early birthday gift, and she could not have been more pleased. She loved her new brother, and he understood her in a way that her sister did not. She and her sister had always been different, but the difference was becoming even more apparent as Ruth became more and more irritated at her growing sense of isolation.
“No, ‘tis not enough,” she breathed, remembering her sister’s disappointed expression. Ruth swooped her pen across the page and looked up at the surrounding hilltops. Scotland was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. To be fair, it was the only place she had ever seen, besides her previous home in London, of course, but at the time of moving only a few months ago, it had taken her breath away. Even now, she loved the green of the grass, the swish of the heather on the moors, and the gray of the sea more than anything. They inspired her, and she would run to them whenever she could, but they were not enough for her. She longed to move, to run, to have adventures, and to see as many places as she could before she laid her head to rest in her grave. And then the nightmares had come to haunt her mind every night. Nightmares of her father returning and placing her back in her restrictive life once again.
Her drawing was her other solace. She would draw maps or landscapes, and there was plenty to offer her in the surrounding wilds of William’s family home. Today, she wan
ted to capture the hills of Brechin in the beautiful light that came when it was about to rain. Marianne, her sister, had given up warning Ruth of the dangers of wandering in the rain, but Ruth knew she still waited nervously for her younger sister’s safe arrival home. Especially now that Marianne was pregnant with William’s child, she had become even more anxious. It was becoming almost unbearable for ‘wild Ruth’, for that is what William and Jamie, the laird of the clan in the area, had come to call her.
Whenever she would gallop faster than their horses or proclaim her desire for an expedition across the sea, William and Jamie would say “Och, Wild Ruth is at it again. One day, she may just up and leave us.”
Ruth kept drawing, but in her heart and mind, she whispered, “Yes, yes, I will.” She sighed. She hadn’t told her sister that, yet. She knew it would only send her into worrying about her more than she already did. She did not tell her of her nightmares either. There didn’t seem to be a point. Marianne had fallen in love with William, and, along with Ruth, had fled their father’s house in London. Lord Browne had arranged for Marianne to marry one of his friends, but they left him and London, so that Marianne could live a life of happiness and freedom. Ruth was grateful to her sister for rescuing her. She really was. But, now that Marianne was happy in her new life with her new family, for that was what she wanted, a true home; whereas Ruth didn’t want to do what was conventional or normal. Ruth desired freedom more than anything else, and Scotland had given her that, but in this small isolated place, she still had to “fit in” as a woman and do what women do.
“We are out of our father’s clutches forever! You may do as you please!” Marianne had begged Ruth to feel happy in her fate.
“I know, Marianne. It is wonderful, but why can’t you understand? I want a new life. I want to go and to do things.”
“But why must you? Can you not be happy in your family here? Have I become not enough for you?”
Ruth sat down and shook her head. Tears brimmed at her eyes. She whispered, “Marianne, I wish I could make you understand. This desire gnaws and aches in my every fiber. I want so much more for my life.”
Marianne sat down next to Ruth and placed a soft hand on her back. “Help me to understand, Ruth.”
But Ruth left the room, nearly in tears, hating herself for what she was doing to her sister, but also for having this feeling that she could not, would not, give up. She would run away. One day.
But, those plans were not for now. Other things filled her mind on this glorious day. There was the May Day festival, which Marianne and Amelia, Jamie’s wife, had asked her to take part in. Ruth loved parties and would love to mix with her friends in the village, but she was not happy to have been relegated to such womanly tasks as party preparations. It was to be held in a few weeks, and Marianne had suggested her aid to help get her out of the funk that had pervaded her mind of late. The nightmares had begun only a month or so before, and her desire to leave also grew at the same time.
And, on top of that, the beautiful, intriguing, irritatingly evasive Troy Ferguson seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. He and the Laird and Lady were friends, and so she would see him up at the clan parties or family gatherings quite often. He was also the parish minister, and so she would see him every Sunday at the pulpit, doling out advice about duty and kindness and love. That was all well and good, but why would he not speak to her?
Ever since their discussion about traveling after the birth of Amelia’s son, James, when Troy had deigned to tell her a few small tidbits of his mysterious life, he had seemingly avoided all contact. He’d even gone so far as to turning a shoulder to her at social gatherings! He was polite for the most part, engaging in small pleasantries if he was forced into conversation with her, but he could not look at her face, and Ruth was annoyed by it.
What was so repellent about her? She had plenty of friends in the village and plenty of suitors as well, if she was being honest. She got along with everyone except for her sister at the moment, so why should the minister practically shun her?
It was a question she’d been mulling over for months, and she wished she could just let it go and turn up her nose at him in response. She tried, but it still ate away at her. And ever since she’d first glimpsed his large form behind the bridal couple at Marianne’s wedding, she had been fascinated by him. He was like an exotic figure from a foreign land with his unique Scottish accent and mysterious expressions. And he was far too handsome for a minister. She’d seen many more young women in the church pews glance up at him from underneath their eyelashes, hopeful for an approving glance from him.
But to her relief, he was not flirtatious, and they would usually leave the service disappointed. William liked him, and that, she knew, was a good thing. Ruth sighed again, her focus not quite on her drawing but on the thoughts that swirled inside of her. How can I get him to notice me?
Amidst her own thoughts, Ruth did not notice the change in the breeze or the darkening of the clouds overhead. She was not afraid of rain, but it was rather unpleasant to get caught in, especially when one had their drawing materials with them.
Soon enough, a raindrop fell onto her page, smudging the freshly laid ink. Ruth made an annoyed sound and looked up into the sky with a slight gasp. She noticed the whipping of the wind and the silence that had come over the area. She clasped onto the reigns of her horse, Emerald, and untied her from the tree that stood close by. “Come, Emerald, we must fly like the wind!”
She patted Emerald on her white nose, and, after gathering her materials, climbed astride her. She was unendingly grateful to Amelia who “outlawed” side saddles at her stables, and so she could ride freely like a true adventurer. The rain began to come down harder now, but Ruth trusted Emeralds sure-footedness. She had been a gift from the laird’s stables, and so she knew the Brechin hillsides by heart.
Ruth clicked her tongue, and Emerald was on her way, rushing down the hill towards William’s home far in the distance. Rain began to drip into her eyes and mouth, so she decided to lean down against the horse to protect her face. She closed her eyes and simply trusted that Emerald knew the way.
She smiled to herself. If she could not yet have her big adventure, these small adventures were enough to fill her yawning appetite in the meantime. She breathed in the comforting smell of Emerald’s hide intermixed with the fresh rain and held on tighter. But suddenly, Emerald reared up at something in the path that had scared her, and her hooves slid along the muddy stream that had appeared in the heavy rainfall. In her surprise, Ruth cried out and fell back off the horse, down and down she went, and suddenly, there was a flash of pain and everything went dark.
* * *
Marianne Fraser, three months pregnant, wandered in front of the fire, awaiting Ruth’s arrival. She had not yet returned, and the rain was falling fast and hard. Marianne tried to calm the fluttering of her heart. She had become more nervous of late, with the onset of her pregnancy and Ruth’s discontent with her situation. How could she help her sister be more comfortable and happier? Were they not free from their Father’s control? Did they not achieve that?
Ruth had been happy when they’d first arrived in Scotland, the free life just opening up before them like the horizon. But something had changed. Now Ruth had taken to the hills nearly every day since the beginning of this malaise or unease about their way of life. She would argue with Marianne about nearly everything, especially if it had to do with “women’s work” or marriage or anything conventional. William was the only one that could talk any sense into her, and she raged at that thought. She was her own sister, after all. What had happened to make her change so much? Did Ruth no longer love her?
And then there was Troy Ferguson. Without having heard from Ruth herself, she could tell Ruth was intrigued by him. He was a handsome man to be sure, and very funny, and very intelligent, but he did not seem at all interested in Ruth, and she wanted to make sure Ruth did not suffer overmuch from disappointment at unrequited love. Marianne thought
perhaps that was what had brought upon her low mood.
She feared for her sister’s heart more than anything, and William needed to often remind her that Ruth was to soon turn 22 and must be allowed to be a free woman and live her own life in the way she thinks is best. Marianne would agree if it was any other woman, but Ruth, so innocent and naive about the ways of the world, wanted things she had no business wanting. At least not until she knew everything about those things. She was afraid Ruth would be hurt in more ways than one if she loosened her ties on her at all. She couldn’t just give up caring about her sister’s well-being.
Capturing The Reluctant Highlander (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 3) Page 1