by Caroline Lee
The Bruce’s Angel
The Highland Angels, Book 0
Caroline Lee
About This Book
Lady Charlotte MacLeod is desperate to escape marriage to a traitor, so she turns pirate. As the notorious Black Banner, she's able to capture the Queen's ship, and finally get someone to hear her evidence. But she doesn't expect the Queen to be guarded by the man who once stole her innocence and her heart.
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Liam Bruce has spent years serving his royal cousin. While he doesn't begrudge this latest guard duty, he does regret that it's keeping him from returning to MacLeod land and the fiery angel he can't forget. But when he unmasks a dangerous pirate in the middle of a desperate battle, 'tis his Charlotte spitting curses at him!
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Now it's up to Liam to protect his love from charges of royal treason. Can he convince Charlotte to trust him again?
Copyright © 2019, Caroline Lee
[email protected]
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
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First edition: 2019
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Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page
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Cover: EDHGraphics
Created with Vellum
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The Highland Angels
The Bruce’s Angel
The Highlander’s Angel
The Laird’s Angel
The Thief’s Angel
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Steamy Scottish Historicals:
The Sinclair Jewels (4 books)
The Highland Angels (4 books)
The Hots for Scots (7 books)
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Black Aces (3 books)
Sunset Valley (3 books)
Everland Ever After (10 books)
The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet (6 books)
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Quinn Valley Ranch (5 books)
River’s End Ranch (14 books)
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Contents
About This Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE on historical accuracy
Sneak Peek
Prologue
The last time they’d made love had been on the deck of a pirate’s ship.
Of course, at the time, Liam hadn’t believed Charlotte when she’d told him of the birlinn’s history, but that was probably because she had been giggling as she’d pulled him along the quay that evening toward the innocuous-looking boat. All she’d told him was she wanted to feel the motion of the waves under her, while he moved over her, and, well…
How in the hell was a man supposed to deny that?
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“A pirate boat?” He hummed good-naturedly. “Ye expect me to believe the mighty MacLeod family, the pride of Lewes, harbors pirates?”
In the darkness, it was impossible to see the sparkle in her eyes, but he could hear it in her voice as they reached the plank offering access to the birlinn.
“Of course!” she teased. “Ye’ve never heard of the Black Banner?”
He snorted distractedly, paying more attention to ensuring she crossed over to the vessel safely. It wasn’t necessary; Charlotte MacLeod was many things—talented, passionate, capable—but clumsy wasn’t one of them. She trotted across the plank and landed firm-footed on the deck, as if she’d done it many times.
Maybe she had. Her brother Tavish, who was also Liam’s friend, was a sailor. Was this his ship?
“Is this Tav’s boat?”
She giggled, even as she tugged him toward the stern. “I told ye, my heart...this is the Black Banner’s birlinn.”
Ah yes, the Black Banner: the child’s horror tale, and the likely mythical pirate who stalked the merchants of the Western Isles. And Charlotte expected him to believe he resided here on Lewes.
Liam had arrived in the isles a month ago to formally court the Lady Charlotte, and was still just as delighted with her as he remembered being when they’d met in the Highlands. She wasn’t at all proper and ladylike, but met him nose-to-nose.
She’d make a good wife—a good partner—and Liam looked forward to formalizing their betrothal with her father, the MacLeod laird.
Until then, he saw no reason not to continue learning all about the woman he’d spend his life with.
They reached the stern platform where the captain would stand, and the helmsmen could lean on the grand rudder.
“Well, my angel…” He pulled her into his arms, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Ye’ve supposedly dragged me out to the Black Banner’s boat. Now what?”
She twisted about, managing not to step out of his hold, as she flourished a bundle, which she then shook out to reveal a blanket.
“Now, Liam…” She pressed up on her toes, until her lips were beside his ear. “Now you’re going to make love to me.”
It was her playful tease, more than her words, which set him hardening under his kilt, but the way she brushed against him as she squirmed out of his arms didn’t hurt either.
Before he had time to catch his breath, or do anything more than groan in anticipation, she’d spread the blanket out on the deck, and was tugging at the ties of her gown.
His blood was pounding in anticipation, the way she always made him feel when she matched his passions head on this way, but he had the forethought to glance toward the shore.
This late at night, surely her pale skin and fiery halo of hair would stand out like a torch?
She guessed what concerned him. “That’s what makes it fun, Liam,” she whispered in that husky voice of hers, and he gave up caring about propriety.
If she, the willful and beautiful daughter of the laird, was willing to buck convention for him, who was he to argue?
“Aye, my angel.” With a smile, Liam made short work of his own clothing, adding them to the pile on the deck beside the blanket. Truthfully, he was glad his kilt wasn’t too complicated, because when she began to peel away her chemise, his fingers—and his mind—turned into lumps of rock.
His Charlotte had always preferred making love out-of-doors, but usually they made do without fully disrobing. It hadn’t been often he’d been able to drink in the sight of her this way, standing nude and proud, managing to look strong and capable, even on the deck of a sailing ship.
Liam drank in the sight of her, grateful beyond measure to have found s
uch an incredible woman.
I love you.
He needed her to know that, but he couldn’t seem to make his voice work.
Then she was reaching for him, pulling him down beside her so they could cradle one another with their arms, and he had more important things on his mind.
“Ye’re sure about this?” he murmured against her skin, as he trailed kisses from her neck to her breast. “Sure ‘tis safe?
She arched against him with a moan. “Can ye no’ feel the power of the surf under us, my heart?”
He was too busy to focus on her poetry, but knew she was right. The boat rocked in time with the waves, the way he wanted to rock atop her.
“I need ye, Liam,” she panted. “I want ye to be mine.”
“Yer only.”
“My only,” she agreed, breathless.
His mouth was occupied for the next little while, and the sound of her small cries and mews was enough to keep him standing stiffly at attention. He stroked her softly, marveling at her enthusiasm.
God Almighty, but she was ready for him.
When she curved against him once more, he knew she was as ready as he was. Grasping her thighs, he slid her closer, settling himself between her legs as she writhed on the thin blanket.
“Liam!” she cried, part plea, part command. “Donae stop, please.”
“Aye,” he breathed, his hand tracing up her chest to rest against her cheek. “Ye’re so hot, so passionate, Charlotte. I’m afraid ye and I will both burn up, leaving nothing but cinders.” It was a joke between them, when he called her Char.
“If we do,” she panted beneath him, “’twill be your fault as much as mine. Now stop delaying!”
“As my lady commands.”
When he finally pressed home, she cried out in pleasure.
Or mayhap it was joy.
She met him, thrust for thrust, as the familiar pressure built behind Liam’s bollocks.
He’d been with other women, aye, but this was Charlotte, and making love to Charlotte was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
He watched her face as she contorted, and marveled at how well he could read her, despite the near-darkness. Even without her wrapped around him, he could tell when she was close. The pleasure mixed with frustration he saw when she met his gaze told her everything he needed to know.
He dropped a hand between their joined bodies and stroked the pearl nestled within her curls.
She gasped his name, and he felt her muscles contracting around him.
It took everything in him not to roar her name, not to beg for God’s mercy, the way she was doing, but as he spilled his seed deep inside her, his only indication was the way he stiffened against her.
Still, they both collapsed with groans, breathing heavily. Under him, she went limp, her arms and legs dropping their holds on his body to pool, boneless, against the coverlet. And she was grinning.
Reverently, Liam leaned down to place a kiss at the corner of her lips. Then another against her neck.
“I love ye,” he whispered. When she didn’t respond, he hoisted himself up on his elbows to meet her eyes. “I love ye, Char. I love everything about ye. Yer mind, yer passion. I’ll love ye until my dying breath.”
She cupped his cheek, her lips drawn into a smile glorious to behold. “Of course ye will. For I love ye, and nae one will say otherwise.”
And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he’d found his forever.
Charlotte would never forget the day her life changed forever.
She was holding Liam’s hand as they strolled through the courtyard, and a messenger arrived with a scroll. Her love had read it, then looked at her with pain in his lovely blue eyes. She took it from his limp fingers and read King Robert Bruce’s summons.
Liam was an important man to their King. He’d fought beside the Bruce at Linlithgow and Dumbarton, and had been one of the first Scot warriors into Perth when the Bruce took back the royal burgh. King Robert trusted Liam, and she was proud of him.
Proud someone as brave and trustworthy as he had chosen to fall in love with her.
It was perfectly reasonable he’d be called back to his duties, and she loved him for it. Still, as she’d looked into his eyes, she couldn’t help feeling…scared.
There was something in his expression, which seemed to be warning her, the simple future they’d planned might not come to be.
Saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, and as she stood outside the gates and watched him ride toward the shore, and the boat which would take him to his royal cousin, Charlotte reminded herself of their love.
Liam loved her and would return to her.
But never once did he look back.
A month passed, and no matter how certain she still was of her feelings for him, that little fact continued to eat at her.
She retreated to her room and curled up on her bed—the bed in which Liam had once held her in his arms and whispered such sweet words after one of the rare occasions they’d made love indoors—and let the tears fall.
She spent the afternoon there, which is why she hadn’t heard news of the visitor. It wasn’t until her father sent for her that Charlotte realized she needed to make herself presentable.
My life isnae falling apart. Liam loves me, and I love him. We will be together.
So why did her sense of dread only increase as she approached her father’s solar?
Da was waiting inside, holding a piece of parchment and paying her no attention, as usual. The same couldn’t be said of his companion.
“Lady Charlotte,” the man welcomed her, his eyes on her breasts under the rumpled gown. “When ye are my wife, ye will learn to comport yerself, I trust?”
Her hands curled into fists in the wool of her skirts. “What?” she asked hoarsely.
The man—wasn’t he one of the MacDonald’s younger sons?—waved one hand dismissively. “Ye look as if ye’ve slept in that thing, woman. And yer eyes are all puffy. Nae wife of mine will appear less than perfect.” He lifted a shoulder and turned toward her father. “I’m looking for a biddable ornament with admirable assets, MacLeod.”
“Ye’ll get Charlotte, and ye’ll be grateful,” Da growled, still examining the document.
Charlotte was having trouble breathing, and her pulse had become a dull roar in her ears. “Da?” she managed to choke out. “What…?”
What was going on?
Wife of his?
Was that a marriage contract her father was reading?
Marriage to a MacDonald?
But Liam…
Liam was the man she loved. The one who’d vowed to spend forever with her.
Her father finally looked up and met her eyes. “The MacDonald and I have decided yer future, girl.” He gestured to the other man. “John MacDonald is willing to marry ye.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open.
Willing?
Was this another attempt to forge an alliance with a clan, who was their enemy more often as not?
Ignoring John—and the way he was staring at her chest and licking his lips—Charlotte stepped toward her father, knowing she had to convince him. “Da, Liam and I…we are in love.” She heard the note of desperation in her voice, but couldn’t silence it. “We have an agreement.”
To his credit, her father did shift his weight awkwardly, as if affected by her words. But then he shook his head and slammed the contract down on the desk in front of him.
“Ye would put yer own wants ahead of yer clan’s future?” he growled, reaching for the stylus. “John is an ambitious man and will do us all proud.”
“I donae want an ambitious husband, Da!” She was torn between tears and anger, her nails pressing into her palms to hold back the urge to scream or hit something. “I want Liam! He’s kinsman to the King,” she added in desperation, taking another step toward her father, her hand out in supplication. “Surely that makes him a good ally?”
Da had pressed his lips
together then, his palm flat against the desk, as he’d leaned forward and seemed to consider her words. Charlotte held her breath and tried to stave off the horror with hope.
Even John quit his study of her assets and focused on her father. Her blood was pounding in her ears, and she found herself praying.
But when he finally shook his head, she felt her knees go weak with defeat.
“Liam Bruce cannae marry ye, lass, because he’s betrothed to another.”
That’s when her knees gave out on her completely, and Charlotte sank to the floor. Her palms flattened against the cool flagstones, as if she could draw some of their strength into her shaking bones.
Betrothed? Her Liam? The man who’d sworn to love her until his dying breath...was engaged to another?
“Betrothed?” she asked weakly, tears threatening.
Da nodded brusquely, seeming uncomfortable with her display of emotion. “He’s a Bruce, lass. Of course his royal cousin would see to his betrothal, some Lowland heiress with a powerful father.”
Oh God.
Two fat tears trailed down her cheeks and plopped onto the back of her hands, as she stared down at what felt like her only anchor to the world.
Had her heart stopped beating altogether?
Betrothed to another.
I’ll love ye until my dying breath.
Oh God.
Her father cleared his throat. “An alliance with the MacDonalds is what’s best for me, and ye’ll do as ye’re told, girl.”