Her Broken Highlander (Highlanders 0f Cadney Book 3)

by Fiona Faris

  Lucas and Nathan both smiled. “What?” Gavin asked. He didn’t like the look of the both of them.

  “Too late,” Nathan said.

  “Who do ye think told us tae come wake ye up?” Lucas added with a wink. Gavin wiped his hands down his face. Of course, Milly and Ella would have gone to the lass’ bedchamber early. It was the day of her wedding. They probably thought she would be a nervous bride and with both women having been there before, they most likely aimed to help the lass through her early morning nerves. Rather than sound the alarm when they found her chamber empty, they sent their husbands on the hunt.

  “Och, leave us, I will wake the lass.”

  “Can we be sure ye won’t compromise her…again?” Nathan asked. Gavin jumped up from the bed, a scowl on his face.

  “Leave, ye wee shites!” he said as he pushed both men toward the door. They were silently laughing, and so was Gavin. It was his wedding day, he was happy. Hopefully, Amelia would not be too terribly upset that he forgot to wake her. He turned back to the bed to see a pair of beautiful, rested, ocean-blue eyes looking back at him. A warm blush covered her cheeks as she wrapped the plaid tightly around her.

  “How long have ye been awake?” Gavin asked.

  “Long enough to know our secret is out,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with humor. Gavin immediately let out the breath he was holding.

  “So yer nay angry?”

  “Nay,” she replied, making a bit of fun of his brogue. He liked it when she sounded Scottish. He felt a twitch of desire, but he pushed it down. They were already starting the day behind, it would do no good to get distracted now. No matter how much he wanted her. He moved toward the bed. Maybe they had a few moments?

  As if reading his mind, Amelia threw the covers back revealing her soft, naked skin. “Why don’t we greet the morning properly?” She asked, and Gavin’s body sprang to life.

  “Ye’ll hear no argument from me, lass,” he replied, climbing into the bed with her. His wedding day was starting off well, indeed.

  * * *

  “Are you nervous?” Ella asked while placing the last of the flowers in Amelia’s blond hair. Amelia had no idea where her sister found the delicate violet flowers, they reminded her of flowers she would pick as a girl in their mother’s garden. If at all possible, Ella had made it so that a small piece of their mother was there with them.

  “I’m a little nervous, but not too badly,” she replied. “Were you nervous when you wed Lucas?”

  A wistful smile crossed her sister’s face, and she looked toward the chapel entrance. “I was, but I knew that as long as I kept my eyes on his, all would be well.”

  “And were you not concerned about being English and living here?” Amelia had encountered hatred of the English more times than she cared to count. And while she now knew she had the support and even friendship of Gavin’s immediate family and friends, how would the rest of the clan, or even other ally clans take another MacGille with an English bride?

  Ella looked at her thoughtfully, “At first it was difficult, but I have found the highland people, for the most part, are willing to look past our Englishness and judge us on the people we are. You, dear sister, are brave and strong. You are good. You will have no more trouble here. Cabduh is dead, and he was mad. You can rest easy now.”

  Amelia knew Ella was right. She took a deep breath and made her way to the chapel door. “Yes, and I want to marry Gavin more than anything,” she said as Ella took her arm.

  Walking into the chapel, Amelia was struck by how many familiar faces she was surrounded by. Nathan, Milly and of course all the children sat close to the front. Lucas stood proudly at the altar. As clan laird, he would be performing their fasting, and for that, Amelia was pleased.

  Kelly and Magnus were close by, as well as several of the men of both the MacGille and MacKenzie clans.

  There was another familiar face in the crowd, and as Amelia saw him, tears began to form in her eyes. Standing tall at the front of the chapel next to Gavin, dressed in a formal plaid, was Tristan. Gavin had mentioned that he wished his friend and her cousin would be able to attend. Lucas had sent Derek to give word, but as they were unsure as to the status of the Cabduh clan, neither she nor Gavin held out hope.

  As she approached the altar, Lucas leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to th’ clan, sweet Amelia. I’m happy tae call ye sister on all sides.”

  “As I am happy to call you brother on all sides,” she replied, giving Lucas a slight curtsy, before taking Gavin’s offered hand and the ceremony began.

  Lucas spoked briefly about the battle that took their father’s life, his own injuries, and how they had all thought they had lost Gavin that day as well. Amelia fought back tears as he reminisced about the feelings of loss and despair everyone in the clan had experienced. Gavin gently gave her hand a squeeze.

  There was a long stretch where Lucas spoke in Gaelic, and Amelia was unsure of exactly what was being said. She looked around the chapel and noticed Milly and Kelly both fighting back tears. Amelia wished she knew what was being said, but she trusted Gavin and Lucas, so she allowed her imagination to wander. She thought of how this moment made her feel, and she tried to fill her mind with what she thought the words could mean.

  She imagined their children and their children’s children roaming the Scottish Highlands, and her heart filled.

  Before she knew it, the ceremony was over, and Gavin was scooping her up into his arms. She was his wife.

  “Och, lass, I doona think I’ve ever been happier,” he whispered in her ear as family and clan alike surrounded them with good wishes. “What were ye thinking about when Lucas spoke in our mother tongue?”

  “I was thinking about how wonderful it would be to grow old with you, surrounded by our family. In our home.” The home he had planned for them was still not finished, and Amelia knew they would be living in Cadney with Ella and Lucas for the foreseeable future, but that didn’t mean she was willing to wait to grow their family.

  Gavin smiled. “It will be a bonny life, indeed, lass.” He put his arm around her waist and led her to the door. “Should we go tae th’ feast then? Best not tae be waitin’.”

  “Yes, I think we’ve both waited long enough.” She tucked herself under, his arm, and they walked together toward their future.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later…

  “Gavin, I think it’s high time we gave the babe a name,” Amelia said as Gavin looked down into the cradle. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the lad, not for a single moment since he was born two days prior. Gavin just stared at the child as he slept, as he fed, as he cried. It was a miracle. Sure, he had a small army of nieces and nephews that had surrounded him and Amelia, but this child was different. This boy was theirs.

  “A name is important, lass,” Gavin whispered. “We cannae just call the lad any old thing.” Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel her smile. Amelia would have been satisfied naming the boy William, Thomas, or any other regular name, but that simply would not do. Nay, their lad, needed a good name, a strong name. He would be a mighty warrior. The first leader of his own clan. Lucas had offered to give the MacGille name to Gavin and Amelia so that they could stake their own claim on the Highlands and make their own clan. He would continue to be Laird of Cadney Castle, and the current clan would be Clan Cadney. Gavin and Amelia would raise their children in Clan MacGille. That would make this babe the first of his clan. He would be… Gavin struggled to think of everything the lad would be, but he knew a name was too important not to think hard on before choosing it for the babe.

  “We can call him Lucas after your brother?” she said, but that would not work. Lucas already had a little Lucas, an Angus, and a Fergus.

  “We cannae have two wee bairns called Lucas,” he said, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice.

  “We could call him Tristan, after my cousin and your friend,” she offered. But Gavin wanted to save the name Tris
tan for their second born.

  “Nay,” he was all he said.

  “Do you remember the story of the Na Fir Chlis you told me that one night, long ago in the garden. The night we first saw each other again after Perth?”

  “Aye, lass,” he replied. He couldn’t fathom what that long ago and tortured night had to do with the naming of their firstborn child, but he was content to listen to his bonny wife speak while he watched the baby sleep and dream.

  “I loved that story,” she said. “One of the nights I was in the library looking through the books about the various clans of the Highlands, I came upon a book of myths and fairytales. I was surprised because it was written in English, not in Gaelic, like so many of the other books. This one was hand-done as if someone who was very fond of storytelling wanted to make sure the words were perfect.”

  Gavin turned to look at Amelia. He knew exactly the book she spoke of. How many nights as a lad did he sit at his father’s knee while he wrote away in that book. He had told Gavin he wanted a record of all the great highlanders and Pict warriors that had come before them to be available for the future generations of MacGilles to read about and learn from. These were stories of incredible warriors, brave men, and women who fought for everything a highlander held dear.

  “Aye, ’twas me Da who wrote the words in that book,” he said. Amelia had his full attention now. “What does the book have to do with Na Fir Chlis?”

  Amelia wrapped her arms around Gavin, and he leaned his head back into her. She smelled sweet, like vanilla, and something else, maybe honey,?

  “Well, that myth was in there, and since you had told me about it, I felt a connection to the story, so I read more about it. Did you know the merry dancers had a king?” Gavin was truly impressed with the lass. He had known about the king of the merry dancers. It was a gallant story, the king led the dancers in battle after battle, victory after victory. When Gavin was a lad, it was one of his favorite stories.

  “Aye, lass,” he said.

  “Well, the king’s name was Aithe, and when I read that name, I thought it was a magical name. What about Aithe for the babe? He deserves a king’s name, don’t you think?”

  Gavin turned around in his wife’s arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, before pulling back and looking at her, really looking at her. How had he become so lucky as to have such a brilliant, thoughtful woman to spend forever by his side? She laughed at his abrupt kiss.

  “Aithe MacGille, Laird of Clan MacGille…” he said, enjoying the feel of the name as it rolled off his tongue. It was perfect. “Yes, lass, I think it’s perfect.”

  “Then it’s settled. From this moment on, our child will be known as Aithe MacGille.”

  “Aye,” he said, turning back to the sleeping babe and running a light touch down the bairn’s plump cheek. “Ye’ll be young Aithe, and ye will do great things. Ye’ll always ken how much yer loved.”

  He turned to Amelia and threaded his hand into hers, “And ye lass, Amelia Pearson MacGille, ye’ll always ken how much yer loved.”

  “And you as well, Gavin MacGille, you will always know how much you are loved.”

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

  Eager to learn what the future holds for Amelia and Gavin?

  Then you may enjoy this extended epilogue.

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  Afterword

  Thank you for reading my novel, Her Broken Highlander. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?

  It is very important for me to read your thoughts about my book, in order to get better at writing.

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  Highlanders of Cadney Series

  Book#1

  Her Highland Secret

  * * *

  Book#2

  Her Highlander’s Heart

  * * *

  Book#3 (this book)

  Her Broken Highlander

  Do you want more Romance?

  Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of my latest best-selling novel: Highlander's Wicked Game

  It’s a story about two persons that fate brought together, despite the long lasting hate between their families...

  * * *

  Highlander's Wicked Game

  Prologue

  The joyous cries of children at play filled the forest, bouncing off of the trees and echoing out across the water. A six year old boy gave chase, weaving in and out of the crowded gathering, quick on the heels of a pretty little red haired girl. He had been standing watching his father’s men tossing cabers when she had come up behind him and pulled his hair. He had taken off after her, and she had squealed in a delightful fright. They raced across the earth as if their tiny little feet had wings. When the boy caught up to the girl, he grabbed her by her skirts and jerked on them. The girl fell forward, sending them both tumbling to the ground and rolling limb over limb. They emerged in breathless laughter, their eyes sparkling with joy.

  “Let’s do it again!” she exclaimed, her green eyes shining with enthusiasm.

  “Aye,” the boy replied, grinning and taking her hand to help her to her feet.

  Angry voices interrupted their play as their fathers called their names.

  “Duncan!”

  “Marra!”

  The children turned their heads meeting two very angry faces. Each father grabbed up his child and quickly pulled them apart, and they walked in opposite directions.

  “Marra, ye are ne’er tae play with a Campbell, ever! Do ye hear me?”

  “Aye, Faither,” the girl whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the boy with blue eyes disappear from sight.

  Chapter One

  Duncan MacGregor stood at the water’s edge and stared out across the blue-grey expanse toward the Isle of Jura. His cousin, Lachlan, stood beside him and spat on the ground in disgust. “Clan MacDonald,” Lachlan bit out, his tone full of hatred. The two cousins had been taught from an early age to hate the MacDonalds of Jura. Duncan’s father had had a falling out with the Jura laird at the battle of Dunkeld, and amends had never been made. The MacGregor laird had ensured that the feud would continue long after he was gone by passing his hatred on to the next generation.

  “Aye, but their lands have the best deer in the islands,” Duncan noted. He longed to cross the water for a good hunt.

  “Ye spend tae much o’ yer time huntin’ and nae enough trainin’ with me,” Lachlan chastised. “Ye were meant tae be a warrior for yer clan nae a hunter. Leave huntin’ tae the auld men. The blood o’ our enemies cries out tae be spilled.”

  “We are forced tae bear the name o’ the Clan Campbell who are our enemies. Are we tae shed our own blood as well?” Duncan asked, attempting to curb his cousin’s bloodlust.

  The MacGregor name had been outlawed by King James I of England and King James the VI of Scotland on pain of death, in retaliation for a battle with the Clan Colquhoun wherein one-hundred forty Colquhouns were killed. The law stated that, ‘... the name of McGregor should be altogether abolished, and that (all) persons of that Clan should renounce their name and take some other name, and that they nor none of their posterity should call themselves Gregor or McGregor thereafter, under the pain of death.’ Any MacGregor who wished to live had been forced to take the names of other clans. Duncan’s family had taken the name Campbell, a fierce powerful clan, but they had kept the truth of their surname alive amongst themselves.

  Lachlan spat in disgust once more. “I would just as soon slit my own throat as bear the name Campbell were it not for the laird demanding it o’ me.”

  “There are many men that would gladly slit it for ye, MacGregor or nae,” Duncan chuckled. His cousin had fought with many a man and had boasted of his successes to anyone who would listen. Lachlan believed himself to be the fiercest warrior in al
l of Scotland.

  “I will defeat them all at the gatherin’,” Lachlan boasted, puffing his chest out with confidence.

  “Aye, the gatherin’,” Duncan nodded, grinning. He was looking forward to the spring gathering. It was the one time of the year when the clans came together, friend and foe, to compete, sell their wares, and arrange marriages. MacGregors from all over the highlands and islands could secretly socialize with one another without anyone realizing who they were under the guise of their adopted names. It was where his father had met his mother and where someday he, himself, would most likely meet his own lass. Mayhap this year? Keeping a secret such as the one they kept led to a lonely existence. He was forced to pretend that his foes were his friends. Any of the clans would gladly kill him were they to discover the truth. He hoped to one day meet a young MacGregor lass to share the secret with. “Faither will want tae be leavin’ afore long.”