The Highlander's Forbidden Bride

by Madison Faye

  And now, she’s gone.

  “Lachlan.”

  I blink, numb to the world, my anger turning to pure red fire inside as my hands grip the back of the chair hard enough to almost break it in two.

  “Lachlan!”

  I blink again, shaking my head as I turn, the world coming back to me in a rush and whooshing sound. And suddenly, I’m back—back in the chaos of it all, with Callum shaking me.

  “Are you with me?”

  My eyes narrow, my jaw clenches, and I nod. “I’m here. Speak.”

  Callum nods, knowing where I just went in my head, and granting me that.

  “Your guards say a group of horsemen were seen fleeing the western walls of the castle. No word yet how they breeched, but an old garden gate was found—”

  “Where were they headed.”

  Except, I think I already know, because I’ve a feeling I know who’s behind this.

  “The coast,” Hamish adds, turning away from the guard he was talking to, his face grim. “And Lachlan, they’ve chained your stables.”

  A low growl simmers in my throat. “What?”

  “They brought chains,” Hamish spits, his face almost as furious as mine. “And they chained up your horses, or your men would already be in pursuit. Both of your blacksmiths are already at work trying to break them free. We can be on them soon.”

  “They’ll make it to the shore before us.”

  “Aye,” Callum growls. “But we’ll be close behind. We just need—”

  “You need a boat.”

  Tor steps forward, his arms crossed over his huge chest, one hand stroking his beard.

  “And you need a fucking fast boat, with men who know how to sail it.”

  A thin smile creeps over his face.

  “Good thing you’re friends with some bloodthirsty Vikings, now isn’t it?”

  I nod, putting my hand out and shaking his firmly.

  “Aye and thank you.”

  “My pleasure, highlander,” Tor growls. “I’ll use one of your riders as soon as the horses are freed to send word ahead to my men—”

  “My lord! We’ve caught one! His horse stumbled and threw him, not far from the walls.”

  We whirl as three guards haul a struggling, swearing man in black leather out and toss him down before me. His arms and legs are in irons, and he moans pathetically as he falls to the ground at my feet.

  “Speak.”

  My voice booms across the terrace, and suddenly, there’s silence. The man looks up, and though I catch the tail end of his smugness, when he sees the murder in my eyes, his face pales.

  “Lord McDougall, I—”

  “Who,” I growl thunderously, and the man trembles.

  “Lord Campbell, my lord.”

  Seven fucking hells.

  Every suspicion I had is suddenly confirmed in one horrible second.

  “And they’re taking her to the shore, are they not?”

  The man nods eagerly, fear in his eyes.

  “And then?”

  “My lord—”

  “SPEAK!”

  “F-France, my lord!”

  My eyes slide from the man to my guards.

  “Take him to the dungeon along with that witch inside.”

  The man screams as my guards haul him away, and I whirl, seeing red as I squeeze my eyes shut and hiss into the darkness of the night.

  There’s a hand on my shoulder, and I whirl, coming face to face with Callum.

  “I’m going to ask you as a friend, Lachlan,” he says quietly. “Without judgement, and without agenda.”

  I nod.

  “Marrying Iona isn’t about your lands, or about politics, is it? Perhaps a little but not entirely, I mean.”

  My lips thin, my jaw grinding. And slowly, I nod.

  “It isn’t,” I growl quietly. “She’s…” I shake my head. “She’s everything to me, Callum.”

  He nods grimly, glancing at Hamish and Tor before turning back to face me.

  “Then you can be damn sure we’re getting her back, Lachlan.”

  The other two nod solemnly, and Callum clears his throat as he steps closer, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  “You should tell Catriona,” he says quietly. “She deserves to know the truth.”

  “Aye,” I growl, nodding my head in agreement. “She does.”

  Callum gestures with his head back inside the castle.

  “Give me a minute?”

  “Of course, my friend,” he nods.

  I step past them, striding inside to the banquet hall within, where a very shaken Catriona, Una, and Rhona, are being tended to by some of the ladies in waiting—shaken, scared, but furious as well.

  …Good, strong Scottish lasses, the lot of them, I think with a grim smile of pride as my eyes land on my daughter. I step towards her, and she jumps to her feet as she rushes into me, hugging me fiercely.

  “There, there,” I growl softly, pulling her tight to me. “We’re going to get her back; I swear to you. It was Lord Campbell’s men?”

  “And he himself,” she hisses angrily. “Dad, I wanted to fight them—”

  “And I’m goddamn glad you did not,” I mutter.

  “Well, I would have, but they had a blade to her throat, and… and…”

  Her face crumples and I hug her close.

  “They’re readying the horses now, and then we ride. The man we caught claims they’re trying to take her back to France—”

  “France?! Dad, they’ll get to their boats before we can—”

  “And Viking boats are far, far faster,” I growl.

  Catriona nods, her eyes fierce and grim.

  “Catriona, I…” I frown, my hands on her arms as I search for the words to tell her the truth. Because it’s time, and because she deserves to know, even if she hates me for it.

  “Sweetheart, I—”

  “You love her, don’t you?”

  Her words are quiet, her face neutral as she meets my eyes. And slowly, I nod.

  “Aye, daughter,” I say softly, nodding. “Aye, I do.”

  “I mean you love her like that.”

  “Yes.”

  Cat looks away for a moment, nodding slowly.

  “Catriona, I know she’s your friend, and I never wanted to drive a wedge between you or hurt you, or—”

  “Dad.”

  I stop, blinking and realizing she’s smiling quietly at me.

  “Does she make you happy?”

  I nod. “She does. Happy unlike anything I’ve known aside from you and the day you were born.”

  Catriona smiles.

  “You make her happy, too.”

  I frown. “She’s told you about us?”

  My daughter laughs. “No, but I know her better than she thinks, and I can tell. She was far happier about your ‘purely political’ wedding than anyone could possibly fake.”

  I smile wryly, shaking my head. “I know it’s… odd.”

  Catriona shakes her head. “It’s not.” She smiles. “Iona’s always felt like family to me, and I never felt that with Darcy.”

  “Darcy never was family,” I growl.

  “But Iona is.”

  “Aye,” I say quietly.

  “You’re going after her?”

  “Aye, as soon as—”

  “Lord McDougall!” a grim-faced guardsman comes dashing into the room. “We’ve freed the horses.”

  “You!” Behind me, out on the terrace, Tor’s voice booms at the guard he’s been talking to. “Go, now! And remember to bring my commands to Bjorn Falkanskiold. Go now!”

  The man whirls and dashes away for the stables, and I nod grimly at my friends as they storm after him.

  “Dad?”

  I turn back to Catriona and the grim, fierce look in her eyes.

  “Get our family back,” she says with fire in her voice. “My friend, and your wife. And kill the bastards who took her.”

  I grin as I pull her into a fierce embrace.

 
“You’re very much my daughter, aren’t you?”

  “Always,” she whispers fiercely, hugging me back before she pulls away with a grin.

  “Even when you fall in love with my best friend.”

  Chapter 14

  Iona

  “To think you’d be capable of betraying your own bloody family like that.”

  Lord Campbell, my grandfather—the same grandfather who held a blade to my throat and dragged me down a rope ladder to a horse, where I was trussed up and carted off like a bag of grain all the way to the shore, where I’m being kidnapped against my will—sneers at me. Beneath us, the big boat rocks on the waves, surging with the tides as we sail on. We’ve been at sea for hours, and through the windows of the captain’s cabin I’m captive in, I can see it’s growing light out with the dawn.

  I stare at Lord Campbell, my eyes narrowing.

  “My family?” I grit my teeth, shaking my head. “You are not my family. Darcy is not my fam—”

  I gasp as the slap comes hard across my cheek, making me wince as Lord Campbell strikes me.

  “You bite your tongue, girl.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Ahh, it’s so good to be back with family,” I spit out, sneering at him.

  “She’s the only mother you’ll ever have, you know,” Lord Campbell growls.

  “Good,” I snap. “One like her is enough for a few lifetimes.”

  His face darkens as he shakes his head.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “France,” he growls. “To your family, where you belong.”

  “The McDougall’s are my family.”

  He growls under his breath. “Pretending to be one of them all these years doesn’t make you one of them.” His eyes narrow as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Neither does being his whore.”

  I hiss, lunging for him, but I’m tied to the chair. My grandfather just chuckles, shaking his head.

  “I invite you to keep struggling if you insist, lass.” He smiles. “It’s a long way to Normandy.”

  Fury roars through me, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Why? Honestly, why go through the trouble of bring me to a ‘home’ I neither know nor want, when it’s clear you don’t want me there either?”

  Lord Campbell takes a deep breath, sighing as he paces the slowly pitching floor for a moment. He stops, a smile creeping over his face as he turns to me and shrugs.

  “Ahh, smarter than she looks.” He chuckles as he spreads his arms wide. “You’ve caught me. I don’t want you to stay. But I know damn well that Lord McDougall wants you to stay back there, with him.” His smile widens. “Oh, he wants you back there, I’m sure of it. So badly that he may even pay, and handsomely.”

  My jaw drops as I slowly shake my head, a bitter laugh tumbling from my lips.

  “A ransom. That’s your big grand gesture of ‘taking me back home’ to ‘my family.’ You just want to sell me back to Lachlan.”

  Lord Campbell chuckles deeply. “Coin does make the world go around, lass. And you’ll fetch a good many of them from him.”

  I shake my head, looking away.

  “He’ll come for me.”

  He snorts.

  “Perhaps, but he’ll be too late. It’s a fast ship, lass. And we made it… difficult for your dear Lachlan to even make it to the coast, let alone find a ship we didn’t sabotage.”

  I shake my head. “He will come for me, and when he does—”

  “When he does come for his whore,” Lord Campbell spits at me. “As I said, he’ll be too late—”

  A pounding on the cabin door yanks his head away, and he snarls.

  “What is it!”

  “My lord!”

  The door swings open, and two men of the crew charge in, glance at me lecherously before turning to Lord Campbell.

  “There’s a ship, sire. On the horizon and coming fast.”

  Lord Campbell frowns. “Not a chance that it’s Lachlan. We scuttled every boat in the harbor, and—”

  “It’s not Lord McDougall, my lord,” one of the men says quietly, his face white as he swallows.

  “Red sails, my lord.”

  Lord Campbell frowns in confusion, glaring at the two of them.

  “Meaning?” He snaps.

  The two men blink, glancing at each other.

  “You—you don’t know, sire?” One chokes out.

  “Spit it out, man!”

  “Vikings, my lord,” the second man croaks out.

  My grandfather scowls. “And it’s one ship?”

  The man nods and Lord Campbell rolls his eyes.

  “There are forty men on this ship armed to the teeth, and you’re saying we can’t deal with one—”

  “Not any Vikings, Lord Campbell,” one of the men chokes out. “Red sails.”

  Lord Campbell growls. “You’ve mentioned that, and I still haven’t the slightest fucking idea what that—”

  “Tor Odinson.”

  The three of them turn at the sound of my voice to see me grinning widely.

  “The red sails,” I hiss as I turn my eyes on the two sailors, who are rapidly paling. “You know what they mean.”

  “Who in the hells is—”

  “We need to head to deeper water, now,” one of the men says, his voice trembling.

  The other shakes his head, his face grim. “It won’t matter. They’ve seen us, and—”

  “Who the HELL is Tor Odinson!” My grandfather bellows.

  “The devil,” one of the men croaks.

  I start to laugh. “He’s the man who’s about to make you wish you’d never left France, Grandfather.”

  “Hard to starboard!”

  A man’s voice yells it out from up on deck, and the two sailors standing in the doorway whirl and dash back up the stairs. Feet thunder across the deck above, and I can feel the big boat begin to turn.

  “Coming fast! Man stations! Prepare for—”

  And then comes the crash.

  I scream as I go sprawling out of the chair across the floor, wincing as my cheek hits the ground with my hands tied behind my back. The boat careens sideways wildly, the air filled with the sound of wrenching, snapping, and splintering wood. Lord Campbell groans from the floor across the room from me, picking himself up and holding a hand to the cut on his head.

  Above on deck, suddenly all I can hear is the roar of Viking men and the screams of Lord Campbell’s men, and the smashing sounds of steel on steel—the sounds of battle.

  There’s more screaming, and Lord Campbell pales as he pulls his sword free of the scabbard, swallowing as he backs away from the doorway. The door swings in, and I gasp as one of the sailors from before comes staggering in, a dagger sticking out of his back and his face haggard.

  “My lord….”

  He tumbles to the ground and goes still, and Lord Campbell turns white.

  “You could try your luck swimming,” I sneer.

  He whirls, turning his gaze on to me as he snarls. And suddenly, he starts to march towards me.

  “Why you little bitch—”

  “CAMPBELL!”

  The door shatters off its hinges, splintering into the room. And when my eyes fly to the doorway, there, standing tall and fierce with his teeth flashing and his sword bared, is Lachlan.

  He storms into the room, Tor, Callum, and Hamish behind him, all with swords drawn and fury on their faces. Lord Campbell lunges for me, and I gasp as he yanks me up, spinning behind me as he brings the blade of his sword to my neck.

  “Stay back!” he screeches at Lachlan, halting him and the others. Lachlan’s eyes dart to mine, his gaze fierce as he holds mine, before he turns them back on Lord Campbell.

  “I can take him,” Tor growls

  “No,” Lachlan growls, shaking his head. “He’s mine.”

  His eyes meet mine, and instantly, I know what to do without him saying a word. I swing riotously, thrusting my shoulder back and catching Lord Campbell in the gut. He grunts, stumbling back and swinging the sword wide a
way from my neck, and the second he does, I go diving out of the way. Lachlan charges, and as Lord Campbell swings his sword wildly, Lachlan roars as he knocks it easily aside. My grandfather swings again, and this time, Lachlan sends the blade flying out of his hands and skittering across the floor before grabbing Campbell by the throat and slamming him into the wall behind him.

  “You—you son of a swine!” Lord Campbell brays out. “Our family name besmirched! The land and gold owed—”

  “I’d have been willing to negotiate,” Lachlan hisses. “If you’d asked nicely. But you’d didn’t, and now I won’t.”

  He slams Lord Campbell against the wall before releasing his grip and letting the man drop to the floor. Callum moves towards me, using a knife to cut my binds, and I rub my wrists as I stand, my eyes locked on Lachlan.

  “You laid hands on my bride.”

  His voice is low and edged in steel as he rests the tip of his broadsword against Lord Campbell’s throat.

  “Wait.”

  He pauses at the sound of my voice, turning slightly as I step towards him. My hand rests on his arm, and when he looks down at me, I shake my head.

  “Please,” I say quietly. “It’s not that he’s family, because he’s not, and it’s not because he doesn’t deserve it, because he does. But I don’t want any more blood spilled for me.”

  Lachlan’s eyes blaze into mine, and slowly, I watch his shoulders lower as a smile creeps over his gorgeous face.

  “Aye, lass. As you wish. No more blood.” He lowers his eyes back to Lord Campbell. “Keep your life, old man. And with it, keep your shame, and the dishonor you’ve brought your family name over, and over again.”

  Lachlan pulls me into his arms, turning and nodding at his friends. “Let’s go.”

  We turn to leave, when suddenly, Lord Campbell screams in rage. He lunges for his fallen sword, whirling faster than I’d have ever imagined he could, and in the flash of a second, he’s lunging right at me, point of his sword forward. Lachlan grunts, knocking Lord Campbell’s thrust aside and then shoving forward with his own. The older man grunts as Lachlan’s blade sinks into his gut, and instantly, I watch him groan, drop to the floor, and go still.

  Lachlan freezes, scowling. “Iona, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be,” I mutter, glaring at the body on the ground. “He deserved it after the things he’s done.”