by Tessa Murran
‘Don’t let it swell your head,’ Morna said in a gasp of relief. ‘Oh God, Will, I thought you had gone, I thought I had lost my chance. Am I forgiven?’
He walked right up to her, sweeping her into a perfect kiss, deep and hard and full of longing. Morna’s heart seemed to stop for a moment.
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘you are forgiven.’
‘Will, why did you not go as you said you would?’
‘Same reason you came after me, we cannot be parted, you and I.’
‘But the ship?’
‘My men are eager to be home, so I sent them on ahead. I was coming back to Corryvreckan to convince you to come with me, to kidnap you if I had to, and lock you up until you promised to stay with me. Either that or play the gentle lover and woo you with my considerable charms. I hadn’t quite decided which. I was sitting behind those rocks over there, trying to devise a plan, when you ruined my concentration and came shouting down the beach.’
‘Will, you are such a fool.’
‘So are you, for we belong together, and Morna, we always have.’ He coiled his fingers in hers.
‘Giselle and Lyall will be surprised when we turn up to supper,’ she said.
‘Then let us not. Let us sneak inside and find your chamber and not come out until morning. Is that not a fine plan, Morna Bain?’
She took his face in her hands and pulled it down to hers. ‘Aye husband, it is a fine plan.’
Epilogue
Morna walked along the beach with Braya, bending to prise mussels off the rocks.
‘Drostan is back,’ said Braya.
‘When?’
‘Late last eve, crawled back with his tail between his legs. No contrition just marches in like he owns the place and as if nothing had ever happened. I’ll give him one thing, the lad has his father’s cheek.’
Morna braced herself for a good deal of shouting and cursing later, and not just from Will, for Drostan must have sprouted balls during his time at Beharra, else he wouldn’t have had the guts to return.
‘Where is he?’
‘In his chamber, sleeping off a headache from all the ale he swilled last night.’
‘And does Will know, Braya?’
‘Your husband knows everything that happens in his castle, every ear of grain harvested, every mug of ale that is spilt, and every rat that scurries in the rafters, and ‘tis no different with Drostan. Aye, he knows full well, for they were up to the wee small hours drinking and talking. It seems they are reconciled, for now, at least.’
‘Oh, I hope you are right, Braya. I was looking forward to some calmer times ahead and some peace.’
‘Not much of that to be had around here.’
Morna’s hand went to her back where it ached, and she stretched her neck and looked skywards to ease it out. What a belly she had on her, full to bursting with Will’s bairn, burrowed well in, safe and snug. She couldn’t wait to meet him, or her, she thought, smiling.
‘You should be indoors resting. Is the bairn paining you?’
‘Aye, for I feel fatter than a sow and just as appealing.’
‘Is that why the Laird insists on sharing your chamber every night, Lady?’ said Braya, never one to mince words.
Morna’s face flushed with heat and she bit her lip. They should not lie together still, it was not decent, given that she was swelling with his bairn, but Will seemed to find her pregnant body fascinating and who was she to deny him? Besides, once her sickness had passed, her need for a man inside her seemed to have doubled and if he was happy to oblige…’
‘Is it sitting low, lass, pressing down, or pushing up under your ribs?’ called Braya, swatting away seagulls as they swooped for scraps of mussels and cockles left on the rocks.
‘Upwards, I feel as though I have swallowed a horse.’
‘A girl then, no doubt about it.’
‘That won’t go down well, for Will has insisted that I present him with a son.’
‘He will get what he will get, and be happy about it, the fool,’ snapped Braya, making Morna smile. She knew deep down that Will didn’t mind, so excited was he at the prospect of being a father.
She glanced back up the beach to where he stood with Waldrick before an upended boat, supervising its repairs. As she rubbed her belly, he turned and smiled at her, and their eyes met, in perfect harmony. It hadn’t always been like this, and there were still times when their strong wills clashed. But now they both knew the storm would soon pass and there would be calm again and love would be there, it would always be there.
‘Did he tell you he is leaving tomorrow for another gathering of the clans on Barra?’
‘No, he did not and, after last time, he should not,’ said Morna in alarm.
‘Aye, and if Will thinks the clans will come together under his banner, he is a fool. True, there is more accord between them now the English have been driven back out of Scotland with their tails between their legs. But a few pretty promises said over too much ale doesn’t wash away generations of blood and feuding, no matter that he has the King’ favour.’
A shout from down the beach made Morna turn to see a woman rushing towards the men. She was hugely fat and red-haired and waddled in a determined way, so quickly that Morna feared she would topple over. She held a bundle in her arms, and there was something familiar about her.
‘Who is that woman?’ said Morna.
‘Trouble, by the looks of her,’ replied Braya.
Morna and Braya went over to them. Waldrick’s mouth was gaping open like a dying fish.
‘You, you there,’ the woman shrieked. When Waldrick stepped forwards she snapped, ‘No, not you, dog, it is this other one I’ve come to take to task.’
Waldrick went pale and took a step backwards.
‘Are you Laird Bain?’ she demanded of Will.
‘Aye, and what of it?’ he said as she put her face in his.
‘That wretch there got me with child,’ she hissed, pointing at Waldrick. ‘Look. See,’ she said thrusting forward the bundle, from which a face emerged and emitted a loud belch.
The sight of the bairn, round-faced and pink, made Morna’s insides turn to jelly.
‘What a fine bairn,’ she said, taking hold of one of its chubby hands and wiggling it.
‘Aye, he’s fine alright, and he’s also fatherless, cast onto the mercy of strangers for this wretch here will not acknowledge him and said his Laird forbid him to do so.’ The woman hoisted the bairn up in her arms, sending her huge bosoms heaving upwards.’
Recognition dawned on Morna. ‘I know you, I saw you on Barra at the meeting of the clans.’
‘Well, I don’t know you. Look here, I sent word and ignored, I’ve been. You must make Waldrick wed me, else I am shamed, and his son is made a bastard.’
‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t have been so free with your, er, charms,’ Will replied.
‘What did you say?’ snarled the woman coming closer.
Waldrick held out his hands to pacify her. ‘He meant nothing by it woman, calm yourself.’
‘You can shut up.’ She turned back to Will, red-faced and outraged. ‘Doubting my honour are you, Laird Bain.’
‘I am not just doubting it, I am questioning its very existence,’ said Will and Morna detected laughter in his voice.
‘Why you whoreson! Waldrick’s fancy Bain ways, his arts and endearments made me forget my honour, and he promised that, if I lay with him, he would offer for my hand.’
‘I was drunk, and you were willing. What’s more to be said. ‘Tis not my fault, and how can I be sure that is my bairn and not some other dog’s,’ said Waldrick.
‘And if you lay with her, then you can’t be sure it is not,’ said Morna, wincing at his appalling lack of chivalry.
‘Right woman, let us get to the bottom of this,’ snarled Will. ‘What is your name?’
‘If you don’t agree to him wedding me, then my uncle will hear about this disgrace to our name,’ replied the woman, wagging a finger
at him.
‘To hell with your uncle. Now, before my patience escapes me altogether, I say again, what is your name?’
‘T’is Osla, Laird. My name is Osla Cranstoun, and I am niece to Wymon Cranstoun.’
Everyone fell silent as this information sank in until Braya spoke. ‘T’will be a fell thing when it grows up, Devil’s spawn of a Cranstoun,’ she spat.
‘Who are you calling the Devil, old crone,’ snapped the woman, unbowed by their disapproval.
Will glared at Waldrick, who just looked down at his feet. He then turned to Morna with that fierce scowl of his. ‘Well this is a fine mess, is it not? What are we to do about it?’
Morna shrugged her shoulders and bit her lip to stop from laughing. ‘You are Laird here, Will. ‘Tis for you to sort out.’
Morna grabbed Braya’s arm, and they turned and walked away down the beach, but Will ran after them. ‘You two would leave me here with that fool and his harpy?’
‘You have often said these last months that you sought a way to unite the clans of the Isles and what better way than a marriage union,’ said Morna. ‘Alliances are often made in such ways, and some of them can be very successful, or so I hear.’ She went on tip-toe and kissed his cheek and then carried on walking away.
Morna’s face broke into a smile as, back down the beach, the shouting began. So much for peace and calm.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tessa Murran grew up in a mining community in the United Kingdom but currently lives a sun-soaked life of golden beaches and blue skies, with a husband, a daughter and a fat, greedy dog, at the edge of the Australian bush.
When her dark Celtic soul whispers to her of rain-lashed moors, wind-swept peaks and forbidding castles, she loves to conjure up dark-hearted romances. Tessa writes high-stakes love stories that live up to her motto of ‘wild and passionate historical romance.’ Tessa enjoys creating fierce heroes with a fire in their belly, and strong-willed, compelling heroines, and setting them on a rocky path to enduring love.
A keen reader of romance fiction since her teens, she also has a passion for the past and delights in creating stories set in a world of intrigue and conflict, at the turning points of history.
Tessa sincerely hopes you enjoy The Pirate Laird’s Hostage.
To find out more about the Highland Warlords Series, and all of Tessa’s books, check out www.tessamurran.com or Twitter @tessamurran.
ALSO BY TESSA MURRAN
THE HIGHLAND WARLORDS SERIES
The Laird’s Bastard Daughter - Book 1 © 2019 Tessa Murran
Forced to choose between love and vengeance.
1314, and Scotland is facing a mortal struggle for independence against English tyranny. Stirling Castle is under siege by the Scots, and the English are coming to take it back. Cormac Buchanan is over six foot of muscle and ferocity, a supreme warrior who has spent years fighting for Robert the Bruce, self-proclaimed King of Scotland. Cormac is battling not only the English invaders but also his clan’s sworn enemy, the Gowans, so he is horrified at his king’s command to bury old enmities and unite with Clan Gowan, through marriage.
Cormac expects his bride to hate him, and he intends to put her aside and forget about her. What he does not expect, is Ravenna Gowan, a bastard, half low-born and fiercely defiant. He just wants her to obey, in bed and out of it, but with looks that would stir any man’s blood, this strange, hard girl wakes a savage need in him. Shame he can’t trust her, nor can he ever look favourably on any Gowan, after what they took from him.
Banished to a convent for the sin of forbidden love, Ravenna Gowan’s life seems over, until an English army heads north and her father has to sacrifice a daughter to the cause of King Robert the Bruce. Ravenna is about to become the glue that binds two clans together by wedding fearsome warrior Cormac Buchanan, but she refuses to be a helpless pawn in men’s power games. For Ravenna, this forced marriage holds no hope of love, nor is it about loyalty or duty - it is all about vengeance. Can Ravenna survive her rough, angry husband who resents and mistrusts her? Or will her loyalties be tested and her life threatened, as she tries to deny their growing attraction.
The Highlander’s War Prize - Book 2 © 2019 Tessa Murran
Castles and hearts are under siege.
Giselle de Villers is sent to Northumberland to wed, but when a Scots hoard besieges her betrothed’s castle, she falls prey to vicious predator, Banan MacGregor. Salvation comes in the shape of handsome Lyall Buchanan, who wins her as his war prize and takes her for ransom. Carried off into the Highlands, Giselle has to suffer the protection of a savage Scot who is as wild and unpredictable as his moorland home. But he is also a sight to behold and more of a man than anyone she has ever met. Soon, Giselle is in danger of losing not only her freedom but also her virtue and her heart. As she tries to resist Lyall’s practised seduction, Banan’s urge to possess her grows to murderous proportions.
Lyall Buchanan has become two men. Haunted by the rigours of war, he is torn between the ruthless fighter he has to be to survive, and the honourable man he once was. When innocent Giselle de Villers needs protection, he steps in. Telling himself he wants the ransom her rich father will pay, Lyall drags her into Scotland. But feelings that lay buried, start to resurface, and soon, the soft, English lass becomes more than just an enemy and a burden. Giselle is at his mercy, so, if she yields to him, is it through passion, or fear? When evil threatens to tear them apart, how far will he go, how low will he sink, for love?
As storm clouds gather around the throne of Scotland, a reckoning approaches, and a fight to the death, in one final, bloody siege - for freedom and for love. This is a high stakes, adult romance, and there may be triggers for some people.
THE HIGHLAND WOLF SERIES
The Black Wolf’s Captive - Book 1 © 2018 Tessa Murran
War has brought them together.
Ailsa MacLeod rebels against the prospect of an arranged marriage. She knows it will bring an important alliance for her clan, but she strives to be mistress of her own destiny. A brutal clan war brings upheaval and uncertainty into her world and Ailsa finds herself humiliated and at the mercy of wild and handsome rival clansman Duncan Campbell, who would bend her to his will and claim her for his own. Ailsa must pretend to submit to him as she fights to win her freedom. But can her growing attraction to him be conquered or does danger still lurk where she least expects it?
Duncan Campbell is a fierce man with a dark and troubled past. A consummate survivor, he moves in a world of intrigue and violence and when the Highlands explode into armed conflict he finds himself in possession of the spoils of war, defiant beauty Ailsa MacLeod, who utterly hates him. Duncan must do battle once more against the hunger that starts to grow in him. Does he want to protect her or possess her? Ailsa is his to do with as he pleases, though a bitter upbringing and the brutality of the life he is forced to lead have closed his heart to love. As he forces her into submission, Duncan begins to realise that love is something earned not taken and if he is to hold this prize he must fight one last battle against enemies who would tear down everything he holds dear.
The Lone Wolf’s Bride - Book 2 © 2018 Tessa Murran
Is he her road to hell or her path to redemption?
Ilene Campbell is poised on the brink of getting her heart’s desire. As the daughter of powerful Laird Duncan Campbell, she has the world at her feet. But when her hopes for the future are cruelly dashed and her heartbroken, she has no choice but to seek the protection of her wild and rugged adopted brother Murray, returned from war and scarred by the life he has led, inside and out. He wants her, but can she ever find happiness with him, especially as an awful betrayal opens up a gulf between them. Ilene must earn his trust if she is ever to bind this hard, uncompromising highlander to her forever.
Murray Campbell has led a brutal life, enriching himself on the battlefields of Europe. Returning to his home of Cailleach after years of exile he finds Scotland on the brink of a civil war. Much has changed in his
absence, not least his adopted sister Ilene, now a captivating young woman, pretty and free-spirited. She appears too good for the likes of him until an abrupt change of fortune places her within his grasp. But the beautiful stranger he takes to his bed has hopes and dreams of her own, and a terrible secret. Murray must find some warmth and forgiveness in his shrivelled heart if he is to claim the prize forever just beyond his reach.
The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance - Book 3 © 2019 Tessa Murran
He must gain her trust. His life depends on it.
Kenna Moncur longs to escape her life at remote Sgathach Dun Castle where few folk venture close, wary of rumours that an evil spirit lurks within its walls and fearful of her father’s reputation as a villainous laird. But when Kenna meets Conall Campbell, son of a powerful man, a whole new world opens up before her. Locked in Sgathach Dun’s grim dungeon, Conall faces a terrible fate and Kenna takes pity on him, trying to keep him alive, and risking all to do so, while dark forces move against his clan. Does he return the feelings she starts to have about him or is he just using her to escape Sgathach Dun’s horrors? If she frees him will it be the beginning of a new life or will an old curse stalking the Moncur family bring her new love crashing down?
Wild and handsome Conall Campbell has been sent to live at Dunslair Castle with his father’s best friend, Rory Mor Campbell, in an effort to curb his wild ways. He is expected to relinquish his dissolute lifestyle and become a man of stature like his father, Laird Duncan Campbell. But there is a darkness within Conall, and he is at war with himself and the future laid out before him. With his clan still rebuilding from a fearsome battle with a rival clan some years earlier, these are dangerous times for the Campbells.