Fighting For A Highland Rose (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “There was a braw woman, an’ a braw friend,” said Murdo sadly. “I very much fear we shallnae meet the likes o’ her again. And Ewan! That breaks my heart tae ken that he felt he had tae act so, tae stop bloodshed. I was a fool tae put so much trust in him, and my faither warned me o’ it many times. Long shall it be ‘afore I am so quick tae trust again.”

  In turn, he told her of what happened on the fateful night of her disappearance, and of Father Colum MacPherson’s death, and of his last words.

  “‘Tell her I am so glad I saw ye married, those were his last words.”

  She bowed her head.

  “I am so glad that despite everything, we were able to fulfil his last wish. And indeed, if it had not been for his insistence that I take the marriage certificate, then perhaps Clairmont would have married me in the castle against my wishes, and sent me down to his estate in Shropshire! Then where would we be?”

  “Where, indeed,” said Murdo.

  On the first night, they camped, and though there was a big central fire and some of the Grant men had managed to hunt a deer, there was little feeling of celebration which they might have expected. Instead, a contemplative mood came upon the company, and the few songs which were sung were sad ones. The McGraw men had departed south and east, headed back to their own lands, but Iain Grant and his men would accompany the MacPhersons back to Rowan Glen since it was on their way.

  Emily waited until she and Murdo retired to their tent before she shared her news with him. Inside the lantern-lit, cosy tent, many furs were laid out on comfortable pallets, and she came in to find him while undressing. The warm light of the lantern made his skin glow a deep rich gold, like honey, and suddenly, her breath caught in her throat, and a slow smile spread across his face.

  “Come here,” he said in a low growl, and she went to him. Their lovemaking that night was not the fumbling exploration of their first time, nor was it the hot and unbridled passion of their second time, the night by the waterfall when they had been attacked. Instead, it was the rhythmic, evenly-paced enjoyment of people who know one another well. They took their time undressing one another slowly, mouths and hands exploring all the contours, curves, and angles of each other’s bodies. She gloried in him, the broad, firm planes of his magnificent chest, the sinewy, toned muscles of his legs and his back. His smell and taste intoxicated her, and the obvious delight he took in her was like a tonic washing away the wounds and hurts of the past.

  Slowly their passion built. She brought him to a shuddering climax with just her mouth and hands at first, and he did the same for her. He was firm and gentle with her at the same time. She gasped as his tongue found her nipple, but when his mouth found the warm, wet place between her thighs, she moaned with deep, animal satisfaction. He took his time over it and built her pleasure with workmanlike attention, piece by piece and stroke by stroke, like a painter or a musician. His strong hands held her hips and broke off to kiss the inside of her thighs before coming back to add more brushstrokes to his masterpiece. When finally her pleasure built to the point where she could hardly stand it, she ground her hips onto him, and when she shuddered to a halt, he lifted his face and gazed down upon her pale-skinned, full-figured body in wonder and delight.

  They did not sleep after that. It did not take long for her to realise he was ready again, and this time she took him deep inside her, giving herself over entirely to the pleasure of his masterful touch. Together, they discovered the joy of variety; they were both delighted to find that they both enjoyed being on top, swapping roles several times until they found that she could sit in his lap, with her legs wrapped around his waist, and he could sit up with his legs crossed, almost to make a seat for her. In this way, they moved back and forth together, a depth of rhythm that they had not found before.

  They discovered a new depth, and when it brought them to a peak together, their mouths locked in a deep kiss.

  “I love you, oh, my husband, my Murdo, I love you so.” Her voice was vibrant and sultry in his ear, and he smiled into the rich red-scented darkness of her hair.

  “Aye, my lassie,” he said, “and I love ye too. Let us be together always an’ let us ne’er again be parted.”

  Afterwards, they lay naked upon the covers. Sweat cooled them both, and they lay awake, listening to the sound of the light rain pattering on the tent above. Her head was pillowed on his chest, and he had one arm around her shoulders and one hand behind his head. The light from the lamp cast a warm glow across them. Heaving a great sigh of contentment closed his eyes.

  “Murdo?” she said, and something in her voice made him open his eyes again.

  “Yes?” he said, crooking his neck to look down at her. She sat up, one hand on his chest and the other on the pallet.

  “Are you awake?”

  “I am, whit is it?”

  She smiled at him, and he smiled questioningly back. Her smile broadened as she looked at him before giving a light laugh.

  “I almost do not want to tell you,” she said shyly. “You see, it’s such a good piece of news I want to savour it.”

  She took a deep breath, looking straight into his dark eyes as she took both his hands in hers.

  “I am going to have a child, Murdo. I am carrying your child; our child. I’m going to have our baby.”

  His mouth dropped wide open, his eyes wide in astonishment. He gasped, reaching out and holding her close to him.

  “Are ye…” he stammered, “are ye certain?”

  “Yes, oh yes. It’s been weeks and weeks since my monthly blood was due. I even think I have begun to feel a bump there, but it’s very early yet. And I have been sick in the morning.”

  He held her at arm's length and gazed into her eyes.

  “Emily,” he said, “I am the happiest man in the world.”

  * * *

  Emily thought they should wait until they reached Rowan Glen before telling James, and Murdo reluctantly agreed at first. However, he struggled to resist, bursting with pride in the news and desperate to tell someone. By the next evening, he came to Emily and implored her to let him tell his father.

  She laughed, “very well, then. Let us go together.”

  Murdo told him, and the dignified old grey-bearded clan chief leapt up from where he was sitting and danced with joy. He capered around like a madman, flinging his arms and legs into the air and whooping with delight, falling on his knees before Emily and Murdo, weeping like a child.

  “An heir!” he sobbed, “An heir for my son! Oh, God be praised!” That night he drank so much whiskey that he fell asleep on the ground beside the fire while telling a bemused Iain Grant for at least the fiftieth time that his clan now had an heir.

  Edward Nasmith could not help be aware of the news, and he came over in the company of his new friend and mentor, the other Englishman, Ben Carmichael. Edward shook Murdo’s hand stiffly and gave Emily an awkward hug.

  “My congratulations to you both,” he said rather formally, before gathering Emily in his arms.

  “I’m so happy for you,” he whispered, and she knew he meant it.

  * * *

  Rowan Glen was in an uproar when they returned, but they did not stay there for long. They waited long enough to receive a message from the new commander of the Fort William garrison, delivered to them by a Highlander who arrived the day after they did.

  “The new commander has word directly frae the Duke o’ Argyll, whae has taken charge o’ the garrison there,” said the messenger. “We brought the redcoat prisoners tae our camp in the hills above the Fort, as ye commanded, and sent a messenger down tae the castle wi’ two o’ the prisoners as proof, and an offer o’ ransom for the rest. The castle was in a bad state o’ repair, wi’ one o’ the drum towers a’ fallen apart. We were fair surprised when the messenger came back immediately, no’ only saying that they would pay the ransom, but also that the Duke desires urgent talks wi’ the MacPhersons, apologises for the slaughter at Kinlochetrick, and desires an immediate truce wi
’ the MacPhersons!”

  James, Murdo, and Iain Grant discussed this at length, and it was agreed that James and Iain would return to Fort William with a small delegation and see if they could negotiate useful terms for a truce. Meanwhile, James was firm.

  “Ye baith shall go from here wi’out delay, travelling north tae the castle at Glenoran, where is our strongest castle,” he said to Emily and Murdo. “Truce or no’, I willnae risk the bairn in this place any mair. ’tis aye too close tae the field o’ conflict.”

  Eilidh MacPherson, who had quite recovered from the blow to the head, was to go with them, and she was as delighted as James by the news of the pregnancy, though she retained her dignity more than he when she heard the news. She did not dance, nor did she drink until she fell over, but she did weep and held Emily for a long time in her arms.

  * * *

  It took them two weeks to get to Glenoran, where, in a wide, deep valley, there sat the great ancestral castle, the oldest and most powerful stronghold of the MacPherson clan. It lay in a rugged and mountainous country, fifteen miles north of the village of Newtonmore, with the great town and fortress of Inverness, and the battlefield of Culloden where the rebellion had been lost, many miles further to the north.

  At James’ insistence, they took the Inveraray treasure with them and travelled with a heavy guard. When they reached Newtonmore, the Grants departed east for their lands near the coast, and Emily, her father, Murdo, and the MacPhersons travelled up the rough trackway toward Glenoran castle. There was a town in the valley below the castle, and the deep and sheltered glen was a patchwork of tended woodland, cattle enclosures, and grain fields. There was a mill here, too, the wheel of which turned by the fast-moving waters of the Oran burn, the river which chuckled its way through a steep cutting in the peaty soil of the glen.

  They found their way up to the castle and made themselves at home. It took Emily a little while to settle in, but as the months passed, she did so. She watched her father, and to her surprise, he settled in rather quicker than she did. He found his niche in the castle community; there was a garden here, and an apple orchard, and he knew a bit about fruit trees. He was amazed that the apples could be brought to ripeness so far north. And made himself agreeable to the folk who tended the orchard, and soon found a place among them. Her father cast off his old life with ease, and as the summer passed, and Emily’s baby grew inside her, she watched her father brown in the sun as he tended the gardens, looking like he had always been there.

  Autumn came, and the apples began to ripen, Emily grew heavier, and Murdo was in a permanent state of delight with her. As autumn deepened and the days grew shorter, James returned from his negotiations with the Duke at Fort William, and the news was good. A truce had been negotiated and seemed likely to hold. He had spent the summer travelling the lands, and while there were still pockets holding out against the rebellion, James and his closest allies had decided it would be prudent to hold back and allow peace to take its course.

  Emily went into labour one cold and stormy night in mid-December, when the first snows had already come to whiten the mountain-tops, and the wind howled around the stone walls of the castle booming in the vast open spaces between the dark hills. The labour was long and complicated, but after a day and a half of exhausting work, she brought forth not one, but two healthy children. They were twins, a boy and a girl, and it did not take long for Murdo and Emily to decide on names.

  “Alice,” said Emily, “for my friend, without whom I never would have made it.”

  “And Colum,” said Murdo, “for the man whose greatest wish was tae see them born.”

  The family worked carefully to keep them warm and safe that winter. Emily and Murdo barely left their warm chambers in the castle, for outside the winter took hold of the land in a grip of iron.

  But it did not last. Eventually, there came a spring day when the babies were grown enough, and the weather eased enough, that they ventured out with the children for the first time.

  On a high balcony, looking out over the glen, the family gathered together to be present at the babies’ first sight of the outside world. James, who would soon leave the castle again to continue his diplomatic work, was there, as was Edward, whose work in the garden had changed him into a relaxed and easy-going lover of nature. Murdo, with his daughter Alice on his hip, opened the shutters, and Emily stepped forward with her son in her arms. The morning sun blazed into the room, and they stepped forward, looking out northward at the vast and glorious vista that was laid out before them.

  “This is the land of your people,” said Emily to her little son, who gazed with eyes wide open, out into the world.

  But there’s more…

  Eager to learn what the future holds for Emily and Murdo?

  Then you may enjoy this extended epilogue.

  Simply tap here and you can read it for FREE, or use this link:

  https://www.kennakendrick.com/wtqw

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading my novel, Fighting for a Highland Rose. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write your review HERE?

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

  Please use the link below:

  https://www.kennakendrick.com/f3zn

  Do you want more Romance?

  If you’re a true fan of the Scottish romance genre, here is a sample of my best friend’s, Fiona Faris, latest best-selling novel: Highlander's Wicked Game

  This is 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 me
n. 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.