The Devil's Laird
Page 1
The Devil’s Laird
Brenda Jernigan
Award Winning Author
Copyright © 2020 by Brenda Jernigan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The Devil’s Laird is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living and dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.
The book cover cannot be used or copied without the author’s permission.
Cover Art - Kim Killion
Created with Vellum
Dedication
This book is for all my readers who always want more and are patient enough to wait until I get the books done.
And for my twin granddaughters Olive and June. I love you.
And for my husband who asked me to write this book years ago. I love you more today than yesterday.
Special thanks to my friend Sue-Ellen Welfonder who kept telling me to get the book done. Thanks for all your help. I wouldn’t have gotten the book finished without you.
Contents
Excerpt
Praise for The Devil’s Laird
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The Stones
Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also by Brenda Jernigan
Excerpt
He could still taste the stench of burning wood and see the women’s bodies in his mind’s eye. He had to step over them, searching . . . searching until he found Gillian, her face so swollen he’d barely knew her.
He had blamed himself for not leaving enough men to properly protect his holding that day. Frantically, he had searched for his son. When he couldn’t find him, he had found a banner from Fidach, and knew who was responsible. Roderick’s men had lost loved ones, as well, and the mood was grim as they began to bury their dead. As dusk fell, Roderick had vowed they would rebuild the holding as it was before. This time they would paint the walls black so all who saw would remember this terrible day.
His boy, four-year-old Michael had never been found. Roderick had hoped to question Fidach as to what happened to his son before killing the man, but now that opportunity was lost. Somehow, he couldn’t bury the past completely. He couldn’t see a small child surviving alone, but he still held hope that one day he would find his son alive.
Praise for Brenda Jernigan
Brenda’s books have been a finalist
Booksellers Best Award
Holt Medallion Award
Maggie Award
“Ms. Jernigan writes adventure and magic.”
Publishers Weekly
“Ms. Jernigan takes an old plot and makes it fresh and exciting.” Rendezvous Magazine
“Ms. Jernigan writes her stories with a true flair for love and romance.” A Romance Review
“Tender love story with a feisty heroine, a rugged hero and charming children. Don’t miss it!” Joan Johnston - NY Times Bestselling Author
“A passionate, witty, delightful read...filled with snappy dialogue and great characters. I couldn’t put it down. A definite keeper.” Fiona Hood-Steward
“As usual her characters are interesting, her plot action-packed, and her love story filled with conflict and emotion. A great read from a talented writer.” Rendezvous Magazine
“Cassie Edwards' readers are sure to find Brenda Jernigan irresistible …” Rhapsody Debut Author - Rhapsody Book Club
“Brenda Jernigan has written an emotionally touching novel that tugs the heartstrings in all the right ways. I fell in love with all the characters. This is truly a fantastic read that should be savored and enjoyed over and over again. I look forward to many more books from this wonderful author.” Interludes Magazine
“Don't start this one until you are sure you will have plenty of time to read. You won't want to put it down. AWESOME! Highly recommended!” Huntress Reviews
Praise for The Devil’s Laird
“Outstanding! Jernigan delights with her special brand of romance and adventure, this time adding the danger and excitement of medieval Scotland, along with just enough magic to thrill fans of the genre. The Devil’s Laird is a keeper.”
~ Sue-Ellen Welfonder, USA Today Bestselling Author of award-winning Devil in a Kilt
“I couldn't get enough of Roderick and Siena's story. A page-turner from beginning to end! Fleshed out, wonderful characters that had me rooting for them from page one!”
~Paula Quinn, NYT Bestselling Author & USA Today Bestselling Author of Forbidden Heart.
“Historical romance at its best! Brenda Jernigan's The Devil’s Laird is a must read if you love medieval Scotland!”
~New York Times Bestselling Author Lori Handeland Author of Just Once
“Jernigan sweeps you away into breathtaking settings, magical plots, multi-dimensional characters, brilliant dialogue with swoon worthy saviors, and a heroine with a magical heart! This includes sizzling hot passionate love scenes that absolutely makes your pulse race and temperature rise! An enchanting novel that I absolutely loved!”
~ Barb Massabrook – The Tartan Book Reviews
“Loved it! Lots of action, Highland justice, a hunky laird, magic and a love story….what more could you want? The villains are despicable, the servants are loyal and some of the clansmen are a hoot. This book starts off at a run and doesn’t stop until the last page. If you like Scottish romances, you will definitely want to read this story.”
~Jayne Butcher – Goodreads 5 stars
“This is a highlander book I never knew I needed but now cannot live without. I feel down the historical romance genre this summer and love highlander books the best. The story between Siena and Roderick is wonderful, you feel the pull on both sides, and that there are hints of legend and lore is just the icing on the cake. I just finished reading this and don’t want to give away any spoilers but know that this is a wonderful story come to life and I can't wait to read by Ms. Jernigan. I couldn't put it down and read it in one night.”
~Alisue – Goodreads – 5 stars
“I can’t say enough about this fantastic book. I was sucked into the action and drama from the very first page. I loved Siena so much she had so much to learn about herself, she also would do all in her power for others. Roderick was a larger-than-life character and I think he was awesome. I couldn’t stop reading till the end. I wanted more.”
~Loreli Jessee – Goodreads 5 stars
Author’s Note
Yes, I know it has taken 4 years to release this book. I never said I was quick. :) But I am hoping that you will find the book was worth the 4 year wait.
I tend to get unorganized. I can never find my research notes and even though I have several notebooks full of research - my notes are never where I think they are.
I thought you’d enjoy seeing my orange folder for this book, and you can see by the writing on the front what I’m talking about. I think I have taped the folder together at least 10 times.
Also on bad days, the floor becomes my workspace. :)
If you would like to see a picture of the stones - they are in the back of the book. They have been on my desk the entire time. Until then … let your imagination carry you away.
Chapter 1
From the land of mists and waters she came….
Berwick Castle
Northumbria, England
Medieval England & Scotland
They were going to hang her.
And the strange part . . . she really didn’t care.
Fidach, had beaten her for the last time.
Lady Siena Bertram had had all she was going to take from her brother. When he’d lunged at her she’d had no choice but to stab him through his black heart. Aye, she regretted taking a life, but when the life was that of a snake, Siena hoped God would forgive her.
Evidently, Fidach’s men didn’t agree . . . since they were the ones who intended to hang her.
Siena’s body ached all over from the beating her brother had inflicted upon her, and now the rough handling by his men, who were treating her like a criminal instead of a lady, wasn’t helping. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth.
There was a gash on her arm that needed tending, and she could feel her face swelling. Since a noose dangled in front of her, she supposed a cut wasn’t the worst of her problems, and that simple thought made her smile. Now she wondered if she were truly daft. Who would smile when they were getting ready to hang?
Glancing around at the gathered crowd in the bailey, Siena thought she would have had some support from her own people. A few did look uncomfortable, especially the ones she’d healed in the past, but what could they do? Mostly they stood helplessly watching and doing nothing to stop the hanging. Did they, too, think she was a witch?
Twisting her wrists, she tried to alleviate the pressure of the rough ropes that bound her, realizing she’d been cursed from the day she was born. She had heard the gossip. They said she’d sucked the breath from her twin brother, so she might live. Of course, that was utterly absurd. However, the strange birthmark on her wrist, which resembled a pitchfork, only added fuel to the gossipmongers.
The only blessing that Siena possessed was the vision of sight. However, it didn’t always work, or she would surely have seen this noose being slipped over her head. The guard tightened the noose, placing the knot behind her left ear. She flinched at the pressure on her throat.
She grew tired of not belonging.
Perhaps, death would be better.
And then she saw him…the devil, face painted blue, charging toward her on a huge black beast.
She was going to hell for sure.
They said he made a deal with the Devil….
On the hilltop overlooking Berwick Castle, Laird Roderick Scott threw up his right hand and pulled Hercules, his black destrier, to a halt. His face was painted blue and he was breathing hard. How long had he waited for this day?
A day to right a wrong … a day to avenge his family’s death.
The rest of his men halted behind him except, Duncan, Roderick’s first in command, who rode up beside him and asked, “What do ye make of it?”
Roderick leaned forward on his pommel. “Does it not strike ye as odd that no one seems to be guardin’ the castle and the drawbridge is down?”
Duncan nodded. “Aye. The battlements look bare. Almost as if no one is home.” He watched Roderick and noted the scowl on his laird’s face. The mon was no’ happy, Duncan thought, and he pitied any man who got in his way today.
“Could be a trap,” Roderick said, shifting in his saddle. “I canna imagine Fidach has been tipped off we were comin’.”
“I can see smoke coming from the chimneys, so the bastards are there.” When Roderick remained quiet, Duncan asked, “What say ye? We dinna put on war paint for nothin’.”
“Take all the men but three around the back of the castle, and I’ll take the others with me through the main gate. I want Fidach to ken I’m coming for him. Remember, Fidach is to be caught alive. He dies by my hand.”
“As he should,” Duncan said, and motioned the men forward. Roderick waited until the group had made their way to the back of the castle, then he and the rest of his men started down the hill.
On this cold, January morning, the crisp air blew around them and felt good on his face as they rode. They galloped down the bottom half of the hill, across the drawbridge, and straight into the enemy’s castle without one arrow being shot.
Surprise would be on his side.
However, Roderick wasn’t prepared for the chaos he saw once they rode through the entrance. There was no one manning the main gate. The entire castle seemed to be out in the bailey. Small fires burned here and there, giving off rotten smells so that the smoke made the air hazy. Everyone, including the castle guards, who had their backs toward the main gate, were gathered on the left side of the bailey near a raised wooden platform.
It appeared they were preparing to hang someone.
Roderick nudged his mount and they moved closer, so he could get a better view. The crowd parted for him, but no one paid him any attention or his men. Instead, their attention was on the hangman. As Roderick drew near, he saw long, black hair hanging over the noose. My God, they were hanging a woman! What in God’s name could they be thinking?
A big, burly guard was getting ready to shove the stool out from under the lass. As he kicked at the stool, Roderick charged forward, parting the rest of the crowd by knocking them down. Just in time, he reached the girl and snatched her up just as she lost her footing. The hangman had fallen backward in his haste to get away from the rider, and his body had loosened the rope that he’d never gotten secured.
Roderick jerked the woman into his arms before the rope could break her neck, then settled her on his lap in front of him. His men moved to flank him for protection. Gently, he loosened the noose and pulled it over her head, noticing the rope burns on her neck. Next, he removed the ropes from her wrists, yet she still hung limp against his chest. Was he too late? Roderick leaned down and placed two fingers on the side of her neck. A slight thumping beneath his fingertips, gave him his answer.
She lived!
Slowly, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The girl’s clothes were torn and stained with blood. A four-inch gash on her arm was bleeding, and her lip and one eye were swollen and turning blue. To add to that, she now had rope burns around her neck. The woman had been through hell this day. It was probably a blessing she was unconscious.
The men-at-arms, having noticed that they were no longer alone, had drawn their swords. They appeared ready to fight off the intruders.
The fools!
Roderick thought as he insolently studied the soldiers from his position high upon Hercules, daring them to give him a reason to murder the lot. Rage ran hot in his veins; Roderick took a deep breath and waited for his temper to cool.
Everyone need not die because of a few fools.
After a moment, he gave them a contemptuous smile. “Where is Fidach, son of Cinge?” Roderick bellowed so that his voice carried over the crowd’s noise as Hercules pranced beneath him. Roderick tightened his knees and the horse settled down.
One of Fidach’s soldiers approached and spat on the ground. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
Roderick’s temper flared again. Since he still held the woman, he couldn’t very well throw her on the ground and challenge the insolent guard, so he bumped the man with his stallion, knocking him flat on his back. The rest of the castle guards rushed to surround him, their swords raised ready for battle. However, they kept their distance, afraid of the big black horse who stood twenty-four hands tall. He was snorting and stomping his hooves and appeared just as mean as the man who rode him.
“W--what business do you have with Fidach?” the man stammered, having seen the cold fury in Roderick’s eyes.
“That would be between Fidach
and myself,” Roderick replied lazily.
A guard in the back of the group yelled, “Drag him off his horse! There are only four of them.” The man closest lunged, but Roderick was fast, drawing his short sword with his left hand he sliced the man’s sword arm. The scream of agony echoed around the compound, gaining the rest of men’s attention.
“I would look around--” Roderick suggested as his horse pawed the ground. He paused to allow his words to sink in, then he tightened his reins; even Hercules was anxious for battle. “-- before you try anything foolish.”
The castle guards glanced up at the battlements to find Roderick’s men had surrounded them. One of the castle guards dropped his sword, then another and another.
The men on the battlements shouted, “A Bellendaine!”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” a guard on the ground grumbled.
“It means … the Scotts are out!” Roderick said in his Scottish burr. “I repeat,” he ground out even louder, his temper growing short. “Where is yer lord?”