Forbidden Alliance

by Diana Cosby

  The Bruce stood, strode to a table, lifted an elegant glass carafe. Dark amber liquid sloshed inside. Mouth grim, he filled a pair of goblets inlaid with a Celtic weave, a ruby centered between the breaks in the complex design.

  The king handed him a cup. “The Earl of Sionn has arrived at St. Andrews. Unknown to most, he is a trusted Templar supporter and has a large cache of Templar weapons hidden in his realm. Arms I need to force the English from Scotland and quell Lord Comyn’s attempts to seize the throne.”

  Which explained the powerful Irish lord’s presence. Rónán took a sip, recognized the potent slide of uisge beatha, the spirit distilled by the monks of the Border Abbeys.

  “With your expertise in strategy, battlefield experience, and Templar background, you will accompany the earl to his home in Ireland and oversee the transport of the Templar cache to my castle in Aberdeen.”

  “Aye, Your Grace.” Blast it, the last thing he’d ever intended was to return to Ireland. There was naught in his homeland he wished to ever see again. Even the nightmares that had haunted him as a child were long since gone. Nor did he miss the pride in the king’s voice at the mention of the recently captured northern stronghold, boasting an easily accessible sea port to the north. “When do we leave?”

  “At first light.” The monarch took a sip from his goblet, then shot him a hard look. “The earl’s party was attacked about a league from St. Andrews by a band of John of Lorn’s men.”

  “The Earl of Dunsmore explained the details of the assault, Sire. With John of Lorn’s forces severely cut, and his begging the young English king for supplies, ’twas a brazen move.”

  “’Twas. I have ordered a contingent to accompany your party to ensure you reach their ship. My guard will remain in port until you have sailed. Once at sea, keep watch for English ships intent on severing my attempt to gain Irish support. If they see Lord Sionn’s ship departing Scotland, they will attack.”

  Rónán nodded. “Aye, Your Grace.”

  His face relaxed, and on a slow exhale he sat back. Mischief sparkled in the king’s eyes as he swirled the amber liquid in his cup. “Did Lord Dunsmore also mention that Lord Sionn has a beautiful daughter?”

  At the king’s measuring look, Rónán stilled. Was he now the subject of the king’s next matchmaking ploy? No, he was being oversensitive. His thoughts shifted to Stephan’s amusement at Rónán’s thwarted attempt to surprise Katherine.

  “Aye, we have met,” Rónán said with reluctance.

  The Bruce set his goblet down. “How so?”

  In brief, he shared the chaos of his and Lathir’s encounter.

  With a smile, the king laughed. “An intriguing way to meet a lass. She is a strong and intelligent woman.” He took a deep drink. “One who needs a man of caliber at her side.”

  Rónán cleared his throat. “With the dreadful impression I made, Sire, I assure you, I have far from earned her favor.” Her sgian dubh pointed at him was, he recalled grimly, proof.

  “Mayhap a feisty lass is exactly what you need.”

  In midsip, Rónán almost choked on the powerful spirit. “I am here to serve you, Your Grace, not seek a wife.” God’s truth, he needed to change the subject before his sovereign became enamored with the idea of pairing him with Lady Lathir.

  With the monarch’s power of persuasion, ability to bestow upon him a title, and Lord Sionn’s Templar ties, ’twould take little to convince the Irish noble to agree to such a union. The disappointment of having to leave in the morning and not spend time with Stephan and Katherine faded against thoughts of escaping before the king decided he and the earl’s daughter should wed.

  * * * *

  A thin mist clung to the air as Lathir dismounted. The strong scent of fish, decaying seaweed, and salt filled the air as the first rays of sunlight struggled through the dense layer.

  She glanced around, thankful to arrive safely at their ship, anxious to be out to sea. After their party’s attack a short while before, only when the shore faded from sight would she relax.

  “I will take your mount, my lady,” her personal guard said.

  “I thank you, Gearalt.” The soft thud of hooves on dirt and the guards’ voices rumbled around them as she joined the tall, stocky man who’d raised her.

  Blond hair, secured behind his neck in a leather strip framed his intimidating features, and his face settled into a harsh frown as he strode toward the ship. Eyes sharp with intelligence shifted toward her. “You were quiet during the trip.”

  “I am anxious to be home.” The truth.

  “The attack still troubles you.”

  She grimaced and said with equal candor, “I doubt that I will ever forget taking a life, regardless if ’tis an enemy and deserved.”

  He grunted, leaving her to her silence. Nor would she reveal that what disturbed her as well were her dreams the previous night of Sir Rónán. Something about him had left her off kilter. Several times she’d woken with images of him filling her mind.

  To be fair, their first meeting had been something, well, unusual. In those few heated moments, how could she not notice his well-muscled form, confident air, or grayish-green eyes that’d pierced her with such intensity ’twas as if he could see to her soul. His every move proclaimed him a warrior, a man who did naught without purpose, and one who, with his smooth words and manner, no doubt drew many a woman’s eye.

  Since her betrothed, Domhnall Ruadh mac Cormaic, had died in battle against the English more than two years before, never had another man earned more than her passing interest. That this Irish knight had the audacity to invade her dreams was unacceptable.

  Though they hadn’t spoken since they’d departed St. Andrews, she was aware that he rode with their soldiers.

  Unwittingly, she glanced around and found him. The knight was talking with the leader of the contingent King Robert had provided as protection for their journey to their cog.

  Her father followed her gaze. “The Bruce speaks highly of him.”

  Lathir sighed, understanding his intent. A year after Domhnall’s death, he’d advised her ’twas time to seek another man to wed. Her heart still hurting, she’d refused, doubting she’d ever recover from the heartbreak. Nor had he given up pressing her on the issue, a frequent discussion that left her weary. The knight’s lack of title mattered little to her father. He judged men by their caliber, not the title they bore. For a king’s favorite, nobility could be granted with but a wave of the hand.

  Lathir met her father’s gaze, blinked. “Of whom?”

  His lips thinned. “Sir Rónán O’Connor.”

  “Which,” she said as she started up the gangway, “I would expect of the knight as King Robert chose the warrior to oversee the transfer of arms.”

  “Lathir—”

  “Father, my marital status, or lack of, isna something I wish to discuss, especially,” she said, keeping her voice low, “as we prepare to sail.”

  A deep frown settled upon his mouth. “’Tis time for you to marry.”

  “I dinna need a man to accept responsibility for the realm of Tír Sèitheach when the time comes.”

  “You are as stubborn as your mother,” he blustered.

  She arched an amused brow. “Mother said I acquired my obstinacy from you.”

  “Aye, she did,” he said, his face softening. “I miss her and want you happy.”

  An ache built in her chest, and she lay her hand upon his arm. “I know, Da.”

  He covered her hand with his, winked. “What do you say we set sail and return home?”

  She smiled. “I would like that very much.”

  * * * *

  “The fog is thicker than mud,” Rónán said as he stood at the bow of The Aodh, scanning the thick, dense gray that had moved in several hours after they departed. The soft slap of waves against the thin layer of ice upon the hull
played in eerie harmony to the ghostly cries of distant gulls.

  “Aye,” Lord Sionn agreed at his side, sounding equally displeased. “Nor with the wind having decreased to a light breeze in the last few hours have we traveled far.”

  “’Tis clearing overhead,” Lathir said from her father’s other side. “Mayhap the fog will break soon.”

  Rónán rolled his shoulders and wished that unease didn’t trail up his spine as it was wont to do in times of danger.

  He allowed his gaze to skim over her plaited gold hair adorned with a weave of silver, accenting the silver torque around her neck clasping an emerald at the base of her throat, before meeting her gaze. “Fog formed over the sea is not something that tends to fade beneath the sun’s rays. I expect we may be in the thick of it for a while.”

  She gazed at him and opened her mouth as if to answer, then looked away, leaving him to wonder what he’d done anew to offend her.

  A distant creak, the faint rattle of a chain, and the muted tangle of voices echoed in the murky setting.

  On alert, Rónán scanned the dense swath toward the sound. “Someone is out there.” He glanced toward the earl and said under his breath, “Did you leave ships farther from port for protection?”

  “Nay,” the earl replied, his jaw tight. “We saw several English ships en route, but they were at a distance, and we were still in Irish waters.”

  “King Robert warned me that the English are determined to sever any attempt for the Irish to support his cause.”

  “Aye, but they will fail,” the noble replied.

  A soft splash sounded, this time closer. The outline of a ship sailed into view, men running to the rail, their swords drawn.

  Lathir gasped. “Their standard is English.”

  “God’s truth,” Rónán hissed, “prepare for an attack!”

  About the Author

  A retired Navy Chief, AGC (AW), Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, appeared at Lady Jane’s Salon NYC, in Woman’s Day, on Texoma Living! Magazine, USA Today’s romance blog, “Happily Ever After,” and MSN.com.

  After retiring from the Navy, Diana dove into her passion—writing romance novels. With thirty-four moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. Diana looks forward to the years ahead of writing and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

  Diana Cosby, International Bestselling Author

  www.dianacosby.com

  Forbidden Vow

  In battle-torn Scotland, a castle’s mistress awaits her groom, a warrior she has never met . . .

  Lady Gwendolyn Murphy’s fiancé has finally arrived at Latharn Castle, but she expects no joy in their introduction. Gwendolyn is well aware of Bróccín MacRaith’s cold reputation. Yet from first glance, she is drawn to the intimidating stranger. Impossible! How could she be dazzled by such a callous man?

  Little does she know, Bróccín is dead. The man Gwendolyn believes to be her intended is actually Sir Aiden MacConnell, a member of the Knights Templar and her enemy, masquerading as the earl to gain access to the castle. His soul is dedicated to God and war; he has no time for luxuries of the flesh. But Gwendolyn’s intoxicating beauty, intellect, and fortitude lures him to want the forbidden.

  With the wedding date quickly approaching and the future of Scotland at stake, Aiden gathers critical intelligence and steels himself for his departure, vowing to avoid an illicit liaison. But a twist of fate forces him to choose—move forward with a life built on a lie, or risk everything for the heart of one woman?

  Forbidden Legacy

  A betrothal neither wants . . . a passion neither can resist.

  When the English murder Lady Katherine Calbraith’s family, she refuses their demands to wed an English noble to retain her home. Avalon Castle is her birthright, one she’s determined to keep. After Katherine’s daring escape, she’s stunned when Scotland’s king agrees to allow her to return to Avalon, but under the protection of Sir Stephan MacQuistan . . . as the knight’s wife. To reclaim her heritage, Katherine agrees. She accepts her married fate, certain that regardless of the caliber of the man, Stephan may earn her trust, but he’ll never win her love.

  One of the Knights Templar, Stephan desires no bride, only vengeance for a family lost and a legacy stolen. A profound twist of fate tears apart the Brotherhood he loves, but offers him an opportunity to reclaim his legacy—Avalon Castle. Except to procure his childhood home along with a place to store Templar treasures, he must wed the unsuspecting daughter of the man who killed his family. To settle old scores, Stephan agrees, aware Katherine is merely a means to an end.

  The passion that arises between them is as dangerous as it is unexpected. When mortal enemies find themselves locked in love’s embrace, Stephan and Katherine must reconsider their mission and everything they once thought to be true . . .

  Forbidden Knight

  Deep within Scotland, a healer and a warrior join forces to protect Scotland’s future . . .

  There is an intruder in the woods near King Robert Bruce’s camp, but when Sir Thomas MacKelloch comes face-to-face with the interloper, he is shocked to discover his assailant is a woman. The fair lady is skilled with a bow and arrow and defiant in her responses. The wary Knight Templar dare not allow her beauty to lower his guard. Irritated by his attraction, he hauls her before his sovereign to expose her nefarious intent.

  Outraged Sir Thomas dismissed her claim, Mistress Alesone MacNiven awaits the shock on the arrogant knight’s face when he learns that she has told the truth. But it is she who is shocked, and then horrified, as it is revealed that her father, the king’s mortal enemy, has betrothed her to a powerful noble, a deal that could jeopardize the king’s efforts to unite Scotland. Robert Bruce orders Sir Thomas to escort Alesone to safety. As they embark on a harrowing journey through the Highlands, Alesone tries to ignore her attraction to the intimidating warrior, but as she burns beneath Thomas’s kiss she realizes this fearless knight could steal her heart.

  An Oath Taken

  As the new castellan, Sir Nicholas Beringar has the daunting task of rebuilding Ravenmoor Castle on the Scottish border and gaining the trust of the locals—one of whom wastes no time in trying to rob him. Instead of punishing the boy, Nicholas decides to make him his squire. Little does he know the thieving young lad is really . . . a lady.

  Lady Elizabet Armstrong had donned a disguise in an attempt to free her brother from Ravenmoor’s dungeons. Although intimidated by the confident Englishman with his well-honed muscles and beguiling eyes, she cannot refuse his offer.

  Nicholas senses that his new squire is not what he seems. His gentle attempts to break through the boy’s defenses leave Elizabet powerless to stem the desire that engulfs her. And when the truth is exposed, she’ll have to trust in Nicholas’s honor to help her people—and to surrender to his touch . . .

  An Oath Broken

  Lady Sarra Bellacote would sooner marry a boar than a countryman of the bloodthirsty brutes who killed her parents. And yet, despite—or perhaps because of—her valuable holdings, she is being dragged to Scotland to be wed against her will. To complicate the desperate situation, the knight hired to do the dragging is dark, wild, irresistible. And he, too, is intolerably Scottish.

  Giric Armstrong, Earl of Terrick, takes no pleasure in escorting a feisty English lass to her betrothed. But he needs the coin to rebuild his castle, and his tenants need to eat. Yet the trip will not be the simple matter he imagined. For Lady Sarra isn’t the only one determined to see her engagement fail. Men with darker motives want to stop the wedding—even if they must kill the bride in the process.

  Now, in close quarters with this beautiful English heiress, Terrick must fight his mounting desire, and somehow keep Sarra alive lo
ng enough to lose her forever to another man . . .

  An Oath Sworn

  The bastard daughter of the French king, Marie Alesia Serouge has just one chance at freedom when she escapes her captor in the Scottish highlands. A mere pawn in a scheme to destroy relations between France and Scotland, Marie must reach her father and reveal the Englishman’s treacherous plot. But she can’t abandon the wounded warrior she stumbles upon—and she can’t deny that his fierce masculinity, Scottish or not, stirs something wild inside her.

  Colyne MacKerran is on a mission for his king, and he’s well aware that spies are lying in wait for him everywhere. Wounded en route, he escapes his attackers and is aided by an alluring Frenchwoman…whose explanation for her presence in the Highlands rings false. Even if she saved his life, he cannot trust her with his secrets. But he won’t leave her to the mercy of brigands, either—and as they race for the coast, he can’t help but wonder if her kiss is as passionate as she is.

  With nothing in common but their honor, Colyne and Marie face a dangerous journey to safety through the untamed Scottish landscape—and their own reckless hearts . . .