Highlands Forever (Books 1–3)

by Rand, Violetta

  “I am,” Kuresh readily admitted.

  Jamie marveled at the nature of Kuresh and his strange culture. Honest to a fault, his captain had taught him life-saving lessons when they’d travelled together. So had all the people he’d met on his long journey. It had made Jamie a better man, and now a better husband. “Should I end her misery? Let her stay here? Or send her back to Laird Alex?”

  Kuresh took another drink. “This journey will benefit her greatly. I will tame her wild spirit one way or another.”

  “Kuresh…”

  “I will not dishonor her.”

  “That wasna what I was thinking.”

  “No?”

  “She has five maids travelling with her. Even if ye were the sort of brute who would seduce an innocent maid, ye would have to get through the lasses protecting her. Trust me when I say, twould be better to cut off yer own bollocks.”

  Kuresh laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind if my lust overpowers me.”

  “Good. And what about yer naming ceremony? Are ye truly ready to sever all ties with yer Ottoman home and become a MacKay?”

  “I am,” Kuresh said unwaveringly. “Nothing is more important to me.”

  “Then get some sleep. In the morn, the priest will be here to oversee everything.”

  “Have a blessed night,” Kuresh said, setting the tankard on the table.

  “Good night, Kuresh.”

  *

  Anger overwhelmed Miran as she sat on the stair, unhappy with the conversation she had overheard between her cousin and Kuresh. If that man thought he was the only one who could listen in on private discussions, well… Another indication of his discourteousness. Everything about him made her uncomfortable. A particular moment unraveled in her mind, an event that had happened not too long ago—the one which turned her against Kuresh permanently.

  “I spoke with Petro on many occasions about Highland tradition. I served with Laird Alex for seven years in my homeland and here. I have no desire to return to the desert. But if I am ever to be taken seriously, to be honored as a true Highland warrior, I must take a Scottish name.”

  “I can give ye a few suggestions,” Miran said as she entered the great hall from the kitchens.

  Kuresh immediately spun about. “You’ve called me beast and monster, woman.”

  “Ye earned those titles by telling me a woman shouldna speak unless she’s spoken to.”

  “I gave you valuable advice—to help you find a husband.”

  “I doona want a husband.”

  “I believe you need one, woman. One who will teach you how to behave properly.”

  Jamie sat back in his chair, watching. Miran knew Lady Helen had warned him the two dinna get along.

  “Go back to the kitchens,” Kuresh commanded.

  Miran blew out a frustrated breath. “I am nay a maid ye can order about.”

  “I am the laird’s right hand.”

  “And I am his cousin—invited here as his wife’s companion. Perhaps I should ask ye to fetch me some water!”

  Kuresh stomped over to where she stood and gripped her by the arm. “If it’s water you seek, I will be happy to escort you outside and to the loch where I will dunk you beneath the frigid water until you promise never to talk to a MacKay captain so disrespectfully again.”

  Miran pushed him away. “Nay… Let me take ye to the loch, put ye in a bag filled with rocks so ye sink to the bottom and drown like the vermin ye are.”

  Kuresh glared at her.

  “If ye doona wish to hear the name I was going to suggest for ye…” Miran said.

  “And what title would you choose?”

  “Leod.”

  Kuresh cast a quick glance at Jamie. “I have never heard this name. What does it mean?”

  Jamie tried to contain his laughter. “Beautiful warrior,” he lied.

  Kuresh narrowed his eyes. “Beautiful warrior?”

  “Jamie!” Miran said. “Doona lie to yer captain.”

  Jamie wagged his fingers at her in warning, but Miran dinna listen. She never did.

  “What is the true meaning of the name?” Kuresh pressed her.

  Miran stood on her toes and whispered in his ear.

  “Ugly?” Kuresh’s voice boomed.

  That’s when he picked her up and flung her over his shoulder.

  A small crowd had begun to gather because of all the noise, and as Miran squirmed and kicked to get away, Kuresh ignored her and headed for the doors. No one challenged him, not even Jamie.

  “Jamie!” Helen joined him near the entrance to the great hall. “What is Kuresh doing to Miran?”

  “Something I should have done long ago,” he said, taking his wife’s hand and following the onlookers outside.

  Kuresh marched to the half-frozen loch. “Do you have anything to say to me, Miran?”

  “Lady Miran,” she corrected him.

  “Do you?”

  “Ye are the ugliest creature I have ever set eyes on! Now put me down!”

  “As you wish, Lady Miran.” Kuresh tossed her into the shallowest part of the loch.

  Miran screamed and spluttered, splashing like a crazed duck as she surfaced. “I will find the right moment to exact my revenge on ye, Kuresh.”

  The captain dinna say a word. He removed his fur cloak and threw it on the ground in front of Miran. “Put this on before you catch your death, woman.” Then, he strode away.

  Helen ran to Miran and picked up the cloak. She shook it out. “Come, Miran. I’d better get ye inside by the fire.”

  Miran let Helen wrap the fur about her shoulders as her teeth chattered. “Jamie.”

  “Aye?”

  “I hate him,” she said. “Send him back to Laird Alex, please.”

  “Nay,” Jamie refused. “He is an asset to this clan, the best sort of man I’ve ever met.”

  “Ye are blind.”

  “Miran,” Jamie said, “perhaps I should let him take a whip to yer arse, as I did to Duncan Munroe’s.”

  “Come along now,” Helen urged, and they started back toward the manor house.

  “In fact…” Jamie began. “I know how to make peace between ye.”

  Miran stared at her cousin. “I doona want to make peace with that man. I wish him a painful death.”

  Jamie ignored her. “Kuresh is planning a trip across the Highlands, and I will ask him to recruit new soldiers along the way. Why not combine yer efforts? I will send ye with a few other women to find maids who wish to work for me.”

  Miran fisted her hands, caught between the life she had always dreamed of living and the one she was forced to live. She must come up with a plan to get rid of Kuresh to restore any chance she’d ever get at happiness. But how? Laird Jamie loved her, she never doubted it. But with his captain always at his side, whispering ideas in his ear, he’d never take her seriously, not about things that mattered, anyway.

  Taking a deep and steadying breath, she stood and climbed the rest of the stairs, then walked to her chamber door. She opened it and found a welcoming fire and a tray of food and wine on the table. The first thing she would do in the morning was attend Kuresh’s naming ceremony. She wanted to hear the Scottish title the self-important barbarian had chosen for himself. Then, she’d find a way to make sure he regretted the day he dropped her in the loch.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Kuresh stared at his reflection in the palm-sized looking glass he kept in his bedchamber. Was he truly ready to give up his Ottoman name, to embrace the ways of a Highlander? Though he favored his father in looks, he’d been blessed with his mother’s generous spirit and kind heart. He set the glass aside. He felt no connection to his old home. Of course he missed his family. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could conjure images of his mother, sisters, and three younger brothers. They’d often eaten together under the fruit trees in the courtyard. One of his favorite places.

  He clenched his jaw as his father invaded his happy thoughts. The man had betrayed him,
proven himself a coward. Kuresh opened his eyes. It was time to cast off the past. He grabbed his boots, slipped his feet inside, then laced them up. He straightened the collar of his favorite black tunic, a gift from Laird Alex last year. He wore thick, silver bands on each wrist and a matching chain around his neck, embellished with red garnets, symbols of his royal birthright in Constantinople.

  Nothing would change his mind about becoming a MacKay. He’d earned it. Someone knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” Kuresh called.

  The door opened, and Jamie greeted him.

  “I was not expecting you,” Kuresh said.

  “I thought it wise to visit with ye before the ceremony. Tis not every day a man forsakes his home—especially a prince—and chooses to put on the armor of a Highlander.”

  “Armor?” Kuresh snorted. “Ye fight half naked. Some bare-footed.”

  “Aye.” Jamie smiled. “Tis why the English fear us.”

  “Please…” Kuresh motioned to the ornate chair in front of the hearth, a prized piece of furniture he had brought to the Highlands from his old home. “Sit.”

  Jamie accepted the offer. “This fabric…”

  “Silk.”

  “Not the kind we buy at the markets in Constantinople.”

  “Nay. We are forbidden to sell the highest quality silks to foreigners, to nonbelievers—an offense punishable by death.”

  Jamie ran his hands over the padded arm rests. “It feels like skin.”

  Kuresh nodded. “My people have a deep appreciation for fine fabrics. Silk is preferred over any other. It keeps your body cool in the desert sun.”

  Jamie leaned forward in the high-backed chair, touching the matching footstool. “Ye even rest yer feet upon it?”

  “This chair and stool were gifted to me by my mother when I turned fifteen. We wear silk slippers in my mother’s palace, not heavy leather boots or shoes.”

  “To live in such luxury…”

  Kuresh stared at the floor.

  “I am sorry, my friend. I dinna mean to dredge up old memories.”

  “I do miss my mother. She is the best woman I have ever known, the best part of Constantinople.”

  “If ye wanted to go back, I would understand, Kuresh. In fact, I encourage ye to do so. The Highlands are unforgiving to foreigners. Our people are superstitious and uneducated. Ye represent everything they fear most, the unknown.”

  Kuresh sank into the chair next to Jamie and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you wish me to go?”

  “Not in the way ye are thinking. I owe ye so much. A debt I’m afraid I canna ever repay. Restoring yer birthright is as close as I could ever come. Do ye understand what I’m saying?”

  Kuresh stretched his legs out, digesting everything his laird had said. Yes, he had experienced his share of rejection in the Highlands, yet, it did not compare to the welcome he had received from most of the MacKays. Whether in Laird Alex’s house or in Jamie’s. This clan stood out from the rest. Perhaps even reminded him of his own family—with the exception of his father. Brave to a fault, hungry for success, desperately loyal to whatever cause they took up, fierce warriors, and unrelenting in their faith.

  Kuresh smiled.

  “What?” Jamie asked.

  Kuresh’s gaze met Jamie’s. “We are more alike than you will ever know.”

  “Aye?”

  Kuresh nodded. “When I was a boy of seven or eight my mother gifted me with a lamb. Unmarred and beautiful in every way, I loved her with all my heart. I named her Jasmine. She followed me everywhere, even to my bedchamber at night, as long as my father was not about. But once he found out I had a pet and allowed it to sleep inside, he forbade me from bringing a filthy beast indoors.”

  Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “And what happened to Jasmine?”

  Kuresh cleared his throat as a frown darkened his face. “Once she reached maturity, she spent more time in a shed in the gardens. Twas a feast night, and my father had indulged in too much drink.”

  “Yer father drank spirits?”

  “Yes—ale and wine.”

  Jamie scowled.

  “Drunk and staggering about, he burst into my mother’s reception hall and demanded she prepare a meal for him. Unable to refuse, she sent her maids to find whatever ingredients were available in the kitchens. But my father stopped them. He required fresh meat. Unfortunately, he remembered Jasmine and told me to bring her to him.”

  “Jesu…”

  “I ignored him. Until he physically attacked me and dragged me to the garden. There, under the light of the moon, he forced his dagger into my hand. I threw it down several times. I pleaded for my pet’s life, crying like a woman. Which only enraged him.”

  Jamie ran his hands over his face, obviously captivated by the tale.

  “He once again forced me to hold the knife, only this time, his big hand covered mine. Then, he commanded a servant to tie the lamb to the nearest tree. We slit her throat.”

  Jamie shot up from his seat. “Of everything unholy!”

  Kuresh gritted his teeth. Why this story had come to mind now, he did not know. Maybe it was what he needed to remember in order to solidify his final decision to be reborn a MacKay. “The wrong done to me does not stop there, Laird Jamie.”

  “Nay? What else could a cruel father do to hurt his young son?”

  “Force him to eat the meat.”

  Jamie began pacing, the way he always did whenever he grew angry or anxious. “I would kill this man for making ye suffer.”

  “Something I threatened to do the day he sold me to your cousin, Laird Alex. But then I realized the blessing in disguise, how God works in mysterious ways. And now I am here.”

  “Away from yer family and people, away from where ye can worship God openly.”

  “God is everywhere.”

  “Is he?” Jamie looked doubtful.

  “My story has made you question your own faith?”

  “I’d be a liar if I said no. Sometimes I wonder why God allows such things to happen to innocent children.”

  “I think your holy book provides a logical answer to that question.”

  Jamie sighed. “Aye, it does.”

  “Only God can judge a man’s heart.”

  “And so, he will judge yer sire, I hope.”

  The grim reality of his father’s mortal soul being cast into the depths of eternal suffering made Kuresh grimace. He’d wished that very fate on his father a thousand times already. Having someone else do the same would only help make it more possible. “The people who dwell in the far east call it karma.”

  “Karma?” Jamie repeated the word as if he feared it. “What is karma?”

  “Destiny,” he explained. “What any man puts into the world, he will get back.”

  Jamie’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “An eye for an eye.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I am satisfied yer sire will know the depth of his misdeeds one day.”

  “Which is why I wish to be a MacKay. I could never go home—not as my father’s son. Not as the spoiled prince I used to be.”

  “But what of yer mother, sisters, and brothers?”

  Once again Kuresh was forced to look away, out of shame and concern. A better son and brother would have fought to stay with his family. He should have fought to the death, challenged his father. “Regardless of my father’s sins, he loves my mother. More than any of his wives or concubines, even the youngest and most fertile cannot challenge his feelings for her.”

  “Then ye believe her safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I, too, am satisfied with yer decision. When ye are ready, come to the great hall.” Jamie gripped his captain’s forearm. “Ye are the brother I often prayed for as a lad.”

  Kuresh watched Jamie disappear down the passageway. God strike him dead if he was making the wrong choice. He knew his future was his own. In the Highlands, any man could make a name for himself, gain wealth, a beautiful bride, have happines
s. In his homeland, only power and noble blood brought happiness; most suffered under the greed of the princes who controlled everything.

  Kuresh secured the brooch at his shoulder, holding his tartan in place. This is what he wanted. Undeniably, his deeply tanned skin and dark features set him apart from most Highlanders. But his nose was narrow and long, his eyes almond-shaped. He blended if he wished to. And spoke Gaelic as well as anyone, with only a hint of an accent. Commanding Jamie’s guards gave him the opportunity to earn respect and coin. Not to mention the lush hills and snow-capped mountains, the endless supply of fresh water, something his people fought and died for in the desert.

  No matter what god the Highlanders worshipped, they had been blessed with a fertile homeland, able to support beasts of the field and vast crops. Trees dotted the landscape and bright flowers covered the land in rich colors as magnificent as the expensive carpets woven on the looms of his people. He gazed out the narrow window in his chamber, taking a deep breath, feasting on the air, admiring the place he called home.

  “Aye,” he said aloud, choosing a word commonly used by the Highlanders. “Let every carved stone in the wall that surrounds my father’s palace turn to dust before I dare set foot through his gates again.”

  All these years later, his father’s betrayal still festered inside him, still stung like a scorpion’s tail. Kuresh and two of his brothers had been traded for his father’s life to Laird Alex, Jamie’s cousin. He fisted his hands as he made his way to where his weapons were kept, on a long table by the chamber door. He fitted four dirks into their sheaths at his hips and thighs, then proudly encased his scimitar, the sword he chose to carry, one of the only remnants of his past life he kept with him every day.

  He patted the handle of the superior weapon before he opened the door, letting in the sounds of celebration coming from the great hall below. Laird Jamie had told him nearly every servant and soldier, commoner and nobleman, had requested permission to attend his naming ceremony, a testament to the impact Kuresh’s loyal service had on this newly formed branch of Clan MacKay.

  He closed the door and trekked down the narrow passageway to the stairs. Musicians were playing the lutes and harp, the women singing a lively song, one Kuresh recognized easily. Whenever the soldiers returned from battle in victory, the women often graced them with the spirit-lifting song. He smiled as he descended the stairs, met by applause and raised cups as he appeared at the archway opening into the hall.